#but the idea of being ignored and just left behind for something you created

[halfratsalready]

I definitely think that there’s multiple factors at play here.

This is such a long winded explanation so apologies in advance 😭

It does seem that the dancers portraying the story mode coaches had a lot going on this year. As far as I’m aware, I think Shirley is the only one who portrayed a coach in JD25? I know that Jerky Jessy choreographed Paint The Town Red Extreme, but I’m not aware of his involvement in any other maps (I could totally be missing something, though). Obviously they recast coaches all the time, but I can totally see why they wouldn’t want to recast the main story mode coaches (yes, they recast Night Swan for JD24, but that was probably to make things easier to film and worked out pretty well because Night Swan’s makeup is so heavy it’s almost hard to tell that the dancer even changed). I think the only reason they were okay with “recasting” Leda for IYE is because Shirley has played Night Swan before, even if Maïwenn played that version of Leda first in JD24. To me, this is the theory that honestly makes the most sense, but I doubt this would be the only reason they completely ignored the lore this year.

Part of me wonders if they held off on lore this year to see what the response would be. Obviously this would be a risky move and not a very smart one, but hey, given how divisive the lore seems to be amongst players, I can see why they’d want to see the reaction to a lack of a story mode in this game.

The inclusion of the Ariana Grande song pack seems more like an idea to fill the gap in the song list that a lack of story mode created than a reason for a lack of story mode. Both story modes thus far have consisted of seven maps, and the Ariana song pack includes six. Add In Your Eyes to the mix as an attempt to appease the lore fans in the absence of a story mode, and you’ve got seven maps to fill the gap left empty by the lack of a story mode.

Budget problems is 100% a possibility, especially considering the aforementioned divisiveness of the story modes in the past. They might be trying to appeal to a wider audience to get the most out of the budget they have (another reason that the Ariana song pack would be good for filling in for story mode maps in the final count).

For what it’s worth, I don’t think Lose Yourself has anything to do with it. I’m still a “Lose Yourself is a prequel map” believer, because it just doesn’t make sense to me that it would have been made for JD24 as a follow up to the JD24 story mode. I can’t imagine that they would end Dance With the Swan on that cliffhanger and then throw in Lose Yourself as a continuation. I could do a whole post on this honestly, but I personally don’t think that it has anything to do with story mode not returning this year, because I don’t see it as taking place after Dance With the Swan.

I also don’t think it’s to indicate a passage of time since Dance With the Swan. You can easily indicate time passing without actually waiting over a year to continue the story, and this just doesn’t seem reasonable to me at all.

I can’t say whether I believe they’ll do this or not, but a lore season would honestly infuriate me. To have something that is normally included in the base game be free for only a couple of months before locking it behind the JD+ paywall would be absolutely ridiculous and probably spark even more backlash than including lore in the first place. Would it be nice to have story mode-based rewards? Yes! I’d love some new Night Swan avatars by now! And some Night! Just Dancer avatars would also be great. But I’m holding out hope they don’t do a lore season because of the controversy it could (deservedly) start and the negative impact that could have on continuing the lore in the future.

That being said, I don’t believe they’ve totally given up on story mode or lore. I don’t think they would have included In Your Eyes if that was the case. Also I’m just really hoping they don’t ditch the lore because I want the lore and I refuse to believe that it’s not coming back.

All of that just to say - THEY SHOULD HAVE TOLD US. They can still tell us! All they had to do was acknowledge the absence of a story mode, and they couldn’t even do that. I would have been disappointed but still understanding if they’d acknowledged the fact that they weren’t going to include the lore this year. Instead, they’ve completely ignored it, which is the real problem for me.

Ok I wanted to do it for quite some time now

Those are all I could think about/saw people throw around. I could easily talk more in depth about each one, so if you're not sure what I mean, don't hesitate to ask. I can't add more answers, so if u have other theories or believe it's multiple reasons, feel free to share them in the tags 👇👇

Reblogs for a bigger sample size will be appreciated 🙏

[technicallyaminecraftsimp]

Well. If I had a nickel for every time someone started out a video essay trying to find the origin of a niche sound effect and ended up demonstrating the importance of crediting artists and just showing off the fear of being forgotten in the vast history of humanity

I would have two nickels

[fairuzfan]

This post is for the anon who sent me that video asking me to debunk it's claims so they can be better equipped against accusations of antisemitism.

Sorry, I won't post the video since I refuse to have that man on my blog but I can give you common Zionist talking points and the illogicality behind it.

To preface: most of the questions Zionists will ask you are a trap, and will make you fall into a "rabbit hole" (as I was once told when I was younger), as we try to apply their reasoning. My advice is to ALWAYS center the humanity of Palestinians. For example, when a Zionist says:

"Don't Jews deserve a homeland to be safe?"

It fundamentally ignores the core issue: Palestinians are being raped, murdered, and expelled from their homes so that the establishment of this so called "homeland" may exist. When people ask this to you, I personally advise saying something like:

Why must Palestinians suffer for the establishment of this homeland?

Always recenter to the issue at hand—the inhumane removal and treatment of Palestinians.

"Palestine belongs to the Jews and Not Muslims"

The whole premise of this claim is flawed—there is a weird tendency to equate Arab/Palestinian=Muslim when it just is like. Completely untrue. There are Palestinian Christians, Bethlehem is famously a Christian city, who have been there for centuries. There are Palestinian Jews, who have been there for centuries. There are Palestinian Muslims, who have been there for centuries. My grandpa told me stories of how he would turn on lamps for his Jewish neighbors in Al-Khalil (or Hebron) during Shabbat.

To claim that Palestine is EITHER Islamic or Jewish doesn't make any sense and completely neglects the fact that dissemination of culture has occurred for centuries, as well as the intermingling of people throughout generations. To somehow assert that for some reason, Jews and Muslims did not have ANYTHING to do with each other—did not create together, did not build families together, did not build culture together, all while being PALESTINIAN—is incredibly racist and nonsensical. "Palestinian" is not a religious identity—it's a cultural and ethnic one.

Also, it does not negate the core issue—Palestinians are being killed, removed, and tortured so that others can live on that land.

"Well what about [something about partitioning land]?"

Honestly like, who cares about the partitioning throughout the 1900 and early 2000s. Sorry, I'm not going to list the whole "partitioning" history nonsense. The whole reason "Israel" exists is because of a Mass Exodus, murder, and rape of Palestinians. Everything after that is rendered obsolete.

"Well, I heard Palestinians allied with Hitler"

I don't know how to tell you this but Palestine was under British Control. No they didn't.

"Israel withdrew from the Gaza and left them to themselves and they put Hammas in charge"

Oh yeah, Israel totally left Gaza, that's why Gazans' water, electricity, internet, and food is completely controlled by Israel (this is sarcasm, Israel still controls basic life in Gaza).

Go back to centering the idea that no human deserves to be shoved into an open-air prison, starved, and controlled. Did you know that the Zionist Entity controls the amount of water Gazans receive, as well as counting their calories to ensure they don't have enough energy on a day to day basis?

"I heard Israel asked Arabs to stay"

Show them these papers and videos when they say this:

If you can't show them these videos, check in the next point what to say.

"Well the Palestinians left of their own will in 1948"

Palestinians in 1948 didn't "leave." They had heard of how the Zionist Entity was slaughtering Palestinians en masse. Women especially heard stories of rape and sexual violence. They fled from *violence*. Again, from an earlier post, that this was a calculated effort on the Zionist Entity's part to try and get them to "leave" on their own and "abandon" their houses so that they can come in and say "hey, they left on their own so, we can come in and take their houses now."

Anyways, the idea that once you leave your house you can't ever come back to it is incredibly odd to me as an argument on Zionists' part. Like if you leave your house right now to go to the grocery store and you come back and see someone in your house and they're like "sorry dude, this is my house now, you left so that means you can't come back," you'd be like, "what the hell!" It would be even weirder if everyone agreed with the guy who took your house, which is what happened to Palestinians.

In Al-Khalil, or Hebron, Palestinians always have to have someone stay in their house or else a Settler will come in and take it from them. So it still goes on today as well.

This is not a point, but when that one person in the video said "Arabs lived under Israeli rule" and showed a clip of a bustling city with mountains, I'm pretty sure that was Amman, Jordan, not Palestine lol. Those buildings in the mountains look like how downtown Amman builds the residential areas. Could be wrong tho.

"There are no Jews living under Palestinian rule in Palestine"

What is this, some sort of gotcha argument? What are they trying to prove, the racist (obviously false) notion that Palestinians hate Jews as a whole? How do they know no Palestinian Jew lives in Gaza? Also, Settlers in Palestinian Territory exist??? I had never heard this claim before, its incredibly stupid lol. You're automatically a citizen of "Israel" if you're Jewish, whether or not you live in or outside of Palestinian Territories. So of course technically they don't live under Palestinian rule, they're granted full rights as an "Israeli" citizen automatically!

Go back to talking about the inhumane treatment of Palestinians, I wouldn't bring up the above counterpoint unless they really won't let it go since the main point is mistreatment.

"Why are Christians supporting Israel then, if it's a secular issue rather than a religious one?"

Well actually for a couple reasons:

Oil interests and regional control of goods (White People Supporting White People).

Weird fundamentalist ideology where they want to enact the second coming of Christ.

And finally because they are racist and don't think Arab Christians deserve to live. They literally bombed a 1500+ year church the other day. Why would (White) Christians cosign that.

Anyways, its a stupid argument again, because it forgets the core issue of Palestinians dying and being displaced.

In summary, always go back to the point of centering the Palestinians being displaced, tortured, and murdered, no matter the argument a Zionist gives you.

[saintobio]

the art of loving, feat. l&ds rafayel.

pairings. rafayel, fem!reader genre. fluff, smut, established relationship, 18+ tags. artist x muse, hints of abandonment issues, clingy bf!rafayel, allusions to nude paintings, fellatio, cum eating, protected sex, praise kink notes. my third l&ds boy :’) there’s a full blown sylus oneshot coming but for now, i have to write abt our cute fish! i’ll continue the jjk wips on the weekend bcos my l&ds hyperfixation is currently taking over 🤧

࣪ ⁺⋆𖧷 artist!rafayel who makes you the muse of his paintings. he loves how he can adore your face while turning his blank canvas into something as colorful as you. it all started when he used to sketch you when you’re not looking. and it’s a habit that he, time and time again, still does. whether you’re reading, sleeping, or simply lost in thought, he finds these moments precious and captures them in his sketchbook. he actually has a dedicated corner of you on his mo art studio, where it’s filled with paintings and sketches of his beautiful girlfriend.

࣪ ⁺⋆𖧷 artist!rafayel who loves to paint with you. he’ll set up a canvas next to his and guide your hands, laughing together as you create something… unique. look, he’s not making fun of your painting. in fact, he’d say you’re actually very talented. “it’s not bad at all,” he’d claim, “it’s an exquisite art… if i close my eyes.” how mean! but honestly, if you were to sell your artwork, he would still be the first person to buy it.

࣪ ⁺⋆𖧷 artist!rafayel who gets playful with paint. while you’re on the subject of ‘painting together’, you know how cheeky rafayel is, and when he dabs a bit of paint on your nose or cheeks, the light-hearted paint fight ends in messy, colorful kisses. one time, he even left a purple handprint on your bum, and giggles each time he sees it from behind.

࣪ ⁺⋆𖧷 artist!rafayel who gets clingy when you’re busy. he’ll sulk if he feels you’re not paying enough attention to him, often wrapping his arms around you from behind and nuzzling into your neck to remind you he’s there. he can very grumpy, too. like a spoiled brat who he didn’t get what he wants. it’s just that he dislikes the feeling of being ignored and abandoned, so the last thing you knew not to do is make him wait too long on your dates or make him feel like your mind is occupied by anything else other than him. because he’d go as far as pretending to be in a helpless situation just so you’d drop everything and run off to him. how silly!

࣪ ⁺⋆𖧷 artist!rafayel who surprises you with personalized art gifts. from small sketches slipped into your bag to full portraits given on special occasions. it’s his way of expressing his love, because he’s very grateful of how supportive you are when he has art exhibits. your presence calms his nerves, and he always looks for you in the crowd to find strength in your encouraging smiles.

࣪ ⁺⋆𖧷 artist!rafayel who likes to cuddle while discussing his latest ideas. he enjoys your input and loves bouncing ideas off you. his hands like to roam around your body as he keeps you in bed all day, whispering sweet nothings into you ear and making the atmosphere warm and intimate. “i can’t help it!”was his usual excuse whenever you’d call him out for being too touchy. “sometimes, my inspirations come in the form of physical intimacy, you know!”

