#and as he gets more and more claimed by the eye

[chosok-amo]

THE CLOWN HAS BEEN FOUND s. gojo

★ sum. the baggy clothes, the glasses, the book, the brain— sum : a nerd, that’s what you are. a center of attention, but not because of how beautiful and popular and everyone wants to date you— no, but because you are a loser. and the popular boys have a bet who’s get to sleep with you first and pop the cherry.

warning. college au, ōral ( m & f receiving ), fingēring, dirty talk, hair-pulling, bit name-calling, petnames, praise, cherry pop mentioned, unprotected sēx.

the four of them—geto, gojo, toji, and sukuna—sat sprawled out under the big willow tree on campus, a prime spot they’d claimed as their own. the tree’s branches hung low, providing shade from the afternoon sun, and it seemed to be the perfect place for them to lounge around, their laughter and conversation echoing through the quiet space. they were the popular boys on campus, infamous for their looks, athleticism, and wealth, and equally notorious for their cocky, careless attitudes—a magnetic combination that somehow made them both admired and hated.

they were deep in some joke, laughing obnoxiously, when toji’s gaze drifted, his laughter fading as his eyes settled on something—or rather, someone—in the distance. his smirk widened as he cocked his chin in your direction, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“look at her,” toji muttered, loud enough for the others to hear. the way he said it held a certain bite, like he’d just stumbled upon something amusing.

the other three followed his gaze, their eyes landing on you, sitting off to the side with a thick textbook open in your lap. you were tucked into yourself, shoulders hunched slightly, completely absorbed in whatever you were reading. your clothes were baggy, drowning your frame in layers that did little to give away any shape. the oversized hoodie practically swallowed you, sleeves pulled down almost to your fingertips. your glasses kept sliding down your nose, and every now and then, you’d push them back up absently, clearly too lost in your book to notice much else.

“oh, the classic nerd look,” sukuna sneered, his eyes narrowing as he looked you over, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “cute,” he added mockingly, though there was a glint in his eyes that suggested he found the whole thing entertaining.

gojo let out a low snort, shaking his head as he took a long drag from his cigarette, smoke curling around him in lazy spirals. he leaned forward, one arm bracing against the grass. his eyes still on you, but there was a mocking amusement dancing in them now. he exhaled slowly, a smirk pulling at his lips as he glanced over at sukuna, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“what’s this, sukuna? into the nerdy type now?” he taunted, tilting his head as he raised an eyebrow. his tone was layered with mockery, his smirk widening as if the very idea was too ridiculous to believe. “thought you had a thing for a girl with big tits.”

sukuna rolled his eyes, but his smirk didn’t waver. “naaah, not my type,” he shot back, his gaze flicking back to you briefly before he shrugged. “just saying she’s… amusing. probably jumps if someone even looks at her.”

“oh, definitely,” geto chimed in with a chuckle, folding his arms as he looked you over with a lazy curiosity. “bet she’s terrified of guys like us.”

toji laughed, shaking his head as he looked back at the others. “please, she’d probably faint if you even said hi.” they all shared a laugh, a mixture of arrogance and amusement, reveling in the thought. to them, you were just another quiet, unassuming girl in a sea of faces, someone they could easily overlook—or mess with, if the mood struck.

gojo snickered. “hell, she probably doesn’t even know we exist,” he taunted, his smirk growing ever more patronizing as he puffed out another plume of smoke. “probably spends her nights in her room, surrounded by books and stuffed animals. bet she’s never even been to a party.”

geto chuckled, leaning back with a mocking smile. “oh please, she’s probably never even been kissed.”

toji smirked, adding to the barrage of mockery. “god, she’s probably never been touched by a guy either, huh?” he chimed in, his words dripping with lewd undertones. he took another drag of his cigarette, then glanced back at you, eyeing you up and down again, his smirk widening into a leering grin. “bet she’s a complete virgin.”

there was a collective burst of laughter from the three of them, their voices loud and harsh in the otherwise peaceful afternoon air.

sukuna, his smirk still firmly in place, leaned back against the tree, his arms crossed. “yeah, she’s probably saving herself for her dream guy,” he added, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “probably wants some perfect fairytale romance. what a joke.”

toji let out a low, dark snicker, his gaze flickering back to you as his smirk widened into something almost predatory. he leaned forward slightly, the cruel glint in his green eyes sharpening as he watched you, completely oblivious to the way they were talking about you.

“oh, please,” he drawled, his tone dripping with mock amusement. “give me an hour with her, and i’d pop that cherry first,” he said, his scarred lips twisting into a wider smirk, a glimmer of cruelty evident in his gaze.

the other guys laughed again, their voices mingling in the harsh, arrogant way only they could manage. for them, it was a game—a chance to mock and taunt someone so outside their world.

geto snort, “yeah, right.”

gojo chuckled, his smirk widening as he took another casual drag from his cigarette, shaking his head at toji’s words. “big talk, man. you are too scary, let me take the ‘pop’,” he said, his voice laced with a mischievousness.

sukuna let out another sharp huff of laughter, his gaze trailing over you disdainfully, his smirk a mix of mockery and condescension. “yeah, good luck with that,” he snorted, rolling his eyes. “bet she’d faint if you even came close to her.”

but toji didn’t seem worried, his smirk only growing wider, a cruel gleam in his eyes as he continued watching you, a dark challenge present in his expression.

“oh, i’d get her,” he said, his voice oozing a dangerous sort of confidence. his eyes darkened, his smirk turning almost feral as he looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers idly.

“she wouldn’t even know what hit her.”

sukuna raised an eyebrow, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he leaned in, matching toji’s dark energy with a glint of excitement in his own crimson eyes. he crossed his arms, tilting his head with a look that practically dared the others to take him up on his idea.

“let’s make it interesting, boys,” sukuna drawled, his tone laced with twisted amusement. “how about a little wager? who’s gonna get to pop the cherry first?”

the idea hung in the air, laced with a sense of cruel playfulness. the others exchanged looks, smirks widening as they took in the challenge, their gazes flickering back to you as you remained completely unaware, hidden in your book and blissfully out of earshot.

gojo’s smirk only widened, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considered the idea. he took another puff from his cigarette, eyeing sukuna with amusement, clearly intrigued by the proposal. “a wager?” he asked, his voice tinted with a hint of curiosity. “what’s the prize?”

geto chuckled, the idea clearly appealing to him as well. he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees as he chimed in. “i’m in,” he said, his smirk mirroring the others.

sukuna shrugged, an amused gleam flashing through his crimson eyes as he glanced over at you, still utterly engrossed in your book and completely unaware of the bet unfolding among the boys. his smirk deepened as he looked back at the others, his tone casual yet laced with dark amusement.

“anything you want,” he replied smoothly, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. he paused, his gaze flickering back to you for a brief moment before adding, “but there’s one condition—whoever wins has to take a photo as proof.”

the challenge hung heavy in the air, each of them exchanging glances, their smirks widening in unison. the thought of the twisted little game gave them all a sense of cruel excitement, feeding their arrogant thrill as they eyed you once more, already imagining how they’d play this out.

gojo let out a low snort, his smirk growing into a smirk of his own. he took another draw on his cigarette before tilting his head slightly, his expression shifting into one of agreement. “deal.” he said, his tone laced with a hint of determination.

geto chuckled softly, his eyes flickering to you once more before he nodded his agreement. “i’m in,” he added, his smirk mirrorring the others, clearly liking the idea of the bet.

toji chuckled, a cruel gleam appearing in his green eyes as he looked at the others, the idea of the bet stirring something wicked inside of him. he leaned back, his smirk growing wider as he nodded. “i’m in,” he echoed, his voice lower than before, filled with an almost excited tension.

it had been a strange week, to say the least. the four most popular boys on campus—geto, sukuna, toji, and especially gojo—had suddenly taken an interest in you, a stark contrast to the way they’d mostly ignored you before. they’d pop up in places they normally wouldn’t be, go out of their way to hold doors open or throw you playful smiles, and act… almost charming. but you weren’t buying it, especially not gojo’s relentless attempts to convince you to tutor him. every time he begged for your help, you’d shut him down without a second thought.

today was no different. you were tucked away in a quiet corner of the library, lost in your studies, when you heard the sound of a chair being pulled out beside you. you didn’t even need to look up to know who it was. with a heavy sigh, you rolled your eyes and refocused on your notes, determined to ignore him.

“oh, come on,” gojo drawled, leaning in close with a pout as he rested his elbows on the table, clearly unfazed by your cold response. “i really need help, you know. i’m hopeless without you.” his tone was dripping with exaggerated desperation, but there was a playful glint in his eyes as he watched for any reaction.

you kept your gaze fixed on your book, trying to block him out. “then maybe you should try actually paying attention in class,” you muttered, flipping a page, hoping he’d take the hint and leave you alone.

but gojo just leaned closer, his voice dropping to a softer, almost persuasive tone. “come on, i’ll owe you one. just one study session. i’ll even buy you coffee,” he offered, flashing you his signature charming smile, like he thought that was all it would take to wear you down.

“not interested,” you replied flatly, turning another page without looking up. you could feel his gaze on you, persistent as ever, but you were determined not to give him the satisfaction.

gojo’s smirk widened, his eyes narrowing slightly. he leaned even closer, his lips almost at your ear, as if daring you to ignore him. “come on, please?” he begged again, his tone dripping with fake desperation, his voice low and tantalizingly close. “just one little tutoring session. i’ll do anything.”

you froze, your pen pausing mid-word as the warmth of gojo’s hand slid down to your thigh, his fingers grazing just under the hem of your skirt. his touch was light, teasing, and you could feel your heart race at the audacity of his move. irritation flared within you, but when you turned to him, ready to give him a piece of your mind, you were met with that damn smirk of his—a look of pure, unbothered confidence.

his face was so close that you could feel his breath, warm and steady, as he whispered, “please?”

his voice was soft, almost seductive, and despite the irritation simmering beneath your calm facade, you could see the glint of amusement in his narrowed blue eyes, fully aware of the effect he was trying to have on you. your eyes narrowed, meeting his challenge, and you gave him a cold, leveled stare, unfazed by his proximity.

you lifted a brow, voice cool as ice. “is this your idea of begging, gojo?”

his smirk didn’t waver; if anything, it grew wider, clearly thrilled by your reaction. “i can be very persuasive,” he murmured, letting his fingers ghost over your thigh, just enough to keep your attention.

he leaned in even closer, his smirk widening further. his lips grazed your ear as he spoke again, his voice low and smooth, like silk. “and i can be very convincing,” he whispered, his hand sliding further up your thigh, leaving a trail of heated tingles in its wake.

you inhaled sharply, his breath hot against your skin as his words lingered in your ear, and you could feel your resolve slipping, his touch relentless and daring as his hand slid further up your thigh. the warmth of his fingers, the confidence in his voice—it was infuriatingly hard to ignore, and you could tell he knew it, that smirk of his only growing as he watched your reaction.

you turned to him, catching his gaze, meeting his smug look with one of quiet defiance. the words were barely a whisper as you muttered, “fine.”

his eyes lit up, triumphant, as if he’d known all along you’d give in, but you held his gaze steadily, a hint of warning still lingering there. “just one session,” you clarified, your voice firm, trying to reassert control even as you felt a flicker of warmth in your cheeks.

gojo’s smirk deepened, seemingly satisfied with your response. his hand paused, still resting on your thigh, his fingers gently caressing the soft skin, sending chills through your body.

“just one, huh?” he echoed, his voice low, thick with satisfaction. he leaned in closer, his breath hot on your neck, his lips practically grazing your skin as he spoke again. “don’t worry, i’ll make it count.”

he paused, his fingers tracing small, slow circles on your thigh, the gesture almost innocent, yet the meaning behind it clear. he looked at you, his gaze almost challenging, a hint of satisfaction in his eyes as he noticed your slight shiver at his touch. he leaned in further, his voice dropping to a low murmur.

“my place or yours?” he purred, his tone dripping with suggestion, his hand gradually making its way higher up your leg.

and that’s where you are . . .

gojo smirks down at you, his eyes roaming over your nerdy appearance hungrily, knees on the floor inside his dorm room. “thanks for coming to tutor me today. i really appreciate it,” his voice drips with false sincerity as he palms himself through his jeans.

“i’ve been struggling with this subject and i’ve heard you’re the best at explaining things.” gojo leans back on his hands, spreading his legs wider to give you an even better view of the bulge straining against his zipper. “why don’t you come closer and we can start going over the material? i’m all yours, baby.” his thumb pinch your chin, the soft pad of his finger trailing off your skin before slipping past your swollen lips into your mouth.

he chuckles softly, a wicked glint in his eye as he watches you squirm. “aww, what’s wrong? you look nervous. there’s no need to be shy around me.”

you swallow hard, your heart pounding in my chest as you kneel before gojo, feeling small and insignificant compared to his tall, muscular frame. your glasses slip down your nose slightly as you gaze up at him with wide, innocent eyes.

“oh, um, t-thank you gojo-kun,” you stammer out, your voice quivering slightly. you shift nervously on your knees, very aware of how vulnerable your position makes you feel. and when gojo’s thumb pushes past your lips, you instinctively close your mouth around it, sucking lightly from habit before realizing what you were doing. a deep blush spreads across your cheeks.

“i’m just a bit overwhelmed, to be honest,” you managed to murmur, voice muffled by his thumb.

gojo’s smirk widens as he feels your warm, wet mouth envelop his thumb. he slowly pumps the digit in and out, mimicking a lewd act. “mmm, don’t be like that, cutie. i promise i won’t bite... much.” he winks salaciously.

his free hand reaches out to cup your burning cheek, calloused fingers brushing over the delicate skin. “you’re so cute when you’re flustered like this. it’s adorable how innocent you are.” gojo leans in closer, his hot breath fanning over your face. the musky scent of his arousal fills your nostrils.

“tell you what, why don’t you put that clever tongue of yours to good use and help me relax a bit before we dive into studying?” his thumb presses deeper into your mouth insistently.

you whimper softly as gojo’s thumb invades your mouth more insistently, your tongue automatically swirling around the invading digit. your mind races, trying to process the sudden intimate contact and the heavy implication behind his words.

“i’m not sure if this is appropriate, gojo-kun,” you manage to say around his thumb after pulling back slightly, your voice muffled. “we should focus on the tutoring session...”

despite your weak protests, you can feel your body reacting to gojo’s proximity and touch— a traitorous heat pooling low in your belly, your cunt starting to clenching around nothing in your skirt. you squirm uncomfortably on your knees, hyper-aware of your submissive posture before him.

“what exactly did you have in mind?”

gojo chuckles darkly, amused by your feeble attempt at protest. he grips your hair, tugging your head back to expose the slender column of your throat. “oh, i think we both know this is exactly what we came here for, isn’t it?”

his other hand moves to palm his aching erection through his jeans, the thick outline unmistakable. “i had something much more... educational in mind than boring textbooks.”

gojo leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispers huskily, “why don’t you be a good girl and put those pretty lips to work? show me what that smart mouth of yours can do besides spouting facts.” he uses his grip on your hair to guide your face towards his crotch, rubbing your cheek against the prominent bulge.

gojo groans softly as he feels your soft cheek pressed against his throbbing erection. he grinds subtly against you, seeking more friction. “fuuuck, you feel so good already. i bet these nerdy little lips will wrap around my cock perfectly.”

with his other hand, he starts unbuckling his belt, the metallic clink seeming obscenely loud in the quiet room. he pops the button of his jeans and slowly drags down the zipper, letting them gape open to reveal the waistband of his boxers straining over his massive bulge.

“gonna ruin you for anyone else,” gojo growls possessively. “by the time ’m done with you, the only thing you’ll be able to think about is choking on my dick.”

the idea was overwhelming— the thought of ruining you and winning the bet performed a cloud in gojo’s head. you gasp sharply as gojo forces your face against his clothed erection, the heat and hardness searing into your cheek. your eyes widen at his crude words, a shiver running down your spine— equal parts fear and reluctant excitement.

“g-gojo-kun, please...” you whimper, your voice high and thready. “we shouldn’t... i-i’ve never...”

despite your halfhearted protests, you find yourself leaning into his touch, nuzzling almost imperceptibly against the thick ridge of his cock. the scent of his arousal is dizzying this close, musk and sweat and pure male essence flooding your senses. trembling fingers come up to tentatively brush against his hipbones as his zipper lowers with agonizing slowness.

gojo smirks cruelly as he hears the tremor in your voice, relishing how easily he can affect you. “shh, it’s okay baby. i’ll teach you everything you need to know,” he croons mockingly.

he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and slowly peels them down, freeing his enormous, rock-hard cock. it springs out, slapping against your cheek with a meaty thwack. the thick shaft pulses with need, the flared head an angry purple and leaking copious amounts of precum.

you let out a choked moan as gojo’s huge, throbbing cock slaps against your cheek, leaving a smear of sticky pre-cum on your soft skin. your eyes widen in shock at the sheer size of him, intimidated but undeniably aroused.

“open wide, nerd. i’ve got a big load for you,” gojo taunts crudely. he fists his hand in your hair again, using his grip to angle your face towards his weeping cockhead. “stick out that clever little tongue. i want to see you worship every inch of my big, fat cock like the desperate slut you are.”

“oh god...” you whimper, your tongue darting out to unconsciously lick your lips. the salty-sweet taste of his essence explodes across your taste buds, making your head spin. with trembling hands, you reach up to grasp his muscular thighs for support as he forces your face closer to his imposing manhood. your glasses fog up slightly from your quickened breathing. “i’ve never done this before,” you admit in a tiny, scared voice.

gojo grins wickedly, his eyes gleaming with sadistic lust as he sees the fear and reluctant desire warring in your expression. “that’s alright, that’s why i’m here, you’re about to get the fucking of a lifetime to your virgin pussy,” he grunted.

he rubs the swollen head of his cock all over your face, smearing your cheeks and lips with his slick precum. the musky scent fills your nostrils, making your head swim with overwhelming pheromones. “open up, baby, take my cock like a good girl. promise it feels good, do you trust me?” sweet, his honeyed voice suddenly heavy with sweetness.

but despite that, he thrusts his hips forward, pushing the broad tip past your lips and onto your tongue. he groans at the wet heat engulfing him, head just a beat throw back before snapped, eyes lock with your lips taking the half of his cock. “fuck yes, that’s it. wrap those pretty lips around me.”

you let out a muffled yelp as gojo suddenly pushes past your lips, his thick cock stretching your jaw painfully wide you almost sure the edge of your lips stretch open. your eyes water as he hilts himself inside your virgin mouth, the bulbous head hitting the back of your throat. you gag reflexively, throat spasming around his girth.

“mph!” you try to pull back but his grip on your hair tightens, holding you in place. tears leak from the corners of your eyes as you struggle to accommodate his impressive size. your small hands come up to weakly push at his thighs, overwhelmed by the intrusion.

after a moment, you force yourself to relax your jaw, breathing heavily through your nose. you start to experimentally suckle at the head, your tongue swirling clumsily around it. the taste of his skin and the musky scent flooding your senses is dizzying.

gojo throws his head back with a deep groan as your inexperienced mouth envelops him, your tongue clumsily lapping at his sensitive flesh. the sight of your stretched lips wrapped around his thick cock, tears glistening on your flushed cheeks, is incredibly erotic.

“that’s it, take it deeper,” he growls, fisting his hand tighter in your hair. with a sharp thrust of his hips, he buries himself to the hilt in your convulsing throat. your nose presses against his pelvis as he hilts inside you, cutting off your air supply completely.

“that’s good baby, goood job,” praise after praise fallen from gojo’s pretty, pink lips. he holds you there, savoring the feeling of your constricting esophagus fluttering around his cock. after several long seconds, he finally pulls back, allowing you a gasping breath before plunging in again.

gojo sets a brutal pace, fucking your face with deep, powerful thrusts. each snap of his hips drives his thick cock into your throat, forcing you to swallow around him. drool escapes the corners of your stretched lips, dripping down your chin as he uses your mouth mercilessly.

“you’re doing so well for your first time,” he praises mockingly, voice strained with pleasure. “such an eager little cock sleeve, aren’t you? born to choke on a cock.” he pulls out abruptly, his spit-shined cock bobbing obscenely in front of your face. gojo smacks the heavy shaft against your tear-stained cheeks, smearing them with your own saliva mixed with his precum. “strip,” he commands gruffly, releasing his grip on your hair.

gojo looms over you, his chest heaving with exertion and arousal as he watches you intently. his eyes rake over your disheveled form, drinking in the sight of your reddened cheeks, puffy lips glistening with spit, and the way your glasses sit askew on your face.

“come on, slowpoke. i want to see every inch of the body hiding under those ugly clothes,” he growls impatiently, one hand coming down to roughly palm himself through his open fly. the other reaches out to grab the hem of your shirt, tugging insistently. but, instead of slipping out of your ‘ugly’ clothes, you stand there, eyes widened innocently the way you look up to him.

“don’t make me rip them off. you wouldn’t want me to damage your precious belongings, would ya?“ a wicked smirk plays at the corner of his mouth, eyes glinting with mischief and barely restrained hunger.

you tremble under gojo’s hungry gaze, acutely aware of how debauched you must look— face flushed, glasses fogged, lips swollen and slick with spit. with shaking hands, you reach for the buttons of your shirt, fumbling to undo them one by one.

as more of your creamy skin is revealed, gojo’s eyes darken with undisguised lust. he licks his lips, watching avidly as you shrug the garment off your shoulders and let it fall to the floor. underneath, you wear a plain white lacy bra, the fabric straining slightly over your bust.

next, you stand on wobbly legs to shimmy out of your skirt, letting it pool around your ankles before stepping out of it. your panties match your bra, simple cotton with lace. “gojo-kun..” you murmur, hands hovering over your bra and panties, hiding yourself.

gojo’s heated gaze roams hungrily over your newly exposed body, lingering on the swell of your breasts straining against the delicate lace of your bra. he steps closer, crowding into your personal space until the hard planes of his body press against your softer curves.

“fuck, you’re even hotter than i imagined,” he rasps, calloused fingers trailing up your sides to cup your tits possessively. never in a million years had he found a loser nerd like you could be this hot, and it seems like his cock agrees with the way it’s twitching. he squeezes the soft mounds, thumbs flicking over your nipples through the thin fabric until they pebble beneath his touch, pushing a breathless gasp out of your throat.

with a wicked grin, gojo reaches behind you and deftly unclasps your bra, tossing it aside carelessly. cool air hits your bare skin, pebbling your nipples further as they’re bared to his intense scrutiny.

“perfect.”

gojo hooks his fingers in the waistband of your panties and yanks them down your thighs in one swift motion. the flimsy material catches on your knees briefly before falling to your ankles, baring you completely to his hungry gaze.

he takes a step back, drinking in the sight of your naked body with an appreciative hum. his eyes linger on the cute, neat patch of curls crowning your mound, the slight flare of your hips, the gentle swell of your ass. “goddamn, you’re gorgeous,” he murmurs reverently.

without warning, gojo drops to his knees in front of you, large hands gripping your thighs to spread them apart. he leans in close, his hot breath ghosting over your most intimate parts. “i bet this sweet cunt tastes divine,” he growls, dragging his tongue along your slit in one long, painfully slow stroke.

you can’t help but let out a startled moan as gojo’s warm tongue drags along your most intimate folds, sending sparks of pleasure racing up your spine. your knees buckle slightly and you have to brace yourself against the wall to keep from collapsing under the intensity of sensation.

“g-gojo-kun!” you gasp, fingers tangling in his silver hair as he laps at your slit like a man starved. his tongue delves between your lower lips, seeking out your entrance and circling it teasingly. you squirm against the invasion, thighs trembling with the effort to hold still.

gojo chuckles lowly, the vibrations making you shudder. he seals his lips around your clit and sucks hard, flicking the sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue. “ah! ahh!”

gojo moans into your pussy as you grind against his face, his tongue delving deep inside your fluttering walls. he laps at your juices greedily, the obscene slurping sounds filling the room. “mmm, you taste even better than i imagined,” he growls, the rumble of his voice vibrating against your sensitive flesh. “so fucking sweet.”

his hands grip your ass, kneading the supple globes as he eats you out with single-minded focus. he alternates between thrusting his tongue in and out of your clenching hole and flicking the tip rapidly over your throbbing clit. the lewd wet noises echo off the walls, mingling with your needy whimpers and gasps.

“oooh! m-my god!” you writhe helplessly against gojo’s relentless assault, fingers digging into his silver hair as waves of overwhelming pleasure crash over you. your hips undulate shamelessly, grinding your aching core against his face as he devours you like a man possessed.

“that’s it, ride my tongue,” he grunt, the words muffled against your soaked folds. you throw your head back with a keening cry as gojo works you over with his skilled tongue, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in your core. your fingers tighten reflexively in his hair, tugging sharply at the silvery strands.

“ah! g-gojo-kun!” you gasp brokenly, toes curling against the cool tile floor. your inner muscles flutter wildly around his invading tongue.

gojo growls into your pussy, the sound sending delicious vibrations through your core. he doubles his efforts, sealing his lips around your clit and sucking hard while simultaneously thrusting two thick fingers knuckle-deep into your spasming channel.

“g-gojo-hng!” you sob brokenly, hips continue to roll shamelessly against his face. you mewl helplessly into the filthy kiss, when gojo’s tongue dominating yours as he claims your mouth thoroughly after he stands abruptly.

you can taste yourself on him, the musky flavor making your head spin with renewed arousal and it sends a fresh wave of heat flooding through your veins. his hand slides up to palm your breast roughly, calloused thumb scraping over your sensitive nipple.

when he finally breaks away, you’re left panting and dazed, lips kiss-swollen and tingling. gojo grins wolfishly down at you, pupils blown wide with lust. “god, so fucking beautiful when i’m ’bout to ruin you,” he promises darkly, voice rough with desire. “by the time i’m done, all you’ll be able to think about is my cock splitting you open."

his hand slides down your body to grip your thigh, hoisting your leg up to wrap around his hip. the new position leaves you feeling deliciously vulnerable, your slick folds rubbing directly against the rigid length of him.

gojo’s heated gaze rakes over your flushed form, drinking in every inch of newly exposed skin. he licks his lips slowly, savoring the taste of your essence still coating his tongue. “fuck, you look good enough to eat,” he growls appreciatively, palming himself once again, smearing his precum all over your thigh, the biting lips to stop the moaning betraying his own desperate arousal.

with a few quick movements, gojo shucks off his shirt, revealing the lean lines of his torso. his pale skin is littered nothing but softness. he kicks off his pants next, leaving him fully naked now.

slowly, torturously, gojo sinks into your welcoming heat inch by excruciating inch. gojo grunts as your slick folds slide along his shaft, coating him in your essence. your slick walls stretch deliciously around his girth, molding to every ridge and vein. by the time he’s fully seated, you feel impossibly full, stuffed to the brim with hard, throbbing cock.

“fuuck!” he snarls, eyes squeezing shut at the exquisite sensation of your velvety walls gripping him like a vice. he holds himself there for a moment, letting you adjust to the sudden intrusion. “p-pussy sooo-shit! good.” the feeling of your gummy walls suffocating his cock almost making gojo’s feel bad for using you as a bet, but fuckkk! you feel so good.

you let out a strangled moan as gojo hilts himself fully inside you, stretching you wider than ever before. your slick walls flutter and clench around his thickness, trying instinctively to accommodate the sudden intrusion. the sensation borders on painful but the dull ache only serves to heighten your pleasure, stoking the flames of your arousal higher.

“ah! s-so biiig,” you whimper breathlessly, fingernails raking down gojo’s back. your hips twitch restlessly, torn between the urge to pull away from the intense stretch and the primal need to take him deeper. gojo groans at the feeling of your scorching heat enveloping him so completely. his pelvis presses flush against yours, ensuring that not an inch of space remains between your bodies.

gojo once again, groans deeply as your velvety walls ripple along his length, the exquisite sensations threatening to undo his control. he wants nothing more than to rut into you mindlessly, chasing his own pleasure. but he forces himself to hold still, giving you time to adjust to his size.

“shit baby, you feel incredible,” he rasps, voice strained with barely restrained lust. “so fucking tight...” he rolls his hips experimentally, pulling out just an inch before sinking back in. the drag of his thick cock against your sensitive nerves makes you both gasp. gojo sets a slow, deep rhythm, letting you feel every inch of him as he strokes your inner walls. his hands roam your curves possessively, mapping out the dips and swells of your body.

you arch into gojo’s touch, craving more of his addictive caresses. your nails score down his back, leaving red welts in their wake. the sting only seems to spur him on, his thrusts growing harder and faster as he chases his own pleasure.