࣪ ⁺⋆𖧷 artist!rafayel who can’t resist kissing you passionately when he’s inspired. he sketches you in intimate moments, letting you lie beautifully naked in bed and with only a blanket to cover the lower half of your body, like a vulnerable mermaid looking to be held by her prince. he’ll pull you close, hands covered in paint, leaving colorful fingerprints and delicate patterns on your skin as his lips capture yours in a heated kiss. he would peel the blanket off you slowly, taking his sweet time as if memorizing every dip and curve to later recreate in his art. his touch is both tender and electrifying. and his expressions, both raw and passionate as he eyes every inch of your body.

⁺⋆𖧷 artist!rafayel who whispers his deepest desires in your ear. his voice becomes husky with emotions, telling you exactly what he wants, and leaving you blushing and eager to feed him the attention he seeks. he’s very needy, indeed. but most especially in bed. he’d often grab your hand, allowing you to brush it against his toned chest and down to his… aching member. it’s begging to be released, you both know it. and so when he guides your head closer to his crotch, you already know what ‘job’ you had to do for him.

⁺⋆𖧷 artist!rafayel who whines a lot while you’re pleasing him, but in a cute way. he’s just very vocal about it. he’s incapable of keeping his little moans whenever he feels your tongue rolling around his tip, your lips leaving open-mouthed kisses along the sides of his length. it’s like suction when you fully take him into your mouth, the image of your head bobbing to suck his cock is extremely vivid in his head. “mhm~ don’t stop.” rafayel loses his mind over it. “my darling, lover girl. you’re so pretty, my baby.” and when you’d allow him to cum inside your mouth, he’s a weak man watching you swallow every single drop.

⁺⋆𖧷 artist!rafayel who respects your boundaries and doesn’t push you to try things in bed that you’re not comfortable with. when you told him he can’t do you raw, he willingly obliged. so, lo and behold the huge box of condoms on his nightstand. he believes in practicing safe sex because you both aren’t ready for that kind of responsibility yet. but that doesn’t lessen the frequency of your activities in bed. in fact, his beloved box of rubbers would easily run out after 2-3 weeks.

⁺⋆𖧷 artist!rafayel who likes to be praised when doing the deed with you. it’s just innate in him. you have to let him know if he’s doing good, have to let him hear how great he feels inside of you, how pretty he looks when you gaze down on him, and how amazing his hands are in finding your most sensitive places. “raf, you’re the best at this,” you’d moan into his mouth, the sound of skin-slapping echoing across his studio as you feel him racing through his climax, “s-so good, ngh~” he’s one to smile at your little whimpers. “yeah, you like where i’m hitting it, baby?” “haa—i do!” “thought so.”

⁺⋆𖧷 artist!rafayel who wants to be displayed all over your social media accounts. it’s as straightforward as he is—he wants his face to take over your account. he wants to know that you’re proud of him and that you��re showing off your handsome boyfriend whenever you can. he also wants you to interact with his posts, leave comments, and hit the heart button. every. single. time. he gets easily sulky if sees you ignoring his cute posts about you. that’s just how he is, and it doesn’t frustrate you one bit, because he just loves being the center of your world in exchange for treating you the center of his. that was the art of loving rafayel.

[avelera]

Some Viktor (Arcane) Musings:

The thing is, I think Viktor must have told Jayce about his illness at some point in S1 before Viktor collapsed and ended up in the hospital

The reason being that it's literally impossible to ignore how much Viktor's health deteriorates in the 6-7 years between 1.03 and 1.04. There's no way he could not give Jayce some clue of what's going on with him.

But, for my own purpose and that of the fics I write, my thought was that Viktor maybe... downplayed the severity.

For example, my take is that if you have this fissure illness, you generally don't live past 30 in the undercity and Viktor knows this. He must have had some sense of a timeline, because his headlong rush to secure a legacy indicates the he knew he probably wasn't going to die of old age.

This, I think, he would be upfront with Jayce about. That they have to advance Hextech to the point where it's making breakthroughs in disciplines other than weightlessness and teleportation if Viktor has any chance of living a long life. Jayce would be on board with this fully, I think. Magic can do anything so if they're fast, and dedicated, chances are they can find something that will also improve biology too.

But, I think Viktor lied or played down how short of a time he actually had. Like, he told Jayce he probably wouldn't die of old age without Hextech intervention, and Jayce took that and like any sheltered, naive Piltie from a good family he thought, "This is awful, Viktor might never see 80!" Thinking that Viktor might, without intervention, only live to see, like... 60.

I also headcanon that once you start coughing up blood, it's a bit like TB, you don't have much time after that. So in 1.02/1.03, Viktor is driven to make a legacy for himself knowing he doesn't have a lot of time, but he might even still be fooling himself to think he's got more time than he does because of his move to Piltover. He has cleaner air here, better nutrition, better sun exposure, an easier life, etc. If the life expectancy in the underground for this disease is 25-30 or less, why should he maybe see 40 in Piltover?

But then... tragedy strikes. He starts coughing blood sometime during the time skip. His health rapidly deteriorates, and he doesn't tell Jayce that this means he's probably only got a few months to a few years left. He basically allows Jayce to keep living with the illusion that Viktor has limited time, because that would be unavoidable to realize just by looking at him, but still maybe decades remaining.

What compounds the problem here is that Viktor also tends to obfuscate his need for rapid intervention by posing them as the needs of the undercity which goes straight over Jayce's head. He tells Jayce they need to focus on new uses for Hextech to help people in the undercity now, it can't wait, they're running out of time, and goddammit Viktor, stop hiding your needs behind altruism, just be selfish, just tell Jayce that you're not talking about the undercity, you're talking about yourself and he would have dropped everything to help you!

Because this is Viktor's biggest flaw: he lies to himself and he lies to Jayce about why he's pursuing science at such a breakneck pace, and I don't even think he knows he's doing it. He's become so accustomed to the idea that he's not allowed to be selfish, not allowed to pose his own desperate desire to live as a priority, that he keeps fucking couching it in the needs of others so Jayce has no way to know just how desperate Viktor really is because Viktor doesn't admit it even to himself.

And this becomes a bigger problem writ large when Viktor creates his cult to "cure" other people because he can't fucking function if he's not posing his self-serving desires as things that also help the group. Babygirl, what is wrong with you?

So now instead of just perfecting himself in very scientifically troubling ways, he feels the need to spread around the cure that he made for himself to others to justify it, even if it doesn't fit them and in fact is horrifying to give the same solution to a bunch of people and fix things they never asked to be fixed.

[mins-fins]

˖﹙💌﹚DARLIN'

｡｡｡ silly little mark lee, well of course you're in love with him!

P ─  mark lee x m!rdr. G ─ fluff, university au, sleepover, hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, self indulgent. W ─ swearing, mentions of drinking, depressive nightmares. WC ─ 2.1k.

mark is afraid he has some sort of psychic connection with you, he turns and creates contact with the wooden post of a bed frame.

he replies in a grunt, head beginning to pound with an indecipherable extent of pain. he bites back a wince, teeth about to sink into his tongue as a typical response, eyes struggling open as he observes his surroundings.

jeno has an arm thrown over his back, his snoring elevated as his proximity is much too adjacent, his nose scrunches up in irritation, the touch irking him. he’s just barely able to throw the arm off of him without causing a disturbance, fortunately jeno’s a heavy sleeper.

he’s unaware of why he’s awaken exactly, or how he even ended up on the floor with tangled blankets surrounding the circle of.. everyone. of course chenle decided to take the bed, he’s selfish like that (well mark guesses it’s his huge ass house after all, yet he left them to sleep on blankets? or did they fall asleep on the floor without realizing? he can’t remember). jisung’s crazily long legs tangle with donghyuck’s, no use in attempting any escape that way.

jeno rolls over and unconsciously begins cuddling jaemin, well of course, how cute.

renjun is the only one who appears comfortable enough, graciously embezzling everybody else’s blankets in order to create his own makeshift sleeping bag.

he squints, as if striving to capture a semblance of sight in the darkness, the door is cracked open, a crack of light permeating the small space. his back emits a tiny crack, he ignores it as he somehow stands on his two feet.

mark wobbles in the manner of a child taking their first steps, much too groggy, hands coming to rub at his eyes despite light being naught. he blinks down at his feet, narrowly avoiding his foot coming in contact with donghyuck’s heat, he trips over the uneven carpeting and stumbles himself out of the frankly claustrophobic room.

mark didn’t fret, he easily noticed the lack of your presence, he recalls you falling asleep right beside him, even with the muddled memories of the past few hours. he finally did wince once his eyes met the piercing lights of the extensive hallway, what was the point of even keeping them on?

either way, that happens to contain the least of mark’s concerns, he thinks he has a good idea of why you suddenly disappeared from the group you had fallen asleep with. he knows you well enough to scope out a definite answer.

and it’s exactly how it appears in his mind, you just so happen to be downstairs, fidgeting with a cup that contains nothing. mark blinks, catching your attention immediately. “y/n?”

“can you believe even his water tastes expensive?”

the question is passive, mark’s aware of the kinds that exist with you. it’s a cover up for something more, a bit of concern hidden behind the usually playful gleam of your eyes.

he’ll entertain you for a moment.

“really?”

you hum, clearly put off by the lack of an immediate inquiry,

because for as much as mark’s knowledge of you presides, your knowledge of him exists in the same boat. he surmises it’s a bit of a double edged sword, but then again, he guesses your friendship is an example of that very phenomenon.

yet the fondness he retains could never be replicated with one other person. “yeah, typical rich people bullshit”.

there remains a collection of cups clattered in the kitchen sink, unwashed, reeking alcohol just barely fluttering its way up into the air. mark has half a mind to scrunch his nose, and if the dishes were the main focus, he would’ve fully grimaced.

good thing they aren’t the main focus.

he slips by your side easily, yearning to grab ahold of your hand, but afraid of irking you when you already appear so skittish. he somehow crams the desire downward, instead gazing upon your trembling fingertips. “why’d you get up?”

he just barely deciphers the underlying whine in addition to the clearly desperate question, his eyes probably gleam with rashness, as if he’s your lover complaining about your decision to get out of bed.

well it is always warmer with you around, though mark lee cannot admit that to any person, not even you yourself.

you contemplate, mark notices the shift of your expression. a drop to his stomach, if you do feel the need to lie, then it’s possibly something worse than what he originally thought, unlike your typical streak of insomnia, it has to be something.. more.

and he’s just the slightest bit afraid.

“water”.

“really?”

your right eye twitches, mark fears the impending irritation upcoming. “yeah” you breath, averting your gaze as your fingertips circle the curvatures of this fancy looking glass, the reflection of your dark eyes visible in the silica sand.

he sucks his teeth.

the resounding action offends you, if the corresponding look mark glimpses once you whip your head is enough. “what?”

“what?”

your face falls flat. “why are you looking at me like that?”

“why are you lying?” mark rebuts, attempting his best shot at forbearance despite how bothered he is by your indignation. “it’s just me..”

your go to response is a dry chuckle. “i know that, it’s not like i’m scared of you or anything, it’s just..”

it’s just..

nothing.

because mark knows you won’t tell him, the pertinacity of your character consistently permeates no matter what, and mark loves you, so so much, but he can’t help his elevated apprehension. his fingers drum onto the porcelain counter before him, contemplation behind his eyes.

“it’s obvious something’s wrong”.

and from your corresponding look, you’re practically placing a curse on mark’s whole entire bloodline. he supposes certain things never really do change, even if that includes obstinacy.

mark adjusts his bracelet, stepping closer as he swipes one of your fallen eyelashes from your cheek. “you could make a wish..”

he’s stalling, stalling much more than you typically do, but he can’t exactly help it, if you don’t want to confess the deepest anxieties which make you awake at night, does he really have any right to dig deeper despite his clear intrigue? you’ve never been that kind of person, his intention is to always seek your comfortability, even if it slowly kills him inside.

you stare, tilting your head and blinking at his pointer where a fallen piece of your eyelash rests. “do you really believe in that shit?”

“i enjoy tradition”.

that earns a shy smile, you’re very aware of that one, it seems that you simply relish in the manner of mark’s reply. you remain silent, again focused on your very eyelash resting atop his fingertip. “okay, i made my wish”.

mark is staggered for a moment. “what? what do you mean?”

“i made the wish in my head”.

mark uncharacteristically pouts, now that is unfair. “you can’t just do that!”

you shrug. “it’s a secret”.

the whisper causes the click of his tongue, he presses his pointer finger to his thumb in a gentle action of getting rid of your eyelash. “fine, keep your secrets..”

he doesn’t exactly realize the double sided nature of that reply, and despite his disquietude in your displayed fits of seclusion, he keeps silent on the issue he has nothing of a bearable thought on.

still, your amusement prevails.

“you know, i think—”

well mark has no time to dwell on the end of his sentence, because you step forward and pull him into a staggering embrace. it isn’t staggering in an emotional manner, you typically enjoy hugs, it’s simply.. unexpected.

your arms practically cradling his upper body, you tuck the side of your face into his neck, as if striving for a degree of comfort only he could grant you. you take in a deep breath, yet you keep silent either way.

while he is stunned, his arms consciously squeezing around your waist, well now how can he not worry? you don’t just hug out of nowhere, especially if mark is talking first.