“too muuuch,” you cry, tossing your head back as he hits a particularly sensitive spot. your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back to urge him deeper. “hurt, ah! too big.”

gojo snarls, the sound feral and hungry. he leans down to capture one pert nipple between his teeth, biting down just shy of too hard. you yelp at the sharp jolt of pain, cunt clenching rhythmically around his pistoning length.

gojo grunts as your inner walls clamp down around him like a vice, the added pressure sending sparks of pleasure shooting up his spine. he knows he should probably slow down, give you time to adjust, but the way you’re writhing beneath him is just too enticing.

“you can take it,” he growls, punctuating his words with a particularly brutal thrust.

once again, gojo snarls against your breast, tongue flicking out to lave over the abused bud. “don’t worry baby, i’ll make it feel real good,” he promises, harmonizing his words with a particularly vicious thrust. the blunt head of his cock kisses your cervix, making you see stars.

your slick walls spasm wildly around his girth, fluttering and clenching as if trying to push him out even as your body betrays you, hips rolling shamelessly to meet each punishing stroke. the wet slap of flesh echoes obscenely in the room, mingling with your wanton moans and gojo’s animalistic grunts.

gojo lets out a low groan, eyes fluttering shut as your slick walls ripple around his thickness. “fuck, your pussy is milking my cock so good,” he grunts, hips snapping forward almost violently. one large hand snakes between your bodies, fingers finding your swollen clit and rubbing tight circles around the sensitive bud. “come on, baby. squeeze this cock just like that,” gojo urges gruffly, increasing the pressure on your clit. “gonna fill this pretty cunt up real soon.”

you throw your head back with a guttural moan, fingers tangling in gojo’s hair as he works you closer to the edge. your thighs tremble, muscles quivering with the strain of holding yourself open for his relentless assault. sweat beads along your brow, plastering strands of hair to your face.

“please,” you keen desperately, unsure what exactly you’re begging for anymore. more? less? harder? faster? all you know is that yo’'re teetering right on the precipice, balanced precariously between agony and ecstasy.

gojo grins wickedly, sensing your desperation. he leans in close, hot breath ghosting over the shell of your ear as he whispers filthy promises. “that’s it, cum for me baby. gonna pump you so full of my seed, you’ll be dripping for days.”

but before you reach that peak, that climax you desperately need, gojo abruptly stops moving. hands trailing down your tights before throwing your body to his bed. a gasp of surprise tears from your throat, followed by a whimper— a subtle sign of protest.

gojo chuckles darkly, reveling in the delicious sight of you sprawled out before him, flushed and panting. he takes a moment to admire the view— your chest heaving, breasts bouncing with each labored breath, the glistening evidence of your arousal painting your inner thighs.

gojo smirks down at you, taking in your confused expression with a glint of mischief in his eyes. he trails a finger down your sternum, circling one dusky nipple teasingly for a second. “what’s wrong, baby?” he coos mockingly. “didn’t get your fix?”

he shifts slightly, the movement causing his half-hard cock to brush against your thigh. you shudder at the contact, a fresh wave of arousal flooding through you. gojo hums approvingly at your reaction, leaning down to nip at your jaw.

“mmm, look at you,” he purrs approvingly, trailing a finger through your slick folds. “all spread out and ready for me. such a goood girl.” without warning, gojo flips you onto your stomach, hauling your hips up until you’re presenting yourself to him like a bitch in heat. he runs a proprietary hand over the curve of your ass, squeezing roughly. “this ass though... fuck, i could play with it all day.”

gojo’s eyes rake over your prone form appreciatively, drinking in the delectable sight of you splayed out before him. he takes his time exploring your curves, fingers tracing idle patterns across your skin. when he reaches the swell of your rear, he gives the supple flesh a firm squeeze, kneading the plush globes like dough. this might be the first and the last time he has you in his bed, might make it memorable.

“such a perfect little peach,” he praises huskily, spreading you wide to expose your most intimate parts. cool air wafts over your heated flesh, making you shiver. gojo hums in approval at the sight of your dripping cunt, flushed and swollen with need.

he leans in close, hot breath ghosting over your sensitive skin. “look how wet you are for me,” he murmurs, voice dripping with smug satisfaction. you let out a soft moan, squirming under gojo’s intense gaze. his rough hands map out every dip and curve of your body, igniting sparks of pleasure wherever they touch. you arch into his caress, silently begging for more.

when he finally reaches your aching core, you buck your hips eagerly, desperate for friction. “please,” you whimper, voice high and needy. “i need—”

gojo cuts off your pleas with a sharp smack to your rear, the stinging impact making you yelp. “ah ah, none of that now,” he tuts disapprovingly. “you don’t get to tell me what you need, understand? it’s an honor y’know, for me to take your virginity, so you don’t get to tell me what you need.”

he punctuates his words with another firm swat, watching with rapt attention as your skin blooms pink under his palm. but even so, gojo couldn’t stop the spinning from his head, the sigh of you, the feel of your cunt tightly grip his needy cock making him all desperate and losing his shit to you, a fucking nerd all out of other girl.

gojo grins wickedly, clearly enjoying your predicament. he traces a finger through your soaked folds, gathering some of your essence on his digit before bringing it to his lips. he makes a show of licking it clean, savoring your unique flavor with a satisfied hum.

“mmm, you taste divine,” he purrs, voice dripping with lust. “like the finest nectar.”

gojo lines himself up with your entrance once more, the broad head of his cock nudging insistently at your slick opening. he teases you with shallow thrusts, barely breaching your entrance before pulling away again. your walls flutter around nothing, trying desperately to draw him in deeper.

“beg for it,” he demands huskily, giving your rear another firm smack. “let me hear how badly you want this cock.“ he grabs your hip, fingers bent to your flesh the way he drags you to the edge of his bed and your feet touching the cold tile.

his one arm sneaking down to your thigh, lifting it off the floor while the other hand relentlessly teases your needy cunt with the swollen tip of his cock— kissing your clit.

you writhe beneath gojo’s ministrations, a litany of needy whimpers and pleas falling from your kiss-swollen lips. “please,” you beg shamelessly, too far gone to care about dignity. “gojo-kuuunn . . i need you inside me, filling me up. i can’t take it anymore!”

your hips buck frantically, seeking friction against his maddening teasing. you’re so empty, aching to be stretched and filled by his thick length. gojo just chuckles darkly at your desperation, continuing his torturous game. his chest raining with pride and happiness for taking your virginity, him, not another man. him.

“oh? and why should i give you what you want?” he taunts, rubbing the tip of his cock against your entrance without pushing in. “maybe i like seeing you like this— alllll spread out and begging so pretty for me.”

gojo leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a brief, teasing kiss. “you taste sweet when you’re desperate like this,” he murmurs against your mouth, tongue flicking out to lick at your lower lip. “makes me want to devour you whole.”

he pulls back slightly, his gaze intense as he watches your reactions. “but since you asked so nicely...” with a slow, deliberate push, he sinks into your heat, groaning at the velvety tightness enveloping his cock.

gojo pauses for a moment, savoring the feeling of being buried deep within you. then, with a gentle roll of his hips, he begins to move, setting a slow, sensual rhythm. he savors each drag of your slick walls along his shaft, relishing in the exquisite sensation of taking your virginity. his hand leaving another handprint on your ass, digging his dull nail into the skin.

a gasp tears from your throat as gojo finally sheathes himself fully inside you, the stretch both painful and exhilarating. you cling to the sheets, nails digging into the fabric as you acclimate to the foreign intrusion.

but as he starts to move, long, languid strokes that fill you to the brim, you begin to relax into the pleasure. a low moan escapes you, vibrations humming against gojo’s lips before your head falls to his bed. “ahh... yes... just like thaaat...”

your hips start to rock in tandem with his, meeting each thrust with eagerness. the sensations build rapidly, coiling tighter and tighter in your belly. you can feel every ridge and vein of gojo’s cock as it slides against your inner walls, sending jolts of electric pleasure through you.

“more,” you breathe out, voice ragged with need, causing the man to leave your reddened ass to find your hair and take a fistful of the locks while the other arm tightens around your thigh, making a perfect symphony the way he pounds into you from behind.

gojo’s fingers dig into your scalp, tugging roughly at your hair as he pistons into you with reckless abandon. the bed creaks and shifts beneath the force of his thrusts, a rhythmic beat that echoes the pounding of your hearts.

gojo growls in approval, the sound muffled against your ear as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. his hips snap forward with renewed vigor, driving into you with a primal intensity that steals your breath away. the force of his thrusts sends the headboard thudding against the wall, a rhythmic beat that echoes the pounding of your heart.

“you’re so fucking tight,” he grits out between clenched teeth, his grip on your hair tightening almost painfully as he uses it to pull your head back, exposing the vulnerable column of your throat. “i can feel every inch of you milking my cock. this cunt feels like heaven, fuuuck.”

gojo’s words are punctuated by the lewd slap of skin against skin, the obscene sound only serving to heighten your arousal. his fingers tighten in your hair, tugging just hard enough to make you gasp. the slight sting only serves to heighten your arousal, your body craving more of his dominance. gojo's other hand grips your thigh firmly, holding you steady as he pistons in and out of you with relentless precision.

your mind goes blank, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of gojo’s possession. every nerve ending is alight with sensation, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your veins. you can feel yourself teetering on the brink, precariously close to the edge.

a hoarse cry spills from your lips as gojo hits that spot deep inside, the sensitive bundle of nerves that makes your vision blur and toes curl. “ahhh! oh god, right there!” you wail, hips bucking wildly to meet his punishing pace.

a sharp cry tears from your throat as gojo’s grip on your hair intensifies, the pain mixing deliciously with the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your veins. you arch your back, offering yourself up completely to his dominating touch.

“yes, oh god, just like that!” you moan, the words tumbling out in a desperate rush. “fuck me harder, gojo-kun!”

gojo’s eyes flash with triumph and possessiveness at your wanton cries, his grip on your hair and thigh tightening reflexively. he slams into you with renewed ferocity, the force of his thrusts rattling the bed frame and sending the headboard crashing against the wall.

“that’s it, scream for me,” he snarls, his hot breath fanning over your ear as he leans in close. “let everyone know who’s fucking you senseless.” gojo’s free hand snakes around to cup your breast, pinching and rolling the nipple between his fingers. the dual sensations of his ruthless pounding and the pleasurable tug on your sensitive bud send you spiraling closer to the edge.

as if sensing your impending climax, gojo redoubles his efforts, pistoning into you with wild abandon. your world narrows down to the searing heat of gojo’s body, the relentless thrusts of his cock, and the intoxicating scent of sex that fills the air. you’re lost in a haze of pure, unadulterated pleasure, every fiber of your being focused on chasing that elusive peak.

the pressure builds and builds, coiling tighter in your core until you think you might burst. gojo’s harsh commands and the brutal pace of his fucking only serve to heighten the tension, pushing you closer and closer to the brink.

with a keening wail, you finally tumble over the edge, your orgasm slamming into you like a freight train. your inner walls clench around gojo’s throbbing cock, rippling and fluttering as wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over you.

“fuck, fuuck! gojo-kun! ’m cumming, cumming!”

gojo lets out a guttural roar as he feels your pussy clamping down on his cock, the vice-like grip triggering his own release. with one final, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside you, his seed erupting in powerful spurts as he fills you up.

“fuck, fuck, fuck!” he chants, his hips jerking erratically as he rides out the waves of his climax. his hips jerking erratically as he rides out the waves of his climax. gojo’s grip on your hair and thigh remains unrelenting, holding you in place as he marks you as his, claiming you utterly and completely.

overwhelmed by the intensity of your shared orgasms, you collapse onto the mattress the heartbeat his grasp on you loosened, your body still trembling with aftershocks. gojo’s continued pulsing inside you, coupled with the warmth of his release coating your insides, leaves you feeling utterly spent yet deeply satisfied.

as your breathing slowly returns to normal, you become aware of gojo’s hands gentling their hold on you, his fingers stroking soothing patterns on your skin. a soft, contented sigh escapes your lips as you melt into his touch, basking in the afterglow of your passionate encounter.

he leans forward, bracing his hands on the edge of the bed, his chest pressed against your back. his breath is still a bit ragged, but you can feel his strong, steady presence behind you. for a few moments, all you hear is the steady, calming sound of your combined breathing, the only indication that both of you are slowly recovering from the intensity of your shared passion.

after a few moments, gojo breaks the comfortable silence, his voice low and still slightly husky. “you okay?” he murmurs, his lips brushing gently against the shell of your ear.

his hands slide down your sides, gently encircling your waist, his touch tender and light. the weight of his chest against your back is reassuring, and you can still feel the heat of his body radiating through your clothes. he shifts slightly, his chin resting on your shoulder, and you can practically feel his intense gaze on you, as if he’s silently assessing how you’re feeling.

a soft smile curves your lips at gojo’s gentle inquiry, your body relaxing further under his comforting touch. “mhm, i’m good,” you murmur, tilting your head slightly to rest against the soft material of his blanket. “just... really sated right now.”

you let out a contented little sigh, enjoying the warmth of his embrace and the intimate closeness of his body pressed against yours. slowly but surely, the feeling of his softened cock slipped out of your cunt, taking all of your cum and his down to your thigh and floor.

gojo chuckles softly in response, hearing the hint of satisfaction in your tired voice. he plants a soft, feather-light kiss on your neck, his lips lingering there for a moment. “that’s good,” he says, his voice laced with a hint of pride, “i’m glad i exhausted you that much.”

he pauses for a moment, his hands gently rubbing your sides, before speaking again. “need anything? water, a towel, or just... rest?” he asks, his tone genuinely concerned.

you let out a soft sigh, the tension of the past moments slowly melting away as you murmured, “just rest.” your voice was quiet, tired, and gojo, ever attentive, hummed in agreement, his lips brushing softly against your cheek in a gentle kiss.

“say no less,” he whispered with that same reassuring tone, his arms immediately wrapping around you. he shifted you both onto the bed, pulling you into his embrace and letting you rest your head on his chest. his warmth surrounded you, grounding you at the moment, his heartbeat steady beneath you.

gojo made sure to cover both of you with the blanket, tucking it around your bare body with care, his movements slow and deliberate. despite the weight of the earlier events, his presence was steady, a soft contrast to the tension you’d felt before. outside of the bet, outside of the teasing, the games, and the complexities of it all, he seemed intent on giving you comfort—giving you the space to just rest, without further complications. his fingers gently traced circles on your back, a quiet reminder that, at this moment, there was nothing but a reason you were on his bed simply because of a bet— the bet he’s going to win.

gojo held you close, his arms encircling your body snugly under the soft warmth of the blanket. he continued tracing light circles on your back, the soothing repetitive motion a silent reassurance of his presence and care.

his chest rose and fell in a steady, calming rhythm, and you could feel the faint thump of his heartbeat beneath your ear. his body offered a solid, comforting presence, grounding you in the aftermath of the eventful night.

gojo remained silent for several minutes, simply holding you close, his touch gentle and nurturing. after a few moments, he leaned down, his lips brushing against your forehead in a tender kiss. “get some rest,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing.

he shifted slightly, adjusting his position so that both of you were more comfortable. his arms remained wrapped around you, holding you close against his chest, a silent promise of protection and comfort.

you simply nod.

gojo feels your nod, his lips curving into a small smile against your forehead. “good,” he murmurs, his voice soft and low.

he lets out a deep, content sigh, his body relaxing further into the bed, his arms still holding you close. his breathing slows, a steady, measured rhythm that seems to lull you into a sense of peace and security. the room is enveloped in a comfortable silence for a while, the only sound being the steady beat of his heart against your ear.

gojo’s gaze softened as he looked down at your peaceful face, the soft rise and fall of your chest the only movement in the stillness of the room. he stayed like that for a while, just watching you, making sure you were fully asleep, your breathing steady and relaxed. he could feel the weight of the day, the tension from earlier, and he knew you needed this rest, even if you didn’t quite realize it yet.

once he was certain you were asleep, gojo's fingers slid beneath the pillow, pulling out his phone with careful movements. his smirk returned, a wicked gleam flashing in his eyes as he unlocked the screen and opened the camera. he took a quick snapshot, the sound of the shutter a soft click that was barely audible in the quiet room. his eyes flicked down to the picture, his smirk widening as he admired the photo of you, completely unaware, asleep in his arms.

“this is mine,” he muttered quietly to himself, the excitement of the bet reigniting within him. he knew he was going to win, and as much as he enjoyed this rare moment of calm with you, there was no denying the competitive streak that ran through him. he tucked the phone back under the pillow, settling back into the warmth of the bed, still holding you close, but his mind already racing ahead to the next step in his game.

gojo’s gaze remains fixed on you, admiring the innocent, vulnerable expression on your face as you sleep. he takes several more moments to just watch you, his gaze flickering over every detail of your face—the way your eyelashes flutter against your cheeks, the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the slight part of your lips as you breathe in.

he lets out a soft sigh, his fingers gently tracing your skin, his touch almost reverent. “god, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs quietly, the words slipping out involuntarily.

gojo’s eyes lingered on your peaceful, sleeping form, an unsettling mixture of admiration and satisfaction bubbling inside him. every detail of your face seemed to draw him in, each soft breath you took making his heart twist. he couldn't help but trace the curve of your cheek with his finger, as though savoring the image of you in your most vulnerable state. god, you're beautiful, he thought, the words slipping from his lips in a quiet murmur, but they were tinged with something darker.

as much as he tried to shake it off, a faint flicker of guilt gnawed at him. just a tiny sliver, a whisper in the back of his mind, reminding him of the bet, the cruel game he was playing with his friends. was this really what he wanted? to use you like this, to take advantage of your innocence, your trust, all for the sake of proving something to them? the thought scratched at his conscience, but it was fleeting, quickly drowned out by the more dominant, selfish part of him.

he couldn’t help it—he wanted to win. he wanted to show off, to prove that he was the one who’d conquered you first. the idea of rubbing it in toji, geto, and sukuna’s faces, seeing their reactions when he revealed that he was the one who’d claimed you, made his chest tighten with dark satisfaction. the guilt? it was easily buried beneath the hunger for victory.

monday couldn’t come soon enough.

sukuna leaned back, crossing his arms with a sly smirk as he glanced at gojo. “you’re so damn stupid,” he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. “just get to the point, genius. we’re here to talk about the bet, not hear you babble on like an idiot.”

the mention of the bet caused a shift in the group. toji’s smirk sharpened, a predatory gleam in his eyes as he leaned forward, clearly ready to pounce on whatever gojo had to offer. geto, normally the calmest of them, looked intrigued, his gaze steady and expectant. sukuna’s own smirk widened into a mocking grin, savoring the thrill of competition, ready to lay down his own proof and claim victory over the others.

he let the tension build, basking in the eager anticipation hanging thick between them. then, without further ado, sukuna reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone and casually waving it in the air. “alright, boys. one... two... three,” he counted, then turned his screen toward the group with a triumphant look. displayed was a photo of you lying next to him, fast asleep, vulnerable and unguarded. sukuna’s smirk grew wider, reveling in the victory he thought was his.

as sukuna’s countdown reached three, he confidently pulled out his phone, an air of smug triumph around him as he turned the screen to reveal the photo of you, asleep in his arms, your peaceful face nestled against him. for a brief moment, he savored the victory, certain he’d be the one to claim the title. but as he looked up, expecting awe and frustration from the others, he found something else entirely.

geto’s face, usually so calm, had twisted into a look of sheer confusion, a frown creasing his brow as he looked down at his own phone, then up at sukuna, and back to his phone again. in his hand, on his own screen, was the exact same photo—down to every last detail. his jaw clenched, and he turned the phone towards sukuna without saying a word, letting the image speak for itself.

toji, who’d been leaning back with a predatory smirk, felt his confidence waver. he, too, checked his phone, and the smirk fell, replaced by a dark scowl. “what kind of joke is this?” he growled, his fingers gripping his phone tightly, a mix of anger and disbelief in his eyes as he flashed the identical photo.

and gojo, who’d initially met sukuna’s countdown with smug amusement, suddenly felt the blood drain from his face. he looked at his own screen, the same picture staring back at him, taunting him with an illusion of victory. his lips pressed into a thin line as he glanced at each of the others, his usual cocky grin now replaced with a frustrated grimace. “so… none of us won anything, huh?” he muttered bitterly, his voice low, laced with irritation.

a tense silence settled over them, their expressions twisted with disbelief and anger. each one felt the bitter sting of having been outsmarted, the pride and triumph they’d anticipated now twisted into something sharp and uncomfortable.

sukuna clenched his jaw, the victory he’d tasted turning to ash. “this is ridiculous. how the hell—” he began, but was cut off by toji’s dry, humorless laugh.

“guess none of us were as clever as we thought,” toji muttered darkly, his voice edged with anger and annoyance.

sukuna’s eyes narrowed, his pride deeply wounded. “tch,” he scoffed, shoving his phone back into his pocket. “so we all lost? pathetic.” they sat in a tense, silent circle, each stewing in their own frustration and realizing they’d been played.

gojo let out a frustrated sigh, the realization of the situation sinking in. none of them had won, and worse, they'd all been tricked. he glanced again in your direction, a mix of irritation and confusion on his face. the realization that you, sweet and innocent as you seemed, had somehow outsmarted them all was a pill too hard to swallow.

“well, this is just great,” he muttered, his voice heavy with sarcasm. “we’re all idiots.”

the four men turned, spotted you a few benches away, looking completely at ease, chatting with none other than nanami. his composed, polished demeanor stood out even in the crowded cafeteria, and as you held your phone up to show him something, you looked every bit like you were sharing a private joke. they saw your face light up with that familiar, radiant smile as nanami rolled his eyes in mock annoyance, his expression softening in a way they rarely saw.

then, to their surprise, nanami sighed, pulling his wallet from his pocket and handing you a couple of bills. your smile grew even bigger, the kind of delighted, unguarded grin they’d each hoped to earn themselves. from a distance, they couldn’t make out what you were saying, but the playful exchange and easy familiarity between you both were clear as day.

their eyes widened when nanami leaned down, just slightly, his hand resting on your shoulder as he pressed a brief but gentle kiss to your lips—completely unfazed by the cafeteria full of students. the kiss was neither rushed nor hesitant, just natural and unapologetic. as he pulled away, he sent a pointed, almost warning glance in their direction, his gaze cold and unyielding, as if daring any of them to even think about challenging him.

you turned then, catching their gawking stares and raising the cash in your hand with a sly grin that practically dripped with triumph. they could only sit in stunned silence as you waved the money at them, your expression smug and knowing. your gaze lingered on them for a second longer, a little glint of mischief in your eyes, before you turned your attention back to your phone, completely unfazed by their reactions.

the four men sat there, speechless, their jaws hanging open in shock at the scene unfolding before them. they’d expected you to be meek and naive, unaware of their little bet. instead, here you were, giggling with nanami, a man known for his aloofness and strict nature, casually taking money from him in exchange for a kiss. your confident wave and smug smile only added to the shock.

toji was the first to snap out of it, his eyes narrowing as he watched you with a mixture of anger and surprise. “what the hell was that?” he sputtered, his voice strained.

sukuna’s face contorted with pure disbelief, a rare look of complete shock crossing his usual smug features. he couldn’t believe that the girl they’d all so casually thought they were playing had flipped the entire game on them. his jaw clenched, eyes narrowing as he muttered under his breath, “unbelievable… she played us.”

toji, on the other hand, looked downright irritated, his expression darkening as he watched nanami give you that casual, easy kiss. his pride stung, and he forced out a low, sarcastic laugh, shaking his head. “so much for thinking she’d be easy to handle,” he growled. “guess we’re the ones who got handled.”

geto was silent, his usual calm mask slipping just enough to reveal the flicker of surprise in his eyes. he prided himself on being perceptive, but seeing you there with nanami, openly flaunting the victory they thought was theirs, left him speechless. his lips curved into a grudging smirk, though, as he muttered, “gotta hand it to her… didn’t see that coming.”

gojo felt his face flush with a mix of frustration and lingering embarrassment. he leaned back, running a hand over his face and letting out a soft, defeated chuckle. “well, this is just fantastic,” he murmured, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he watched you wave the money with that smug smile on your face. “we’re all idiots, and she knows it.”

the four men sat there, each lost in their own thoughts, the reality of what had just happened sinking in. they’d underestimated you, treated you like a naive little toy to be won, but you'd turned the tables on them. and the fact that you’d done it so effortlessly, with such a casual smirk on your face, only added to the collective sense of shock and irritation.

gojo, in particular, couldn’t shake off the burning sense of embarrassment. you’d made him look like a fool, and that stung. him, who was never one to be outplayed, felt a strange mix of anger and admiration at your audacity. it was both aggravating and irritating, but there was an undercurrent of grudging respect. you’d made all of them look like morons, yet there was something about your confidence, the way you casually took nanami’s money, that he couldn’t help but find intriguing.

gojo clenched his jaw, his own competitive nature burning within him. “that smug little…” he muttered under his breath, barely loud enough for the others to hear.

geto shot him a bemused smirk, sensing the competitive fire flaring up in his friend. “looks like you’ve met your match, genius,” he said, his voice laced with sarcasm. “and judging by the look on your face, you’re not handling it too well.”

lost in a whirlwind of shock and confusion, they barely noticed you approaching until you were standing right at their table, an amused, knowing smile on your lips. with a graceful, almost lazy flick of your wrist, you dropped a small stack of polaroids onto the table, each one falling face-up, showing exactly what they dreaded to see.

each photo captured the same damning image: them, fast asleep, completely unaware, while you sat on their waist, looking down with a mocking pout. your lips jutted out in an exaggerated, fake crying face, as if mourning their obliviousness. their faces, peaceful in sleep, were juxtaposed with your taunting expression, turning the tables in a way none of them could have expected.

toji’s eyes went wide as he flipped through the pictures, his smirk quickly fading to a tight-lipped grimace. sukuna’s jaw clenched, a flush of irritation darkening his cheeks as he processed the fact that you’d played him, all of them, so perfectly. geto let out a disbelieving chuckle, shaking his head, unable to hide a mix of amusement and frustration at your brazen boldness.

gojo, usually quick with a snappy comeback, could only stare at the photos, stunned into silence. he glanced up at you, his gaze a mix of admiration and disbelief. you’d outwitted them, effortlessly.

you leaned in slightly, resting one hand on the edge of the table, flashing them a wicked grin. “hope you enjoyed your little nap, boys,” you teased, your tone sweet but dripping with smugness. with one final smirk, you turned on your heel and walked away, leaving them speechless, the photos in hand as a constant reminder of the game they’d lost to you.

[plumipal]

The Tattoo (part three)

After scarabias overblot, and seeing what Ace and Deuce were willing to do for you, you were so touched that you decided to get them tattooed on your body as a small heart and a spade. After that chaos ensues-

If you wanna read the whole prolouge, then it's here

Oh poor Idia, where do we even start for him?... poor guy is absolutely shattered as soon as he saw those two tattoos on you through the cameras. He felt his entire reason to live just shatter. He feels his entire world collapsing in on itself. He completely just, breaks down, sobbing to himself on the floor trying to rationalise how the tattoos were not real, to try to keep his sanity in tact.

The days after that disastrous breakdown, he has been stuck in bed, too depressed to frankly do anything but to sulk. He had not eaten, not drank enough, and his personal hygiene is downright awful.

Once Ortho has convinced him to get up because crowley demanded him to actually attend his classes or it's byebye NRC for Idia, his pity for himself has turned into rage. Whenever he sees the dumb duo he can't help but to want to do anything against them, he sure would LOVE to doxx them...

But after some reconciderence from Ortho (statistics show he would be one of the top suspects for it and therefore make the prefect hate him even more (he believes)) he instead chose to take care of himself, putting actual effort in how he looks as to win you over with that. He sure hope it works, please...

Don't think ortho is just hyping up his brother, cuz he is sure helping on the sidelines. Digging up info the students don't want anyone to know abour sure is easy when you have unlimited internet access (and some illegal ways to obtain the info)

That's the easy way of getting students away from you, but getting you trapped up with them is almost just as easy. He starts calling you his siblings as well, subtly telling you how you and idia would be the greatest siblings ever to him, even backing up and glorifying hos brother in your eyes, anything it takes to get you to chose idia.... you will all be a happy family....

Sebek, for once in his life, is stunned to silence. He cant quite grapple the thoughts and feelings swirling within him is making him feel quite sick, making him quiet for the rest of the day..

Once classes has ended, he bolts over to his dorm only to dramatically lock himself in his dorm room and let out the worst crying session ever. He is sobbing,

The whole ordeal and emotions results in him having the need to constantly watch over you, as a way to show that he too can protect you, he can be there for you, just like ace and Deuce, but better! Please, he needed you, he needs you to need him too, please...