“hey, is everything okay?”

nothing of a verbal reply, you merely nod.

how you two end up on the couch? mark barely remembers.

there isn’t a lack of space, mark is sure this one is actually a pull out, but you two decide to squeeze onto it anyway, something of a natural warmth emanating from the embrace you so dearly cherish. mark doesn’t mind, it’d be worse if you were just avoiding him.

so really, this is the best case scenario.

“you know, you have to tell me when.. this happens”.

this could equate to several things, sleepwalking, nightmares, spontaneous depressive episodes, on an especially terrible level it could be all three, but he’s simply throwing darts at a board and hoping one of them sticks. “what is this?”

“whatever has you awake tonight”.

you have that puzzled expression on your face, an expression mark questions more than anything, now replicating it on his own features. you then quickly avert your eyes, which is difficult considering you find yourself pressed into him. “i know it’s just— i don’t know, i’m scared..”

and of course, honesty includes the scratching of your nails against any surface in immediate reach. mark can’t exactly stare elsewhere, you appear to fear even the slightest corners of this huge room. “of?”

you don’t answer that one.

so mark won’t press further, that’s enough of divulging for tonight he supposes..

“you don’t want a blanket?”

“it’s warm enough” in tandem with your response, you nuzzle into the side of mark’s neck. he can’t exactly disagree, and you obviously observe that part. “besides, we know you aren’t getting up any time soon”.

“you’re technically crushing me so what could i even do?” he inquires, lips taking an upturn at the glare you pair with a glare as your soundless reply. he winces at the pinch you decide as your go to, nose scrunched up in irritation.

“i could kill you”.

“sure”.

though you’re typically numbing, mark doesn’t want to let go, it’s as if you encapsulate the feeling of alleviation with just your arms around him alone. you two are lying together on a couch you could only ever dream of buying, somewhat chilly yet aided by the mellowness of your embrace.

usually the close proximity would irk mark, the affection would be so.. out of place if it wasn’t you. he guesses that the ‘favoritism’ donghyuck goes on about isn’t all a fallacy, but he isn’t all for admitting that.

mark gazes upward at the ceiling, crinkling his nose at the shade it’s painted. your reticence endures, not yet asleep, mark can still feel your fingertips scratching at the seams of his oversized shirt, you never sleep easily.

it occurs to mark that you probably have a few more things left to mutter, your tense, fingers trembling against the ends of this couch. “what’s on your mind?” he whispers, lips pursued.

you contemplate, clear distinguishing naught. for the first time in a while, you ponder with confusion written all over your features, a battle of your conscience and your heart, anxiety manifesting in the picking of your nails.

“don’t know why i let myself get scared of things like this anymore..”

“well you aren’t used to it” he runs a finger through your hair, an act which typically calms you down. “everyone is scared of something, it doesn’t just go away with age unfortunately”.

you manage to hide your smile, but mark can make it out the stretch pleading for you to just stop being stubborn for once. you again glance away, conflicted. “fucking hate nightmares”.

you then look up, and mark wants to fall. you stare into his eyes, mark maintains eye contact though he knows it’ll be bad for his heart, yet he does so anyway, egotism carrying his movements.

mark really wants to kiss you, it would be a perfect moment too. you stare with such a gentle manner, as if mark laid his life out for you instead of just offering a regular seam of comfort, and he wants to die a little.

well he could do that, and he does,

just not on the lips.. not yet..

he leans forward, lips pressing to your forehead. your eyes flutter closed, and whilst you don’t verbally react, mark is aware of how you feel.

“think you could go to sleep like this?”

you take in a deep breath, making yourself content on the couch with mark beside you. the hug keeps mark on his feet, he doesn’t want for you to let go, you don’t either, it’s as if you’re a perfect fit for each other.

your adjacent breathing steadily comes to a close, not sleep just yet, but mark is determined to make it happen. his hand rests on your back, warm and inviting. “thank you..”

it’s alright, it’s nothing, mark would do anything for you, the sight of your own contentment joys him to no end.

“it’s nothing..”

it isn’t, feelings can await the aftermath, he’s happy now, perhaps a bit in love as well.

[bamfkeeper]

Cooking with Kurt.

RQ: 'So, I’ve been thinking lately about cute ideas, and one of them is about cooking. Could you write a head-cannons (or a fic if you like the idea and want to be more in-depth) of Kurt and the Reader cooking? Kurt teaches the reader how to make certain German foods, and the Reader teaches Kurt some tricks too. Just the two bonding over cooking and praising and complimenting each other for their good jobs. I just find this to be adorable since cooking is a great way to share cultures and bond 🥧😋.' - @hulkingharbor

pairing: Kurt Wagner x GN!reader | warnings: None

a/n: Stuck with headcannons because those are easy for me to write up. I have been neglecting this blog a bit I'm so sorry. I wanted to get some stuff out before I left for my trip. Unedited.

Kurt was over the moon when you expressed interest in his German heritage. Your curiosity about his roots had always been genuine, but when the topic turned to cuisine, his excitement reached new heights. The prospect of sharing his culinary traditions with you filled him with joy.

He saw cooking and baking together as a meaningful way to connect and create lasting memories, it was one of his love languages for sure.

The kitchen became a space where cultural exchange and personal bonding intertwined. Kurt's eyes would light up as he described the myriad of German dishes he was eager to introduce you to, each recipe carrying a story or a cherished memory from his past.

From hearty sauerbraten to delicate apfelstrudel, he had an extensive repertoire of flavors he couldn't wait to explore with you.

Kurt stood beside you, his lean body adorned with a whimsical apron that seemed almost comically out of place on his athletic frame.

His nimble fingers worked the dough with practiced ease, kneading it into submission. "I am beyond thrilled to be baking with you, liebe," he exclaimed, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. "This is something I've been longing to do for quite some time now."

His golden eyes sparkled with joy as he spoke, his hands never ceasing their rhythmic motion on the precious dough. Meanwhile, you busied yourself with the task of slicing apples, the crisp sound of the knife against the cutting board.

"You look absolutely ridiculous," you chuckled affectionately, your eyes crinkling with mirth as you took in the sight of him in his frilly apron. The appearance of his muscular form and the dainty kitchen wear was too amusing to ignore.

Kurt was never one to back down from playful banter, he responded by sticking out his tongue at you in a childish gesture. His graceful tail swished mischievously behind him. You noticed that the tip of his tail had somehow managed to acquire a light dusting of flour.

Before you could react, his tail flicked swiftly in your direction, sending a small cloud of white powder flying towards you. It landed on your nose, a tiny puff of it exhaling as you snorted.

Kurt's laughter filled your ears, and you picked up some flour to combat him, his hands went up as he playfully begged you not to. "Nein! Nein, liebe! Flour and my fur do not mix!"

His pleading didn't deter you.

Flour collided with him and you both began a play fight of tossing the white ingredient at each other until you were covered in it.

Besides your little food fight, you both learned how to cook each others favorite meals. Kurt gladly taught you special recipes, and you baked delicious cookies and made warm meals to eat together.

You were surprised at how hearty his meals were, despite him being fairly lean. He blamed it on his metabolism.

Kurt loves to cook you food. Whenever you request a dish, he gets right on it and is so proud of the outcome. He always does his best and is very specific about the ingredients he uses. It has to be fresh and perfect for you.

Cooking and baking together became a cherished ritual, a delightful exploration of flavors and cultures. You take turns introducing each other to your respective backgrounds, eagerly sharing family recipes and cooking techniques passed down through generations.

The kitchen becomes a messy playground of creativity as you collaborate on fusion dishes, blending elements from both your culinary heritage.

Kurt's enthusiasm for cultural exchange is endearing, his natural curiosity and open-mindedness make him an eager student of diverse traditions and customs. He approaches each new experience with childlike wonder, whether it's trying an exotic spice or learning a traditional method of cooking. He's always ready to sample new dishes, no matter how unfamiliar.

Kurt's eyes always light up as he tastes your food. "Mein Gott, liebling! This food is absolutely wunderbar!" he exclaims, his voice filled with genuine awe. He affectionately nuzzles his head against yours, his tail instinctively curling around your waist to draw you closer.

The gesture of his tail is protective and intimate, a habit he formed long ago and you never broke it from him. "You must write down this recipe for me. I'd love to surprise you with it someday when you least expect it."

You can't help but smile at his enthusiasm, your heart warming at his sincere appreciation. "Of course, I'll write it down for you," you assure him, your voice soft with affection. "But I expect detailed instructions for all your culinary masterpieces too."

Turning in his embrace, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, your fingers tracing the unique patterns of his skin. "After all, I need something to tide me over when you're away on missions. Can't have me pining away with an empty stomach, can we?"

A mischievous grin spreads across Kurt's face, his golden eyes twinkling with a mixture of humor and desire. He leans in close, his lips barely brushing against yours as he speaks. The feather-light touch sends a shiver down your spine, igniting a familiar warmth in your core.

"Oh, liebling," he purrs, his accented voice dropping to a seductive whisper. "When have I ever left you wanting for anything? I always make sure you're well-satisfied in every possible way~"

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

Dividers by @/adornedwithlight | Images found on Pinterest, I did not look for the specific comic Kurt's pic is from.

[blingblong55]

Needy- John Price NSFW

Photo credits: @ave661 (left)

Based on a request:

Blingy!! *grabs shoulder* BLINGY!!! *shows tiktok* (https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSNkkXVpP/) HELP ME BLINGY. H E L P M E. Reader walking in on Price masturbating to her and then it becomes a cat-and-mouse chase ksbashskdbwkbsjs ---- F!Reader, smut, 18+, MDNI, oral!sex ----

A/N: somewhat short but smutty nonetheless

You were out with your friends all day, left early morning and haven't been back home since. Well, in that time of you being away, John cleaned around the home and found a set of lingerie that he bought you many days ago, he smiled at the memory from when he took it off you, made you his that whole night and how you screamed his name. Then he felt it, his jeans getting tighter, the dirty ideas coming to his head and his arousal barely letting him think straight. He sat down on the sofa, pulled his phone out and looked through the folder of pictures and videos he had of you, all he took or that you sent. The lewd images doing his growing boner no good. 

John unzips his jeans, phone in his right hand, he begins to slowly stroke his cock, swiping between videos, your body looking so good on camera. Your tits, bouncing perfectly for the camera, he groans, his head thrown back. "Fuuckk...fuck lovie," he moans but doesn't stop stroking himself. "John?" Your soft voice filled with confusion interrupts him and he quickly covers himself like a teenager being caught. "h-hi my love,...uh..how was it?" He stands up and kisses your cheek, his phone still playing the video which he quickly and embarrassingly shuts down. Nervous laughter escapes his lips. 

"Uh..great, it – uhm were you, wanking off?" 

"N-no– well yes, I...was," he hides your panties in his back pocket. 

You nod and walk away, leaving him confused and still aroused. "Love, come here, I need help," his voice was low but still whiny. You smirk and ignore his plea. He adjusts his jeans and walks to you, he knew your game but had no intention of playing it. "I found that centrepiece for the table I was looking for," you say, washing the piece. "Love, c'mon, don't be like this," he hugs you from behind, his voice low and filled with need. 

"Be like what? I'm just excited I finally found something for the dinner table." You play coy and smirk, he sees that reflection on the window and sighs. "Tsk tsk, don't play hard to get, please my love," his voice lower, lips by your ear as he begs. "Hard to get? John, I'm washing this. I haven't a clue what you're talking about." you chuckle as you feel him nibble on the soft skin of your neck. 

The longer you ignore his need, the more his erection grows. "That's it, I can't take it," he picks you up and takes you to the bedroom, sitting down and forcing you on your knees. "Now, be a good little wife and please me," he undoes his jeans, his fat cock soon in his hand as he slaps it on your face. "John~" you whisper but before you can say much, he gives you that look. You smile and lick his tip, teasing his swollen member slowly and with a look of thirst. 

"R/N," he moans, his head thrown back, John's hands fist your hair and he pushes your head further on his cock. "Fuck, just like that, yes...oh fuck–baby," his pants mixed with moans feed your thirst. The nose filled with his musky scent, your ears hearing the melody his throat letting out and his body radiating heat. Your hands on his thighs for support as you give him head. His cock is so fat you keep gagging, creating tear stains on your soft face. He wipes your tears as you look up at him, his cock filling your greedy mouth full, your brows furrowed, waiting for the usual forehead kiss. 

From your peripheral you watch the panties he shoved earlier fall, you smirk up at him. He, unaware cups your face and praises you. "That's it, keep going. That's my good girl," he grunts, biting his lower lip and pushing your head deeper. You play with his heavy balls, leading him to moan and whimper, "fuck, r/n, keep going, just..like that– fuck!" he whimpers as he feels himself cum inside your pretty mouth. "Swallow, love," he whispers and caresses your face as he continues to paint your mouth with his sticky cum. 