Silver don't quite know what to think about this. He cant blame you, the heroic stunts of your friends sure are nice, but why with something so permanent? He could do what they did and so much more for you, give him an opportunity and he will show you.

After "the talk" the four of them had, he has had a hard time sleeping for the first time in his life. He feels exhausted yet can't close his eyes, pictures of you happily being with ace and Deuce clouding his poor exhausted brain. He will take this on the only way he knows, a duel for your love and your hand.

You're not dumb either, you see how tired he had been and the lack of sleep he has been getting, and feeling bad for him you let him sleep on tou if that would help him. He takes this opportunity and sure is greedy with it, wanting more and more sleep time with you. It's one way to claim you, and at the moment it's enough for him, but don't think he won't demand more in the soon future..

Lilia feels heartbroken. First that the prefect, his beloved, has shown this love that he would love to have for someone else (especially two people), it breaks his heart. What breaks his heart even more is how he needs to go against his own sons for his beloved too. But he will do whatever it takes to secure you for himself.

When he meets you after hearing about the tattoo, he tries act as normal as possible, not wanting to scare you away with his desperation. Despite that though, he will also try to advance, because he is NOT losing to all these youngsters, he's old enough to know exactly how to treat someone right. Let him treat your right, please, he begs of you....

Malleus feels like there's a storm inside him, getting worse by every second he thinks about that forsaken tattoo you have. He activately tries to think less about it, not wanting the whole school to be stuck in a storm for weeks, especially when you're situated in that poor awful old and decrepid building. He will try to smite ace and Deuce if he has the choise to though-

After the anger dies down, that's when the sadness flows in. The fact that he was not your favorite, that he was not worth his own tattoo, frankly brings him to tears. He has never been denied something in his life, especially something that he wants so badly. It's a foreign feeling, and a horrible one at that.

He is an attention hungry dragon, give him what he wants and he will give you the world without question. Just, please, give him the love and affection he both crave and deserves...

Chat, im tired. Let me sleep- FINALLY THIS SERIES IS FINISHED! or so I thought- o will focus on other comics/ideas before I come back for the endings tho, because I kinda wanna do other stuff and not just the tattoo shenanigans yknow :) one again huge thanks to @artdolliewishes for lots of support and help lmao

I hope yall enjoyed this shitshow of a series atleast, was lots of fun to create after all

[shaisuki]

❝ THE WOLF I PICKED UP AS A STRAY IS A BUM.ᐟ CLINGY TOO! ❞

content warnings. hybrid toji, suggestive themes, nsfw under the cut.

wolf! toji that you picked up on one windy night. littered with cuts and one of his wolf ears are cut. probably from a fight and thus, you brought him home to take care until he's healed.

wolf! toji who took a liking to you. he never left your house and lives as a free loader who never offered to get a job to pay for the bills in exchange for living with you. he only stares at you. a mischievous glint in his eyes and a cocky smirk. “i'm guarding your house, sweetheart.” he said with a wink and you kind of wanted to slap the shit out of him.

wolf! toji that annoys the hell out of you. trying to get a rise and won't behave unless you threatened to kick him out which works but only for a certain amount of time and he's back on to you again.

wolf! toji beefy body with broad shoulders and everything about him screams big. menacing even with the scar in the corner of his mouth. his ears twitching and that sharp fangs that you knew can tear huge chunks of flesh from how he eats. his strength jaw can crush anyone with a single bite. despite all of that features of him, he didn't use it to intimidate you.

wolf! toji is a huge lazy bum. who sleeps most of the day and lays on the windows where sunlight streams and he's peacefully snoozing. who only wakes up when it's time to eat or to annoy you. messes up with your things and leave them for you to clean.

wolf! toji who can be surprisingly affectionate when you need it. his ears twitching when he senses you're in distress or particularly sad. his large palms patting your head and will sometimes hug you and let you cry on his shoulder. his huge fluffy tail gently wagging and you can hear it gently thumping.

wolf! toji who enjoys teasing you. pinching your round cheeks until they puffed out. chuckling as you slap his hand away and hears you grumbling. grabs your love handles and squeezing the supple flesh earning another rise out from you. hes careful not to scratch you up with his sharp nails.

wolf! toji who may have been slowly falling in love with his human. he didn't know where it started but he suddenly seeks your warmth in most times and starting to wonder what time will you get home from your work. repeatedly glancing at the clock and yawns from how bored he was without you. the longer you took, the more he hallucinates of you. your laugh bouncing on the walls. your presence at every corner of your home and just you.

wolf! toji who gets too possessive when you came home stinking of a male human. you didn't know cause you don't have super senses like him and you're just confused why he starts growling at you. immediately scenting you afterwards and pulling you close to his muscular body. squirming and writhing and going as far to punch him to get out of his grip didn't work. he didn't even budge.

wolf! toji growling at you from trying to move away from him. keeping a tight grip to your plush waist as he settled you on his lap. straddling him with your thick thighs and feeling the hardness of cock. rubbing between your clothed cunt. you can hear him grunting at the skin of your neck where your pulse is. “mine. you're mine.”

wolf! toji biting the skin to mark you as his. sharp canine teeth digging at your skin enough to bruise before licking it with his tongue to sooth you from the pain he had caused. nuzzling at your neck after that. inhaling your scent that without a doubt no trace of any other men beside him.

wolf! toji is grabbing your soft chin and he melts at the look in your face. the color of your eyes meeting with his own green ones and he loses at the sight of your parted lips. beckoning him to kiss you and he did. it was messy. all tongue and drool seeping on the corners of his mouth. lost in the feeling of your soft lips against his. giving you no time to reciprocate as he claimed you. grabbing the back of your head to deepen the kiss and burying yourself in the hardness of his body.

wolf! toji who breaks the kiss. licking the remnants of his spit and yours in his lips. his thumb caressing your round cheek. no words are said and it was clear that you belong to him and only him.

wolf! toji is now your partner. a clingy one and too overprotective who never left your side. acting as a guard dog whenever you two shop. growling and glaring to everyone who gets closer to you. baring his sharp canine teeth and snarls to someone who dares to approach you. he stands behind you. looking for any threats that may harm you. he can't have you being put in danger. that's what he reasoned when you scold him for being territorial and he brushes it off. he also likes his view when he's behind you.

wolf! toji who have no concept of personal space. he's almost your shadow now. follows you everywhere. in the kitchen where you cook, he standing behind you. watching you prepare a meal for him and yours. in the bathroom who insists that he should be there — what happens if you slip? no one will be there except for him. you sprayed him water once and he hates it but didn't deterred him. in the living room where either he's sprawled above you, crushing you with his weight or you on his lap while you finish a work.

wolf! toji is so handsy at you. grabbing whatever flesh he can get. kneading and squishing every part of your body especially your round belly where he grabs the malleable flesh. feeling it in his hand and loving the way it feels against his hand and then to your boobs. palming it every change he can get. you're his human-sized stressball.

wolf! toji that loves when you touch him. he may not say it but his tail says so. you teased him for it and he only grumbles. a slight blush dusting on his cheeks. he gives in when you scratch his head. his wears twitching and you hear that familiar sound of his tail wagging thumping against the floor. he gets so putty at your touch but he won't tell you.

wolf! toji who loves the closeness with your body and his. contrasting his hard ones with your softness. he likes it how feels against his and how it rubs against his skin when he fucks you senseless. plowing into your fat pussy like there's no tomorrow and being hypnotized from how your body jiggles beneath him.

wolf! toji that loves to eat your fat pussy. his tongue are perfect for it. it's wide and take your whole pussy lips in them. giving you broader and wider licks whole he catches your juices on his tongue. his tail wagging on response from how happy he is. tasting your sweet cunt of his mouth.

wolf! toji stretching you with his big, fat cock. folded you up in a mating press. drooling at the sight of your belly being squished and your fat pussy swallowing his cock whole. growling at the sensation of being buried in your wet, velvety heat.

wolf! toji who pounds in you with no tomorrow. fucking you in a wild abandon while he grabs your plush waist for better grip. the flesh spilling into his large palms. beads of blood surfacing where his sharp nails had digged into your skin. relishing into your moans and gasps.

wolf! toji who cums a lot. his thick warm cum seeping into the crevices of your awaiting womb. spurts after spurts of his cum being loaded inside of you. desperation evident from how badly he wants to fill you with his cum.

it's not the end for that not when wolf! toji who loves you very much. he ain't good, not kind either and pretty mean to you but he can be soft when he wants to. just with you though. he already claimed you, marked you. there's no running from him when he got you wrapped around his big, beefy arms. snuggling into you like there's no tomorrow and definitely not letting you go.

help your struggling writer with a coffee.

[milktiicup]

do you write for mr scarletella? :) if so, may i request jealous scarlet who makes attempts to get closer to reader (court them) after seeing how close they are to mr crawling

persistence is key

That creepy smile grows on his face. "You like me," he says like it’s a fact. “What the- what?” You share a glance with Mr. Crawling. “You slow in head?”

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮ yeah idk, lowkey some enemies to (potential) lovers, i have no idea how to characterise mr scarletella, but i tried my best and then i kinda got a little too invested in trying to spin the fic the way i wanted and wrote a little more than usual... sorry if ur disappointed, i tried to keep the whole courting/jealous thing subtle but still kinda there >w<

warnings. canon typical violence >w<

You’re not sure when you met the man in red, but you know he’s stalking you now. And it’s getting seriously old. Unlike the ghosts and monsters you’ve had the pleasure of meeting, this one doesn’t know how to take a hint.

Your first unofficial encounter with him is something that sent shivers down your spine, tucked away under Mr. Crawling’s arm and clutching onto his kimono for dear life. The second encounter was much worse- separated from your other worldly protector and left running down an almost comically long and creepy hallway where he just magically appears in front of you. 

You don’t even think twice before you smash the crowbar into his form with all your strength, but it was futile the way he flickered? in front of your own eyes and left a weird moist residue on your weapon. You scowled, and rudely pointed a finger at him- “What the hell’s your problem, dude?”

In response, he leaned in close- so close that your nose nearly touched his. The tilt of his scarlet umbrella cast a dark shadow over you, and as he peered down, one black eye appeared from behind his hair, locking onto you with a soul-piercing stare. You felt stripped bare under that gaze, vulnerable and exposed, like he was seeing straight into your core, uncovering forgotten memories, pieces of yourself even you couldn’t remember. He smiled—a slow, unsettling curl of his lips that chilled you to your bones—and said something you didn’t understand. It sounded like a question, maybe, though you couldn’t be sure. You didn’t care. You spat out a few choice words and swung again, hard.

At least for a while, he left you alone.

Has it been days, weeks, or even months since you’ve got here? It was difficult to keep track, and it was difficult to even care anymore. The place was, without a doubt, growing on you by the day. Even if it was filled with hostile creatures that wanted to eat you sometimes, and when your skin started to get discoloured and you had the inhuman itch that just could never be satisfied- it wasn’t that bad! Hell, you even made a few friends and claimed a comfortable bed in some random room you found.

However, just as you finally started settling into the place, you had your third encounter with Mr. Scarletella.

It started with a dream- from before you came to this world. That man in red… A test of courage, your friends called it- spending a night in those so-called ‘Ghost Apartments.’ Your friends hadn’t known it then, but you were quite familiar with the building for reasons, and set yourself up in a cosy corner and the night was supposed to sail smoothly.

A rumour had surfaced- a tale of a ruin that appears only on rainy days, where you’re warned never to give your name to the figure you’ll meet there. That figure, they said, would take your soul. At the end of a dim hallway, standing silently under a scarlet umbrella, he was waiting. The man in red, eyes hidden beneath his hair. He was watching you. Or was he? Somehow you could feel his stare even if you couldn’t see it. 

You woke up, heart pounding, muttering a string of curses. You groan, rubbing a hand down your face. The discoloration of your skin hadn’t gotten any worse, but it hadn’t gotten better, either. The longer you stayed here, the more the place left its mark. As long as you remained relatively human, and the only thing this place took from you was your memory, you weren’t too fussed. How could you possibly miss something from the other world when all you could remember was smashing a crowbar into someone’s head?

You swing your legs over the bed, feet touching the cold ground. The chill sent a jolt up your spine, and it was almost too tempting to get back under the cosy, warm sheets. You stretch your arms above your head, bones cracking and popping into place and mumble a hazy ‘Good morning’ to Mr. Crawling that should have been in the other bed. Silence wasn’t something you were used to around him- and you whip around so fast that you gave yourself whiplash.

Cursing, you grab your crowbar and stumble out of the room with a hand rubbing your tender neck. You didn’t need to look far- you could see Mr. Crawling at the end of the hallway.

And Mr. Scarletella. 

The man in red was bent over to be face to face with Mr. Crawling, all-too-familiar sinister smirk on his face. Mr. Crawling didn’t look so happy either, and they seemed to be having an argument. You stomp your feet as you make your way over to the two, hand tightening on your crowbar as you ready yourself to fight literal static if it meant leaving your best friend in here alone.

“You,” you scowl, pointing your weapon at him. “You problem?”

Mr. Crawling scurries to your side, a hand gripping onto your clothes. “Dangerous… should get away!” he urges, tugging. 

You shush him with a pat on his head with your free hand and continue to glare at that menace. 

“You like them?” is the only thing Mr. Scarletella asks with a tilt of his head, smile seemingly disappearing into thin air.

Glancing at Mr. Crawling, his face covered in worry- you feel the familiar itch of your skin. You take a breath, going through all the reasons why you can’t actually kill Mr. Scarletella, and loosen the grip on your crowbar. From what you can sense right now, he’s not actually that much of a threat. Just a nuisance that can’t seem to leave you alone. 

“Them friend,” you reply, deadpan. What type of question was that anyway? This guy was a freak. 

That creepy smile grows on his face. "You like me," he says like it’s a fact.

“What the- what?” You share a glance with Mr. Crawling. You turn back to Mr. Scarletella. “You slow in head?”

The smile on Mr. Scarletella’s face falters just for a moment, but it quickly returns, more chilling than before. He stands there, towering above you. Despite your snarky comment, he doesn’t look offended- no, it’s almost as if he’s intrigued by your resistance.

You tighten your hold on the crowbar. “You problem.” You frown. “Go away.”

Instead, his grin deepens, his head tilting at such an unnatural angle that you can feel your stomach churn. It’s as though he’s studying you, savouring every little bit of your discomfort. Surely, turning your head at that angle is gonna hurt… You audibly gulp.

“Problem later,” Mr. Scarletella says, and with an unsettling flicker, he’s gone. 

The next time you saw him after that was in less tense circumstances. It was unsettling after whatever that was with his coy little ‘Problem later’, you weren’t going to worry too much about it for the time being. You decided you’ll worry about it when the problem occurs, which probably wasn’t the smartest of ideas you had. 

The earth shakes, and you’re completely cut off from Mr. Crawling. Wandering down hallways, resting in random rooms- you never really felt alone. You turn a corner, dizziness growing by the minute, and pause.

“You again,” you sigh. You don’t even bother lifting your crowbar at him. “What do you want?”

He appears directly in front of you, causing you to stumble back a few steps at just how tall he is. He bends down to your eye level, umbrella covering both of you once again. “Give name?” he asks. 

“No. Go away.”

“Give name. Teach.”

“Go away!”

“Teach name.”

“Fine! My name’s… you pause. You didn’t actually have to give him your real name, did you? “...Silvair, or something.”

He gets closer to your face. You take another few steps back, but not before you get the smell of blood and dampness off of him. It takes all the willpower in your body to not scrunch your face up. 

“Wrong name.”

“So what? It’s a name.” You scoff. Mr. Scarletella is silent, eerily so, and you can feel his piercing gaze stare through you once more. You awkwardly avoid eye contact, and clear your throat. “I’m… gonna go now, okay?” You turn on your feet and only make it a few steps.

“You teach them name?”

Them? Mr. Crawling? That guy doesn’t even understand the concept of his own name! The scowl feels as if it’s permanently etched onto your face. You whip around, pointing another disapproving finger into his red raincoat. It feels fuzzy… and wet. It grosses you out, almost. More than Mr. Gap’s greasy hair.

“No,” you hiss. “I don’t even remember my own name.” He stares, silently.  “Me,” you point to yourself, “not know name.”

“...Not know name?” he echoes. What you said has him lost, you could see that. 

Just like that, he’s gone again. You don’t see him for a few more days, nor do you find Mr. Crawling. You spend your time aimlessly wandering, knowing eventually you’ll most likely find someone you know in a friendly manner, and not pondering if every ghost you come across is a friend or a foe. 

You awake promptly to a sound of a chainsaw revving. As if it was a morning routine, you stumble to your feet, grasping for your crowbar that should have, without a doubt, been next to you… only to grasp at air. Okay, now you are starting to feel a little panic.

Through trial and error, you knew that whatever wound you receive will heal, with time- but it doesn’t mean you were looking forward to being maimed to shreds with a chainsaw! 

“Hehe.”

You froze, heart racing, and slowly turn around. There that wretched little being was- the stupid little fucker in the goat costume. The ‘Hooded Child’, the thing was termed. In it’s stupid little fucking hands, it held you handy-dandy crowbar that’s been with you thick and thin. Your stomach churns. 

You gulp and face back towards the open doorway- a long black abyss, stretching on and on, with only the haunting bounce of that chainsaw, crawling along the walls. That chainsaw that was about to mince you in a matter of seconds. That chainsaw that was approaching you rapidly.

Frantically, you grab the nearest thing you could reach for. A metal chair. You wince. Probably not the best thing you could’ve grabbed, but it’ll have to do. It’s a matter of- well, technically life or life, but still! You could feel the sweat on your palms, the adrenaline pumping through your veins and your heart hammering through your ribcage. 

You lift the chair above your head as the monster comes into view- a tall, masked being in a strapless floor length black dress… wait, why was she dressed so sexy? Your surprise leads you to hesitate as she rushes at you with her machine. You let out a yelp as you whack the chair down in front of you, metal clanging echoing throughout the room.

Complete silence. Not even the sound of that chainsaw. Not even the sound of metal.  

“Huh?” You blink, once, twice, thrice at the sliced up body of that creature, blood splatter on your clothes. There was blood even on the ceiling, too… You drop the chair in utter confusion.  “What the hell?”

“Help you.”

“You again!” You spin on your feet, meeting the dull eyes of Mr. Scarletella. You’re about to huff and puff this guy into next week, but pause. You leave your accusing finger down by your side. This guy just saved you from that thing. You avert your eyes and scuff your feet against the ground with a cough into your fist. “Uhm… Thank you.”

Wow, this guy really has an intense stare… Way to make things unnecessarily intense and awkward. 

“Protect you,” he says. “You like me?”

“Take me out to dinner first, man!” you exclaim, crossing your arms over your chest. “Not like. You not bad. Not good. You okay.”

Mr. Scarletella dons an out of place frown that even makes you feel a little uneasy. “Them protect you. You like them.”

“Them friend,” you stress, finally meeting his gaze once more. You kind of regret it. This guy doesn’t blink. “You…” Weird? Off-putting? Freaky? “...unsafe.”

“Me safe. Protect you. Help you.” 

You sigh. “Unsafe to friend.”

He just stands there, holding that stupid umbrella, with that unblinking stare. You blink at him and squint your eyes. His facial expression doesn’t change. Completely unfazed. You can’t even tell if he’s confused, or upset, or whatever he could possibly be. Your breath hitches as his unsettlingly familiar smile returns.

He tilts his head. “Me good. Me show you.”

Then he’s gone again. You can finally breathe. Your heart is still pumping. You slide against the wall, landing on the ground and resting your head against your knees. You clutch at your raincoat with shaking fists. 

Mr. Scarletella - you knew he was meant to be dangerous, but he just saved you a whole lot of pain. Even if he was still a threat to Mr. Crawling, and hounds you for your name, asks you weird questions, could he honestly be as bad as you originally thought he was? You can’t deny that he did save you… but his presence is more dangerous than comforting. He’s both a threat and an aid, but never clear on which he’ll be at any given moment. One thing is for certain, however, and that was that he was persistent for your attention. Wait… 

Oh my good God, does he like you?

“Heh…”  Chuckling, you tuck your hair behind your ear. “I am pretty cute.”

You stand, and decide it’s better to think about while on the move back to Mr. Crawling. You reach for your crowbar, and curse. Of course. The Hooded Child took it with them when they disappeared when Mr. Stalkerella showed up. Well, you sigh as you drag the chair behind you as you exit the room, at least you have a temporary weapon, for now…

Making it back to Mr. Crawling didn’t take that much longer. He greets you, frown on his face and long arms wrapping around your waist. “Me worried! You gone long time!”  

“Long time,” you agree, bending down to his level. You ruffle his hair, a smile finally sliding onto your face. It quickly turns into a pout as you wave your empty hands. “Lost attack tool.” 

Mr. Crawling points to the spilled blood on your raincoat with a high pitched noise. You sheepishly giggle, and gesture to the chair behind you. He tilts his head, processing, before letting out his all familiar laugh. You sigh in content, glad to see a friendly face and let him pet you for a while. 

He stops petting you, and turns around. “Attack tool!” he smiles wide, your trusty weapon in his grey hands. “Them give me.”

“Them?” you repeat, taking the crowbar, twisting and turning it in your grasp. “Them who?”

“Them!” 

Curse this damn language. 

“Mr. Crawling,” you hold his face in your hands, “what look like?”

His smile falters, and if you could see his eyebrows, you’d imagine they would be furrowed. He takes a moment to think, and points to the blood on your raincoat, and attempts to imitate holding an…

Umbrella.

You stare. And stare. And stare. You can’t even begin to process what Mr. Crawling just said to you, debating maybe you actually were growing crazy and it was finally time to bounce out of this place- andddd of course, you notice a red flicker at the end of the hallway. You tilt your head past Mr. Crawling.

That scarlet umbrella tilts slightly, and just for a split second, you catch a glimmer of that piercing dark eye staring straight at you, as if watching every nerve fire under your skin. You can see his smile from here, as if it was a smug ‘I told you so’ but it was actually a ‘Me show you.’ 

Well… Mr. Scarletella did show you. And now you were just left, to put it simply, utterly fucking confused. It just drilled the narrative down deeper of the possibility that he did like you. So… what do you do now? Do you apologise for trying to smash his head in with a crowbar? For being so rude? 

How do you even apologise for something you don’t even remotely feel sorry for in the first place? Mr. Scarletella was creepy! …At least, he was kind of sweet. Not really- his intentions were anything but kind. But still!

You bite the inside of your cheek. …Is it wrong to feel a little flattered? There’s barely any romance in this place anyway!

In your world, things are either friend or foe, monster or protector. But Mr. Scarletella? He exists in some in-between place. Dangerous yet helpful. It’s as if he’s deliberately defying every category you try to force him into. And now, the memory of his unsettling question repeats in your mind- “You like me?” - echoing in your thoughts with a kind of twisted innocence that gnaws at you, a bit more with each repetition.

Mr. Crawling gives a soft, anxious chirp, tugging you slightly, drawing you out of your thoughts. He’s still eyeing the red figure warily. He points. “Them… dangerous? Them good?” 

“Not know,” you mumble, defeated. “Good, maybe.” You stand to your feet, crowbar falling off of your lap and clanging onto the floor. “Me, them, talk. You stay.”

Mr. Crawling makes a noise of protest, hand reaching out to grasp at your clothes. You reassuringly ruffle his hair once more, and make your way to the end of the hallway. You don’t hear him follow behind you.

Face to face, you stand in front of the smiling Mr. Scarletella. He stares down at you, unblinking, unmoving. 

“Can’t give name,” you remind him.

He leans his face down, ever so close. “Me like you.” A pause. “Want you.” Another pause. “You like me. Give me many human. Give me many blood.” 

Well… In your defence, you didn’t know your corpse dumping ground was Mr. Scarletella’s domain. 

“Getting in over your own head…” you grumble, and lift up your hand. You pinch your fingers together. “Little like you. Okay? LITTLE.” You wonder if this guy’s smile could get any bigger, geez… “You want big like?” You point your index towards him. “Be normal. Be good. Understand?”

“Normal? “Good?” He seems to chew over the words like they’re a foreign delicacy, his head tilting at that unnatural angle again. “For… you?”

“You good,” you waggle your finger at him, “I teach name. Maybe. If I can remember it…”

There’s an unnatural, prolonged silence in the air. You’re beginning to feel the awkward tension once more, but your resolve refuses you to break the unblinking eye contact you keep with him. 

And finally, he speaks once more, agreeing to your proposition, “You teach good, you teach name.”

You hold back your groan- whatever this dance you two were playing, was going to take a long time to progress.

But at least something is better than nothing, right?

[readwritealldayallnight]

im on my knees begging for jealous Simon headcanons 🧎🏻‍♀️

The thing about Simon is, he really has no reason to get jealous when it comes to you, and he knows it

He knows there isn’t anyone else who could make you smile so much your cheeks hurt, no one else who could make you laugh until you claim you’re going to pee your pants, no one else who could make you feel as good as he does, in oh so many ways, because you tell him so

You tell him that those same feelings of being loved, understood, appreciated, and wanted, those very feelings that you make him feel each and every day, he gives them back to you a thousand times over

He knows when you look in his eyes and tell him that you love him, that there isn’t a doubt in your mind that he is the only one for you, and nothing or anyone could ever change that

You’re as smitten with him as he is with you

Still though, Simon does have eyes

And while the logical part of his brain is telling him that he’s got no reason to be gritting his teeth and clenching his fists underneath the table, he can’t help but grow more and more frustrated with the way Soap and Gaz continue to flirt shamelessly with you

To be fair, you had warned him that keeping your relationship a complete secret from everyone would likely result is moments where Simon would have to watch you get hit on, and simply have to grin and bear it

That didn’t mean it was any easier, watching his only best mates try and work their charm on you, all while he sits at the same table and watches you roll your eyes at their advances

“Aw, come on love, just one chance, s’all I ask for!” The handsome, young sergeant practically whines to you, cheeky grin plastered across his features as he tries in vain to convince you to let him take you out some time

“Pfft, ye’d be nothin’ but a waste o’ her time, Garrick. We wouldn’t even ‘ave to to leave base for me to show ye a good time, bonnie.” The Scotsman winks at you, pointedly ignoring the way Gaz elbows him in the ribs at his comment

Throughout the entire exchange, Ghost’s gaze has never left your face, watching every time you scoff and roll your eyes at the men’s antics, reminding himself that you’re his, and he is yours, and the two sergeants are nothing more than pains in both of your asses

Finished with your pitiful meal from the dining hall, you stand from the table with your tray gathered in your hands, flipping your hair over one shoulder as you look towards the men trying to win your affection

“Once again, gentleman,” you say to them, knowing that they’re listening to your every word and watching your every move. “I don’t fraternize with colleagues. At least not the Sergeants.”

The two men groan in feeble protest at the mention of their ranks, having heard this reasoning from you before

“Ach, what if I get myself demoted, lass? I ken I could do that, easy!” Soap teases you, only kind of joking

“Mmm, don’t think that’ll work.” You reply, beginning to slowly walk away from the group, but not before glancing over you shoulder to lock eyes with Ghost and add, “You might have to become a Lieutenant. Those are more my type.”

The two Sergeants are staring after you, slightly gobsmacked, while their Lieutenant hides an overly smug and satisfied grin beneath his mask, shielding the pride that spread through him at your words

“Shite, sounds like you might ‘ave a chance, LT.” Soap laughs, smacking Ghost across the shoulder in a playful gesture, thinking that the larger man would never actually pursue you, let alone sleep in your bed almost every night

It’s a few weeks later when you and the rest of the 141 are all out for drinks at a nearby pub however, when Simon finds his instincts growing stronger than his insecurities

Because that’s just it isn’t it? He’s not feeling insecure when he sees you walk towards the bar by yourself to order a new drink, at least a dozen pairs of eyes watching you weave through the crowd in hopes of making a move on you

He’s not feeling insecure when he watches some tipsy idiot try and pretend he’s drunker than he really he is when he ‘accidentally’ bumps into you, apparently feeling the need to put his hands on you as he apologizes

He’s not feeling insecure when he watches you shove the guy off, reading your lips he knows so well as you tell the guy you’re not interested, nor is he insecure when he knows the idiot won’t give up that easily, likely asking if you’re here alone before you point over to where the 141 have overtaken a booth in the back

No, he certainly isn’t feeling insecure when he sees that the man never bothers glancing back to the table, still trying to land a hand on your body somewhere, when Simon’s instincts take over, rising from his seat without a word to the men who glance his way and ask where he’s going suddenly

He’s acting on pure instinct as he stalks over to you, the crowd parting for his large frame to move by without hesitation, locking eyes with you just as he lands a massive skull gloved hand on the tosser’s shoulder, wringing him around to face him

Your would be admirer isn’t feeling so confident now when he’s staring up at a 6’4” wall of muscle donned in all black apart from the white markings of his skull balaclava

If he were a more jealous man, Simon might take more time to admire the way you can practically hear this idiot gulp over the loud sounds of the music, the way his eyes bulge out of his head and how he looks nearly ready to piss himself on the spot

But your man knows who he is to you, and so instead he shoves the geezer away, turning to face you as one hand lifts up the bottom of his balaclava, just far enough to swoop down and meet your lips in a passionate tangle of tongue and teeth, tasting the alcohol on each other’s breath and the desire in your systems, a kiss that says to everyone else watching, including the bewildered Captain and Sergeants gawking from across the room, that you are his and his alone

[godsfavdarling]

waiting for the day to end

my masterlist

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader summary: You and Spencer come back to his apartment, and your boyfriend’s drunken state brings old wounds to the surface. words: 2,3k warnings: angst, panic attack, drunk Spencer, mentions reader's ex-bf who was an alcoholic, no y/n a/n: I'm imagining later seasons Spence but I am not gonna yuck anybody's yam!