After swallowing, he leans forward and kisses you, pushing you to the bed and cuddling with you. "I promise to be gentle tonight," he whispers before kissing your forehead once more. You nod and kiss him once more. 

Tags:

@anonymuslydumb @unicorngirly1 @liyanahelena @under-the-dirt @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @greatstormcat @goldenmclaren @ghostslillady @moonsua1 @frizzseaberries @idklols @katybaby00 @saoirse06 @vampsquerade @alxexhearts @baldwinhearts @juneonhoth @jinxxangel13. @strangepuppynightmare @enarien @Simonssweetgirl @luvecarson @nellsbobells @coralwitchdreamland

[stsgluver]

“i like this one,” you pointed to a particular design in one of the portfolio books you’d stolen from geto’s desk. it was a dahlia – black and white with wisps spinning around the flower. it was delicate and soft, and very much unlike the usual tattoos your boyfriend usually created.

the boyfriend in question peered over at you laying across his tattoo chair that you’d adjusted so the back was resting horizontally. he looked unfairly attractive – hair tied back in a messy bun and the glasses he only ever wore when no one else was in the room tipped to the edge of his nose. 

“want me to do it for you?” geto nodded his head towards the portfolio in your hands, a small smirk present. to say you weren’t a fan of needles was an understatement and, in the six months you’d been together and the two years you’d been friends, he was yet to convince you to let him do one for you.

“no,” you scrunched up your nose at him, ignoring his light chuckle at your quick response. 

“yeah no one wants your shit ass.” you spun your head around to see fushiguro toji sliding open the door to geto’s work space. out of all the people geto worked with, toji by far ranked in last place for his distasteful personality. his lips curled up into a twisted grin, scar lifting as his eyes drifted over your figure and you wished you were hiding behind your boyfriend and not sprawled out along the chair. “i’ll do it for you darling, even add some extra benef–”

“fuck off fushiguro,” geto said forcefully. you’d been coming to the tattoo shop long before you and geto had started dating and the older man had always been this way, but he’d ramped it up tenfold once you’d officially gotten together. 

toji rested back against geto’s door frame, his cocky attitude fueled by geto’s clear annoyance. “gojo just wanted me to tell you that you haven’t responded to an email yet.” he gave a wink in your direction before he ducked back out of the room. you gagged in response, slipping off of the chair to shut the door he’d left wide open.

“asshole,” geto muttered under his breath, leaning back and pulling his hair out of its loose bun as he so often did when he was stressed. “how much longer are you going to be here?” 

geto loved having you down at his work, loved being around you as he sketched as he considered you his muse. however, toji had his own special way of tainting every situation he was ever in and digging his nails right under your boyfriend’s skin in a way no one else could.

there was a small pout on your lips as you made your way over to geto, to your boyfriend who was usually always so level-headed no matter what was happening. “hey, don’t punish me for him putting you in a bad mood."

holding onto the back of his chair, you spun it slightly so that he was facing you. he didn’t resist your movements and his legs naturally spread enough so that you could shuffle between them, your arms loosely swung over his shoulders. beneath the collar of his top you could see the ends of several tattoos that decorated his tanned skin. 

“i’m not,” he closed his eyes, leaning into you to press a light kiss to your forearm. “i just prefer for my girlfriend not to be sexualised by that thing.” 

you pushed the strands of hair that obscured his face from your vision behind his ears, “i think i know what will make you feel better.”

“letting me tattoo my name on your forehead?” geto grinned up at you and you couldn’t stop yourself from leaning down to kiss him. knocking your nose against his, you feel the cool metal of his nose ring against your skin. a nose ring he could definitely convince you to get, though it would be from shoko and definitely not him. you had seen what had happened to gojo’s ear when the two of them had gotten drunk and thought piercing each other with a sewing needle would be a genius idea.

“buying me something from the vending machine?” you countered, giggling at the drop of his smile. the vending machine had been gojo’s idea of bringing in more money for the business and he’d somehow managed to convince yaga he was right. so far, the only person who ever seemed to use that thing was you (with geto’s money). 

“i hate gojo for buying that thing,” geto sighed, dramatically making a thing of grabbing his wallet from his drawer. he pinched your hip lightly and nodded his head towards the door, “after you, princess.”

[uravitsy]

‘YOUNG AND BEAUTIFUL’ SATORU GOJO

ACT ONE.

summary. gojo visits your grave once a year, reflecting on the limited time he had with you while going through the stages of grief. ☆

warnings. angst, sad!gojo, fem!reader! gojo x you, grief, established relationship, some smut if you squint, bittersweet ending

a/n. this is a short story i wrote over the summer, i wanted to dabble into the idea of gojo not being able to fully process his grief without the help of his students. it is a bit sad though.

ACT TWO : ̗̀➛ ACT THREE : ̗̀➛ FINALE

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪

"Does Gojo-sensei seem…different today?" Itadori asked absentmindedly, leaning back in his chair while balancing a pencil on his nose. He was doing everything else but the work he was supposed to finish before class ended. His two close friends, Megumi and Nobara, spared him a quick glance, as if debating whether to answer his ridiculous question.

"When is that nutjob ever okay?" Nobara bounced back another question, making Itadori stop balancing himself on his chair to think for once. The pencil he had on his face clattered onto the ground. "If anything, he's more extra than he was yesterday."

"Exactly," Itadori frowned, the invisible lightbulb above his head continuing to flicker as he thought long and hard about what Gojo could be upset about. He knew it was a stretch, and he himself wasn't too good at reading emotions, but he was sure something was off—from the way Gojo's smile seemed wider to the way his laughs went on for a second too long. "What do you think, Megumi?"

The black-haired boy stopped moving his pencil across the paper. His face remained stoic as the two beside him turned to look in his direction, anticipating an answer from him.

In short, Megumi did know why Gojo seemed off today, and it was all because of his vague memory of you.

He was a clueless child back then, but he felt it. He felt the love you and Gojo shared, something he had seen before between his own mother and father. It was strong, beautiful, like a song that only you and Gojo knew the lyrics to. It was a dance—a slow burn into the spotlight of a world you two created.

He admired it. He admired you and the person you helped Gojo become.

And though your memory was beautiful, it was also tragic. Megumi did mourn you since he remembered bits and pieces of you, but he was sure Gojo mourned you the most. Especially since today was the anniversary of your death. For as long as he's known Gojo, he knew that this one day out of the year was the time when he'd crack more jokes, tease him more, and laugh the loudest—all to mask his pain.

And he couldn't help but think it's because Gojo never properly grieved for you.

"He's the same as usual," Megumi lied. It wasn't their place to know, nor was it his. Everyone had their secrets and the stuff they keep to themselves. Who were they to pry into his business? "You guys should just drop it."

And with that, he went back to his assignment, ignoring the gawking stares from both of his friends.

"Well, now I'm even more curious," Itadori pouted, resting his chin on his hand as he looked out the window just in time to see Gojo's back as he skipped off campus. "He's literally leaving in the middle of the day!"

"Itadori—" Megumi started but got interrupted by his friends' loud voices.

"What?!" Nobara pushed Itadori away from the window so she could look. A sudden spark of curiosity consumed her as she cracked a mischievous grin. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

"We should follow him!" they both said at the same time as they rushed out of the classroom with such speed they left papers flying behind them.

Megumi could only sigh. His peers were likely to get in trouble and drag him into their mess somehow. It never fails. He thought for a moment about how he would benefit from following them to make sure they didn't get caught leaving school grounds without a teacher, but he came up with nothing. He figured he should take his own advice and mind his own business, let those two knuckleheads do whatever they want and suffer the consequences for it.

They could potentially run into dangerous curses, dangerous people, or dangerous people controlling dangerous curses… and then suffer grave injuries. You know what? Maybe he should follow them from a distance.

Meanwhile, the door to the flower shop gave a soft ding as Gojo opened it. His tall frame took up the space in the small shop. Gojo ducked his head as he came in, careful not to knock over the potted plants that rested on the floor and shelves in no particular order. The air was stale with an earthy smell that was oddly comforting. It was good to know that the place remained the same after a year—the only thing that stayed the same in his chaotic life.

"Satoru!" an elderly woman looked up from her newspaper at the sound of the doorbell, thick circle glasses making her eyes appear large and almost fish-like. "Good to see you! How have you been?"

"Mrs. Yamada," Gojo bowed respectfully to the elder, to which the lady playfully pinched and pulled his cheeks. "Missed you too!"

"You silly boy, you know you can visit anytime and not just once a year, you know (Y/N) would've loved that, hm?" Mrs. Yamada made her way behind the counter, already grabbing and wrapping up a single flower. A flower that was your favorite, the same kind you'd always get whenever you would come into this small flower shop.

Gojo never understood why you didn't let him buy a whole bouquet of the flowers you loved. "Then I'd have to take care of all of them," you'd say, your laugh like a sweet melody in his ears that he constantly wanted to replay. "When it's just one, I feel like it lasts longer, you know? I seem to appreciate it more."

The memory made him frown slightly. If you allowed it, he would've bought the whole damn store for you, and you wouldn't just be stuck with a single flower. He didn't get it. He didn't get you. Even after all these years, he was still trying to figure you out.

"Ah, she used to come in every Sunday morning to say hello," Mrs. Yamada smiled warmly. "Always ready to hound me for something sweet to eat. (Y/N) had a nose like a hound and a stomach like a sumo wrestler." The brown wrapping paper crinkled against the elder's fingertips as she folded it around the flower. "Oh, how I miss her."

"Come now, Mrs. Yamada," Gojo leaned against the counter, tapping the wood with excitement. "She'd want us to smile, to celebrate her life, right?! Then that's exactly what we'll do."

"Satoru…"

Gojo waved his hands dismissively. "The usual price for the flowers, right?"

"Yes," Mrs. Yamada rang him up at the cash register before sliding the flower across the counter toward him. But before Gojo could grab it, she pulled it away. "I wanted to tell you before I closed up shop for the day, but… I will be retiring next month."

Gojo's smile fell then.

"I am getting too old, and ever since my husband's passing, I find it quite hard to manage this all on my own, no matter how much I love to do so," she patted the counter lightly, eyes glazed over in a daze as if recalling a memory. "I will be closing the shop and moving to America to stay with my daughter."

"Then are you going to sell the building?"

Gojo found himself asking before he could even think about what to say.

"I'll buy it."

Even in death, you were expensive. How was that possible? Gojo found himself using his savings to buy a whole flower shop that you weren't even here to see. But did that matter to him? Of course not. You were worth every penny—and the shop, to him, was nothing more than a shiny penny that he could buy for your sake. All because you loved it and would visit it often. Gojo couldn't let it close down; it was too valuable for the sake of the memories it held.

So now he owned a flower shop. What the hell was he going to do with a flower shop? He didn't know a damn thing about flowers.

"(Y/N)…" Gojo whispered your name as he pushed open the metal graveyard gate, the bolt making a loud creaking noise that echoed into the summer breeze.

It didn't take Gojo long to find your headstone. After all these years, he knew this cemetery like the back of his hand; at this point, it was like a second home to him. The only place where he could truly let the mask fall as he mourned for you.

In the years you've been gone, he had a long time to think—to wonder why you of all people had to be taken away from him. It made him question, curse, and cry to a higher power above if there was one. Would they be listening? Did they hear him? Did they understand the pain he was put through? And if everything was a part of the higher power's plan, then why was (Y/N) written in with such a tragic story? Why did her life become a song of such somber music?

It wasn't fair. And to Gojo, he would never make sense of it, no matter how hard he tried.

"Ah, it's a beautiful day, (Y/N)." Gojo smiled warmly at your headstone before sitting on the smooth tile, rummaging through his bag to pull out a rag so he could wipe the dust that was on top of your engraved name. "Though I bet you're complaining about how hot it is. I know, it is a little toasty, but a beautiful day nonetheless."

Wiping the concrete clean, Gojo made sure it was spotless with all the cleaning supplies he brought. He had to make up for the year he was away; that's why he always deep-cleaned your headstone since he knew he wouldn't be back until next year. He wanted you to watch the seasons go by with a pretty headstone, one that sparkled whenever the sun cast its rays on it.

"Hm?" Gojo tilted his head as if to hear your unspoken question again. "Oh! I'm doing good. Still teaching. You'd love these lot of kids, though. They have such great potential and are such a reckless bunch who enjoy escaping off campus to follow me here."

"Crap! He's onto us." Gojo heard Nobara's voice from the bushes behind him.

"Do you think he knows?" Itadori asked in his typically clueless fashion.

"He knows, dumbass." Megumi sighed before emerging from the bushes with twiddledee and twiddledumb trailing behind him. Their bantering stopped once they saw Gojo sitting by your headstone, the air suddenly becoming still as they made their way closer.

"Gojo-sensei, we can explain—!"