You smoothly place the keys in the lock of his apartment and quickly turn them twice to unlock the door. The dark room abruptly brightens when you flick the light switch on.

Spencer, who has been leaning against the wall near you, stumbles into the room right behind you.

The door slams shut behind him, the thud reverberating through the room.

You flinch, spinning around at the jarring sound.

“Sorry,” Spencer mumbles, a bit unsteady.

He throws himself onto the armchair with a heavy sigh, his head lolling back as he closes his eyes.

You murmur under your breath, “I’ll get you some water,” and head toward the kitchen, your heels clacking against the floor. 

In the quiet, you take a few deep breaths to steady yourself before filling two glasses of water. 

When you bring them back, you hand one to Spencer, urging him to drink. He gulps it down immediately, nearly draining the glass in one go.

You’ve never really seen him like this.

Spencer rarely—almost never—drinks. But tonight, it’s obvious just how far gone he is. He’s coherent enough to hold himself up, and his words still make sense, but you can tell he isn’t fully present. 

He was already fading hours ago, just an hour into dinner at Rossi's when his team had convinced him to relax and celebrate Garcia’s birthday with a few drinks.

Now, he’s staring off into space, eyes glassy, a faint smile still lingering from whatever joke had last drifted through his mind. You swallow, feeling the anxiety tug at you.

You felt it early on. But you tried to ignore it.

Spencer was different. 

He was responsible and careful. He liked being sober and in control. He was someone who avoided excess.

He was not a drunk. 

You knew all this and tried to stay rational. 

After his third drink, though, all that rationality flew out the window. With the last gulp of his third drink, you decided to excuse yourself, claiming you weren't feeling well, and spent most of the evening outside. The poker game was so intense that no one really questioned you or bothered to check on you.

You had thought, knowing Spencer’s sharp observation skills, that he would come find you shortly and ask what was wrong. He always did. He could always tell when something was off and always wanted to know. But tonight, he didn’t.

You waited, each minute stretching longer than the last, hoping he’d realize and come find you, that he’d be his usual self. But as the laughter and clinking glasses carried on from inside, you realized he was somewhere you couldn’t reach him tonight.

As you watched him now, slouched in the armchair with you far away from him sitting on the edge of the couch, your heart ached. 

This wasn’t the Spencer you knew. He was lost in his thoughts, barely acknowledging your presence. You handed him your glass of water, and he took it with a mumbled "thanks", sipping it more slowly this time.

“Spencer, are you okay?” you finally asked, unable to keep the concern out of your voice.

He looked up at you, his eyes a bit clearer but still distant. “Yeah, just... tired,” he replied, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

You nodded, but the anxiety still sat inside you.

Stop!

Spencer is not him! 

He is nothing like him!

You keep staring at him, fidgeting with your fingers and the hem of your black velvet dress, feeling helpless as you try to guess what he wants. 

Is he going to stay here for a while? Does he need more water? Is he going to shower, or maybe just head to bed?

Finally, Spencer glances up, his gaze focusing on you as if for the first time tonight. His brows knit together as he notices the anxious look in your eyes. 

"What’s wrong?" he asks, his voice soft but tinged with confusion.

You swallow, feeling a rush of emotions you’ve been holding back all evening. He’s looking at you now, really looking, like he usually does, but something about his unsteady, drunken state makes you hesitate. 

He’s here, yet somehow not fully here, and you’re not sure how to answer.

You force a smile, shrugging as if it’s nothing, but your heart pounds. "Just… tired, I guess."

Spencer’s gaze doesn’t waver, and you know he sees through your answer, even in his state. 

Now he sees. 

He’s silent, watching you with a slight frown like he’s trying to piece together a puzzle. The quiet stretches between you, heavy and thick.

You glance away, twisting the hem of your dress tighter. 

"Maybe you should get some rest," you say, your voice barely more than a whisper. You try to keep the tremor out, but it’s there. A lot of it.

He’s never seen you like this—not this vulnerable, this close to tears. You’ve not been dating that long. A lot of things are still unknown, unsaid, unshared and the toxic, drunk but highly functioning, unpredictable boyfriends have not yet come out in any conversation.

"I’ll be fine," Spencer mutters, rubbing his face with one hand as he sinks further into the chair.

His words are gentle, but they’re not the reassurance you’re aching for. 

You wish he’d tell you he’d never do this again, that he understands why this is hard for you. But he doesn’t. He just looks at you, distant and hazy.

A lump forms in your throat as the silence presses down on you. You stand up, needing some distance, and force a tight smile. "I’ll let you get some sleep. I’ll go… take a walk or something."

As you turn to leave, Spencer reaches out, his fingers brushing your arm. "Hey," he murmurs, his voice soft but unsteady. "It’s like 2 AM. You’re not going anywhere alone."

You stop, frozen, a tightness forming in your chest. You want to say it’s fine, that you just need space, but the words feel like they’re stuck in your throat. Instead, he continues, unaware of how badly his presence is affecting you right now.

“Let’s take a walk together. It’ll help,” he offers, his voice tinged with concern, though still a little slurred.

You turn sharply, frustration and something darker bubbling up in your chest. “No!” you snap, louder than you intended, the word echoing in the quiet room. You instantly regret it, but the hurt is too raw, too overwhelming. You try to swallow the sudden surge of emotion, but it’s too much.

You finally realize that his hand in on your arm, and the realization hits like a cold wave. You feel an intense rush of discomfort. You don’t want him near you right now. 

The feeling of his fingers on your skin, even though they’re meant to comfort, feels wrong.

You can’t breathe. You can’t handle his touch, not like this, not after everything that’s happened. You jerk away, backing up, your heart hammering.

Without a word, you turn and storm toward the bathroom. You lock the door behind you and lean against it for a second, trying to steady your breath. 

The walls feel like they’re closing in, the anger and fear swirling inside you until you can hardly tell the difference between the two.

It’s not his fault, you think, taking a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside your chest.

He’s just drunk, he’ll be sober soon, but... why does it still feel so wrong?

You press your hands to your face, feeling the tears already starting to form.

I’m not that person anymore. I’m not going to let this take me back. I can’t let it.

Your thoughts race, but you force yourself to focus, turning the shower on. The sound of the water helps. 

You quickly but clumsily step out of the dress and underwear, leaving them in a heap on the tiles. 

You step under the hot spray, closing your eyes, letting the warmth soothe the tension in your muscles.

Just wash it off, just wash it off, you tell yourself as if the water could cleanse more than just your skin.

You’re lost in the sensation of the water for long minutes when there’s a gentle knock on the bathroom door. 

You freeze. Your heart skipping a beat.

“Hey… uh… I really need to pee,” Spencer calls out, his voice even softer than before.

You swallow, fighting the panic rising in your throat, and quickly shut off the water. You wrap a towel around your body and open the door just enough for you to slip past him. Without a word, you go into the bedroom and gracelessly put on one of the shirts you left in his drawer.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow everything will be fine, you think, climbing into bed, curling up under the covers. 

You just want this day to end. You need it to end.

Then it hits you—you’re in his bed.

You stand up and then sit again on the edge.

You should go home. You should be in your own bed. You want to get up, gather your things, get dressed, and leave, but you're paralyzed. You're overwhelmed. You can’t breathe. You can’t move.

Then Spencer walks into the room, his gaze landing on you. As if he can read the turmoil in your mind, he says softly, "It's late. Stay here tonight. Take the bed. I’ll take the couch."

You don’t say anything, unable to find the words.

He pauses, watching you for a moment, before quietly pulling his pajamas from the closet and heading into the bathroom.

You just need to sleep. You’ll sleep it off, and when you wake up, things will make sense again. Maybe Spencer will apologize. 

Apologize for what?

He didn’t do anything wrong.

He’ll be sober. Everything will go back to normal.

But sleep doesn’t come. The bed feels cold, and the silence in the room is suffocating. You can’t shake the thoughts in your head.

What if he doesn’t remember?

What if he won’t leave it and you’ll have to explain and he’ll be angry?

Why are you angry?

Why are you upset?

Just as you're about to give up on sleep altogether, you hear the soft creak of the door opening. Spencer slips into the room quietly, his footsteps hesitant. He walks to the bed, sitting down beside you without saying anything at first.

"Are you asleep?" he asks quietly, his voice gentle, almost too careful. You feel his gaze on you, even though you’re facing the window, your back to him.

You don’t answer at first. You don’t want to talk to him right now. You don’t want to explain why everything feels broken. You don’t want him to ask.

But you can feel him there, his presence. 

Finally, he speaks again, his voice low but steady. “Please... can we talk? I don't wanna go to bed with you upset and angry.”

You don’t move, staring into the dark. You wish you could say the right thing. You wish you could fix it, but all you feel is a dull ache in your chest, and the thought that maybe nothing will ever be the same again.

Spencer’s hand reaches out, his fingers trembling slightly as he hesitates for a moment before gently moving toward you. "Hey, I—" His voice cracks, and you can hear the sorrow in it, the regret, the helplessness.

But as his arms come closer, something inside you recoils. You can’t have him near you right now. Not like this. Not when everything feels so wrong.

You flinch, turning away from him instinctively, the words coming out before you even have a chance to stop them. “Please don’t touch me.”

The words hang between you like a heavyweight. 

Spencer freezes, his hand hovering in mid-air, and for a second, everything is still. You can hear his breathing — shallow, uneven — as if he’s trying to understand, trying to process what just happened.

You don’t want him to feel hurt, but you can’t help it. You feel exposed, vulnerable, like a raw nerve, and his touch, even if it's meant to comfort, feels suffocating.

“Okay,” Spencer finally says, his voice small, resigned. He pulls his hand back slowly, as though giving you space to breathe. 

You don’t look at him. You can’t. 

“I’m sorry,” he adds, his voice distant now, like he’s trying to find his footing again. “I just... I’m not sure what happened. I know hurt you. I don’t know how but I’m sorry.”

The silence lingers, thick and uncomfortable, wrapping itself around both of you. Spencer hesitates for a long moment, unsure of what to do or say next. You can feel his eyes on you, but you don’t lift yours. 

Finally, he clears his throat softly.

“I’ll... I’ll sleep on the couch tonight,” he says, his voice gentle and careful like he’s trying not to disturb the fragile air between you.

“It’s okay. If you want to talk... or anything... just come and tell me. I’ll be here.”

You don’t say anything. You still don’t look at him. But you can hear the sincerity in his voice, the aching honesty of it.

If only his words, his willingness to be there even when you’ve pushed him away could make things better.

But you don’t answer him, because you don’t have the strength to. You don’t know what to say.

Spencer sighs quietly, almost like a final surrender, and then you hear his footsteps moving away from you.

The door opens and closes softly behind him, and you’re left alone in the silence of the room once more.

Spencer’s words echo in your mind, but they don’t bring comfort. Not yet. 

[0mg-bird]

Lover’s Rock~ S. Reid

Spencer Reid x Fem Reader

Summary: Spencer isn’t the only one that stands out in the crowd, but maybe that’s a good thing, because that’s what leads him to you.

Warnings: I didn’t really proof read, I’ll do it later lol. 18+ content towards the end. Um Reid is such a dweeb and adorable???? Fluff, mentions of alcohol and embarrassment. Reader is so twee (can we bring twee back or no?) idk she makes questionable fashion choices.

Really, this wasn’t your thing.

The bar scene, the club dresses all the girls where, the high heels and the whole game of cat and mouse that all the guys want to play. But you’re here, you made an effort to appease your best friends who claim you have no social life.

The entire night so far, they watched you strike out with the guys they motioned over because in their mind, you’re desperate and lonely and lame.

Okay, maybe that’s more of your headspace than theirs, but they’ve been offering you pity glances this whole time.

You’ve made a decision a while ago that maybe there was no romance out there for you. You were just born with some aspect that made normal, sane guys physically run away, and maybe that’s fine. You were really good on your own. And it never did feel right when you had a guy, if it didn’t feel like the movies, it wasn’t worth it.

Right?

Okay, maybe you should settle, at some point, you’ll be too old to marry and you’ll just keep working, with no real life and take care of Shelly, your goldfish. Maybe it won’t be perfect, but it’ll be someone to share things with.

You let out a huff and watch the ice melt in your drink, not bothering to smile when your friend tells you to brighten up.

Normally, you’re a ray of sunshine, but something about getting rejected four consecutive times is raining on your parade.

An entire bar full of happy people in their element, and it’s just you, sticking out like a sore thumb, especially when your friends go dance with a few guys they hit it off with.

Too busy looking at the buckle on the ankle strap of your heel, you are sinking somewhere in your mind, to a place where you aren’t listening to cheap song lyrics of and realizing that table is stickier than you thought.

“Where’s Reid?”

“Reid.”

“Spencer!” Penelope smacks his shoulder, pulling him from the trance of his eyes on the book pages.

He looks up from the corner booth, seeing his team has returned with drinks.

“Are you seriously reading right now?” Morgan criticizes, placing a beer in front of the younger agent.

Spencer doesn’t know why he does this, beer tastes like a plowed hay field in his opinion. But he takes the drink in gratitude and before he can explain that he was just trying to finish the Russian publishing of ‘Crime and Punishment’, Morgan rips the book from his hands and tosses it to Emily for safe keeping.

“I- what was that for?” Spencer questions with a unjust squeak, feeling rather sad.

“Look around, kid, do you see how many fine ladies are here? You don’t need to be sitting here with your nose between the pages of Little Women.” Morgan states as a matter of fact.

“Yeah, nobody puts baby in the corner.” Penelope agrees.

With an airy scoff, Spencer looks to the other members for help, but they all seem to side with Derek.

He gains a defeated frown.

Spencer didn’t want to be here in the first place, now he’s being forced out into the public to socialize. There has to be a law against this, he knows there’s not because he knows everything, but he is certainly going to try and create one.

“Oh come on, Spence, why don’t you try to get a date?” JJ asks, meaning well, but the laugh that comes from Emily makes him want to recoil.

“C’mon, I’ll help you.” Morgan offers, pulling him from the booth seat.

“Yeah, that never really works well when you try to be my wingman, you usually end up with all the phone numbers.” Spencer claims, pressing his lips into a line.

But like some mock savior, Morgan stands behind Reid as they wait by the bar.

“What about her?” Morgan would point out.

To which Reid would respond with some variation of ‘she’s too much’ or ‘she definitely has a boyfriend three times my size’.

After fifteen minutes of this back and forth, Morgan is seriously regretting he forced the hermit out of his shell.

And that’s when a rowdy group finally leaves and clears the path of vision to you.

Still sat at a high table with one leg crossed over the other, you wiggle your foot as you doodle on a drink napkin.

Reid misses whatever Morgan says, and in that air of silence, the agent follows the vision.

“Okay, now we’re getting somewhere.” Derek chuckles, clapping Reid on the shoulder. “She’s pretty. Go talk to her.”

“What?” Reid looks away. “No, no, I don’t want to disturb her.”

You let out a very bored sigh.

Derek’s brows furrow. “I know you’re some boy genius but you really are dumb sometimes. Everything about that girl is screaming ‘put me outa my misery’.”

Spencer tilts his head slightly, watching you rub your eye and then frown at the way you smudged your already smudged eye liner.

“Okay, maybe you’re right.” He nods. “But…what do I say?”

Derek grins. “Compliment her, ask if she wants another drink, strike up a conversation. It’s easy, man.”

Spencer gets an uneasy feeling in him, but he still braves through it. “Easy for you, maybe.” He mumbles before running a hand through his hair and takes a step towards you.

“Go get her, tiger!” Morgan encourages.

When he returns to the team with the happy news, Penelope asks if Spencer’s gonna do good.

“Oh, definitely not, we’ll be lucky if he doesn’t trip over his own feet on the way over there.” Derek answers, laughing.

But Spencer makes it to you without a stumble, yet his whole plan leaves his mind when he gets to you.

You’re gorgeous, too pretty for him.

“Nice legs.”

Did he just say that?

You look up at him upon hearing his voice, your wide eyes confused.

“I’m sorry?” You question, not sure if you heard this stranger correctly.

He’s a rather handsome stranger.

“No- I mean I like your legs- tights! Not your legs, you have nice legs of course but that’s not- your tights are nice- cool! Different?”

Oh god, he should just walk away now. He’s already messed this whole thing up and surely you think he’s an idiot.

While he’s got an embarrassed look on his face, you look down at the red lace tights you wear under your skirt, something your friends questioned as a fashion choice.

“You really like them?” You ask, voice soft to his ears.

He stops his rambling.

“Yeah, of course I do, I think they’re cool.” He smiles softly.

You can’t help but grin bashfully.

“Every guy I’ve talked to tonight thought they were a little weird, but that’s okay, I kinda like weird.” You admit, watching as he shakes his head.

“People say my socks are weird all the time, don’t feel bad.” He comforts, pulling the material of his pants up so you can see his mismatched socks with funky colors and prints on them.

“Those are cool.” Your approval eases him, giving him just enough reassurance that you aren’t going to scream for help in the next two minutes.

“I’m Dr. Spencer Reid- sorry, force of habit, uh, just Spencer. I-I’m Spencer.” He introduces with the smallest of wave.

Still smiling more than you have the entire night, you greet him. He repeats your name like it has some special meaning, and you’ve never loved the sound of it more.

“I was going to get a drink, what are you having?” He asks, looking at your sweating glass. “Vodka soda? Cherry sour?”

You blush. “It’s actually a shirley temple…I just ate all the cherries out of it already.”

Without hesitation, he nods. “Okay, I’ll be back.”

He leaves you at your table, and then your brief moment of sunshine is clouded once more by doubt. What if he doesn’t come back? What if he drugs your drink and then you wake up in an alley somewhere, missing your wallet and phone and your tights that he thinks are so cool?

This was a bad idea. Dating isn’t for you. He seemed so nice and he’s so attractive but that should have been your first red flag and-

Oh. He’s coming back.

With two shirley temples.

He places them on the table and waits for you to grab one, then he grabs the other and takes a sip.

“You mind if I sit?” He asks.

Feeling a little silly for assuming he was out to maim you, you nod.

“I seriously doubt my friends remember I’m over here, so feel free to stay.” You joke at your expense.

He sits across from you, sparing a glance over his shoulder at his team who make it very obvious that they’re staring.

You study his profile, a shaggy haircut that falls across his forehead, all tousled in an effortless way. His jaw line is defined, round brown eyes that flick back to you. When he catches you looking, he grins once more.

It’s never been so…easy, having a ‘get to know you’ conversation. Questions come without second thoughts, you find yourself laughing, actually laughing.

Playing with your straw, you try to calm your facial expressions, your cheeks are starting to hurt from beaming so much.

“So, Dr. Reid, huh?” You ask, making him let out a small huff of embarrassment.

“That’s what the PhD’s say, yeah.” He scratches the back of his neck, suddenly feeling really dorky about his immense amount of education.

It’s not dorky to you. Every guy you’ve talked to tonight dropped out of community college because ‘it didn’t align with their career paths’ of selling protein smoothies or working in some ‘underground’ record store.

But here Spencer is, explaining he’s on the behavioral analysis unit for the FBI and he tells you about all the degrees he has. All you can think about as he talks of universities and the academy is, knowledge is such a sexy look on a guy. Sure, you’ve never really liked the underachieving stoners, but usually you’ve been with guys who seem to say “you like school?” when you talk about working towards your Masters degree.

“Wow.” Is all you can say for a moment, clearly shocked and, well, impressed. “I really wasn’t expecting that.”

“That’s what most people say.” He nods, picking the cherry in his drink out by the stem and offering it to you.

By your thankful eyes batting up at him, he’s tempted on going behind the bar and bringing you all the maraschino cherries they have. He quickly turns the conversation around to focus on you so he can focus on something other than the stained color on your lips.

“What about you? What do you do?” He asks.

Compared to his job, yours seems too normal, too mundane. You almost want to avoid the question, never once have you been unsatisfied with your career but now you can’t help it. What if Spencer doesn’t like you because you don’t work for NASA?

That’s ridiculous, because to Spencer, your job makes his adoration grow.

“Oh, I’m just a teacher.” You say, fiddling with a stem in your mouth.

Spencer gains a soft smile. “You could never just be a teacher, teacher’s are important. Well, unless you’re a sucky teacher.”

His joke earns a bubbly giggle and he decides he’d like to hear that sound forever. It’s moments like this that he’s glad to have an eidetic memory.

“I don’t think I’m a sucky teacher so that’s good, my students seem to like me.” You state, pushing your hair behind your ear and dropping the knotted stem onto a napkin.

Spencer finds himself leaning a little closer, body naturally gravitating to your pull. “What do you teach?” He asks.

“I work for my schools gifted children program, so I basically teach kid geniuses advanced core curriculum because they’ve tested out of their normal classes.” You chuckle, oblivious to the way Spencer’s heart warms.

He remains quiet for a bit too long, just staring at you with an honest look, one that makes you feel like you’re turned inside out and bared for him. The panic rises again, you think you must have said something to ruin it.

“I know it’s nothing special-” You begin to say.

“No.” He interrupts, a sure tone. “I-I think it’s great. Really, that’s not an easy job.”

Deep breath out, you’re put at ease.

“I constantly have imposter syndrome, these kids are twelve and bringing up philosophies and mathematical formulas I have to go home and study because I haven’t even learned them yet. Honestly, sometimes I don’t even think they need me there.” You joke lightly, half meaning it but masking that slight insecurity by finishing off your drink.

“They need you.” Spencer assures, an expression showing he’s never been more sure of something. “Believe me, you’re probably the only person they see in a school day that understands them.”

Brows creased, you shake your head, holding his rather intimidating gaze for such puppy dog eyes.

“What makes you so sure?” You question.

Spencer takes in a breath. “Because I know what it’s like to be twelve years old and telling a grown adult about Fermat’s Last Theorem.”

Sometimes, the world has a funny way of putting two people together. For years, you’ve wandered through life and on a random Friday night, feeling a little flushed from the Summer air, here is Spencer Reid, the man of your dreams.

Your friends left some time ago after you assured them you were fine to be left at the place you were just complaining about being. You don’t mind being left with Spencer, in fact, you’re dreading the time you have to go home because it means this moment is over.

“I really would like to live in New York.” You exclaim, somehow have fallen into the rabbit hole of dreams for the future.

“New York’s really cool!” He agrees. “Did you know that they have a homicide rate of 4.48 percent right now? It’s been declining since the nineties.”

You must make some sort of surprised face because his eyes go wide and he quickly tried to recover his odd statement.

“Sorry, my job isn’t really full of happy statistics. But mostly we just find dead prostitutes in alleys in New York.”

His blushed cheeks make your heart flutter in its beats.

“I’m glad I’m not a prostitute.” You giggle, making him chew his bottom lip for a moment.

“Yeah, I’m glad you’re not either.”

By the time the team gets their coats back on with the intention of heading home, they look across the room to see their quirky doctor friend is partaking in very friendly body language.

“Oh my god, look at him.” Emily laughs. “He’s finally using that big IQ of his.”

Penelope, who comes to hold onto Morgan’s arm, grins rather proudly. “It’s like a butterfly finally coming out of its cocoon. It’s…beautiful, actually.”

Derek laughs down at her. “I think that last long island ice tea was a bad idea. Come on, baby, let’s get you home.”

“Good luck, my fine friend.” She calls in the general direction of you and Spencer, but the two of you don’t notice.

JJ ties her hair up and starts to take a few steps forward.

“Where are you going?” Penelope questions.

“To let him know we’re leaving?”

“No!” The team seems to exclaim, all shouting that she cannot disturb the moment Spencer worked rather hard to get to.

She just holds her hands up in defense, then follows after Emily as they leave the bar.

Spencer of course notices the way Prentiss leaves him with an encouraging thumbs up. It makes his get a little bashful, but he nods a goodbye and watches the door shut once more. His attention is brought back to his hand on the table, well, more to the way your pinky brushes against his. You continue to talk about mutual interests and what your apartment in New York would look like, a slight ramble to you that shows you’re very aware of the slight contact.

With some kind of placebo courage he can’t even blame on alcohol, he lets his fingers crawl between yours like that’s where they belong.

The team would definitely laugh at this teenage display, but to the both of you, it’s the perfect amount of reassurance, soft enough to not be too scary.

The attraction is there, Spencer forces himself to profile it just so his negative thoughts can’t prove him wrong. You’re smiling at every word, your eyes seem to stay dilated and focused on his, and he isn’t sure if you even realize the way your heel brushes his ankle every so often.

His profile, often never wrong, is what helps him reach across the slight space to tuck your hair behind your ear so casually as he tells you about his minuscule music taste.

After a few flirty comments, you force yourself yo look away from him just so you can het your breathing under control. Upon this action, you read the watch on his wrist and a frown sets on your lipstick stained lips.

“I should go home before it’s too late to walk.” You sigh, not wanting this moment to end.

He nods. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Those round eyes he’s starting to really adore look up at him and you chew your lip, almost like you’re waiting for him to do something. Say something.

It takes him entirely too long to figure out what to do. Morgan would be ashamed.

“C-Can I walk you home?” He asks in a rush and in eagerness.

You nod like that’s the best idea you’ve ever heard.

That’s how it leads to you leaning against him like it’s something you do often, walking in step as you ramble on and on about what you have to do to get your classroom ready for the new school year. He listens without annoyance like most guys would, then tells you about books he has that he thinks you might enjoy, books he could part with so you could give them to the students whose reading levels are above what the school provides.

He’s so caring and considerate, making sure he walks closest to the street, lets you be off in your own world and makes sure you don’t run into anything as you constantly gaze up at him. All the way to your building and up the stairs to your apartment door, the two of you are as comfortable with each other like two old friends would be.

That’s what makes your head spin. You just met Spencer and already feel like he’s been in your life for hundreds of years.

You pull your keys from your purse, you unlock the door but don’t make a move to open it.

“I’m really, really, happy that I met you.” You whisper to him as he slightly crowds your space in the door way.

“I am too.” He agrees, heart beating a little faster as your hand presses gently to his chest.

Don’t be crazy, you just met her, she doesn’t want a stranger trying to kiss her, tell her good night, call her tomorrow, maybe you can plan for something next weekend-

His thoughts don’t stand a chance when you wrap your fingers around his tie and gently tug him to your lips.

It’s smooth and warm and has your eyes shutting and your lungs exhaling. His gentle hand cradles your face while the other flexes against your hip.

It just feels so…

So right.

With the slight tilt of your head, the goodnight kiss deepens, you’re molded against him.

His lips part, coaxing yours to do the same, and the feeling of your tongue against his has you slightly teetering backwards. You lean against the door for support, hands roaming into his hair.

You’ve been wanting to run your hands through it all night.

He’s desperate in his movements, like he’s a starved man and you’re enjoying every second of it. His thumb runs over your jaw, you’re pushing away any space between you.

When you decide you’re going to pass out from the lack of oxygen, you pull away, sucking your bottom lip to savor the taste. Spencer still holds your face in his large hands and matches your shallow pants.

It’s all so much. You’re hot, brain a little foggy, but still so sure of this situation.

And you soon find yourself saying something you’ve never ever said after just meeting a guy.

“Do you want to come inside?”

Spencer seriously thinks he misheard you.

“Yeah- yes. Yes, I do.” He nods.

A laugh escapes your lips, one he swallows up as he embraces you once more, trying to help you open the door. His arm around your waist makes sure you don’t stumble and fall as the two of you finally get inside.

He looks around the space. “I like your apartment, it’s nice.”

“Thank you.” You mumble against his lips, pulling at your jean jacket and tossing it to the couch.