"Don't even," the white-haired man laughed before gesturing toward the headstone. "(Y/N), meet my students. Students, meet (Y/N)!"

"Ah! Nice to meet you!" Itadori bowed in respect, and so did Megumi.

"Why are we bowing to a dead—" Grabbing ahold of Nobara's hand, Itadori forcibly pulled her down so she could bow as well.

"Oh, you kids are in so much trouble," Gojo said with a gleeful smile. "I'm already thinking of all the ways to punish you."

"In my defense," Megumi started, "I tried to stop them."

"Yetttttt you're still here." Tilting his head, Gojo looked at his students playfully. "I hope you all enjoyed this field trip, but let's head back to campus, yeah? And get ice cream along the way!"

"Oh! Ice cream!" Itadori and Nobara spun around in a dance as they made their way toward the entrance of the cemetery, the pair just finding it best not to question who you were or what you were to Gojo. They could finally sense what Itadori was talking about that morning. He was different today, and it was clear he was sad. "La la la la la!"

"Let's go, Megumi. Do you still prefer chocolate?" Gojo turned to walk away but stopped in his tracks when he noticed Megumi staring at your grave with an expression he couldn't read. "Megumi?"

"Gojo-sensei…" His student turned to look at him. "I just want you to know that it's okay to be sad, to grieve for her."

Gojo chuckled, tucking his hand in his pocket as a breeze cut through the air, its chilled warmth wrapping around the pair. "Who's to say I don't? I grieve her every day."

URAVITSY 2024

[heartpiratedrabbles]

Ignored

Prompt: After feeling ignored by Marco you decide to try and rile him up.

NSFW

Marco X Fem Reader

Marco had been working overtime since a battle had rendered more than a few crewmates injured. Tate was able to take care of most of them with the other nurses but Marco still had to do all the paperwork for said injuries and supplies used. He was also behind on creating a list for restocking, for the next time the Moby Dick docked.

You understood of course, he’s a busy man being the First Division Commander and a Doctor. But it had been days since he has given you any attention. He’d even forget to eat if you didn’t bring him food, and he’d just nod a small thank you while still looking at his work. Try as you might he’d ignore you and tell you he’s almost done, despite still having a hefty stack to complete.

You sighed thinking about your predicament, leaning against the railing of the ship. “What’s up Y/N?” Izou asked while coming up behind you.

You groan not even glancing at him while hanging your head lower, “Marco’s been ignoring me~” Izou lets out a small chuckle before sitting against the railing next to you. “I know he’s busy, but he’s barely even spared me a glance this entire week!”

“Well maybe, you need to catch his attention in a different way…” Izou hints at what he means by tugging on your shirt.

“Doesn’t work. He just blinked at me telling me he was busy last time I undressed in front of him,” The method would work every now and then, but as of right now it seemed as though Marco was unfazed by everything.