It’s dark, causing you to back into a side table. The both of you laugh, but neither of you bother to reach for the light switch.

You guid him towards your bedroom, pushing him through the ajar door. The open window leaves the room painted in a low light, the breeze is cool as you clumsily fall onto the mattress with him.

“I never do this.” You state, a huff leaving your lips as he rolls you onto your back.

“I don’t either.” He agrees, mouth wandering down your jaw to your neck.

You fiddling hands make a home in his hair. “Like I really don’t do this. I don’t even go to bars, let alone take home strange men- not that you’re strange. But don’t think I am a casual hookup girl, because I’m not, I just- there’s a connection, right? I’m not alone in this?”

He pulls away, looking down at you with a loopy grin. “You’re rambling, that’s a sign of nervousness.”

“I am nervous!” You exclaim with a breathy laugh. “You’re just…you’re really great.”

His thumb traces your bottom lip. “You’re really great too.” He whispers. “But we don’t have to do anything.”

“No!” You say a little too boldly. “I mean, no, no I want this. Do you want this?”

With a nod, he assures you. “I want this too.”

Maybe you should be more shy and self conscious about this, but when he’s being so kind, all your nervousness leaves. The two of you stumble through the awkward bits with laughter and jokes, and it makes you realize that something so serious doesn’t have to be so uniform.

Really, you’re having more fun than you’ve ever had.

“Spencer?” You gasp, dangerously close to falling off the bed at how the two of you have rolled around.

“Yeah?” He asks, head buried in your neck, trying not to get too ahead of himself as he continues his deep pace between your legs.

“You’re kinda pulling my hair.”

Immediately he moves his hand, apologetic.

Hands dragging up his chest, you try to shimmy away from the mattress ledge. Spencer notices the tragedy that’s about to strike, opting to back off of you completely so you can readjust.

You gasp at the loss of contact. “A little warning next time would be appreciated.”

“Sorry, sorry.” He stammers, gripping you in a feverish way, mouth back to yours.

You don’t exactly know how you ended up on top, but you look at him slightly frightened eyes.

“Is this a no?” He questions, only concerned with making you comfortable.

He’s the complete opposite of selfish, he proved that the second he started you off with his tongue against your core.

“No, not if you like this? I just…I don’t know if I’m good at this.”

He nods in understanding. “Okay, no problem.”

You protest as he goes to move you. “Can I try? Will-will you help me?”

God, he could marry you.

“Yeah, of course sweetheart.” He whispers, kissing you gently.

The butterflies in your stomach are all twitter pated.

Or maybe you’re just extremely turned on.

Spencer is a great teacher, it’s you who jumps the gun at things.

“There you go, angel, slow.” He breathes in your ear, finger tips pressing into your hips as you slowly push down, letting his tip enter you. “Just go really slow, okay?”

You try to do as he says, easing him into you slowly, but by some urge to rush satisfaction, you sink all the way onto him without warning.

“Fuck! That wasn’t slow.” He grits, a hoarse moan escaping from the back of his throat, his grip on you almost bruising.

“S-sorry.” You try to say, but the sheer pressure you feel at this sudden angle has you shuddering and crying out softly. “I’m an overachiever.” You try to joke.

“Holy shit, you want an A+ or something?” He chuckles, trying to calm himself down, running through mathematical formulas in his head so he doesn’t finish just like this.

“Spence, I need- it’s a lot, I need-” You whine out, not having the heart to feel embarrassed for sounding so needy.

“I know, I know. Fuck, do you have any idea how good you feel?” He questions, swallowing hard as he guides your hips forward slightly.

“I can’t really think at all when you’re sitting in my cervix right now.” You claim, quickly overwhelmed by pleasure as you find a rhythm against him.

Sucking on your throat, he mutters something you don’t care to listen to.

“This is- is it supposed to be this good?” You moan, trying not to dig your finger nails into his shoulders.

“I think we just fit perfectly.”

With each movement, you become more comfortable and confident, soon that friendly softness is replaced by lustful roughness. Through it all, Spencer remains caring, even when you tell him he can be a little rough with you.

Never in your sex life have you wanted more and more, even when it finishes.

Even after the two of you can’t find the strength to pull any more orgasms from each other, you lay beside each other, Spencer hasn’t bothered to pull out of you yet, perhaps he’s too spent.

“So.” You clear your throat, tracing his features. “How do you want to play this?”

He hums, dragging his fingers up and down your side. “What do you mean?”

“Guys usually leave after this stuff, right?”

His brows furrow, anxiety comes to ripple through him. “Do you want me to leave?”

Staring at his tired eyes, you shake your head. “No, I want you to stay. Forever. I’m thinking about chaining you to the headboard.”

He chuckles. “I’ll save you the effort, I will gladly stay.”

A sweet smile is returned to him.

At some point, the two of you clean up and fall asleep the second the sheets are pulled over you.

Spencer is convinced it’s all a dream until he wakes up to the sun warm over his skin. He rubs his blurry eyes and rolls over in the bed that is not his, met with your bare back. Slowly, he reaches for you, kissing your shoulder to rouse you.

His phone, still in the pocket of his discarded pants, rings again and again, forcing him to retrieve it in his boxers.

Of course it’s Hotch.

Of course he needs to get to the office. On a Saturday. After the night he just had.

“I should call the authorities, there’s a cute intruder in my room.” Your sleepy voice says from bed. “Oh wait…you are the authorities.”

He likes the way you can make yourself giggle.

“I have bad news.” He says, tracking down his clothes. “My boss just called me in.”

He hates the frown you have.

“That’s a very unfortunate thing.” You nod.

He buttons his pants, then slides his shirt on as he comes to your bedside.

“I should get going so I can go home and change.”

His warm hand presses to your cheek.

You turn to kiss his palm. “Is this goodbye?”

“No. Definitely no.” He assures. “I’ll call when I can, okay? Maybe we can get dinner or something?”

You could sigh heavenly at the way he’s just so dreamy.

“That sounds nice. I’d kiss you but I might have morning breath.” You smile.

He kisses you anyway.

And after leaving the team waiting in the round table room, he appears refreshed and in a very good mood.

He takes his seat, all eyes on him.

“Sorry I’m late, good morning.” He clears his throat.

“Good morning indeed.” Morgan chuckles, sliding him a cup of coffee.

“You okay, Reid?” Rossi asks, eyeing the agent.

“I’m great.” He smiles.

“Is that a hickey?” JJ exclaims, reveling in the way he quickly grabs for his neck, only to realize she’s joking.

“Real mature.” He mutters, knowing the entire day is going to be jokes made at his expense.

He doesn’t mind though, not when he knows his reward for all of this is you.

[ionoreo]

Quite a few people had said that the Lady was strange. Her father has never been seen alone with a woman in his life, though they tended to approach him in droves during parties or other social gatherings— and yet, out of the blue, she had appeared, held firmly in his arms. He had cherished the child despite the rumors (her mother was a fairy, she's a changeling, maybe he picked the child off the streets) until she had murdered a man in the street.

The Lady was convicted for the murder at the ripe age of seventeen, fighting and kicking and screaming that it was well within her rights to do so. Yes, the man was a vampire and these sort of people often claimed to be vampire hunters; regardless, she murdered him as a man. There was no way she could have known his true nature, not when he had approached her in broad daylight and she had knocked his lights out.

And then the Lady learned that was the King's cousin. Blood related, not adopted, and when she raised this point to the judge they simply shrugged and said "oh dear, perhaps your father can get the courts on it after you're dead."

The Lady did not plan to leave her father to die with a bloodthirsty vampire maniac alone.

The first knight to go down promptly had his sword stolen. The second knight to go down was used as a shield in lieu of actual shields, though his armor certainly did the trick, and the third and fourth all the way to the fiftieth didn't fare much better. There were thousands of knights in the kingdom, impossible for a single woman- a girl!- to hold off properly, with a glorified baseball bat and an oversized sword, but there were only about twenty left in the immediate area and she didn't seem to be slowing down.

Her father watched with a glint in his eye. Tears or mischievousness? Several people in the stands were placing their bets on it. Many more had already placed theirs on her winning. After all, she was small and fast and kept tripping them before banging them in the head, and the dead body of the second knight she'd killed that she kept dragging around even after the first few bodies were gone certainly didn't help with the aura of fear she was able to emit.

In fact, news had reached the arena that several knights had suddenly retired after news of the carnage began to spread. Someone tossed the girl a rose. More people began to throw things— flowers, money, someone even threw a piece of bread. As germy as it was now that it had been on the dusty floor, the Lady ripped it apart and shoved it into her mouth quickly. Twenty-four hours without food leaves one very hungry, especially when you are making the most of your suspiciously good fighting skill.

The Lady waves at the crowd as the next round of knights step into the arena. Five in fighting shape and one of them is shaking so badly his armor clanks. The Lady waves at them too.

The knights surrender. Several of the King's workers exit the stands calling for backup (as if it'll come) and the kid just stands there, eventually picking up her corpse and carting it away, probably to pick it clean and preserve the skeleton.

"How does she do it?" one of the women besides her father asks. "Are the rumors true?"

"Yeah," her father replies, "they are."

"What?"

"Huh?"

A noble sentenced to die is allowed to choose their execution method. They ask to die in honourable combat against the king's knights, armed with a wooden sword while the knights have real weapons. It's been 24 hours since the execution started and the king is running out of knights.

[zepskies]

Restless Nights

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: After a tryst you instigated in the backseat of his Baby, you and Dean have started something new. He’s just not sure that you’re as “all in” as you claimed to be.

AN: As promised, here's a bonus one-shot to follow Maybe More Than Enough, though it can be read as a stand-alone. This is based on a request from @lacilou, one of my lovely Patreon members!

Bonus! It fulfills the @spnfanficpond monthly prompt. (Can’t give it away until the end though!)

Request: A Dean story based on the song “I Remember You” by Skid Row.

Word Count: 1.2K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, fluff, implied mentions of sex, bit of a twist ending… 

Dean woke to the sound of pouring rain hitting the roof of the bunker.

It must’ve been some torrential downpour, because it took a lot for him to hear anything of the outside world from inside this place. Good thing the old heaters kept out the January cold, too. Nothing worse than frigid rain.

Blearily he cracked his eyes open, unearthed an arm from where it was tucked under his pillow, and carefully raised his phone to check the time, trying not to let the light from the screen burn his retinas in the still dark room.

4:00 a.m.

He groaned. Goddamn it.

He turned over onto his other side to face where you should’ve been lying next to him. He frowned when he saw nothing but the sheets pulled back and a dented, empty pillow.

No matter how he fought it down, a small tinge of worry, and the beginnings of disappointment churned in his gut. His brows furrowed.

Did you regret it already?

After his first make out session with you (turned more session) in the backseat of his Baby, you two struck a tentative agreement to figure what this could be—more than hunting partners, allies, and friends. Despite the fact that you kissed him first (a fact he didn’t easily let you forget), afterwards, you’d been a little hesitant about what came next.

“We take it day by day,” he’d told you, with a sizzling kiss that stole your breath. “All I know is…this feels good.”

It felt right. You had definitely agreed with that.

Dean sighed through his nose, turning back onto his other side. It wasn’t unusual for him to be a light (restless) sleeper, but the handful of times you’d joined him in his bed had been beginning to make his nights calmer. He was actually starting to sleep through until morning.

What’s more, after years of looking into your eyes and seeing all the possibilities of what if, he was finally getting to make those images solid, and real. He could touch them, taste them, feel them under his calloused hands. He finally had you for real.

He looked past your empty spot in his bed and didn’t see your phone, or any of your rings on the nightstand. They were the first things you put on in the morning, and the last things you took off at night.

If those were gone…

His disappointment was settling high in his chest now; an ache approaching pain.

Until he heard the light sound of bare feet padding back toward the bed. Your hand slid gently up his arm, and after the surprise wore off, the corners of his lips tugged upwards. Your hair was a bit wild and frizzy. It tickled his neck and shoulder when you leaned in to kiss his cheek.

“What’s this?” you whispered, swiping two fingers between the crunch in his brows. Dean relaxed with a small smile.

“Nothin’,” he claimed. His voice was deep and rough with sleep. “Had an appointment to get to or something?”

You smiled and settled into bed, embracing him from behind. He turned onto his back and welcomed you over, with an arm curling around your waist. He rested his hand on yours when it smoothed across his chest.

Subtly glancing down, he didn’t find any of the silver you wore on the daily, including the ring with a small turquoise stone he’d bought you a couple weeks ago, on a hunt in Denver. That one, you now almost never took off.

“I put them away in a drawer,” you said, wiggling your fingers under his hand. Your hand felt dry, and a little like you'd been handling something dusty. Had you been up reading in the library again, lost track of time? “When I woke up, I saw one fell off the nightstand. Have a feeling it had something to do with the bedframe knocking against it.”

At that, Dean couldn’t contain his lazy smirk.

“My bad,” he said, sounding anything but sorry.

You laughed, shaking your head. You still laid a kiss below his shoulder before you settled back down. He gave your waist a gentle squeeze, pressing a kiss of his own to your forehead. A deep breath fell from between his lips, and his eyes closed.

A question was on the tip of his tongue. Where you were, why you got up. Was it something he could help with? Or was it one of those moments you needed to have alone, not unlike the times you gave him to settle with his thoughts, after a hunt gone sideways. If it was important, you’d level with him, wouldn’t you?

So he let it be.

In the morning, you somehow once again managed to get out of bed without him feeling it. He didn’t hear you either. Curiosity led him down the hall and glancing inside the cracked door of Sam’s room. It was empty, his running shoes gone from the side of his bed. Dean rolled his eyes.

All right, Lance.

Oh, wait, that was biking. …Whatever.

Dean’s next path inevitably took him down to the kitchen. His stomach was already percolating—in need of good coffee and (hopefully) good food.

The smell wafting from the kitchen surprised him, however. Cinnamon apples?

He turned the corner, and there he found you.

The fuck?

You looked a bit of a mess. Your hair was thrown up into a haphazard bun, and you’d stolen his apron. Though in his eyes, you made it look better, the white fabric hugging around your curves like you were Rachel Ray or something. You were frazzled when he came downstairs, but happy to see him. You beckoned him over and sat him down at the small kitchen table.

“Sweetheart, what’s going on here?” he asked, eying you curiously.

“Just stay there!” you called from the kitchen. He heard you opening the oven, cursing when you nearly dropped something.

What the hell were you doing baking before 9:00 a.m.?

He turned to ask you what was going on (and if you needed help), but before the words could come out of his mouth, you came over and carefully set down the pie in front of him. The rich aroma, the golden flaky crust, the flecks of cinnamon and glossy apples peeking out from the divots in said crust—it all had Dean’s mouth watering, and his shocked gaze fixed on the shiny pastry.

He startled a little when he felt your hands on his shoulders, sliding part of the way down his arms. You kissed the side of his head.

“Thought I wouldn’t remember, did you?” you teased. “Happy Birthday, baby.”

Dean’s throat constricted. He tried not to show it, but your gaze gentled when he finally met yours, like you were seeing through all his layers anyway. He realized then what you were probably working on last night, and he really couldn’t fucking believe it.

He’d forgotten his own birthday. Couldn’t see much use in celebrating, when year after crappy year…

But he closed a hand over yours on his shoulder, and he brought your hand to his lips.

Every word he couldn’t yet say to you was etched in that single gesture.

AN: Short and angsty sweet! lol And the monthly prompt was "pie!" 🥧 For Dean of course. 😂

Hope you guys enjoy this one! 💜

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[syoddeye]

dragging john to some fancy eyewear boutique because you're so sure he'll look better in a more modern pair. a rare occasion where you insist on paying for whatever frames he likes best (and the lenses, the anti-reflecting coat, etc.).

he dutifully tries on everything you hand to him. he also selects a handful, though he rolls his eyes when you claim his picks are too similar to the wire frame readers he already owns.

in the end, the shopping trip is a bust. you go for lunch instead, lamenting the fact you left empty-handed.

your sour mood flies out the window when john slips his old glasses from his shirt pocket to read the menu, grumbling about the font size. there is something about the way the frames slide down the bridge of his nose. how the wire temples disappear into his brown, now slightly salt-and-peppered, hair. the furrow of his brow. you know he's in a fair mood, but he looks so stern like that and and—you twist the napkin in your lap almost violently with the direction your brain goes.

"see anythin' you like?" he asks, scanning the entrees.

"yep."

"i was thinking the papaya–"

"oh, i'm not talking about the food."

john looks at you from under his brow, puzzled for all of a second, before his face softens. he leans back in his chair, a smirk curling the edge of his mouth, and he pushes his glasses up. he folds his arms across his chest and stares as if he's already figured you out. his eyes light up with something both smug and amused.

"thought you didn't like these old things."

"i changed my mind."

"i can see that." he tilts his head and zeroes in on the fabric bunched in your hands. "you're squirmin' in your seat."

"yeah? well, if you'd like to see more, get your ass up and let's go."

[mikashisus]

MAY THE WIND PROTECT YOU

SYNOPSIS: kinich recalls each time he heard you speak mondstadtian, each memory making him miss you more than the last. meanwhile, you return home to mondstadt.

PAIRING: kinich x gn!reader

TAGLIST ! @aphrodict @wystiix @tragedy-of-commons @pixelcafe-network @papiliotao

contains: poorly translated german, ajaw, intense pining (on both sides), down bad kinich, last part is not edited

word count: 4.4k

notes: THIS IS A PART 2!! writing this was sm fun guys, i had a field day with each scene. i wanted to post this yesterday on his bday, but gwen told me it'd be such a power move if i posted it today bc today is MY bday, so that's what i'm doing >:) crazy that his bday is a day before mine.

i was listening to this ost the entire time i was writing the mond scenes. when the mc mentioned the lullaby, that song is what i was referring to! anyw enjoy! TY ZIRA FOR PROOFREADING!!

part one!

The first time Kinich heard you speak in Mondstadt’s native tongue was two weeks after you arrived in Natlan. 

A merchant from Mondstadt had set up shop at the Stadium of the Sacred Flame. By pure chance, Kinich had been showing you around the Stadium that day. 

(Somehow, it slipped his mind that you were from Mondstadt— despite the fact that you unintentionally made it abundantly clear you were a foreigner by the way you dressed and your poor attempt to speak the language of Natlan.) 

As soon as you set your sights on the merchant’s wares, you were sprinting over to his stall, eagerly shouting in what sounded like an aggressive tone to the people around you. Kinich followed, worry pooling in his gut at the sudden commotion you just made. 

All your worries about wanting to set a good first impression had been thrown out the window the moment you saw a familiar face. With the way you and the merchant were animatedly speaking, anyone passing by would’ve assumed you were lifelong friends. However, that was not the case. 

Mondstadters were well known for being extremely welcoming and hospitable, especially within their own nation. Anyone who ever traveled there always put in a good word about their stay, claiming that although the nation’s ways of greeting foreigners was a bit odd, the entire populace had this unique charm that made everyone instantly feel at home there. Paired with the ever-flowing wind and the ideals of freedom and peace, Mondstadt seemed to be a true paradise. 

The few merchants Kinich had run into in the past were fairly kind people, though there was always this edge to them that made them feel a bit aggressive. Maybe it was their way of speaking… or their blunt honesty. 

Joining your side, Kinich realized you weren’t speaking the universal language of Teyvat anymore, and that now, you were speaking a language that sounded rough and throaty.

This must’ve been the language of Mondstadt. He only ever heard a few words here and there in passing through merchants he met in the past. 

He couldn’t understand a word you were saying, but he liked hearing your voice in its primitive state. 

The merchant made a gesture towards you, and you threw your head back in raucous laughter. Kinich wondered what you were talking about. A few moments later, he heard the words ‘Dornman Port’ fall from your lips, and he assumed that the topic shifted to where you were from. 

“It’s not everyday you see a Mondstadter down here in the South! Where are you from?” 

“Dornman Port!“ You answered eagerly, ”my family’s been living there for generations, but recently my grandparents moved to the city to get better access to healthcare.” 

“Ah, I see. No wonder your accent sounded familiar! My family’s a bit North of Dornman, more inland towards—“ 

From the excited way you two were speaking, Kinich guessed based on context clues that you and this merchant were from the same hometown.

Finally, you seemed to turn your attention back to the merchant’s wares, and your eyes practically sparkled once you set your sights on his entire alcohol supply. 

(You weren’t a true child of Mondstadt if you didn’t cherish your booze.) 

Pointing to a vintage bottle of something that was labeled in Mondstadt’s native tongue, you fished some mora out of your satchel.

“I haven’t seen many Mondstadters down here,” you said, resuming your earlier conversation, “not that we can’t travel to other nations, I just mean—“ 

“It’s strange?” The merchant finished your sentence. “I get that a lot from the locals. Usually, Fontainians visit Natlan the most, though I suppose that’s not too surprising. The hot springs are great!” 

“Speaking of Fontaine, I was suspected of being Fontainian my first year here. The looks on the locals’ faces after hearing I’m from the Crown of the North were priceless!”  

You took the bottle of Dandelion Wine and smiled. “I bet! I got questioned a bit too on my arrival a few weeks back.” 

He eyed the journal in your hands. “Akademiya student?” 

“Yes, sir! Vahumana Darshan!” You nodded. “I’ll be here in Natlan for six months to work on my thesis.” 

Glancing at Kinich, you suddenly felt a pang of guilt rush through you. Unintentionally, you had been making him wait this whole time. You quickly wrapped up your conversation with the merchant, explaining that Kinich was your ���tour guide’ and you had to leave. 

“Good luck with your studies!” The merchant shook your hand, his grip firm. It reminded you of your father’s handshakes. “Let the Wind lead, youngster.” 

“Danke! May the Anemo Archon bless you! Tschüss!” 

The second time Kinich heard you speak in Mondstadt’s native tongue was when a yumkasaur had stolen your journal and decided not to give it back. 

(He didn’t think he’d ever heard someone curse so much in his life— aside from Ajaw.)

Although he couldn’t understand what you were saying, he just knew you were cursing that yumkasaur to the high heavens. And as soon as he helped you get your journal back, you cursed the yumkasaur out again as it hissed at you and flew away. 

It took a heavy amount of restraint for Kinich not to burst out laughing. You could’ve sworn a small snort had escaped from his lips as he raised a hand to cover his mouth, but that was the least of your priorities. 

Your main focus was on the big chunk taken out of your journal. 

A few pages of your journal were missing, meaning you had to rewrite three pages (front and back) of all the research you found in some Dahri ruins nearby the Scions of the Canopy. 

To say you had been angry was an understatement. You hadn’t stopped rambling in Mondstadtian for the rest of the week, and Kinich was more than a little worried you were going to throw yourself off the balcony outside your villa. 

(You didn’t, but other people from his tribe did say you spent the remainder of the week in those ruins — which, to be frank, was concerning considering you always outright refused to go exploring during the day. 

When he found you, you were mumbling to yourself and teetering on the edge of becoming someone’s sleep paralysis demon. Long story short, he had to drag you back to your villa.)

Needless to say, that was a fond memory of his, despite your imminent despair that entire week. 

It had been five months since you returned to Sumeru. Five grueling months of convincing himself he didn’t miss you as much as he truly did. 

There was a significant decline in his mood since then. 

Ever since he walked you to the borders between the Children of Echoes’ settlement and the Sumeru desert— where an escort from the Eremites was waiting (he remembered you addressing her as ‘Dehya’) —he’d been all down in the dumps. 

At first, Ajaw had a field day teasing him, until eventually, the mini pixelated dragon got tired of his sour attitude and stopped mentioning you altogether. 

One mention of you and Kinich became snappy and pissy. If he saw something that reminded him of you, he began sulking like a kicked puppy. It was amusing to Ajaw… at first. But as time dragged on, it just made him more and more annoyed. 

(“Are they all you think about!?” Ajaw screamed once after Kinich bought a bottle of Dandelion Wine from that merchant you would always talk to. 

Kinich didn’t answer, but the pout on his lips was enough to make it clear to anyone that yes… you were all he thought about.) 

He found himself back at the same merchant’s stall, immediately putting Ajaw in timeout before he could even utter a word. 

The Mondstadt merchant greeted Kinich with a firm, friendly handshake. “Welcome back! Did you enjoy the Dandelion Wine?” 

Kinich nodded curtly. “Yes. It was quite good. My tribe enjoyed it, as well.” He paused. “Where was it made?” 

The merchant’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. He probably wasn’t expecting that question. He stroked his chin. “Well, you’ve probably heard of it if you’re a wine lover, but most alcoholic beverages from Mondstadt are brewed by the famous Dawn Winery.” 

Kinich had heard of it, though only in passing from merchants. 

“The Dawn Winery’s the reason Mondstadt’s even known as the wine capital of Teyvat. Without the winery, Master Diluc, Mondstadt’s fertile soil, and the wine brewing methods taught to us by Lord Barbatos, we wouldn’t be where we are today.” 

“The Anemo Archon taught you how to brew wine?” Kinich raised a brow. 

The merchant nodded. “Why, of course! Back when the people of Mondstadt migrated to Cider Lake, Lord Barbatos taught our ancestors the intricacies of wine making, and over time, his original technique had been refined into what it is today!” 

Interesting. So that was how Mondstadt’s wine business began. 

“We even have wine festivals to honor Lord Barbatos,” the merchant continued, piquing Kinich’s curiosity, “Weinlesefest is the most common. Every harvest, families come together to brew wine and offer it up to Lord Barbatos as a sort of ‘welcome home’ gift for the western wind. If he’s satisfied with the wine, he blesses us with a refreshing breeze.” 

Weinlesefest. He heard you talk about it once in passing with a different merchant. He couldn’t understand what you were saying, as you had been speaking Mondstadtian, but he knew it had to do with a festival; seeing as it was one of the first things the merchant had brought up in conversation. 

“I see.” Kinich nodded curtly, making a mental note to ask you about the Weinlesefest in his next letter. “So… does the whole nation celebrate?” 

The merchant nodded. “Yep! It’s a time of gathering together with family and friends. Mondstadters living away from home usually come back for Weinlesefest.” He let out a heavy sigh. “In fact, it’s happening right now. But work is work, so I can’t visit my wife and kids. I can only hope Lord Barbatos will keep them safe in my absence.” 

Kinich was slowly learning how Mondstadt worked the more and more he talked with Mondstadters. He sent a small smile to the merchant and bought three bottles of wine this time, even going as far as to pay extra. 

“I hope you can return home soon and see your family.” A small pang of something bitter settled in his chest. 

Family. 

“Tschüss.” He muttered, the word feeling odd and unusual on his tongue. 

The merchant’s face lit up with pure, unbridled joy. He shook Kinich’s hand once more, firmer and more enthusiastically than the other times. It was obvious Kinich had just made this man’s day, even if it was something so simple as saying ‘goodbye’ in his language. 

“Tschüss!” 

That night, he sat on his bed, writing out another letter. He occasionally glanced at the last one you had sent him, his fingers gently tracing your elegant handwriting. 

(Name), 

I visited the Stadium today to receive a commission. The merchant you always talk to, Klaus?? was there again. He told me the history behind wine making in Mondstadt. 

It’s interesting that your Archon taught you that. He also mentioned that Weinlesefest is happening right now. I remember you mentioning that festival a few times before. Did you go home for the festival? What does your family do to celebrate? Speaking of… how is your family? And your grandparents?

Everything is going well in the Scions of the Canopy. We’re recovering from the losses of the war, along with the nation as a whole, but there is still a large scar. The toll will be great for a while, but all we can do is move forward and honor the fallen. 

You don’t need to worry about us, by the way. Mavuika is strong. Speaking of Mavuika, she’ll be heading off for the final fight in a few weeks’ time. Everyone’s antsy, but we know she’ll pull through. She isn’t the Archon for nothing. 

-Kinich 

P.S. - Mualani insisted on taking you to visit the People of the Springs the next time you’re here… but knowing you, I don’t think you’ll like the hot springs :P 

P.P.S. U BETER RETURN IN 1 PEACE LOWKY HOOMAN OR I W1LL  KILL U  >:( -AJAW

The day your vacation was confirmed, you jumped for joy right in the middle of the House of Daena. It earned you a halfhearted glare from Alhaitham, the Akademiya’s scribe, but you didn’t care in the slightest. You were just happy you finally got your much needed vacation. 

You weren’t close with the scribe. Your relationship was far from anything like that, but you saw him enough on a daily basis to consider him an acquaintance. He often occupied a table in the House of Daena, either reading a book or writing furiously in a notebook. 

There were a few times you visited his office to drop off parts of your thesis for peer review, though he was never there when you did. His office hours were listed right next to the door in bold letters, yet he was never present for them. It made you raise a brow and wonder how he was even still employed if he never even showed up for his required office hours. 

Though, he did give you the proper feedback you needed for your thesis, so you couldn’t really complain. 

“I didn’t know you oversaw vacation notices,” you said, glancing up at your senior as he stood next to you. “I thought your only job was to record things for the Akademiya. Oh! That reminds me, when is my thesis presentation?” 

He sighed. “Being the scribe is more complicated than that. And yes, all proposals for vacations go straight to my office from the drop box.” 

You hummed. “So like, how does that work? Do you just check a box that says ‘yes’ or ‘no’?” 

“If the proposal was sent in during a break period, then it gets approved. Any proposals sent in after the break period are denied. The presentation for your thesis is scheduled for three months from now in the Vahumana Lecture Hall at two o’clock sharp. The Dendro Archon will be present alongside the Vahumana Sage and the Grand Sage. Be prepared to answer any and all questions from all of them.” 

“Yeah yeah yeah,” you waved him off dismissively, “I already received that info in my mailbox.” 

Three months from now… Did you have anything planned for that day? You thought it over. 

“Shit.” You muttered.

“Something wrong?” Alhaitham questioned, his arms crossing over his chest. 

“My hometown has its annual food festival that week… Ah, well, there’s always next year.” It still stung, though. It would be the first time you missed it. “Besides, I’ll be home for Weinlesefest, so that should be enough.” 

Your parents would be upset, but they’d understand. Your thesis was a big deal, after all. As long as you were home for Weinlesefest, you knew they wouldn’t mind you missing out on Dornman Port’s annual food fest. 

You stood up and grabbed your bag. “Well, I should pack. And mail my letter before I leave.” 

“I’ll be stopping off at Port Ormos later. I can mail it for you.” Alhaitham offered. 

Although he didn’t show it, Alhaitham was kind. This was something you had to learn the hard way after a few misunderstandings. He had his own way of showing kindness, and it was often through his actions rather than his words. 

“Really? That’d be awesome! I have so much to do before I leave, I was beginning to think I wouldn’t be able to make it to the mailing office.” You dug through your bag and pulled out a letter, handing it to him. 

His eyes scanned the envelope, his brow raising slightly in surprise. He shot you a knowing look, but he didn’t pry. 

“Thanks, Scribe!” 

“Alhaitham.” He corrected, nodding curtly before taking his leave. 

You smiled as you watched him go. Friendship with the scribe: secured! 

The boat ride home to Dornman Port was long and grueling, but the crew was friendly and had a good sense of humor. You found yourself making a few new friends in unexpected places. 

The soft breeze of eternal Spring shifted to a biting chill in the air as the boat neared your beloved hometown. The wind whipped violently, howling like the infamous Wolf King of Wolvendom. 

Up North, the winds were harsher and colder. There was a legend in your hometown— that a god ruling over this section of land during the Archon War had died with many regrets, and therefore, cursed the land with a wintry wind that would never cease. 

Whether or not that had been true was a mystery. The god’s name was long forgotten from Mondstadt, and so too was their legacy. The only person who could possibly provide evidence to those events would be the Anemo Archon himself. 

The boat docked and the sailors let out heavy sighs of relief. One clapped you on the back cheerfully. 

“How’s it feel to be home?” He questioned, a big smile on his face as he kicked a wooden plank onto the docks. 

You smiled, inhaling the cold air you missed oh so much. The same air that you had been longing to feel on your skin for months. 

“Good… great, actually!” you answered, thanking him as he helped you off the boat. 

You looked around, taking in the sight of the familiar bustling port with navy rooftops and tightly packed houses. Lanterns were strung between lampposts, ornate garland hung from the sides of houses and wrapped around streetlights. Market stalls occupied every corner, accompanied by the occasional yell of a merchant trying to sell their wares. 

Dandelions were blown up into the air as children roamed the streets, waving around wooden swords and weaving between adults’ legs. A stray dog followed behind the group, barking happily. 

The sweet tune of a lyre and a flute rang in your ears from a distance, and you quickly realized it was that same familiar Dornman lullaby that all Mondstadtians knew by heart— specifically those of you born in the far North. The song was soothing and nostalgic to your ears, opening the floodgates to a whole range of memories from your childhood. 

You inhaled the biting air again, this time with your eyes closed. “Yeah… it’s more than great to be home.” 

The sailors bid you farewell, claiming they’d see you again once you returned to Sumeru. Enthusiastically giving them your goodbyes, you watched as they loaded trade goods onto their ship before taking your leave. 

Dornman was exactly how you left it: serene yet lively. 

You stopped to chat with a few of the elders, greeting them excitedly. They asked about your studies, how your thesis was coming along, and wished you luck in your future endeavors. 

Passing by a group of kids you swore were only a few apples tall the last time you saw them, they called out to you and asked if you brought any souvenirs back for them. Showing them your empty hands, they began to pout and call you old as you playfully threatened to kick their asses. 

They ran away giggling, pretending to scream at the ‘scary monster they provoked.’ 

Shaking your head with a smile, you continued on your walk home, greeting other familiar faces as you did so.

Tucked away behind a few hills and farther from the main streets of the port, was your parents’ house. Seeing the same, old rickety wooden gate still standing tall was a surprise. You could’ve sworn that thing had fallen by now, but it was still here, on its last leg. 

The eager barking of two dogs could be heard as you unlocked the gate and walked up the stone path. Spotting the beds of flowers outside the windows, you smiled. It seemed as though your father had been participating in his yearly flower competition again with the old ladies that lived just down the road. 

You leaned down to take in the smell of the fresh cecilias, your favorite. 

The old door of your home hadn’t changed, and the decorative basket of flowers hanging from the front hadn’t either. You picked up the handle of the dove doorknocker and waited, listening as the sounds of barking got louder and louder. 

A series of locks clicked before the door swung open and two black and brown dogs came tumbling out, knocking you onto the stone path. You laughed as they licked your face, excited for your return. 

“Millie! Hashbrown!” You hugged each of them, placing kisses on their heads before you stood back up. 

Your father embraced you, hugging you tightly. You returned the hug, smiling as you pulled away. He took your bags from you and ushered you inside, claiming your mother had baked a few pies to celebrate your return home. 

The rest of the afternoon was spent catching up with your family, telling them all about your studies in the Akademiya and your long trip in Natlan. You told them about Kinich, a man from the Scions of the Canopy. 

That’s when your mother sent you a knowing look. Nothing ever escaped her know, especially when it had to do with crushes. You assumed it was because of that rumored sixth sense that all mothers possessed. Or maybe the smile on your face as you talked about Kinich was just too obvious. 

You told them how you and Kinich wrote letters to each other as much as you could, though it was getting harder for you to keep that up when exams had rolled around. 

“Speaking of mail,” your father interrupted, standing up, “we received a letter a few hours ago from a ‘Kinich.’” 

He handed you the envelope and you snatched it from his hands, ignoring the way he snickered at you as you did so. He took another sip of his beer and sighed. 

“Oh, and there was a package too!” He rummaged around on the kitchen table before handing you a tightly wrapped package. 

Confused, you took it. You had no idea what could even be inside it, but assuming it had arrived at the same time as Kinich’s letter, you guessed it was from him. Your mother stood up. 

“Let’s give them some privacy, dear.” She patted your father’s chest and ushered your siblings out of the room before sending you a wink. 

You rolled your eyes and opened the envelope, smiling absentmindedly at Kinich’s somewhat messy handwriting and the complete scribbles at the bottom of the page that were nearly indecipherable. Judging by the chicken scratch, you deduced the last message had been from Ajaw. 

You ripped open the package and set aside the note. Inside was a handmade blanket with a small note that claimed it was made by the Flower Feather Clan. 

You admired the swirling designs and hugged it to your chest. So he had remembered how much you loved blankets. Receiving such a high quality gift meant the world to you, as did the thought of him going to such lengths to have it handmade just for you. 

Digging through to the bottom of the box, you found a neatly wrapped vintage bottle of Dandelion Wine, silently cheering. You’d enjoy this with your family during the rest of the festival.

One last item sat at the bottom, so small you almost overlooked it. Pulling it out, you slipped it out of the velvet bag it was in and your jaw dropped. A gold necklace with purple and blue crystals fell into your palm, cold to the touch. 

Based on the fine craftsmanship, you could tell it had been crafted by a blacksmith from the Children of Echoes, and the crystals had been from the Masters of the Night Wind. 

Kinich really didn’t have to get you all this. Was there some sort of special occasion, or had he just wanted to send you gifts? You weren’t sure, but you were already thinking of some Mondstadt specialties you could send him in return. 

Heading up to your bedroom, you placed the gifts on your bed and grabbed a piece of paper from your desk. You sat down near the windowsill and unclasped the latch, pushing your window open. A cold breeze wafted inside, the scent of dandelions invading your room. The wind chimes hanging from your window sang in the wind, their sound comforting to your ears. 

You began to write. 

Dear Kinich, 

Thank you for all your thoughtful gifts!! Based on the fact you mentioned Klaus in your letter, I’m guessing you bought the Dandelion Wine off him, didn’t you? 

Pass on my regards to him! Möge der Wind dich beschützen! 

Weinlesefest has officially kicked off! Unfortunately, I missed the opening ceremony in the city, but tomorrow we’ll be opening the wines in my hometown! At least I haven’t missed that! The opening of the wines is the most important part of Weinlesefest, as it honors Lord Barbatos. 

My family is doing great as ever! Same old, same old, honestly. I’ll be seeing my grandparents in a few days, as my family will be taking a trip to the city to celebrate the festival with them! Unfortunately, I have to go back to the Akademiya in a week to continue my studies and refine my thesis per the Scribe’s suggestions. I wish I could be home longer, but school is school :( 

I’m glad to hear everything has blown over somewhat smoothly and all of you are safe. I can’t imagine everything you’ve had to witness, but I’ll offer up prayers of my own for the fallen (is that okay? That isn’t insensitive right…? Please tell me if it is). 

I hope the healing and rebuilding is going smoothly. If I was there, I would help in a heartbeat. Oh! I have an architect acquaintance in Sumeru! Maybe he and his team could help…? Say the word, and I’ll request his help! 

NO, I think I would melt into a puddle if I ever even stepped FOOT into those hot springs… Sorry Mualani, but I’m good… I’d rather stay in the brisk trees of the Scions of the Canopy.

Thank you once again for the gifts. I’ll cherish them. 

Mögen die Feuer von Natlan immer brennen. 

Sincerely, 

(Name) 

P.S. I’ll return back safely to you, Ajaw. Don’t worry! :)

notes: including all the german words were sm fun to do bc i'm german (not too familiar with the language but i'm in the process of learning!) and i am a firm believer that teyvat has their own languages, and dialects within those languages. some translations: danke = thank you, tschüss = goodbye, Möge der Wind dich beschützen = may the wind protect you, Mögen die Feuer von Natlan immer brennen = may the fires of natlan stay ever burning

© 2024 mikashisus. do not plagiarize, copy, repost, feed to ai, or translate my works to any other platforms.

[monstersflashlight]

Set up by a baby-orc (Orc’s POV)

A/N: Hi there lovelies, I thought it would be really cute to see what he was thinking in this scene, so here we have it. (Part 1 here)

Orc!reader (POV) x fem!human || sfw, meet-cute, soulmates

When your big sister asked you to pick up her kid, you were more than happy to do so. You were the cool uncle and you had to maintain that status or your brother Inar would take that place, and you loved that big stupid dude, but you weren’t against dirty play to be the cool uncle. Like showing up to the daycare and taking him to get ice cream. Even if your sister would hate you later for it.

You could sense your nephew inside, the line joining you wasn’t as strong as the one linking you with your brothers and sisters, but it was enough to feel his happiness and alert him you were already there.

Your special hearing could pick up his fast steps as you heard a sweet voice asked: "Who?" He appeared through the door with a human woman and your breath got caught in your throat. She was the most beautiful woman you’d ever seen, her wide hips and voluptuous figure making your dick twitch in the most uncomfortable moment.

"My uncle!" Your favorite baby orc exclaimed, pointing across the patio directly at you.

If you thought she was beautiful before it was nothing like what you felt when she looked up and your eyes met. She looked amazed at you as she gaped in the tiniest way, making you gape back at her. And then it clicked, she was her. Your mate. The one you’ve been waiting forever to meet. She was your fucking mate and you were gaping at her like a stupid orc.

She walked to you moving her hips, your nephew next to her talking excitedly about something you didn’t comprehend. When she was standing right in front of you, you took a deep breath, her scent hitting you like a tidal wave. She smelled perfect, like the forest in the spring and your favorite food at the same time. She smelled so perfect you couldn’t stop breathing in and out almost driving yourself to hyperventilation.

She looked down at your nephew, and you snapped out of your stupor.

“I told you she was human! Look! Look! Her skin is not green!” Your nephew sounded so excited you smiled down at him, his words making you blush as she giggled. Your heart skipped a beat, her laugh was the most amazing sound you’d ever heard.

“I can see that,” you said in a choked voice, almost too low. She squirmed in the tiniest way, but you were hyper-aware of every breath she took, every tiny movement of her delicious body. Your eyes were fixated on her as your brain filled with adoration and desperation. It was so intense it took your breath away.

Your nephew couldn’t catch the tension in the air as he kept talking. “Isn’t she pretty? She doesn’t have tusks like me!” He said it like it was such a weird thing that you had to bite down on your lip not to laugh. He was so freaking cute.

“Yours will grow eventually, though,” you explained, kneeling on the floor in front of him, you still towered over him but his little green face was closer to him when you said it. You looked at her and realized you were still a bit taller than her, even on your knees, and you couldn’t avoid realizing how hard it would be to fit inside of her… But somewhat you knew she would take you better than any other creature on earth.

“They will?!” Your nephew sounded so shocked by that information that you cursed internally because he should know that. Baby orcs should have that kind of information, fuck.

“Yes, hon, yours will grow until they are as big as your uncle’s,” she explained, touching his head affectionately and making your insides go all gooey with appreciation.

She shivered almost imperceptibly, but you saw. You couldn’t avoid staring at her frame in front of you, your insides turning and moving, asking you to get closer, to touch her, to claim her. But you couldn’t. She was humans and humans didn’t have the mating instincts orcs had. You would have to woo her first, explain everything and made sure she understood what it meant completely.

She looked around uncomfortably and you regretted being such a creep that couldn’t stop staring at her. “I should go back to the kids,” she let out, looking at you and rapidly to the ground.

“Yeah. Yes. I guess so.” He said as she walked a few steps backwards. But you couldn’t let her go just like that, so your impulsive side won and you said: “I’ll be seeing you again… that’s a promise,” you knew you did good when you saw a big smile breaking in her gorgeous face. She didn’t turn back, but you didn’t care, her smile would keep you content for days.

You stared at her until she was at the door of the school, and when she turned around and her eyes caught you, your smile was so big she blushed and ran inside, making you chuckle as you took your nephew to the car, already planning how to woo her completely.

You’d see her soon enough.

[hoshifighting]

I can’t wait for the day you decide to give us staff woozi😭🫶 Like yes give me that man ⚰️⚰️⚰️

staff!woozi

WARNINGS: suggestive, wet dream, mentions of animes.

staff!woozi who’s practically part of your nervous system, making sure your mic is hot and those earbuds don’t fry your brain mid-show. he’s always just there—like this phantom, gliding in with his little toolbox, brows furrowed in that way he thinks makes him look tough, but honestly, you’re kinda finding it cute now. he doesn’t even have to look at you anymore; just one twitch of your finger, and he knows exactly how to tune your sound to perfection.

you’re halfway through soundcheck, squinting against the stage lights that feel hot enough to cook you alive, when your left earbud goes all staticy. and before you even manage to do your little signal—a quick point down—he’s already behind you. no warning. just his voice in your ear, all low, like he’s got some big secret: “left one’s crackling again?”

you turn, one eyebrow up. “damn, woozi, you psychic now or what?”

he just huffs, pulling the earbud from your hand with this look like, duh. “you’re predictable,” he says, but there’s that ghost of a smirk, just the tiniest hint of it, which—yeah, okay, it gets to you a bit.

he’s fiddling with it, fingers so precise you swear it’s like watching magic. “you keep playing with ‘em too much. one more yank, and i’m replacing it.”

“not my fault they suck,” you mutter, grinning when he gives you that little glare, one that says i dare you to test me.

“try it again..” he mutters, his voice dry, clipped. he’s already yanked a whole mess of cables and tested every single one, but well, it’s jihoon. he’s on his perfectionist shit.

“testin’… one, two…” you go through it, all monotone, like you’re recitin’ a grocery list.

he glances up, hands fiddlin’ with some random connector piece, but he’s noddin’, brows all scrunched up like he’s concentratin’ on the meaning of life. and then, without even lookin’ at you, he says, “speak up like you’re actually performin’—not just for me.”

staff!woozi, in his worn-out, slightly-too-tight black t-shirt, earphones looped around his neck like some kinda edgy fashion statement, looks too good for your eyes.

“i am performin’,” you toss back, brows raised. “just, y’know, waitin’ for the tech crew to keep up.”

he scoffs, and finally, he looks up, an eyebrow quirked in that way he does when he’s two seconds away from roastin’ you to death. “keep up? alright, superstar, let’s get your fancy ass mic workin’ then.”

staff!woozi who's always fumbling with your clothing as he fix the mic return on your back. mumbling something about the mic feedback being all off. and with this stage clothing, the skin-tight fabric practically painted on you, there’s no space to breathe—let alone to move. so when he reaches to adjust the receiver on your back, the boy have no gentleness to tidy it up.

“how can you even breathe in these? hold still.” he sulks. his fingers brush against your skin, just under the edge of the outfit, and you swear his touch is cool, like ice, but somehow it sends this weird heat up your body. his hand skims along your back, his fingers grazing just under the fabric, feeling way more personal than it should.

“this is… really necessary?” you breathe out, tryin’ to keep your voice casual, even though your heart’s doin’ that embarrassingly loud thud-thud thing.

he doesn’t even look fazed, just gives you a quick, smug look, like he can sense your pulse trippin’ over itself. “unless you want the mic feed to sound like a dying robot… yeah, this is necessary.”

his hand lingers just a second too long on your skin before he adjusts the strap at your shoulder, his thumb grazing the edge of the outfit. you’re caught somewhere between wantin’ to annoyingly roll your eyes or “hornyly” roll your eyes.

staff!woozi who somehow, always ends up next to you on the road, no matter where you sit, and by now, you’ve kinda claimed his shoulder as your own personal pillow. he doesn’t complain—just settles in, eyes closed, arms crossed, and lets you drift off.

but today, as your head leans into that familiar spot, his voice pipes up. “y’know, there are other seats.”

you crack an eye open, only to see him smirking down at you. he’s lookin’ all pompous, like he’s finally pieced together your little routine. “it’s just… comfortable,” you mumble, shoving your face back into his shoulder, feelin’ the soft weight of his hoodie, and okay, maybe the solidness of his arm too.

he chuckles, a sound that’s too close to teasing. “oh, so i’m a human pillow now?”

“pretty much,” you mutter, pretendin’ to yawn. “it’s just… efficient.”

next thing you know, you’re both out cold, side by side, and the crew’s gotta wake you both up at the next stop. you stumble out of the van, all bleary-eyed and yawning, both of you with puffy eyes, while the rest of the team’s trying not to laugh.

staff!woozi who watches animes during his breaks. you’re sittin in the dressing room, half-done with your makeup, feeling that pre-show buzz, and there’s woozi, huddled over his phone, totally zoned out in his own world. you’ve seen him do this before—earbuds in, watchin’ his anime.

so today, curiosity gets the best of you. you wander over, leanin’ over his shoulder, catchin’ a glimpse of bright colors and characters moving around on his screeng

“you’re into this?” you ask, unable to hide the smirk as he looks up, caught.

he pulls one earbud out, glancin’ at you like he’s deciding whether or not to share his “serious” interest. then he sighs, almost reluctantly, but starts explaining the plot, his voice just a little too enthusiastic. and you’re nodding, totally faking that you get it, but he’s so damn into it, you can’t help but get a little wrapped up in his excitement.

when you’re waiting for the other idols to finish up their set, the two of you are back in the dressing room, side by side, watching some random episode. you don’t know half of what’s going on, but jihoon’s talking fast, pointing out characters, explaining every little detail like it’s life or death. you just follow it because staff!woozi is hot.

you don’t know how you ended up here, exactly— n woozi’s hotel room, in your freshest hoodie and sweats, hair still a bit damp from your after-show shower. but you’re here, a slice of pizza in one hand and woozi right next to you, already deep into the latest anime episode like he’s watching some masterpiece.

it started simple enough, you mentioning anime to him once. you barely know the basics, honestly, but your friend is an encyclopedia of every single plot twist, so you could at least fake it a little. and you’d swear woozi’s eyes practically lit up when you said you’d “totally be down to watch something with him, if he had recommendations.” it became your thing on tour—grabbing a pizza, lounging in his room, and watching the latest episodes like two kids after school.

but right now? you’re barely paying attention to the screen. woozi’s sitting next to you in this black tank top, arms looking like he’s been lifting soundboards for fun, thick enough to make your mind drift way off the anime plot. his shorts? even worse. you didn’t even realize a person could look that good just sitting down, like he’s giving you a whole show without even trying.

“are you even watching?” he mutters, catching you totally off guard. woozi raises an eyebrow at you, smirking. damn, he knew.

“oh, yeah, totally!” you stammer, nodding way too enthusiastically. “i know… exactly… what’s going on here.” but that smirk just grows, his gaze sliding back to the screen as if to say, yeah, sure you do.

staff!woozi, who hardly tears his eyes from the screen the whole night, so focused it’s like he’s analyzing every frame. you’re beside him, bundled up in his bed, head lolling as the exhaustion finally takes over, pulling you under. he glances at you every so often—at first just a quick look to make sure you’re out, catching the soft rise and fall of your breathing, the way your lashes brush your cheeks in the low light. you’d been running on fumes all night, so seeing you drift off wasn’t a surprise.

but then, he hears it—his name, whispered under your breath, soft like it’s the only thing on your mind even while you’re dreaming. his focus shifts. your back arches just the tiniest bit, your brows drawn together, thighs pressing tight like you’re holding onto some sweet secret even he isn’t supposed to know.

and suddenly, he’s more tuned into you than the screen, pulse pounding in his ears.

woozi pretends this never happened. or tries to.

staff!woozi, who’s suddenly got a whole new edge to him the next morning, acting all distant like you didn’t just watch an entire anime season in his bed last night. on the plane, you figure things’ll be back to normal—you’ve got this routine where you always end up leaning on his shoulder, especially after long nights. but today, he’s keeping a solid inch between you both, arms crossed like he’s suddenly allergic to any kind of closeness.

you try once, shifting a little closer, giving him that sleepy, half-pouty look that usually does the trick. he just leans away, adjusting his earbuds like he didn’t notice.

you huff. “yo, what’s your deal? i’m just trying to sleep, and you’re over here playing hard-to-get?”

he glances over, raising an eyebrow.

“don’t act like you’re too good for it.” you roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “you let me last night.”

“yeah, well, I’m not your pillow today. i gotta keep my neck in one piece.”

you nudge him with your elbow. “since when did you start caring about your neck, huh? you’re literally hunched over soundboards for a living.”

he shoots you a side-eye. “and maybe that’s why i need to protect it now.”

you snicker, leaning back, but there’s that stubborn pout on your face. “whatever, woozi. don’t get mad at me just ‘cause you didn’t sleep enough watching the show without me.”

you’re still leaning back, sulking a little, when you hear it — just a low mumble under his breath. “not my fault you were… moaning my name last night…”

your head snaps around so fast you practically pull a muscle. “excuse me?” you whisper, eyes wide as saucers.

he stares at you, lips parting slightly as he realizes he definitely said that louder than intended. his eyes dart away, and he’s already sinking into the seat like he might disappear.

you blink, heartbeat going wild as you piece together last night, flashes of the dream you’d had flooding back—heat and skin and his name on your lips. you remember waking up in his bed, flustered and warm, rushing back to your own room before he could see the look on your face.

“so… you heard that?”

his hand goes up to rub the back of his neck, cheeks reddening under that deadpan expression he’s clinging to. “yeah, uh… kinda hard to miss...?”

you bury your face in your hands, groaning, but you can’t resist sneaking a glance at him. he’s biting his lip, looking anywhere but at you, and you swear there’s a faint smirk he’s trying to hide.

“god, woozi, you could’ve just… i dunno, woken me up or something!” you mutter, feeling the burn creep up your cheeks.

“yeah, right,” he snorts, glancing back at you now with this smug little glint in his eyes. “like you’d want that.”

[randomsuggesteduseername]

—RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW

❝ MASTERLIST ❞

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

wc: 4.7k

best friends to lovers, making out, slight smut,

prompts: “Kiss me to prove we’re not in love”

Your mouth might’ve ran faster than your brain could process it. At least that’s how it feels when you watch the blush spread over Steve’s cheeks, paired with a frown meant to help keep his composure. “You want me to kiss you?” His voice wavers slightly, checking in to see that his own brain didn’t produce that thought out of thin air. It’s been long since Steve’s felt this nervous and unsure of himself around you, usually he’s all flirty smiles and cheeky words, yet now he’s been reduced to a deafening silence.

“Yes, kiss me so we can prove once and for all that nothing is going on between us.” Arms crossed over your chest after placing the bowl of caramel popcorn down. The most indignant look on your face as you stare at him expectantly from your side of the couch. The blue-ish hue the tv casts onto Steve’s side profile highlights the way his eyes stay wide when the words slip out of your mouth. “We are not Harry and Sally.” You argue with a crooked brow which seems to earn an amused huff from him.

This all started when he brought a new tape home, the hottest release of the year ‘When Harry met Sally…’ At first glance, nothing but a simple rom-com, little did you know it would put you and your best friend in a position you’ve never thought you’d ever end up.

Steve’s been adamant about the movie the whole night, calling it a heartwarming love story, while you, thinking clearly, stood your ground and told him that it ruined the vision of friendship between men and women. Of course he didn’t get it, his love-deprived brain worked in ways you’ll never understand.

“Admit it…” His eyes swiped over your face quickly as his head leaned back against the couch and to the side to face you. That grin of his couldn’t be more cocky. “You’ve thought about me like that at least once.” Almost stating it rather than asking, you shove a foot into his hip, thanks to your laying down position along the length of the couch which kept him in your reach as he occupied the place left on the couch next to your feet. The ‘humf’ sound he makes instinctively at your shove has you rolling your eyes and looking back at the TV screen.

“Kill me if I ever do.” You deadpan, the look on your face is nothing less than serious. His accusation is absurd, how can he think that you’ve ever viewed him as anything other than your best friend? His hands raise in faux defeat with a slightly amused look on his face, his gaze pulling away from you, at least momentarily until you open your mouth to speak again. “You don’t believe me, do you? Oh my god, Harrington, you’re so arrogant!” Huffing, you get up from the couch, padding over the soft, fluffy carpet the Harringtons recently bought for their living room.

Despite the coffee table topped to the brim with snacks and drinks you feel the need for a glass of water instead of a sugary and fizzy beverage. “It’s not a good look on you at all.” You let him know as you tuck some hair behind your ear, pouring yourself a glass of water, hearing his voice ring out from the living room. “So you think I have good looks, huh?”

You’d roll your eyes again at him if you could, but something tells you you’ll end up with a headache if you keep doing that. Taking the glass back with you, you claim your spot onto the couch, this time your legs curling up next to you. The movie long forgotten as it keeps playing on the TV, now only serving illumination purposes, you’re stuck on the disagreement tonight’s movie started.

“You know that’s not what I meant.” You huff. He thinks it’s cute, he loves riling you up from time to time. “You’re crazy if you think I could ever be with you…” The words come out slightly harsher than intended, but he doesn’t seem to take it personal, only faking a gasp, his hand pressing over his heart to try to trick you into feeling guilty. You don’t, not even a little. “Oh honey, how can you be so mean to me?” He almost whines, pouty lips on display, his eyes almost glazing over with the puppy look he’s mastered at this point.

You know this is just ordinary messing around, he’s always poking and prodding you with his words, but something about his suggestion has shifted something inside you. Maybe it’s the thought that he thinks you’re in love with him which…quite frankly, is insane…right? Maybe it’s the way his rhetorics make you want to slap that grin off his face…or maybe, just maybe, instead of slapping you’d like to try a kiss first.

Instead of staring at his stupid brown eyes, you decide to busy yourself with the bowl of caramel popcorn, picking a handful. The taste melts on your tongue which brings you some sort of serenity for a few moments.