“That’s not what I meant Y/N~” Izou smiles before leaning in close to explain.

~~~

         It had taken a bit of convincing for Tate to give you the nurses uniform, but even she had to admit that the first commander had been working too hard recently. She’d given you the stack of papers Marco had to go over for the day, that normally an actual nurse would take to him and sent you on your way. She made some jabbing remarks about keeping the reports neat as you left.

         But now that you were in front of his door you were nervous. You didn’t mind the nurses dress on others, but you, being used to shorts, thought it a little too high for your taste. You tug the dress down a little more, noticing how your cleavage became all the more evident when you did so and groaned slightly.

You finally build up the courage to knock on the door, and wait for a response. You hear Marco call out to come in and slowly open the door, poking your head in a bit. Marco was sitting at his desk just as expected, his glasses on as his read the reports in front of him and you suddenly thought this was a bad idea. Sure, you had disturbed him in the past successfully, but looking at his furrowed eyebrows as he wrote something down made you think maybe now wasn’t the best time. Even just wearing the nurses attire made you feel a bit embarrassed, a light tint forming on your cheeks as you step all the way into the room. He mutters for you to place to documents on the left, not even glancing up.

The noise of you closing the door behind you finally brought his attention away from his work, glancing up. He makes eye contact with you before you see him snake his eyes down your body, taking in the uniform. He puts his pen down and leans back in his chair with an amused smirk on his face, “Oh? I don’t remember a new nurse being added, yoi~”

You blush harder, you hadn’t expected his entire attention to be on you from the get go. You gulp before getting the courage to continue, “Well the transfer just happened today~” You saunter over to his desk, making sure he can see your cleavage as you lean over his desk, placing the papers on his to-do stack, “This is where you wanted them. Right, sir?” You looking up at him, pushing your boobs up a little bit.

He glances at your face before glancing back down, “I’m sure I can do them soon enough here.” You see him lick his lips before glancing back up to you. “But alas it will still take time before I touch any of them.” You small smile falters at his words. He starts to grab his pen again and you remember what Izou told you.

You grab his hand and your other goes under his chin to make him face you and you lean in closer, staring at his lips. “I’m sorry Doctor, but it may be time for a break” You glance up at his eyes before quickly adding, “Tate’s orders.” Smiling a bit as you see his eyes fill with desire. You lean in closer finally kissing Marco for the first time in almost a week and he happily welcomes the intrusion.

You feel one of his hands rake his hand through your hair, grabbing and pulling after a while. He smiles at you, “That was a nice break, but now I have to continue.”

You gawk at his words, “You workaholic!” You’re frustrated, angry even, at this mans resolve to keep working over even just spending 5 minutes with you, he seems rather amused at your outburst, “Here I am, trying to do anything to get you to pay attention to me! And you’re just ignoring it!” You straighten your back, fully standing up now, “I even convinced Tate to give me these clothes and you’re only interest is in work!” You gesture down at your body before turning around embarrassed. You hear a small chuckle behind you but refuse to look, “You think this is funny but you haven’t even come out of your room all week!” You cross your arms staring at the floor in front of the door.

What you weren’t expecting was arms grabbing hold of you before turning you around and slamming you against the wall, hands quickly going to hold up your thighs so that you are no longer standing on your own. Marco pressed his body up against you and you can feel how hard he is through his trousers. “Well, my love, maybe I’ve been holding back so that I can make an absolute mess of you when I’m done,” He whispers into your ear before nipping your earlobe making you moan, you grind your hips towards his “But it seems that someone, is a little impatient.”

You look at him innocently as you wrap your arms around his neck, “I have absolutely no idea what you mean Sir,” smiling as you attempt to pull him closer to your lips.

To your shock however he doesn’t allow you too, instead leaning back even more with what you can only explain as a devious smirk. He glances back at his work at your heart sinks, “I can’t stop now, I’m almost caught up,” He turns back to you, “But I think little miss Y/N needs a small punishment from pulling me away for so long.” And he lets your legs down one by one.

You watch as he goes back to his desk sitting down, before looking up at you and your confused faced. He stays silent as he pats his lap and you slowly walk towards him. As you get closer he widens his legs before grabbing your hip with one hand and snaking his hand up your thigh with the other. You look down at him, only imagining what your punishment could before he glances up at you, “You’re not wearing panties. Are you Y/N?” And you nod in embarrassment, realizing just now how wet you had become.

He retracks both his hands from you, and you watch as he pulls out his cock. You stare at how it stands tall, a slight amount of precum accumulating at the tip and lick your lips. He pats his lap again and you take the hint to straddle his legs, his tip slightly caressing your entrance. You place your hands on his shoulders as you moan, sinking down a little bit. Finally feeling even, the slightest amount of relief, you rock your hips up and down until his full length is inside of you.

You don’t notice his devious smirk as he watches you get use to him, your head leaning back slightly at how full you feel. When your finally ready you start to bounce, but just as quickly as you started you felt hands on your hips, stopping you. “Uh, uh, uh, Y/N” Marco leans closer to you, “This, is a punishment”

“Marco please” You plead with him, trying to grind but he holds you firm. He ignores your begging as he readjusts his chair to get closer to the desk.

 He wraps his arms around your waist, placing a hand on your back to push you against his chest and rubbing it gently, “Y/N, I have to finish this stack at the very least.”

You bury your head into the nook of his shoulder pouting. “What am I supposed to do then Marco?” You cry as trying and failing at grinding into him. His length feels great in you but you still want more, “I just want you. Please Marco, Please.” You desperately try to convince the man inside you to fulfill your wishes as you kiss at his neck.

“You’re punishment yoi.” He tightens his grip on you slightly and your breath hitches, hoping for the best, “Is to sit there quietly, until I finish this stack.” And without even waiting for a response, he leans forward just enough to look at his papers, picking up his pen to ignore you.

You groan into his neck thinking about your situation. The dress hiking up ever so slightly, you feel the tights digging into your thighs, and you breast pushed up against Marco’s chest, nipples rubbing against the smooth fabric. But the most important thing is just how good it feels to have Marco inside you. With the position the two of you are in you know that there’s another inch that could go in and trying to grind down into it, only to be met with a hard slap to your ass.

You gasp out at the sudden pain before quieting yourself. Your arms tightly hugging onto Marco as you try to stop thinking about the pressure inside of you. Your thought’s keeping wandering to riding him or him slamming into you, even the thought of him standing up and fucking into you as he walks to the bed that’s just across the room.

You tighten around him and hear him groan. You smile at his reaction and start to suck on his neck. At this Marco slaps your ass again, “Yoi. I told you to sit quietly. That also means not distracting me.” His voice is low but firm and you let out a small whine, nuzzling into him, before settling down again.

Minutes go by and you can’t help yourself again. It’s too much. How can he expect you to sit still when he’s inside you? You feel his cock throb every now and then and it’s driving you insane. You readjust your legs, in doing so also allowing some friction start but you notice Marco not caring about it. Slyly you start to adjust ever so often, savoring every time his dick brushes deeper inside you with the slight movement.

After a few too many movements you hear papers moving and your heart skips a beat at the thought of him finally being finished, you whip your head around but slump over slightly in disbelief as he places more papers in the stack that was almost completed, “Don’t think I didn’t realize what you were doing Y/N.” He whispers into your ear before giving you another hard spank making you bend over, “You’re not taking this punishment very seriously Yoi,” Another spank as you moan, arching you back into the sting as he grips your ass, thrusting harshly into you, “Is this what you want?” You don’t answer, only moaning in pleasure as his relentless thrusts brush against your cervix. You feel his hand grip your hair again, harshly pulling your head back, forcing you to make eye contact with the strangely calm face compared to what he’s doing, “Answer me Yoi.”

Your mouth hanging open and tears filling your eyes you attempt to nod your head and feel him tighten his hold on your hair, “Y-yes. Marco this is what I want,” You moan out but the second you answer he stops his movement making you grind down for more.

The sinister looking in his eyes tells you he’s not going to continue and he pushes you back against his chest, “Then stay still like a good little girl. Every time you distract me I’m adding more to the stack.”

You let out a cry at the absurd demand, “Marco, Please.” With another hard spank and a couple of papers shuffling makes you realize he’s serious and stop immediately from anymore transgressions, letting out one last whimper before settling back down into the crook of his neck.

What feels like hours, but is likely just minutes go by, and you start to feel comfort in the dick buried deep inside of you. You relax a bit and Marco gently rubs the small of your back muttering a good girl that makes you swoon. You adjust slightly to get more comfortable and Marco seems to understand that you aren’t doing it out of pleasure this time. Every now and then you feel a slight thrust into you with a question on if you’re still awake and you just hum in response, moaning slightly at the movements inside you.  

After a couple more papers down Marco leans back sighing, “I’m almost done baby girl, just a few more.” He holds your hips and you lean back to be able to look at his face, deciding to take a small chance you rotate your hips, grinding deeper into you and he lets out a small groan as his head falls back, “You sure do know how to motivate me…” He leans in, a hand on the back of your head to lead you to his lips for a passionate but quick kiss before he resumes his works.

You rock your hips a bit and you hear Marco swear under his breath before he pushes your head back into his shoulder, “Just a couple more and I’m done.” You can hear the desperation even through his calm and collected tone.

Just as Marco was grabbing the second to last report from the stack you both hear a knock on his door. You tense up and start to get off him but Marco stops you, pushing you back down as you whimper out, “Just stay still and don’t make a noise.” He smirks and you can’t help but to listen to him as he calls out to the person to come in. Deciding to bury your face once again, to not let the person see how embarrassed you were.

“Hey Marco, have you seen Y/N-“ Izou stops as he fully walks into the room, seeing you presumably just sitting on Marcos lap. The desk providing just enough cover to hide how you’re dress was hiked up above your ass now, every small movement letting it inch higher.

“She fell asleep a while ago Yoi,” Marco answers nonchalantly but he decides to play by wrapping an arm around you while he slowly thrust into you, reaching deeper than he had anytime prior. You try to hold back your moan but realize quickly it’ll be of no use and decide to bite Marco’s neck to suppress the urge.

“Are you telling me.” Izou sputters out, slight anger in his voice, “That Y/N came here. Dressed like a nurse. And you didn’t do anything?” The commanders were always open about their affairs so it didn’t shock you to hear such a question but it still made you blush, not that anyone could see. “Marco you have to start treating her better! I know you’re busy but show here some attention!” Izou was scolding Marco, not knowing how the grip around your waist tightened, or how Marco rocked his hips painfully slow to drive you mad.

You had been waiting for so long for this, but you couldn’t show Izou this side of you/ Marco seemed to love how to you silently shudder from his movements, and how you had slowly bit his neck harder and harder to suppress your moans. At this point you could taste a slight tinge of blood, feeling slightly guilty you loosen your grip only for Marco to thrust quickly into you making you bite down harder.

“Don’t you dare get up,” Izou warned Marco, seemingly unaware of what the movement was actually for, “If Y/N just fell asleep she should rest peacefully,” He turns to head back towards the door, “I didn’t actually expect her to dress up for you. But if she’s willing to go this far for you Marco, even waiting for your workaholic ass, you should keep her.”

“Oh don’t worry about that Izou, I’ll make sure she knows how much I love her soon,” The words coming out of his mouth had you blush but you soon became to distracted to listen as Marco’s other hand grips your thigh, pulling your leg further apart as he thrusts again. You can feel him talking but can’t quite catch what he says.

“That just means I can go clothes shopping! Don’t think you can avoid it, Marco!” Izou exclaims before leaving, muttering something about having to prepare well.

As the door shuts you release Marco’s neck from your teeth, leaning back to be able to look at the man in front of you. “You did so good love,” Marco praises you and you see small blue flames come from his deep bite mark, “Why don’t we continue this on the bed?”

[bratphilia]

── ★ ˙ strawberry charm ̟ !!

note ✧.*‎  hello hello hello welcome to scream meets fnaf. randomly got this idea after rewatching scream, like, why don't i combine one both franchises in the only way i know how? william afton as ghostface coming into your house and fucking the shit out of you!! and here we are. i spent a lot more time on this than i usually do writing fics so i seriously hope ppl enjoy it. i'm also on break starting today so i'll be pumping out more content from now on going into the new year!

pairing ✧.*‎‎ steve raglan / william afton x reader

cw ✧.*‎‎ college au and scream au, reader is college aged, william is her robotics professor, ghostface!william afton, reader is girly, vibrators, multiple orgasms, perversion, mentions of stalking, descriptions of gore, choking, consensual non consent, break-in, approximately one lick to the pussy, rough sex, dumbification, glove kink, slapping, slight daddy kink, cockwarming

taglist ✧.*‎‎ @dilfity @kissingrhi @iikyutee @ghoulsgraveyard @cemeteryry @gh0stsp1d3r

synopsis ✧.*‎ a man calls you up wondering what your favorite scary movie is.

you hold back a deep sigh at the low-quality horror movie being showed on the big screen in front of you. no, it's not the most important thing in the world, to see something "cinematically excellent" every time you go to the theater, but shit, wouldn't that be nice? anyways, that's not what you're here for. you're here for a date with this guy in your robotics class, specifically. 

he's handsy, but so are you. one arm is slung around your shoulder, you're cuddled against his chest, knees drawn upwards, and his other hand coming around to rub circles on your thigh. yes, it's your first date together, after weeks of study "dates." yes, you were cuddling, very heavy emphasis on pda. what about it? it made up for this movie being fucking terrible, so why not. 

you have to laugh. nico, your date, had promised chills and shivers up your spine and hoped for your head pushed into his shoulder at the scary parts of the movie. rotten luck for him. you want to laugh at that. and you accidentally snicker, causing him to look towards you. "what?"

"oh, nothing," you say, nodding back towards the movie. 

he says nothing, thank god. 

finally, there's a good part of the movie. the main character, a ditzy blonde with big tits is tied to a tree while the film's slasher rips her boyfriend's head from his body with a chainsaw. your muscles clench, not in fear, but in delight. you've always been a sucker for gore. and fuck, it gets something else clenching too. you seriously wonder if nico can feel you throbbing when he rests his hand under your chin, gently forcing you to look at him. he leans in for a kiss. no tongue, just lips to lips. it's nice. you notice he put on chapstick and you can taste the buttery popcorn on his mouth. 

however, you're interrupted by the creaking of a chair behind you. the sound of someone getting up and leaving. you didn't pull away in time to catch their face, but the noise frankly startled you than any other part of the movie. 

the film ended shortly after that. no, the person who left never did end up returning to their seat behind you, but that had long since left your mind anyways. nico drove you home in his silver convertible, the top down creating a nice breeze through your hair. the car ride was silent but content. date successful, in your opinion, shitty movie aside. 

"well, goodnight," he says when your door is barely cracked open and you're halfway inside. you silently leaned up on your tippy toes and pecking his lips once more. you ignore the crackle of twigs in the foliage surrounding your house, blaming it on the wind. 

the door shut behinds you. you live in a campus house, but your roommates just so happen to be out of the house for the weekend. this has meant nothing but trouble for you — meaning you snuck your friend lacey's vibrator out of its drawer and had yourself some fun. over and over and over. pastel pink with a pretty bow on the hot glued on the end for decoration (the two of you might have done that together). but don't worry about how you know where her vibrator is, that's none of your business! 

while you're washing off the facial cleanser from your face in the shower as conditioner sits patiently in your hair, you think about nico. specifically whether or not you're actually interested in him. sure, he's a nice guy, romantic. bad taste in movies but clearly cares about what you like since he picked out a horror film to take you on a date to. and yet, that nagging thing in the back of your head, the one that told you not to commit to a relationship for fear of being stuck in one, had you snap back to the reality of relationships. you'll never be free to just date who you want, whenever you want. it made you frown. 

you get out of the shower eventually, still undecided about the future of your dating life, and you decide to put the topic to rest and relax with a classic: nightmare on elm street. or maybe something else? suspiria,  the thing, or evil dead? you browse your collection, and stop at freddy vs. jason. speaking of shitty horror movies and sticking to the freddy theme, you think with a smirk. 

you slip the cd into the player. super retro, i know right? 

you're popcorn'd out, to say the least, so you skip on making a bowl. your movie is interrupted shortly by the buzzing of your phone. the caller id just lists a phone number in your area. usually, you wouldn't pick these up, but you do it anyways. stupidly. 

"hello?" you call out into your phone. 

"hello." comes a man's deep voice.

you scratch your head, careful not to chip your manicure. "who is this?"