The idea which sparks into your head is not appropriate, far from it. What has got you thinking about kissing him again you think you’ll never know, but maybe that’s just the answer. A simple kiss to prove that whatever assumptions he has about your feelings are completely and utterly absurd.

So, you can blame him for pushing it, or you can blame yourself for being so stubborn about proving him wrong. Either way, it brings you back to his shocked face, the words already uttered and too late to be taken back without implying some sort of fear that his suggestion might be true after all. The long and awkward silence almost makes you jab him with a few teasing words, but the way he seems to be a bit shellshocked for the better part of a minute has you keeping it to yourself.

“Kiss you? As in, for real?” You smile, amused by his tone as you nod, the thought brings some butterflies into your stomach but you just assume it’s nerves from having to kiss your best friend. “I’m serious— right here, right now. To get that stupid idea out of your head.” You explain as if it’s the sanest and most logical explanation for this. “It’ll prove we’re not capable of being attracted to one another and that nothing will ever happen between us.”

Steve, after seemingly coming out of his momentarily catatonic state, has already masked his shocked expression and covered it up with that smile you know so well. Shifting to face you on the couch, one leg underneath himself, he seems to be contemplating this before he runs a hand through his hair. “Makes sense.” That’s the conclusion he seems to arrive at as he scoots closer to you on the couch.

The room is still mostly covered by darkness, which makes it harder to see his facial expressions and how his eyes dip to your lips briefly, as if already setting his target on them. His arm is laid over the back of the couch, coming to a stop in front of you once his knee bumps your ankles, making you change your position as you cross your legs and face him too. It doesn’t feel as intimate as the moments before a first kiss should feel, but once again, he’s your best friend…nothing more.

“Wait…” His voice comes out laced with concern, brows pulling together slightly. “Are you sure you won’t fall in love?” Steve asks and you can’t help but let out the breath you’ve been holding up until now, your hand smacking his bicep still settled on the back of the couch. “Oh I'll be fine, not so sure about you though.” Now it’s his time to roll his eyes though you notice the way his lips curl up and his bottom lip tucks between his teeth for a brief moment.

“Alright, Casanova, could you just get to it?” He nods and adjusts his position, not really sure how he needs to approach this. The hand settled in his lap skirts up over your arm, ultimately finding its place on your chin. The way he holds it so gingerly between his thumb and index makes you feel that there’s this sort of nervousness in him just the way it’s in you too. But this is just a kiss to prove him wrong, nothing else.

His eyes find yours and then he’s leaning in, waiting for your reaction, waiting to be shoved away or chided for actually trying to kiss you, but the closer he gets it dawns on him that you want— no, need this to prove him wrong. It bothers him slightly to know you’ll go as far as kissing him to prove that you’re not in love with him and never will be, but he can’t help the sudden thought which pops into his mind, uninvited.

Pulling back slightly to put some distance between your faces again, your eyes narrow curiously, a tinge of annoyance on your features too. “This won’t make it awkward between us, right?” His question makes you sigh, wondering if this whole thing is really a good idea or if it’s just going to make things worse. The last thing you need is to lose your best friend over some stupid rom-com.

“No, Steve, it won’t change anything between us because it doesn’t mean anything.” You assure him, finding it in you to be understanding of his worries. He nods, accepting that it’ll be done and you’ll never speak of it again.

He’s getting into position again, more shuffling and scruffing over the couch as you find a way to rest your legs against one another comfortably. Steve’s hand lifts to your chin again, keeping hold of it softly as he takes one last look at you, starting his approach again. You don’t feel the nerves anymore, truthfully you don’t feel anything, further proving your point that you don’t have any feelings towards him.

You let your eyes fall shut, expecting his kiss as you breach your hand on his knee, not feeling his breath hitch the slightest bit at your touch. It’s so brief that you almost miss it. A chaste peck which only meets your lips for a second. Your eyes open once his hand pulls away and clears his throat, not saying anything.

You should be happy that you felt absolutely nothing during the kiss, yet it still leaves you with a sort of empty, unsatisfied feeling in your chest. You dare to look at him again, a few beats passing before you notice the soft blush dusting his cheeks, though it might as well be the light from the TV.

“See? Nothing.” You press your hands to your thighs, subtly drying them against the material of your sweats as he seemingly agrees with you. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you gaze forwards before your mouth opens again. “You know, that wasn’t really a kiss. Like, a proper kiss.” You twitch your nose as you don’t dare look at him.

“Mhm, yeah…” His bottom lip is stuck between his teeth, the plush flesh catching your interest as it falls freely back into its place. “You’re totally right, we should probably try again.” The thinking process seems to be logical, as if the possibility of looking for another excuse to kiss each other is not even on the table right now. Just two friends making sure they’re not in love, right?

“Okay then, kiss me like you’d kiss Becky, Tina or Amy. Just pretend I’m one of them.” The words make him dizzy. How can he pretend to kiss you like you’re just some girl he wants to spend his night with? You’re so much more than that, though at the same time less. Your connection is too strong to one another, and as if reading his mind, you speak again. “Maybe not like that. But just kiss me like a girl you’re in love with.” His huff comes out with just the right amount of humour.

“I can do that…I think.” His tongue comes out to wet his lips, the way he’s looking at you feels a bit more intimate now. “Get to it then.” You try to joke as you take a deeper breath, his body already close to yours, making it easier for him to reach out.

The way his skin feels on yours when he cups the side of your face should be the first indicator that this kiss is going to be much different from the first. As if reading your thoughts, his thumb swipes over your cheekbone almost tenderly, eyes falling shut in time with one another, you’re left with the darkness of your eyelids, focusing solely on your other senses.

The musky smell of Steve’s slept in clothes and lingering wafts of toothpaste on his breath, the warm encompassing feeling of his palm on your cheek and the low hum of unintelligible voices since the movie is still playing. The tip of his sharp nose is now tracing over the contour of yours, whereas the first time it was merely just a clumsy bump. You refrain a shudder successfully and you let him go on, carrying a sort of curiosity about what King Steve does to these girls to have them in a chokehold.

And then it happens again, that chaste press of lips on lips, though you keep still and lightly press yourself closer. Just as fast as it comes it goes again, making you furrow your brows. “I th—“ The words get swallowed by him as Steve leans in again, more purposeful, carrying more intent.

Something trashes wildly in your stomach, dare you say butterflies as he parts his lips slightly, coaxing you into a slower open mouthed kiss. You don’t mind, letting him take the lead, following his pace, you’re pleasantly surprised when his tongue tries to enter the mix. You welcome it with your own, brushing wetly over one another while his lips seal over yours.

Without realising, you let your hands come up, one hooking against the back of his neck while the other pushes greedily into his hair. You’re not sure how long it goes on for, though you surely get lost in the way he’s treating you like you mean something more to him. The way his hands touch you, stroking your cheek and holding your hip, the position is still somewhat awkward and stiff, having to meet in the middle, but you don’t mind it that much.

Clearly he does, having to pull you closer, making you slip into his lap to get more comfortable. Settling on his thighs, your knees dig into the leather of his couch while his head tilts back to reach you better. You’re sure your lips will soon turn numb from his ministrations in which you both seem to get lost, clearly forgetting the whole reason you got into the argument in the first place.

Feeling him up, your hands drift over his shoulders and down to his chest, giving the briefest squeeze on it which has him taking a deeper breath in, making you smile against his lips. You’ve fallen into a rhythm, getting accustomed to one another, but everything freezes in place when you hear him.

Confusion etched into your features, your brows twitch together momentarily. “Did you…moan?” The question seems absurd since you’ve heard it clear as day, you couldn’t have missed the way it made your insides clench, your eyes searching his face as you watch the tips of his ears and his cheeks flush a deep red. “Well we’ve been shoving our tongues down each other’s throats, sorry for getting distracted.” He defends, trying to sound as if it’s your fault, looking away to hide the embarrassed look on his face.

Gazing down at him, you take a breath and shift, unintentionally brushing over his lap, his hands tighten on your hips if it’s any indicator to the torment he’s going through. Your lips out of reach, unsure if you’ll even kiss him again after his slip up, your body nothing but a teasing, heating pressure which would be embarrassing to let affect him. But oh how can he keep it together when you’re set on ruining him?

He thinks you know what you’re doing, not when you stare down at him for a brief moment, giving him the idea that you do want him, not when you shift over his lap, and not even when you breach your hands on his shoulders and push him to lay back again, but when your lips press against his for a third time which has his mind rebooting, trying to keep up with the pace you’re setting.

The idea that this was supposed to be just a kiss is now forgotten, the only thing that seems to matter now is kissing his best friend like she’s a girl he’s in love with. Surprisingly, he doesn’t even find it that hard to do, though he doesn’t have the faintest idea as to why.

You can’t help but grab hold of his locks again, so silky and soft through your fingers, giving them the slightest tug experimentally. This time when Steve feels it, he doesn’t moan, not even grunt, what he does though is shamelessly grind up against you. You’d stop the kiss to ask him if he’s hard, but it all feels so good, the way he’s encompassing you in his arms, how he shifts the slightest bit down towards your jaw, in search of sensitive skin. Nails digging lightly into the back of his neck, you gasp when his mouth leaves yours properly and latches onto your neck, lost in the bliss of it all, you grind down again which is enough to make Steve lose his mind.

“Fuck, don’t do that,” His breath sounds strained. “can’t take it—“ His murmur is a rumble against your skin, your whole body warming up at the idea that your best friend can’t contain himself after a simple kiss. Your thighs try to squeeze together at the sound of his voice, instead, squeezing his hips.

Heart drumming, you feel his lips finish up the work on your skin and it doesn’t hit you that it’ll leave a mark, you’re too preoccupied with the way his hands help you grind over his lap to notice. There’s a fire growing between both of you, low and slow, simmering dangerously close.

There’s sudden silence, the tape has no doubt ended, leaving you in a way too intimate silence, only filled by the grunts and gasps shared between you. You know it’s wrong, you shouldn’t be letting a simple kiss get the better of you but Steve doesn’t seem to be bothered at all, letting his needs guide him into stealing another greedy kiss.

Getting light headed, unsure if from his passionate kiss or the lack of oxygen, you’re forced to part, a thin string of spit splitting between the two of you as you look at one another, realising just how wrecked and ravished you both look.

His strands are sticking up at odd angles, his lips flushed a deeper red from all the kissing, just enough to match his cheeks. The collar of his shirt is stretched out a bit, showing a part of his collarbone from where you’d fisted his shirt. The way he’s looking up at you makes it seem like he’s begging for more, his body certainly is with the way he’s still pressing between your thighs, feeling that he’s fighting to contain himself for the sake of the dignity he has left.

Forcing down the lump in your throat with a harsh swallow, you force yourself to move off of him, sliding next to him onto the couch. Settling your hands in your lap, you toy with your fingers, gazing up at the ceiling as he does the same, waiting in silence until your breathing slows down and your mind is a bit more clear.

“You’re a nice kisser,” You mumble the compliment. Calling it nice would be a gross understatement but that’s all you can manage at the moment. Two, Three beats pass before he conjures up a response. “Thanks, you too…nice,”

“Great, um…I guess we proved my point.” Only now remembering what got you in this mess in the first place, you blink and look for your glass of water before you take a sip, the room temperature liquid feeling cold as you drink.

Stubborn.

That’s exactly what you are. It’s been three days since you and Steve broke the dam and started a metaphorical flood of thoughts and feelings. You haven’t seen him since, not that you’re looking forward to the awkward silence and new weird dynamic. Some part of you wishes you’d just accepted the defeat without having to prove anything, while the other can’t help but think back to that kiss, maybe the best one of your life.

It’s on Saturday night that Robin calls and invites you over for a movie night. Just the mere thought of it has your blood warming up, but you can’t let him keep you away from your shared friend group. You’ll just have to…ignore him.

Easier said than done.

You rode with Eddie, he never has a problem with picking you up, but he does give you a strange look when you hop in his van as if to say ‘Where’s Harrington?’ Since the two of you always come together, wherever you go, he’s there and vice versa.

With a hammering heart, you let yourself in as you always do and greet Robin with a smile, subtly looking over her shoulder as she speaks, trying to see if he’s already here. Snapping back to the conversation, you follow her to the couch as she rambles off about whatever tape she ‘borrowed’ from Family Video, though it always ends up thrown somewhere in her room, gathering dust.

Settling in the middle of the couch, You watch as Robin takes a seat next to you, telling Eddie to prepare the tape and bring the bowls of snacks over. Finally settling into the familiar energy, you laugh, entertaining Robin’s absurd thoughts and jokes, but soon enough it’s interrupted as the door opens and closes again, Eddie’s still occupying his usual armchair so it can’t by anyone else than him…

Clammy hands drying on your thighs, you look back as his voice comes out, greeting the three of you as he apologises for being late. You know him, and you’d be inclined to say that you do it best, but looking at him right now, you can’t seem to be able to read him anymore. All you can see is those big hands that grabbed and squeezed at you, those walnut strands which you tugged at, pulling the prettiest of sounds from him, and those eyes…oh how you’re lost in them until Robin boops the tip of your nose, flushing in embarrassment as you pretend they didn’t catch you staring with heart eyes at your best friend.

“Okay, come on, let's watch this already.” You huff, as if you’re impatient to see the movie, but in reality, you’re only thinking about the lights being dimmed so the blush on your cheeks won’t be on full display anymore. You’re cursed with having to squeeze into Robin’s two person couch with her and Steve, each of them pressing closely into your sides, Steve’s arm laying over the back of the couch.

The movie isn’t great, not even close to what Robin’s promised it to be. Proof of that is Eddie drooling on himself as he sleeps peacefully in the armchair, and Robin’s head pressing against your shoulder as she rests with soft snores coming out of her. You wonder how you’re still awake yourself, but the heat radiating off Steve’s body is enough to keep you alert for almost an hour.

“Should we turn this off?” He asks as he gazes at the screen with a sort of bored confusion on his face. You nod and watch him as he gets up, using the opportunity to let Robin lay comfortably on the couch as you slip away from the living room and find yourself walking away, moving towards the bathroom but before you can lock yourself there, you hear his voice.

“Can we talk?” His question seems to slip out like he doesn’t want to go through the conversation either, but it’s eating him up, having to keep his distance from you. Telling yourself it’ll be okay, you turn on your heel and nod, heading to Robin’s room as he follows closely.

Once the door is closed, leaving the two of you alone, you dare to lift your gaze, swallowing thickly while he seems to be looking for the right words. “Did I make things awkward between us? You know, like after we uh— made out?”

“No…no, it’s just, It’s fine…really.” You rush to assure him, he doesn’t believe it one bit, your voice wavers as he steps closer and tilts his head with a concerned furrow in his brows. “Are you sure? It doesn’t seem like that, you can barely look at me and you haven’t called to spend the night in like………forever.” He argues, knowing you always have sleepovers, especially now in the summer.

“Steve, it’s been four days…” You smile lightly as you correct him, seemingly overestimating for how long you’ve been apart, though for him it surely feels like a drawn out eternity meant to make him suffer in your absence. “Exactly!” He huffs as if you can’t seem to understand just how much he’s missed you.

He’s got you, it’s a curse that he knows you this well. Maybe you can’t lie your way out of this, not when he’s watching you like a hawk, trying to find the source of the problem as always. He hates to see you upset, even more so when he knows it might be his fault.

“C’mon, when did you stop telling me what’s bothering you?” The way his tone seems to be a bit hurt makes you look at him, now he’s much closer, his hand reaching for yours as he tugs you gently towards him. You’re not sure you can say anything that will justify your actions, so you don’t. Gazing down at the way his hand swallows yours up completely, your chest swarms with butterflies as he toys with your fingers gently. Want takes over your mind, clouding your judgement as you gaze up at him, opening your mouth to speak.

Knowing no words will ever compare to what you want to do, you push yourself up on your tiptoes and grab hold of his shoulder, leaning in to connect your lips again just like you did three nights ago. Despite the sudden movement, he doesn’t seem to be too shocked, quick with returning the kiss as his hands settle instinctively on your waist to make sure you stay close.

Giving his shoulder a squeeze, you cup the side of his face with your free hand and lean more into him. Letting him walk you back until you bump into the wall, you sigh into the kiss and pull his head down to reach him better. A fuzzy feeling takes over your brain as you let yourself enjoy the moment, feeling Steve’s wandering hands advance, you cling to him for support and arch, saying his name in a soft whisper.

Letting your hands slide up under his shirt, fingers tracing soft skin, gripping at his strong back as Steve occupies himself with pawing at your thighs and waist.

Your bodies pressing and tangling warmly, finally feeling the freedom to touch him like you’ve always known you wanted deep in your heart, humming softly as he lets a relaxed sigh slip from his lips. Minutes pass before a sudden thump, followed by a grumpy Robin cursing, travels through her small apartment.

You break apart with a groan and bite your lip, gazing at him as he seems to resent the interruption too. “We should get back out there before they realise we’re missing.” He knows you’re right, but the way you look like you hate the idea, carrying that soft pout on your lips which has his heart melting makes him dip his head to catch your lips in another kiss, this time softer. “Mhm, in a minute.”

And how can you turn him down when he’s so adamant about kissing you?

[mingi-s-dimples]

Outage - Yunsan

KINKTOBER DAY 19, REQ. BY anon

~"Can you write a college au fic where Yunho and San are best friends living next door to the (fem)reader's apartment/ dorm. Both of them like the reader and they ended having a threesome at the guys' place (maybe she goes to their dorm during a power outage cause she's scared, you can decide the reason she's there). I'd like for the reader to be a virgin, whereas the guys are a bit more experienced. Yunho is a mean, rough dom while San is a softer, gentler dom and they work together to give the reader multiple orgasms in various positions." - I'm so sorry ml I would add all the details but it's gonna occupy all the space :<

pairing: yunho x reader x san

genre: 18+, filth, college au

summary: oops, energy's out on your floor. What a good night to go over at your besties, to finish your study session. Yeah, right.. you studied, for sure.. how to give a bj.

wc: 5.8k

warnings: college au, best friends, big dick!yunsan, reader is a virgin, finger sucking, fingering, multiple orgasms (A LOT OF THEM), like 3 orgasms by fingering and one by fucking for reader and yunsan having like two each... so lots of cummm, overstim, dacryphilia, bj, double penetration, yunho is a rougher dom than san, marking (LOOOTSSS OF ITTT), lots of eye contact, praising, pet names (sweetie, love, sweetheart, princess), unprotected, completely consensual, for sure forgot something, unedited might edit later.

Author's Note: it legitimately took me 5 days to finish this fic 🧍‍♀️ but it has 5.8k words so ig it's pretty expected 💁‍♀️. It is as detailed as I could write it, my love.. I hope you like it. Pls let me know if you did by completing the request form or by sending me an ask to my inbox! 🥰 I loved writing it, ngl... Enjoy, guys !!

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of the members in any way.

The cool evening air nipped at your cheeks as you walked down the hallway of your apartment building with San and Yunho, your books and notebooks bundled tightly in your arms. Despite the demands of your classes, the three of you had fallen into a comfortable rhythm this semester, balancing study sessions with countless inside jokes, late-night ramen runs, and endless laughter. Living in the same building, with you just a few doors down from their shared dorm, had only solidified the bond between you.

"So," Yunho said, glancing down at you with a teasing smile as you reached the door to their place, "how much of Professor Lee’s reading did you actually finish last night?"

You groaned, letting your head fall back dramatically. "Please don’t remind me. I got, like, halfway before I passed out.”

San chuckled, brushing his shoulder against yours. “That’s better than Yunho and me. We didn’t even crack the book open.”

Yunho put his hands up in mock defense. “Hey, I never claimed I was on top of things! Besides, I was too busy helping San fix that stupid coffee machine he broke.”

San rolled his eyes, nudging him. “You’re the one who insisted on trying to ‘hack’ it to make double shots.”

“Details, details.” Yunho gave you both an exaggerated shrug, making you laugh.

As the three of you lingered in the hallway, the faint warmth of your playful banter started to drift. There was a stack of assignments waiting to be tackled, so after a few more exchanges, you decided to head to your own dorm.

"Alright, we’ve procrastinated long enough," you sighed. "I’ll see you guys later?"

San nodded, grinning. “We’ll probably still be awake at 2 a.m. if you wanna come back and cram together.”

Yunho gave a wink. “Or if you get bored, you know where to find us.”

“Noted,” you replied with a smirk, giving them a small wave as you turned and walked down the hall to your door.

Inside, your dorm room was quiet, lit only by the faint amber glow of your desk lamp. You settled in, organizing your textbooks and notes, trying to get into the right mindset to finally tackle your assignments. An hour ticked by, then another, and you began to make progress. But just as you were reaching the last few pages of your reading, the lights suddenly flickered. Then, with a low hum, everything went dark.

You stared at the darkness for a moment, blinking in surprise. The hallway lights were out too, leaving your entire floor eerily quiet and still. You grabbed your phone and quickly typed out a message to Yunho and San:

“Hey, my power just went out… Can I come over and finish my work? I can’t see anything here.”

The reply was almost instant. Yunho’s text popped up first: “Definitely! We’ll keep the lights on for you.”

San’s text followed a second later. “Come on over. We’ll even share the snacks.”

You smiled at their texts and went on packing everything you needed. Pens, the highlighters you always used for your notes, notebooks, textbooks… everything you thought you’d need. As you went out the door and locked it, you smiled and turned on the phone flashlight and went up the stairs to their dorm.

—

When you arrived at their room, Yunho opened the door with a grin, his eyes sparkling as he held it wide for you to enter. Inside, the room was cozy and warmly lit, shadows casting soft outlines across their books and scattered notes. The faint scent of coffee and something sweet lingered, wrapping you in an inviting warmth that made the tension from your dark, quiet room dissipate.

You placed your things on the table and settled into a chair, and before you even had a chance to fully adjust, Yunho shifted beside you. He leaned over, feigning interest in your notes, though his attention clearly lingered on you more than your work. His arm brushed yours, his fingers lightly grazing the edge of your hand, sending a gentle warmth up your arm.

“Feels better here, doesn’t it?” he murmured, his voice soft, almost inviting you to agree.

You nodded, trying to focus on the pages in front of you, but the warmth of his presence was impossible to ignore.

“Definitely feels better than sitting alone in the dark,” you whispered, a small smile creeping onto your face.

From the other side, San watched with a relaxed smile, sliding his chair closer. He rested a hand on the back of your seat, his fingers just barely skimming your shoulder, his touch grounding and comforting.

“Good thing you have us,” San murmured, his thumb brushing softly along the curve of your shoulder. The warmth in his voice, usually playful, was softer, almost reverent. He looked at you with a gentleness that made your heart flutter, his touch a calming presence that drew you in.

The room filled with a quiet, intimate energy as you all fell into a natural silence, the rustling of paper and the faint click of a pen the only sounds. But gradually, the space between you felt like it was diminishing, your awareness of their proximity deepening with every gentle touch and sidelong glance.

Yunho’s fingers began a slow trail along the length of your arm, a feather-light touch that made your pulse race, yet somehow left you craving more. His gaze held yours, warm and open, a subtle smile playing on his lips.

“You’re too quiet now,” he teased softly. “Usually you can’t stop talking.”

The words sent a shiver through you, and you managed a soft laugh, your voice barely above a whisper. “Guess I’m… distracted.”

San’s hand moved, his fingers brushing along your shoulder as his gaze softened. He looked at you for a moment, his usual grin replaced by a serious, thoughtful expression. “Well,” he murmured, “we don’t mind sharing a little… distraction.”

Surrounded by them both, you felt the pull of their closeness, each touch deepening the quiet understanding between you. The night continued in gentle, charged stillness, their presence speaking louder than words as you sat together, enveloped in warmth, comfort, and something that felt undeniably right.

The quiet atmosphere began to thrum with anticipation, an unspoken intensity filling the air as Yunho’s gaze lingered on yours, searching. He finally took a deep breath, and his voice, usually bright and playful, softened with a serious edge.

“I think we need to tell you something,” Yunho said, his fingers still tracing light circles on your arm, sending ripples of warmth through your skin. You looked up, curiosity and apprehension mingling in your expression.

He glanced at San, who gave him a subtle nod, his eyes holding a similar warmth as he looked at you. Yunho took another breath, a little unsteady, then met your eyes again.

“We both… like you,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper, but the weight of his words echoed in your heart. “San and I… we’ve talked about this, and we know it’s unusual, but neither of us could ignore how we feel.”

San moved closer, his hand resting gently on your shoulder, his touch both reassuring and grounding. “We want you to know that we’re here for you, together… if you’d want that too.” His voice was low and steady, but you could see the hint of vulnerability in his gaze as he waited for your reaction.

Your heart raced, the reality of their words sinking in, a warmth blossoming in your chest. You found yourself nodding, a small smile breaking across your lips as you whispered, “Yes, I… I want that too.”

A flicker of mischief sparked in Yunho’s eyes as he leaned in, brushing a gentle kiss to your temple. “You should know… we’ll take good care of you.” Then he paused, noticing the slight blush on your cheeks, the way your gaze shifted shyly downward.

“Actually, there’s something you should know too…” you whispered, the words tumbling out, heart racing as you admitted, “I’m… not experienced. I haven't, uh - had sex.. before.”

Yunho’s expression softened, a gentle laugh escaping him as he reached out to cup your cheek, his touch warm and steady. “Then, we’ll take it slow,” he promised, his voice tender. He looked over to San, who nodded with a smirk and a glint in his eye. “We’ll make sure you’re… well taken care of,” Yunho murmured, the reassurance in his words filling you with a sense of warmth and trust.

Yunho’s fingers slid down, grazing your jawline, his touch electrifying as he closed the distance between you. The air felt thick, charged, as if any moment of hesitation had melted away, replaced by something deeper, more primal. His eyes, dark with intent, flickered over your face, taking in every inch of your expression, every shallow breath. He leaned closer, his gaze settling on your lips, and you felt yourself drawn toward him, as if his very presence held you captive.

Just as his lips brushed yours, San’s hands found your waist, pulling you gently back against him. His warmth enveloped you, his breath hot against your neck as he leaned down, pressing a feather-light kiss below your ear. “We’ll go at your pace,” he whispered, his voice a soft promise, yet laced with that familiar teasing edge. His lips trailed along the curve of your neck, slow and deliberate, as Yunho’s fingers found their way to your hair, tilting your face back to meet his gaze.

“Are you still nervous?” Yunho murmured, his voice rich and warm. His eyes softened with understanding, yet there was an undeniable impatience simmering beneath, a quiet hunger that made your breath catch. You shook your head, a hint of a smile tugging at your lips, and Yunho’s own smirk grew as he finally, slowly, closed the last bit of space between you.

The kiss was tender at first, a gentle exploration, but you felt the fire building with each second. Yunho’s hands, no longer hesitant, traced down your back, drawing you closer as if he couldn’t bear the distance any longer. San’s grip on your waist tightened, his mouth pressing firmer against your neck, his breath sending a thrill down your spine. He sucked dark marks all over your back and shoulders, soft whines escaping your slowly rising chest. Every inch of you was surrounded by their warmth, their presence, until all you could feel was them, grounding you, igniting you, and filling you with a new, intoxicating sense of belonging.

“We've been waiting for this… y/n. For a looong time..” San whispered in your ear from behind, tracing his fingers on your body. He looked up at Yunho and gave him an understanding nod, to which Yunho pulled back, “Yes, sweetie.. you with that little smile of yours… and face. personality of yours…”.

In an instant, San lifted you up, his arms steady and strong as he carried you over to the bed, the movement gentle but filled with a kind of care that made your heart skip a beat. He laid you down with the utmost tenderness, settling behind you as he wrapped his arms around your waist. His hold was warm, comforting, and his fingers traced soft, delicate patterns along your arm, grounding you in this moment.

With San pressed against your back, Yunho moved to the edge of the bed, crawling forward to face you. His gaze held a softness that made you feel cherished, and as he took in every detail of your face, his smile was both gentle and captivating.

“You’re beautiful,” Yunho murmured, his voice low but full of sincerity. His fingers brushed a stray lock of hair from your face, tucking it carefully behind your ear. “Everything about you… just perfect.”

A blush crept into your cheeks at his words, and you looked down for a moment, but Yunho tilted your chin up, bringing your gaze back to his. “Hey, don’t hide from us now,” he whispered, his thumb brushing softly along your jawline. “We want to see you… all of you.”

Behind you, San nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his breath warm as he held you closer. “Yunho’s right,” he murmured, his tone soft yet intense. “We’ve been drawn to you for so long… more than we ever let on.” His arms tightened around you, the embrace protective and reassuring, grounding you in their presence. His lips found their way again on your neck, right under your jaw, where he marked you again. He was just oh-so-thirsty for you.

Yunho leaned closer, his forehead almost resting against yours, his voice a soft murmur. “It’s always been you. The way you laugh, the way you care about people… you’re everything we could have asked for.”

The gentle pressure of their touch, the way they held you so close, filled you with a warmth that ran deeper than anything you’d known. Their affection, their sincerity—it was as if they’d been holding onto these feelings for so long, waiting for the perfect moment to share them with you.

San’s hand moved slowly, gently intertwining his fingers with yours, his breath soft against your ear as he whispered, “We’re right here, and we’re not going anywhere.”

In their embrace, you felt safe, cherished, and undeniably loved, wrapped in the warmth of their closeness and the quiet intimacy of the moment.

Yunho’s eyes met yours, a hint of mischief glinting in his gaze as he leaned down, his lips brushing just below your collarbone. His fingers grazed along your shoulders, and he let his lips linger, pressing warm, slow kisses down the curve of your neck, making his way lower. Each touch felt like a silent promise, but there was something more deliberate in the way his lips marked your skin. The heat of his breath traced down to your collarbone, and as he pressed against you, his hands held you firmly in place.

With a quiet murmur, Yunho drew back slightly, his mouth leaving a faint, warm imprint on your skin, and turned to glance at San. His smile was laced with both a challenge and a hint of possessiveness. “I’m marking her everywhere,” he said, his voice low and edged with a playful intensity. “Let’s see who makes her feel it more.”

San smirked, his fingers still intertwined with yours, while Yunho’s hand found its way to your thigh. His touch was steady, almost firm, and he pushed your legs apart, creating space between you, his gaze tracing over your form with clear appreciation. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, the words gentle against the intensity of his actions. His fingers slid along the soft skin of your thigh, a hint of roughness to his touch that made your heart race. Every glance, every touch, held a kind of reverence as if he was both admiring and claiming you all at once.

Yunho’s eyes never left yours as his lips began to trail slowly downward, warm and intentional, leaving a path of tender heat across your skin. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading them just enough to make space as he leaned in, his lips pressing along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. Each kiss was slow, deliberate, and every now and then he would pause, sucking gently at the delicate skin until he left a faint, possessive mark in his wake. His fingers tightened slightly around your thighs, grounding you in the sensation of his touch as he worked his way upward.

Behind you, San’s hand moved to your neck, his thumb tracing a gentle line along your jaw before he tilted your chin up, his own mouth finding its way to the curve of your throat. The warmth of his breath brushed against your skin as he pressed a gentle, lingering kiss just below your jawline. “Just let us show you,” he murmured softly, his tone filled with affection, his fingers moving to caress the sensitive skin beneath your ear.

San’s hold on your jaw made your head tilt back slightly, and you felt Yunho’s mouth on your thighs, trailing upward with unhurried intensity, marking you as he went, savoring each touch. The way they held you—San’s protective yet gentle hold from behind and Yunho’s firm, claiming presence from the front—made your heart race, filling you with an undeniable sense of being cherished, their attention leaving you breathless in the quiet warmth of their embrace.

San’s breath grew heavier behind you, and you could feel the unmistakable heat of his cock pressing firmly against your lower back, his restraint slipping with every moment. His hands moved to your waist, fingers tightening as he pulled you up, shifting you to sit fully on his lap. The sensation of him beneath you sent a warm blush to your cheeks, and you smiled, caught off guard yet undeniably drawn to the warmth and intensity of his touch.

Meanwhile, Yunho was still focused on you, his lips grazing along the sensitive skin of your thighs, leaving small marks that trailed upward, each one deliberate, each one claiming. His hands roamed softly along your legs as he pressed one last kiss to your inner thigh before he pulled back, catching sight of the subtle evidence of your own arousal against the linen beneath you. A playful smirk tugged at his lips, and he looked up, meeting your gaze with a glint of mischief.

Without breaking eye contact, Yunho’s hand moved slowly, confidently, his fingers trailing along your inner thigh before reaching that sensitive place, his touch both gentle and intentional. His fingers explored with careful precision, his eyes watching your every reaction, savoring the way you responded to each movement. San’s hands remained steady at your waist, anchoring you in place as Yunho leaned in, his gaze filled with both admiration and a playful challenge, entirely focused on you, caught in the moment they shared with you.

“You’re so wet already… I can see that you love being marked, is that right?” Yunho asked, his finger pressing against your clit, keeping eye contact with you. “Tell me, sweetie. You wanted this too, mm?” two of his fingers found it’s way in, your head falling back on San’s shoulder as you felt Yunho’s fingers curling inside you. He started to finger you, his long, slender fingers hitting spots you’d never thought would arouse you but here you were.. between the two men you’ve always dreamed of.

“Yunho.. let’s take turns, shall we?” San said from behind, your eyes widened at his words. What did he mean by.. take turns..? you asked yourself.

He smiled at San’s words. “Yeah, sure.. why not. But first, let me have my way with her..” Yunho said and curled his fingers inside you, hitting your g spot a couple of times, moans escaping your throat. “Then.. you can have your way with her and.. “ he circled your clit with his thumb, making you bite your lip, “we can both have our way with her.” San scoffed from behind, approvingly.

“Now.. let's see how much you can handle, sweetheart.” the taller one whispered and he worked both of his hands around your folds. His right hand was 2 fingers deep inside you, finger fucking you rapidly, building your orgasm, while his other hand had the thumb onto your clit, rubbing it in circles, sometimes putting pressure on it. You squirmed and squirmed in front of him and above San, until you basically couldn't take it anymore.

“Y-yunho..!” you started, but words dissipated fast.

“What, princess?” he smiled at you, your face flustered.

“I-i.. ngh.. gotta-” you moaned out the last word, head falling back once again onto San's chest.

“Use your words, pretty girl.”

“I- gotta… c-cum! Yunho, p-please…” you pleaded, eyes teary from being stretched out by his fingers.

Yunho’s smirk grew, his fingers maintaining that perfect, teasing rhythm. He watched you closely, keeping eye contact, catching each hitch in your breath, each tremble, like he was savoring every second. “There we go, princess” he murmured, his tone turning a touch more commanding. “Let it all out…” Yunho said and pressed all your sweet spots until you squirmed over his hand and came all over, creaming on his fingers.

San’s hold tightened from behind, his hands firm on your waist, pulling you slightly against him. “You think you can handle more, princess?” His voice had a rougher edge now, the soft amusement shifting to something more intense.

“Y-yes.. please..” you whispered, voice low and quiet.

“Then.. show us just how much you can take it, sweetheart.”

Yunho’s fingers pressed deeper for a moment, coaxing a soft sound from you that only seemed to encourage them. “Look at you, so eager,” he murmured, his voice velvet-smooth but with a hint of challenge. “We’re not even close to done with you, sweetheart.”

“C'mon, San.. come here. Switch with me.” the taller one said and lifted you, putting you down in his lap, right against his hard cock. He was.. way lengthier than San was but.. San was.. girthier, you'd say? Either way, you were slightly scared of how painfully pleasurable it was gonna be.

You were already out of it. Face sweaty, flustered, eyes teary and legs trembling, but they were not yet done. San's hand ran between your legs, his fingers tracing your thighs. He lubed them up on your own juices then pushed them in, his fingers girthier than Yunho's. Two fingers of his feeling like 3 of Yunho's, you felt yourself being stretched out even more than before. You were close to your high again, even faster than before as you were already aroused.

“You look so beautiful like this, my princes…” San said and sucked a mark on your thigh. Surprised, you moaned pushing your head back into Yunho's buff chest. His right hand went under your chin and slowly pulled your mouth to his, going in for a kiss. At first, it was a soft, tender one. Then, as your moans and whines grew more often and his groans revrebrating through your body, the kiss deepened and the knot in your belly started to feel tighter and tighter, until San curled his fingers into your g-spot and clit at the same time and you beautifully came onto his fingers for the 2nd time in a row.

“That's it, sweetheart…” San whispered

Yunho continued from behind, “Such a good girl..”

How Yunho called you sent a shiver down your spine. Yunho lifted you up onto his lap, sitting you straight.

“One more, sweetie? We promise it's the last one…” he said.

“H-uh? I-” you couldn't even talk, but you nodded your head in approval. The boys looked at each other, giving understanding stares. San pulled you to his chest, placing you on his thigh. You were basically sitting sideways on his lap, your legs spread out evenly. Yunho came under your left leg, in the same position San was. They both pulled your legs outwards slightly, resting on one another's thighs. (it's like they're really close to each other and she's sitting on both men's thighs, left leg over Yunho's entire leg and right one over San's).

They held you promptly and their fingers traveled over your body, Yunho’s hand resting on your waist, San's on your breasts.

“Are you ready, our princess?” San asked.

You nodded. That was it.

“Hold your legs and spread out, darling.”

Both men's fingers went for your hole, a loud moan escaping your throat as you felt both men stretching you in opposite directions. One another was softly pulling towards themselves, inserting each of them two of their fingers, as deep as possible.

They took their time, as if savoring the moment as much as you, their breaths steady and close to your ear, a soft warmth reminding you that they were fully present. Their fingers moved with an intimacy that spoke volumes, every subtle yet harsh movement letting you feel how attuned they were to every reaction, every moan, whine you made.

Their touch became more focused, the rhythm of their fingers overwhelming as you felt the tension building deep within you. San’s voice was a soft murmur by your ear, encouraging you, each word melting into the warmth of his breath, heightening every sensation. Yunho’s grip on your waist steadied you, his thumb brushing along your side in tender, grounding strokes, keeping you fully present in the moment.

And then, with a final, gentle touch, the wave overtook you, breaking over you like a rush of warmth. Your body trembled in their embrace, your breaths mingling with theirs as they held you through every second, their hands offering steady reassurance as the sensations washed over you in gentle waves.

As you came down from your high, tears formed in your eyes from the overstimulation. You came all over their hands and linen for the 3rd time, biting your lips in pleasure.

They put you down slowly on the bed, then both sat right in front of you on their knees. Their cocks were dripping continuously with precum, hard and throbbing, waiting for action.

“Goddammit… you look so pretty like this. Teary eyes.. all fucked out and flushed and we didn't even fuck you yet. Yunho, isn't she perfect like this? Imagine her after we fuck her… oh god.” San said, carresing your cheek as he wiped off some tears.

Yunho’s eyes darkened, a low, breathless chuckle escaping his lips as he took in the sight of you, utterly captivated. He ran his fingers along your trembling jawline, thumb grazing over your lips. “Perfect doesn’t even cover it,” he murmured, voice laced with a deep, possessive edge. “But I don’t think I can wait any longer to see just how beautiful you’ll look after… Come here.”

He stood, pulling you gently toward the edge of the bed, eyes never leaving yours. “Right here," he instructed, his gaze commanding, leaving no room for hesitation. "Let’s see just how pretty you can be for us.”

He raised his brow at his cock, but backed off for a second. He looked at you, and then at San.

San smirked as he looked down at you, his eyes filled with intensity as he took in the sight of you kneeling so prettily on the edge of the bed, exactly where he wanted you. One knee pressed beside your thigh, he leaned in close, the warmth of his breath brushing your skin as he lifted his hand toward your lips.

Keeping steady eye contact, he raised his brows and tilted his head slightly. “Open,” he instructed softly, his voice commanding yet gentle, coaxing you to follow his lead. As your lips parted, he slipped two fingers past them, a glint of satisfaction in his gaze. “Good girl. Now, close around them… slowly, just like that.”

His fingers rested on your tongue, and he watched, completely focused, guiding you with a calm authority. “Suck, nice and easy," he whispered, his voice darkening, "let your tongue glide over them… there you go.” His eyes flickered with approval, and he leaned in just a little closer, his thumb brushing your chin as he murmured, “Show me how well you can listen.”

As you sucked on his fingers, coating them in your own saliva, he smiled at you, satisfied with your work. He then inserted one more finger, your tongue immediately moving and slurping around. After he was more than satisfied with it, he pulled out with a slight popping sound and backed off. He patted Yunho on the chest, who has been lazily stroking his length, looking at the two of you.

“Just in time.. I was going insane back here.” Yunho got closer to you, one of his hand tangling in your hair softly. “Open up, darling. Don't make me wait,” he said and tapped your lower lip with the tip of his cock, to which you opened your mouth and slowly took in his length. The corners of your lips stung as he slowly thrusted in your mouth, hurrying you to adjust to his size.

Yunho's breathing grew heavier as he watched you, his gaze dark and focused. Each slow movement seemed to be its own silent command, urging you to take more of him. His fingers tangled further in your hair, his grip firm yet tender.

You felt your cheeks hollow slightly as you adjusted to his size, your lips stretching around him in a way that sent a heated thrill through both of you. A soft whine slipped past your lips when he pulled back slightly, leaving you wanting more.

He chuckled, a low, knowing sound. “You feel so good, princess.." he murmured, his voice thick with restraint, though his eyes told a different story. You responded with a light hum, the vibrations adding to the tension building between you both. As his pace quickened, your hands found their way to his hips, steadying yourself as he guided you closer to his peak, mouth fucking you rapidly, feeling every corner of your mouth.

With one final, harsh thrust, Yunho’s breaths became uneven, his fingers tightening in your hair as his focus blurred, surrendering to the intensity of the moment. His low, rough voice spilled out in a shuddered exhale as he came. He looked down at you and nodded, urging you to slurp everything, “swallow, sweetheart.” and you did as told.

Just as you felt Yunho’s hand leave your hair, San took his place before you. He offered a playful smile.

Slowly, you welcomed him, the slight stretch challenging yet thrilling, but you never looked away. His hand reached forward as a tear slipped from the corner of your eye, a silent promise of reassurance as he swept his thumb gently across your cheek. With each slow movement, his thumb remained there, resting on your face.

“Fuck.. you didn't lie at all, man…” his head lolled back, biting his lip, “when you said she feels good..”

San’s breaths quickened as he found a rhythm, but he kept his focus on you, reading every reaction, every subtle change in your expression. He couldn't wait anymore. He wanted to cum and that was it. His hand pushed your head on his cock, making you gag and slightly choke on it. As he did that a couple of times he came right down your throat, urging you to swallow his load. It took him a couple of moments to release everything, your eyes teary as he kept his cock down your throat until the end.

“Damn.. that was hot” Yunho said from behind, his cock hard again, heavy in his hand.

“Princess.. would you be able to endure one round of… both of us fucking you, hm?” Yunho said, both men standing in front of you, keeping eye contact. “I just can't wait for my turn, you know?” he continued.

“I-uh” you hesitated for a second, but smiled and nodded shyly, looking up at him.

“That's our girl, man… look at her. Already flushed and ravished, but still wants more? Such a good girl…” San said and pushed you on the bed, crawling under you. He held you close to his chest as he moved up slightly and rested his back against the headboard. Yunho came from behind and kneeled right behind you, his hands resting on your waist.

“Are you ready, love?” he said from behind, your eyes looking into San's, not knowing what to expect. You nodded, and San was the first one to act. He thrusted as slow as possible in your cunt, your hands gripping the headboard as he let you get accustomed to his size. A loud moan escaped your throat, words stuttering as he started to keep up on a pace. Yunho did the same after he let you get used to San and as he started to softly fuck you, your eyes teared up and drops of tears fell onto San's chest. He wiped them off, in awe of your reactions and fucked you. harshness betraying his neediness for you.

“Fuck, you're so tight…” he said and his hands drove up and down on your back, trying to soothe you.

San’s hand gently caressed your cheek as you locked eyes with him, feeling his heartbeat strong and steady beneath you. His thumb traced over your cheekbone, wiping away any lingering tears "You’re incredible," he murmured softly, voice thick with admiration.

Behind you, Yunho’s hands remained anchored on your waist, fingers pressing into you in a grounding way. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “You’re doing so well.” His tone was a blend of awe and satisfaction, his voice rough but filled with warmth that made you feel completely safe.

As they both moved with you, their rhythm became an unspoken exchange, synchronized in a way that felt almost effortless. You could feel the tension building in each of them, both of them on the edge, breaths deepening as they drew nearer to their highs. San’s grip on your thighs tightened, his knuckles grazing your skin, grounding you both as he savored every second. Yunho’s hand slipped up your back in a soothing motion, his rough exhale brushing against your shoulder, each of them close to finishing.

As they fucked you for a couple of times, you came unannounced, your aching walls tightening around their cocks. Surprised, both San and Yunho came down from their high simultaneously, their huge loads filling both of your holes to the brim. They fucked you through your orgasms and slowly came down to a stop.

Yunho slowly pulled back, exhaling a long, satisfied breath. His hand lingered on your back for a moment, his thumb tracing gentle circles, grounding both of you in the moment. He offered you a soft, tender smile, cheeks flushed and breathing deeply. San's arms wrapped tightly around you, pulling you close to his chest as he settled back.

“You did so well,” Yunho murmured, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your temple, his voice low and full of pride. His fingers brushed along your cheek with a feather-light touch, his gaze filled with awe. “You’re so beautiful, love… can’t believe how lucky we are.”

San pressed his lips to the top of your head, his grip tightening around you as he whispered, “Such a good girl.” His fingers traced soothing patterns along your back. “Every bit of you is incredible, you know that?”

The two of them exchanged a quiet smile over you, their gazes warm. They both leaned in, pressing gentle kisses to your cheeks, to your forehead, each one tender, grounding, letting you know how much you were cherished.

“Let's get you washed up, alright?” San said and lifted you, carrying you to the bathroom and placing you down.

“T-thank you.. it was in-incredible.” you finally managed to form a sentence, both boys looking contently in your eyes. They smiled at your words and San gave you a hand, holding you tight while the taller one turned on the shower.

NETWORKS:

@blossomnet

@illusionnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

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[jellyfishsthings]

Hold Your Breath My Darling

WARNINGS: angst, like super angst, lovesick and whipped Spencer, earlier seasons Spencer, Hotch trained reader, Ex spy, fem reader, dying (or coming close to it), panic attacks, typical criminal minds violence... there will be a part two soon, please let my know if I am missing anything else

The BAU team arrived at the small town of Crescent Hills, ready to investigate a series of gruesome murders. The victims all shared similar physical characteristics. The team quickly realized that the killer was targeting women who looked exactly like you, the same hair, the same eyes and somehow personality, which had to be the scarriwst part of them all.

As the team discussed their next move, Spencer couldn't help but stare at her. She was the spitting image of the victims, but she seemed unfazed by the situation. In fact, she suggested that she pose as bait in order to catch the killer. She was the agent her mentor made her, because Hotch would have done the same in a heartbeat. Yet as Hotch looked at the young woman standing at his side, standing tall and holding her head high with pride and bravery, wearing a mask of calmness hiding her whirlwind of emotions with quite the efficiency.

Spencer's heart skipped a beat at the thought of his best friend putting herself in danger. His hands shook with dread and anxiety and his mind raced to a million directions as his heart seemed to weight a few tons more than usual. He was so confused. He had always seen her as a friend, but in that moment, he couldn't deny the intense feelings he had for her. Yes he had always cared for her, and wouldn't wish any harm in her way, but at this moment he desperately wished to have been the genius he claimed to be, to find a way out of this, to solve this without any one getting hurt, to keep her safe and alive and well next to him, hoping she felt even a sliver of the intesity of his emotions. He knew he couldn't let her go through with this plan. He had to act quickly, not caring if he embarrassed himself in the process.

"You can't do this, it's too dangerous," Spencer pleaded with the her, his eyes shining with unshead tears as he saw her walking in her hotel room, trying to make herself more appealing for the UnSub.

"I can handle myself, Spencer," she replied confidently."Do not worry. I have been trained from the best." She whispered as she lightly hugged him and kissed his cheeks and the storm raging inside of him seemed to calm down for a few short seconds.

But Spencer couldn't shake off the feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't bear the thought of losing her. He had been so focused on his work and solving the case that he hadn't even realized his true feelings for her until now. As the team set up a plan, Spencer couldn't help but keep a close eye on the Reader. He couldn't let her out of his sight. But as she put herself in harm's way, Spencer's heart was in his throat

The warehouse was quiet, the ominous shadows twisting around the corners like specters waiting to strike and fear started clawing its way to her heart. Derek Morgan’s voice echoed in her mind; “You’re one of us, kiddo. Trust your instincts.” But in this moment, trust felt like an anchor dragging her deeper into despair.

She was second guessing herself now as well as her abilities. Maybe she had made a mistake. She had volunteered without hesitation, knowing the stakes were high. A string of brutal murders had terrorized several towns, and the Behavioral Analysis Unit needed to understand what made this killer tick. But she had never expected that the very thing she sought to uncover would entrap her instead.

As she stepped deeper into the warehouse, darkness enveloped her like a suffocating blanket. The cold was biting, but the fear coursed through her veins like ice. She had set off the sound of a chilling recording, a mocking lure that had been crafted specifically for the UnSub. The air was alive with tension, every creak of the old metal structure amplifying her dread.

“Just breathe,” she murmured to herself, but her heart raced faster with every passing second. Somehow, despite the adrenaline's flow, she felt an unsettling calm, as if her body was preparing for something inevitable.

She thought of the team back at the BAU. Hotch would be analyzing their data, Emily and Derek keeping their wits about them, and as she closed her eyes, she could almost hear Spencer Reid’s gentle voice. He was always a soothing presence, with his deep well of knowledge and quirky sense of humor.

“Remember when I tried to teach you how to play chess?” he whispered in her mind, a memory flooding back. They had been at a coffee shop breaking down a case when she had confided that she hadn’t learned the game as a child. With a persistent twinkle in his eye, he taught her the basics, patiently explaining the rules as she fumbled through the moves. They laughed when she mistakenly thought pawns could move diagonally anytime.

In this dark warehouse, she recalled how he had once said, “You have to think several moves ahead. In chess, just as in life.” She held onto that wisdom now, fighting to stifle her panic.

The quiet was shattered by footsteps echoing through the maze of crates and rusted metal. She steeled herself, adrenaline rushing through her as the UnSub emerged from the shadows. He was a tall figure, cloaked in darkness, his face obscured by a mask that sent a shiver down her spine.

“Welcome,” he said, his voice low and taunting. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

She fought the surge of terror that threatened to overwhelm her. How? How had he been expecting her? She was a trained spy for the love of God, before joining the BAU, had she rusted her abilities this quickly? It had only been five years. Five wonderful, free years.

She couldn’t falter. In her mind, she anchored herself to another memory: a sunny afternoon with Reid. They had shared ice cream on a picnic blanket, debating the best flavors like children. He had quipped that pistachio was underappreciated, while she insisted on the classic chocolate chip cookie dough.

“You’re practically a gourmet, aren’t you?” she teased, and his laugh had brightened that day, sunlight dancing in his eyes.

But now, there were no sunny picnics; shadows danced along the walls as the UnSub advanced towards her. She could see glimmers of rage flickering in his eyes, an intensity that struck fear into her heart.

“Let’s see just how strong you are,” he hissed, gripping her arms in a vice-like hold. She gasped as pain shot through her, but even as she winced, she summoned the memory of Reid, who had taught her the importance of mindfulness in the face of fear.

“Leave me alone!” she shouted, fueling her resolve with every ounce of anger she could muster.

But he laughed, a cruel sound that sent tremors of dread through her. The sharpness of reality cut through her feelings of safety, and she swallowed hard, desperately piecing together scattered memories, trying to fund the best course of action but it was already to late. She felt sluggish and slow, something was wrong.

She tried to find the good memories, to find courage and strength, such as Reid’s infinite patience, his love for obscure trivia, the whimsical way he could make her smile even in the darkest of moments.

“Your game is over,” the UnSub snarled, his breath hot against her skin.

As he began to carry out his twisted intentions, she closed her eyes tightly, conjuring one last memory, one that radiated warmth in the encroaching darkness. The night Reid had confessed his fears of inadequacy, only to find solace in their bond, his fingers grazing hers in comforting reassurance, his eyes reflecting the kind of understanding that only comes from empathy.

“I’m not afraid,” she whispered, even as fear clawed at her soul. “No matter what happens, I’m not afraid. I will not give you the satisfaction of the perfect murder, trust me it will be a fight to bring me down.”

"Oh, but you have already lost. I think you must be feeling it be now."

Her heart pounded with the realization that she might not escape. But in those harrowing moments, as she fought against the loop of pain and despair, she anchored herself in the love and camaraderie of her team—every shared laugh, every overcoming of hardship. No matter what happened, they would carry her spirit forward.

In those last flickers of consciousness, she thought of Spencer, his brilliance, his laugh, and the unyielding strength of their bond. She hoped he would forgive her for failing to bring him the answers they so desperately needed, all while holding onto the belief that even the darkest of nights must give way to dawn.

With that thought, she embraced the memories that would never fade, hoping they would echo in the hearts of those she loved, a reminder that even in their darkest hours, they could find light.

Then the darkness came.

The cold grip of fear tightened around Spencer Reid's heart as he stood in the dimly lit acting conference room of the BAU, a small desk office of the local police station. The air was thick with tension and the weight of impending decisions that could alter their fates. He paced the floor anxiously, running a hand through his tousled hair while his mind raced with worst-case scenarios.

“Guys, we can’t go through with this,” he implored, turning to face his team, his voice a tremor of desperation. “The unsub is more unpredictable than we anticipated, and we can’t risk her life. What if—”

“It’s not just about her,” Derek Morgan countered, crossing his arms. “This mission aims to take down a dangerous criminal. We need to act fast before he slips through our fingers again.”

“But what if he targets her, Morgan?” Spencer’s voice escalated, echoing in the room. “I've analyzed his patterns. If she’s involved, she’s at extreme risk. We can’t afford to lose her!”

Emily Prentiss, caught between the mounting urgency and Reid’s grave expression, glanced at the other agents. “We have to trust our instincts, Spencer, but you know we all understand the risk involved. We can deploy a secondary team to protect her—”

“No!” Reid snapped, panic threading his tone. “You don’t understand. I can’t shake this feeling. What if this is a trap? She shouldn’t be there. We need to stop this. We need to call it off.”

The room fell silent as his pleas hung in the air, but time was running out, and the team had a job to do. With reluctant determination, they gathered their gear and left the conference room, unknowingly walking into the lion’s den.

Spencer’s heart raced as he followed them, a whirlwind of dread washing over him. They arrived at the location of the suspected meeting and quickly fanned out, but dread settled deeper in his chest as time ticked away.

Minutes felt like hours, and Reid’s worries morphed into a nightmare. Suddenly, over the comms, a shout broke through the chaos, and panic pierced the stillness. “She’s down! She’s down!”

Spencer’s instinct kicked in, but it felt like running through molasses as he pushed past his teammates. His breath quickened dramatically. He reached the scene, and there she was—Her body lay still against the cold asphalt, pale and lifeless.

Everything around him blurred as the sirens wailed in the distance, blending into an agonizing scream that reverberated in his mind. He dropped to his knees beside her, an overwhelming despair crashing down like a tidal wave. “No, no, no…” he chanted, disbelief coursing through him as the realization sank in.

He placed his hands on her chest, feeling the emptiness where her spirit should have been. “Stay with me. Please,” he whispered, tears streaming down his cheeks as he started CPR. Each pump felt futile, desperation fueling his actions—A metronome to the rhythm of her fading heartbeat.

“Come on, please! Breathe, breathe!” Spencer’s voice cracked as he pressed harder, not willing to accept the undeniable truth standing stark against reality—a truth that seemed to throng his senses.

Suddenly, strong hands pulled him backward. “Spencer, let the medics handle this,” a voice shouted through the fog of his anguish. It was Morgan, trying to wrestle him back to reality.

“No! I can’t! I won’t let her go!” Reid screamed, thrashing against the hold, fighting against the gravity of grief. But the world around him was collapsing, everything turning hazy, the wail of the sirens growing louder, drowning him in despair.

“Spencer!” Morgan’s voice cut through the fog, but it felt distant, as if coming from underwater. He was pulled away from the scene, from her cold body that lay so still. The agents moved in, the medics began their work, but Reid felt as if a piece of himself was being torn apart, the agonizing reality sinking its teeth deeper into his soul.

He fell to his knees, the weight of his failure crashing into him like a heavy stone, unyielding and unforgiving. Tears streamed down his face as he watched helplessly, the ache in his chest mimicking a gaping wound.

Desperation clawed at him as he realized that no amount of pleading or data could bring her back. And in that moment, the chaos of the world faded away, and all he knew was a profound loss that reverberated through every fiber of his being.

And then the impossible happened. She was still bleeding, covered in deep cuts by a knife that would scar her for life. Yet her chest lifted lightly before falling down.

Once.

Twice.

He was sure he was dreaming of it. His mind playing a trick on him, not being ready to register his life without her existence.

But no.

It was true. She was breathing.