"who is this?" he mimics you, emphasis on this.

you scoff, already annoyed. probably a prank call. "i asked you first."

"look," he mediates, probably sensing your forming annoyance, "all i have is a question to ask."

"alright..." you say. nothing wrong with that. "shoot."

"what's your favorite scary movie?"

you pretend to contemplate. "hereditary," you say finally. of course it's your favorite. it's had your heart since you first saw it in theaters. anyone who knows you knows not to bring it up if they don't want to hear you go on a tangent about it. "it's the right amount of atmosphere with the right amount of gore." 

"isn't that the one where the little girl gets decapitated after slamming into a telephone from sticking her head out of a car window?" the man on the phone drawls, testing you.

"yes!" you practically exclaim. you hope you found another fan. not many other people shared your enthusiasm for the movie as you did.

he hums. "that's an interesting choice. i don't hear it enough. a little depressing, though."

"you mean you call other girls asking them what their favorite horror movie is? that's a new level of game i've never seen before," you tease, abandoning the movie to get up mindlessly and head to the bathroom to put your hair up.

"not just any girl," he says with a chuckle.

"oh?" you say, "so i'm special?"

"you could say that."

you smile, staring back at your reflection. you get it now. "you know, you could've just come inside earlier, nico. no need to put on the act."

"i'm not nico," he corrects you sternly. 

you scoff and roll your eyes, putting your device down and switching it to speaker phone so you can multitask. "right," you say, unconvinced.

you sort through your collection of hair clips, picking out the right one — "the one with the strawberry charm, huh? that one's my favorite. 's sweet like you."

you nearly drop the accessory. how the fuck? a shiver shoots up through your spine. your head snaps towards the direction of the bathroom window. searching desperately for an answer, anyone that could've just been watching. but no one's there, of course!

"that's not funny, nico," you snap. you're pretty sure you've worn this hair clip to a study date over at his apartment, right? and he might've even complimented you on it. yeah, you try to convince yourself, he's seen it before.

but that doesn't explain how he knew —

"i told you already," the man on the phone's voice is agitated, "i'm not nico."

"then who the fuck are you?!" you ask in a shrill voice, ready to hang up on this motherfucker. you steadily twist your hair upwards and secure the claw around it, letting your remaining hair fall in a ponytail.

"i'll prove it to you," he tells you as if it's the simplest thing in the world. "check the backyard."

you shockingly decide not to hang up for your sake. you would rather keep a close eye on the situation rather than just let something happen to you. you creep towards the sliding glass doors, gulp, then switch on the light, only to be met with monstrosity. 

nico's on his knees; you can hear him whimpering from inside, scrambling for his amputated arm that lies in between him and the sliding door. you open your mouth but you can't scream; the only thing you can feel is a shudder that shakes you to your very core. you feel almost weak in the knees, desperate to keep yourself standing on your two feet. there's blood, so much blood. all the backyard porch, your roommates will be so mad and concerned about what happened? how can you even begin to explain this? 

you try to do the only sane thing you can think of: hang up and call the police. the thought of this being one big prank pulled on you crossed your mind, but you were too scared not to act. a beat passes after you pressed that little red button on your phone, and the door bursts open. this time you scream. 

in a dark blur, you're pressed roughly against a mirror that frames the wall behind the dining table. a gloved hand wraps around your throat. "you stupid bitch, hanging up on me."

you meet the mask of your captor: the damn mask from that slasher movie stab. you were never particularly fond of the franchise. "lame movie reference," you manage to choke out, and you instantly eat your words. he slaps you across the face and loosens his grip at the same time, watching you fall to your side on the hard ground. 

you can barely gather your thoughts — your head is fucking swimming — before he's dragging you by your ankle with a strong grip in the direction of your bedroom. you hate how you slide so easily across the smooth floor. you try your best to break free, to run, wriggling your leg violently to shake him away to no avail. when he's dragged you successfully inside the bedroom he closes it behind you, bends down and manhandles onto lacey's bed. 

tears spill down your cheeks. this is it. you're going to die. but he doesn't take out a knife, or any weapon, actually, to fatally harm you with. instead, he's rummaging through the drawers in front of the bed. and then it dawns on you and you sit up. that's the drawer where lacey's —

"ah, found it," the man says triumphantly, turning back towards you, pastel pink vibrator in hand, toying with the ribbon. "what a cute little thing. do you know how many times i've watched you get off to this little device? what a fucking sight you make."

your eyes narrow. "who are you?"

he chuckles, then uses a hand to remove his mask, revealing the face of your robotics professor. him? how is it possible you've managed to capture his attention? when throughout the entire course he's done nothing but ignore you, treating you like you didn't exist. always ignoring your questions. shit, he's the reason why you started going to nico in the first place for help in his class: because nico was like his golden-star-student. 

"i don't get it," you say, lip trembling as tears well in your eyes. "why me? what did i do—"

"to captivate me?" he finishes your sentence, turning on the vibrator. you gulp like it's your impending doom. professor raglan kneels onto the bed and you wish you could back up but you only hit the headboard behind you. "well, for starters: you were always so eager for my attention. and it hurt me not to give it to you. couldn't blow my cover, sweetheart."

you still didn't understand, but you didn't have anymore time to contemplate or question him. he was spreading your legs, splitting open a space under your short, pink skirt for him to gain access to the area between your legs. you fumble with the sheets, holding them in a death grip. you definitely ruined your manicure. once your skirt bunches up around your hips, it reveals your panty-less mound. of course. you didn't think to wear anything after your shower because it wasn't like you were going out. 

your professor whistles lowly, pupils dilating in desire. it's perverted, the way he puts down the vibe, and grabs your hips upwards so he can get a closer look at your pussy. you throb subconsciously, making him look back up at you with a quirked brow. he leans forward to blow air on you, eyes still steady to gage your reaction. you whimper and wriggle in his grasp, face heating up in embarrassment. "you just have the cutest little cunt," he comments when he pulls away, then sticks his tongue out to lick a stripe up your pussy. "mmm, even sweeter, too. sweeter than the little strawberry in your hair."

"ohh," you coo. you hate to admit how good it feels, but here you were, arching your back in his touch and moaning.

"yeah?" he asks, taking his mouth off of you for a moment. "my baby like it when i eat her dripping pussy?"

you sniffle, not answering. you can't find it within you to be able to. "no? maybe i'll stop and move on then." you want to cry, fuck. a feeling of relief settles back in when he takes the vibrator back in his hand. the low hum grabs your attention — not like you could zone out at a time like this anyways.

when the device meets your needly clit you groan, flex your fingers at the sheets. "oh, fuck," you whisper. his eyes never leave your face, and every time you regrettably look at him, he's breathing heavily, open mouthed, like he just can't get enough of you. so you avoid looking at him, going through stages of keeping your eyes closed or looking up at the ceiling, praying for sweet release to whatever cruel deity is looking upon you getting fucked by this old man.

the vibrations against your clit are a little too good to be true. you can't help but feel like there's a price, one you'll specifically have to pay with his dick inside you. you wonder if it'll be lame like the other guys you've had, but honestly? you could get off to the thought of this situation, and you'll definitely remember this for future masterbation-sake. you're a freak like that.

raglan presses down on your stomach, iliciting a hiss from you through your teeth. "want you to come all over my arms," he tells you, "coat my gloves, you'll make me so happy."

fuck, then you get an idea. the gloves inside of you. you throb once more at the thought. "i-inside," you murmur, hoping he'd get the message.

"huh? what's that, baby?" he asks mockingly, but you know damn well he heard you. please don't make me said it, you think.

you reach down to touch his free hand, guiding it towards your entrance. "want my fingers inside you, hmm? baby needs something inside her to feel satisfied?"

"mhm," you hum with a nod of your head. he slowly slips a gloved finger inside you, the fabric deliciously creating friction that makes you grind on his hand. he looks up at you with a dirty smile, then reaches forward to kiss you as he pumps his fingers in and out of you ever so slowly. it's perfect. the stimulation of the vibrator combined with the feeling of his clothed hand is enough to make you burst.

and you do gracefully. so much that he pecks your cheek, tells you how much of a good girl you are for him, as lewd 'ah's tumble from your lips uncontrollably. you buck against his hand until he pulls is out of you, whining at his removal.

"i know, sweetheart, i know," he sympathizes after you, "daddy's cock's gonna be inside you soon, though. then you'll have something else to play with."

you're already exhausted from your first orgasm, somewhat unsure of how you're going to take the next, but you can hardly think about that now. you're drunk off the atmosphere between you two, nico's amputation is far forgotten. you can't even remember what you were doing before this. your hair is tussled in a way that has your hair clip drooping down the side of your shoulder loosely, but you don't have any energy to fix it. all you can think about is daddy's — wait, when did he become daddy? — cock inside you, and that's all that matters.

raglan begins to grind his bare cock against your entrance, having discarded his black slacks moments ago. he rubs the tip against you, purposefully bumping against your click, drawing out a symphony of noises — babbles along the lines of "please, just put it in, i can't take it anymore" — as your face contorts in a sob and tears fall down your cheeks again.

"my girl is such a crybaby," he chuckles, then slowly guides your hips to slide down on his cock. he fills you up by the inch, making you feel every ridge and vein. the stinging sensation of not being adjusted to his length washes over you in a surprisingly pleasurable wave. "so fucking tight," he gasps. he lets out his respective groans once he's fully sheathed inside of you.

then he starts moving; then things start to get good. you're not fully adjusted to his length, but the way you're leaking around him makes for perfect lube. what's a little pleasure without pain? it could be worse, you could be on the floor writhing in pain with multiple stab wounds, but instead you were being stabbed by his dick inside of you, so you weren't in a position to complain.

raglan leans down so his body is on top of yours, keeps himself steady by planting one hand to the side of your head as he aggressively snaps his hips into yours. you realize, in this moment, just how desperate he's probably been for this. not like you could do much thinking, but the way he was pistoning inside you said enough about how he felt. and god you felt good, clenching and unclenching around him, making the prettiest noises he's ever heard.

one particularly hard thrust has your head swimming, like it did when he slapped you. you want him to slap you again, so you initiate it in the only way you know how; reaching forward to land a weak hit across his face. he stops moving for a second, shocked. then with a swift whack across the face, he's back to thrusting inside of you, even harder this time around. "wanted me to hit you so bad, you could've just asked you dumb little slut," he growls into your ear.

"''m sorry," you have the audacity to giggle, "couldn't tell you."

"yeah? am i fucking you that stupid?" he asks, "'course, i don't expect you to able to answer that."

he flips you over suddenly so you land on your stomach, putting himself back in, fucking you with reckless abandon. the way his cock is hitting your g-spot right now has you plummeting over the edge. you wriggle your hips backwards to help him get off too, which he does right inside of you, filling you up to the brim.

he doesn't pull out. he's waited too damn long for this to do so. he's gonna enjoy a nice, long time inside of you, whether you like it or not. he collapses on his side, pulling you close to him so that he's spooning you. the most important thing to him in that moment, is your half-awake form rising and falling with each breath against him with his cock buried deep inside of you, strawberry charmed hair clip discarded somewhere by the pillows.

[requinoesis]

I'm creatively blocked, in fact I want to draw lots of things, but I can't. So some friends invited me to a minecraft server, so that I could remodel two villages. The first being GreenHill and the second being Sienna, so I tried these things out, I hope you like this.

GreenHill

I tried something medieval, I like this little cathedral. Behind it is a tomb where I held a funeral for a banished member, his coffin is a chest wrapped in badrock with his bones and flowers.

There is a crypt containing a wooden pickaxe modified by code, it mines very well, but practically blinds you with various negative statuses.

In front of the cathedral there are unknown ruins with no purpose, ignore the huge anomaly in the sky, it's another player's creation.

Sienna

I tried something Arabic or Indian. Its name comes from a mythical city from my friend's RPG session, he explained to me that Sienna was a city with a lot of knowledge that just disappeared in the blink of an eye, something like the idea of atlantis, so that's how Sienna appeared in my imagination.

There is this attempt at a great celestial observatory, there are books in which I left a written story about the origin of Sienna, which would be due to the passage of a mysterious comet that through whispers and dreams, inspires artists and intellectuals to creative insights, so the city was built with the purpose of understanding the mysteries about this comet in addition to accumulating the knowledge that it brought with its presence. But maybe there is something sinister about this comet.

That's it, I don't know why I created all this, after I get sick of it it will just disappear along with the server at some point soon hehe, but it was fun. Oh, and the texturepack is called "Hafen"!

Now I need to get back to my little sharks.

[tojisbestslut]

[ Curiosity killed the cat ]

summery: having to explore an abandoned mansion because of a dare with your friend, what could go wrong?

characters: Toji Fushiguro, Geto Suguru, Gojo Saturo

warnings: DARK, NON-CON, waterboarding (somehow), getting caught, escape attempt, bone breaking, screaming, no smut.

word count: 1132

part 2

"it's not even an scary dare I'd say, the house has been empty for years." your friend complained as she was trying to crack the lock with a crocked hair pin. you held the camera up for her taping the whole process, to have a proof of actually doing the dare to your friend group.

"I'm telling you right now, I'll be leaving the first moment i don't feel safe" you mumbled under your lips as she was scolding you to get the angels right. "such a kid you are" she mocked and ding, the door was open. you anxiously licked your lips and took a step inside the to be supposed empty house. it was full of luxury and expensive furniture all over the place and the face that none has been stolen by random thieves or troublesome teenagers sent a shiver down your spine. why'd people ignore this house?

you took small steps following your friend behind as she was curiously exploring every drawer freely. something didn't feel right, you had no idea what, but something was so fucking off. "hey um, I'll be waiting for you outside alright?" you tell your friend as you hand her the camera. she chuckled at how you were being a chicken and shrugged her shoulder, continuing to look around the house. you turned around and head to the exit, biting your lower lip from the sudden anxiety rushing over your body. what was this fuckin feeling, you kept wondering. as you arrived at the front door, the basement door that was stuck on the floor caught your attention. it was fucking open. you frowned and your heart beat started rising, were you not alone? you could swear it was closed the moment you entered. your body kept drowning in fear as you leaned slightly to look inside, only to suddenly get snatched by your ankles and being pulled in the basement, someone covering your mouth and the door getting closed before you even got the chance to scream for help.

fear, all you could feel was fear. fear of the unknown man covering your whole face with the palm of his hand as you could feel the coldness of the huge metal rings he was wearing. you kept trying to wiggle around and free yourself but it was no use from how strong the grip from his other hand was on your stomach, holding you to him. you tried to take deep breaths but it was hard to do from how tight he was covering your face. tears began to slowly run from your eyes as you realized there was nothing you could do in that situation, only being in the grip of a man you didn't even know, slowly crying.

"bruh, did you really leave?" you hear your friend yell looking for you as she was laughing at your scared ass leaving so soon. hope started to rise up again in your heart after hearing her voice calling you out, you started to struggle and kick around and tried to make some noise, but it all came out as muffled crying. you still couldn't see anything from the man covering your face, and your friend was really starting to think that you just left. your body goes limp as you hear her car engine start off and she starts driving away, the sound of the tires fading away as a drop of sweat drips on your back from the fact that you're now completely alone at the unknown man's mercy.

"stop it Fushiguro, no need to silence her now"

a second man speaks with a happy tone, you could tell he had a big smile on his face. the Fushiguro named man drops you on the ground at his legs, making your head hit it hard. you whince from pain and squint your eyes from the light suddenly hitting them, but it was soon taken away by 2 other figures standing right above you and covering the light, creating a shadow on your lying figure on the ground. Fushiguro sits on his knees right above your head, his tights and crotch covering your view of the ceiling. you instantly attempt to crawl back out of between their legs but the white haired men immediately steps on both of your hands, not bothering himself by trying to lower the pressure of his legs whatsoever.

the other man, having long black hair thrown magically around his shoulders, spills the drink he was holding right at your face in a slow pace, immediately silencing you as you tried to talk your way out of the situation. you coughed and gagged as you tried to move your head to get out of the direction the drink was flowing, but Fushiguro kept your head in place by putting one of his hands on your forehead, forcing you fo fight for your breath while the other man was pouring the liquid at you in the slowest pace possible known to man.

after what felt like eternity, the drink was finally finished. you coughed violently and tried to get the drink out of your nose as Fushiguro still held your head in place. your whole face was wet and sticky, as tears were running down on your cheeks. Fushiguro was looking at you with lust, like he wanted to devour you but the white haired, the way he was looking at you with no emotion in his eyes as he was putting all the pressure in his legs on your hands, looked like he just wanted to genuinely hurt you. the long haired man was just smiling with his eyes, looking the most trustable men among the 3.

"h-hey im- im s-sorry, i di- didn't wan-"

you tried to apologize, to do something for yourself, with the last bit of hope you still had. but your mumbling turned into a scream as the white haired man puts the last bit of pressure, breaking a bone in your palm. you screamed bloody as your shoulders were shaking from pain and fear, while Fushiguro was still holding your head. the sound of your bone breaking got lost between your screaming and you couldn't sense your palm anymore.

after a good amount of crying, he backs off and finally leaves your palm alone, as the two other start to get away too. the light is into your eyes again and you turn around, putting your knees in your stomach and hugging yourself, the trail of your bloody palm creating a pattern on the ground. you sobbed as you heard noises from the background. turning your head around, you saw the white haired man holding a chain in his hands with the biggest smile, his blue eyes glowing in the most terrifying way.

TAGS:

[mister-001]

FAMILY...

Contents — Platonic Batfamily x Neglected Scientist Reader

Synopsis — yes, yes we know you are neglected by the batfam, but you don't care about that at all, not when you could have much more interesting things to do, you don't have time to neglect, you just want to grow and create your own own magnificent creations alone, well, think again, because now, it seems that fate has decided to stop you from doing this, you were very intelligent, but your intelligence led you to your fatal destiny, and now you only have your family... Your single family...

Warning — neglect, blood, swearing, mentions of drugs, hallucinations, deaths, torture, Jason being Jason, time travel, story created for pure entertainment...

Author's note — hello, welcome, decide to do a genderless reader this time, I hope you like it, I haven't thought of a nickname yet, but I will, I hope you like it, it's just an idea I had in my head, sorry If it's not good, I'm not a professional, and my language isn't English, so if there are any errors, I'm sorry, well that's it, enjoy.

Don't cry, your family just came to pick you up...

your footsteps are heard as you pass through yet another room, you can very well hear the screams of torture and pain as your mother smiles softly at the sight of you, she looks like an angel, but you know your mother, you know she is just manipulating you, but that doesn't even matter, after all, you only have her, and you just don't want to be with your father, you hate him...

Your footsteps stopped as you stood next to your mother and she placed a hand on your shoulder as she looked at the man writhing in pain, blood coming out of his eyes from the poison and a crazed smile from the drugs they injected into him. .

Your mom always made you watch this, so you got used to it...

A sigh escaped your lips as you opened your eyes and quickly looked around, your hands found the cord around your neck and you sighed again only in relief this time.

You got up and sat on the bed before getting up while approaching the window, the sun wasn't even up yet, turning around you just walked to the door your footsteps couldn't be heard, you learned that from your mother...

Opening the door you walked out and closed the door behind yourself as you walked down the silent hallway of the mansion, your hands running along the cold and dull walls of the mansion, you ignored the voices whispering in your ear and continued walking calmly.

Of course you noticed, who wouldn't notice the child on their own side...

Yes, you know she isn't staying, but that doesn't stop you from raising your hand to touch a strand of the poor child's hair, and as always your hand went through the girl and a sigh escaped your lips as you continued walking in silence...

Walking down the stairs slowly your eyes silently observed your surroundings, your silent steps as you approached the door, but something stopped you and your eyes went towards the little girl next to you...

— "You shouldn't go out again, not this time... He's angry... he's going to take it out on you again..."

Of course the little girl's voice was heard in your thoughts, and a sigh escaped your lips as you opened the door and walked out calmly with the little girl following by your side...it's not like she could leave anyway... She's stuck with you...for eternity and you'd rather it stay that way...

Forever...

Just you and her...

Just you and your sister......

A sigh escaped his lips as he looked out the window and watched you leave again, a curse left his lips as he scoffed softly and watched you leave until he couldn't see you anymore.

A smile formed on his lips and he slowly opened the window as he climbed out the window, the darkness once again being silent.

Unlike the others, he hates liars...

Liars remind him of his mother...

Silence...

Silence was what Bruce heard that morning, they were having breakfast, and strangely enough the table was silent, Damien wasn't trying to fight with anyone and he wasn't making rude comments to anyone...

'that's not good...'

His eyes looked from Damien to you, who as always was quiet, but much quieter than usual.

"So... Did anything interesting happen yesterday?"

Bruce's thoughts are interrupted when he hears Dick's voice and he looks at Dick who was looking at Damien.

"Hm?...oh no, nothing that's really that interesting..."

Damien answers his question more calmly than usual and his eyes move from Dick's face to yours, watching you eat your breakfast calmly, making him close his hands into fists with a little force and he looks back at his breakfast calmly

'Idiot... How can you keep that expression when you know what you did yesterday...'

The thought crosses Damien's mind as he tightens his grip on his fists, this act not going unnoticed by Bruce making him frown in confusion.

They don't usually have breakfast together, but Bruce thought it would be a good idea, but Damien's behavior left him confused, what happened to make him so angry that he didn't show it?

A sigh escapes his lips as he looks at the man on the ground, of course he knows the man is dead, but that doesn't stop him from continuing to beat him, he only stopped because Bruce called him.

Jason raises an eyebrow in curiosity as he reads Bruce's message and another sigh escapes his lips.

'that brat... What is he up to this time?..."

Jason stops thinking and turns around leaving the Man's lifeless body behind, not before taking the necklace that the man was going to give to his wife, Jason looks at the box with the necklace and smiles thinking for a moment before turning around and walk back out of the warehouse while keeping the box in your jacket pocket.

'he won't need it if he's dead...'

He looked at the screen as it glitched and a sigh of frustration escaped his lips as he typed away trying to retrieve the Security Camera footage from yesterday, without success again.

What happened yesterday?, what made Damien so angry?, and worse, what happened to make Damien follow you everywhere...

'Maybe it's just a glitch in the security camera...'

The thought crosses his mind and one last sigh of frustration escapes Tim's lips again.

His footsteps are heard as his shoe taps against the floor and he clenches his fists tighter before finally seeing the person he's been waiting for.

You stopped walking when you felt the blade of Damien's katana on your neck and turned to look at him calmly causing a small cut to remain on your neck.

"You can lie and deceive them, but you will never deceive me, I know what you did... I saw you..."

Damien's words sound like venom as he looks at you seriously, but with a hint of anger.

"You really must think I'm some fortune teller to know what you're talking about"

As soon as the words left your lips, Damien's katana was already inches from the skin on your neck, but you only glanced at the katana before returning your gaze to his eyes, making visual contact.

"Don't act innocent, we both know you're not, don't try to act innocent... I'm not an idiot like them, I know what you did, so think carefully about your words, because from now on, you will have to deal with me, I don't care if you have to play the role of good and exemplary little sister/little brother, but I will be by your side at all times and at any moment, I won't let you do what you did yesterday, it doesn't matter whether we are related or not, I still won't hesitate to cut your throat"

Damien's words hang in the air with venom, but as he looked into your eyes, he saw that it didn't affect you, as you just moved the katana away from your neck and turned around before starting to walk, making Damien stand still for a few seconds. before quickly following behind you.

'I will keep you if necessary... Who do I want to fool... I will definitely protect you again... Just like I did yesterday...'

Damien's thoughts fall silent as he shakes his head slightly and continues following behind you as you disappear into the halls of Wayne Manor.

Elsewhere in Gotham City it is possible to see something shining before someone falls to the ground standing up while even his own there were more people who were also there and looked around.

One boy in particular moved away from the Man and tapped him on the shoulder while the man didn't even turn and just nodded as the people behind him quickly spread out across Gotham.

A sigh left the Man's lips and his eyes roamed over the place he was standing as he thought for a moment.

'If this is an anomaly then I don't care, whatever brought us here I thank you... I thank you for the second chance you gave us...'

His head turned when he heard footsteps and he looked at the boy with that same cold and distant expression, you could tell he was tired because of the dark circles under his eyes, his disheveled hair.

The boy's eyes stared straight into the Man's eyes and he was silent for a moment before nodding calmly.

The Man's eyes had a gleam of hope for a moment before returning to cold, calculating eyes as the man thought for a moment before looking at the boy.

"So we're back to square one...the beginning...find her...I don't care how, I just want my child back in my arms...am I clear?..."

The cold words left the man's lips as the boy nodded quickly.

"Yes dad, I understand, I'll let the others know..."

The boy says as he turns and leaves quickly as the Man's eyes follow his figure until he disappears into the darkness of Gotham.

'I know... I believe in you Damien...'

was the only thought that went through the Man's head before he quickly left, disappearing into the darkness of Gotham City.

..

The fingers stop typing as a soft sigh escapes the person's lips, before the person's eyes drift to the large screens and a small child appears next to the person, the little boy looks at the person silently and looks at the screens in silence.

silence watching and reading what is on the screens before he tilts his head in confusion as he reads the name.

Vigilante Project...

This project is new, he was curious but didn't ask knowing that his question would never really be answered, he looked up a little when he felt something on his head and looked directly at the person while the person's fingers slowly passed through the strands of hair him gently.

"Don't worry about it...it's just another project...like all the others..."

The person's voice hangs in the air with traces of mystery, and the little boy looked at the ground before slowly nodding his head.

Whatever this Vigilante project is, it's none of his business, at least not yet...

....

Author's note — hello, thank you very much for reading, I hope you enjoyed...

Take care of your health, your health first!!

Tags —

[little-jana]

"Tension and Snowstorms"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x f!reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: tension, kissing

Words: 1.6k

Summary: A snowstorm leads to Spencer and Reader being consumed by their ongoing tension.

The case had wrapped up late, as always. Everyone was exhausted, but a mix of relief and anticipation had settled over the team. New Year’s Eve was only hours away, and all I wanted was to get back home, put the past few days behind me, and enjoy some quiet time.

But fate had other plans.

The storm had hit harder than expected, and with the snow piling up outside, the airline had canceled all flights. That’s how I found myself in the hotel lobby, looking at Spencer Reid, who had that familiar expression of uncertainty on his face. We were the only two left from the team, the others already having found alternate routes or heading to their homes by car.

Spencer looked over at me, his brown eyes wide behind his glasses, his usual awkwardness radiating off him. “I… guess it looks like we’re stuck here for another night.”

I nodded, my mind a little clouded by the unexpected turn of events. I hadn’t anticipated spending the night with him, just the two of us. I’d always been drawn to him, but there was this silent, unspoken tension that had been building for months. There were moments, brief and fleeting, when I’d catch him looking at me a little too long, when his eyes would linger on my lips longer than necessary, when his voice would drop just enough to make my heart beat a little faster.

But now, with the hotel practically empty, it felt different. The air was thick with something I couldn’t quite name, the silence between us growing heavier with each passing minute.

“Want to grab dinner?” I asked, trying to break the quiet.

Spencer hesitated, his eyes darting to the clock on the wall. “Uh, yeah, sure. I’m starving. Just… let me change real quick.”

I gave him a small smile, trying to ignore the way my stomach fluttered. “Alright, I’ll meet you in the lobby in twenty?”

“Sounds good,” he said, his voice almost breathless.

I walked away, my mind racing. There was something about the way he said that, like he was a little too eager, too nervous. It had been building for a while now—the attraction between us, the moments of stolen glances, the lingering touches when we’d pass things to each other, when we’d brush hands. But we’d never acted on it. He was still haunted by his past, and I was unsure if he’d ever want to cross that line.

I tried to shake it off as I returned to my room. A nice dinner with Spencer would be fine. Nothing more. After all, he was a colleague. A brilliant, quirky colleague who happened to be incredibly attractive. But I didn’t want to acknowledge that too much.

When I met him in the lobby later, I could see the tension in his posture. He was fidgeting with his glasses, a telltale sign that he was nervous. “Ready?” I asked, my voice softer than usual.

Spencer cleared his throat, adjusting his jacket. “Yeah, uh, just trying to decide if I should keep my jacket on or not.”

I took a step closer, resisting the urge to laugh at how nervous he was. “It’s freezing outside, Spencer. I think keeping it on is a good idea.”

He glanced at me, a little flush creeping up his neck. “Right, yeah, I was just thinking—never mind. Lead the way?”

I smiled, though it felt a little strained. “Sure.”

The restaurant wasn’t far, and as we walked together, the snow began to fall, creating a blanket of silence around us. It was quiet, and all I could hear was the crunch of our footsteps in the snow and the occasional hum of a car passing by. Spencer walked just a little too close, his shoulder brushing mine more often than was necessary. Each time it happened, my heart skipped a beat, and I couldn’t tell if it was the cold or something else making me feel this way.

By the time we sat down for dinner, the atmosphere was even more charged. I couldn’t quite look him in the eye for too long, but I couldn’t stop stealing glances at his profile. The way his dark hair fell just right, how his lips moved when he spoke. I could hear the rapid beat of my own heart, as though it were picking up on the tension between us. Spencer, for his part, seemed just as affected. He was constantly shifting in his seat, picking at the edges of his napkin, his eyes darting toward mine before quickly looking away.

Dinner dragged on, but not in the usual way. Every moment felt like it was stretching, and the spaces between our words seemed longer, filled with something unsaid. I had the feeling that Spencer was keeping himself in check, maybe out of some sort of fear. Fear of what, though? Of me? Of his feelings? I had no idea. But it was maddening.

By the time we paid the check, my nerves were shot. I wasn’t sure if it was the wine or the proximity to him, but something inside me felt like it might snap.

We returned to the hotel, the hallway eerily quiet. Spencer had his hands in his pockets, and I could tell he was trying to keep his distance. But when we reached the door to my room, he paused, hesitating just outside it.

“Are you, uh…” he started, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, “are you sure you want to go to bed already?”

I blinked, caught off guard by his words. There was something in his voice, a slight crack in his usual composed tone. I wasn’t sure if it was a hint or if he was just trying to make small talk to fill the silence.

“I’m not really tired,” I said, a little too quickly. “But I’m not really sure what else to do either.”

Spencer’s gaze flickered to mine, the tension between us palpable. He shifted his weight, leaning slightly toward me. “You know, I was thinking we could—”

“Spencer,” I cut him off, my heart racing. “We don’t have to do this.”

He froze. “Do what?”

I stared at him, the distance between us shrinking with every passing second. “We both know there’s something here, but I don’t want to make things complicated. I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

He exhaled sharply, his eyes darkening. “I don’t know how to do this with you, okay?” His voice was strained, like he was fighting to keep his composure. “I’ve been trying so hard to pretend that there isn’t something between us, but I can’t anymore.”

My breath hitched in my throat as I watched his struggle. “What do you want from me, Spencer?”

He took a step closer, his face just inches from mine now. I could feel his breath on my skin, the heat of his body, and it made my heart race. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he whispered. “But I want you. I can’t pretend that I don’t.”

The words hung in the air like a confession, raw and unspoken for so long. And in that moment, I knew that whatever had been building between us, whatever tension had been stretching thin for months, was about to break.

Before I could respond, he reached out, his hand gently cupping my cheek, his thumb brushing the side of my face. It was soft and careful, but it ignited something deep inside me. He leaned in just enough that our lips were barely a breath away, and I could feel the weight of everything unsaid between us.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice rough with want. “But I can’t hold back anymore.”

And then he kissed me.

It wasn’t slow or tentative. It was desperate, urgent, as though we were both craving something we’d been denying ourselves for too long. The tension had snapped, and now all that was left was the heat and the electricity between us, crackling and alive.

His hands were on my back, pulling me closer, and I responded eagerly, my hands threading into his hair, tangling in the soft strands. I had no idea where this would lead, but for the first time in a long time, I didn’t care. All I knew was that Spencer Reid was kissing me like he’d been wanting to for far too long.

And I was more than willing to let him.