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screampied · 3 months ago

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❛ BON APPÉTIT, BABY! ❜ g. satoru

☆ sum. stupid ovulation week is approaching soon and out of nowhere, you get baby fever. you ask your sugar daddy for help but his version of ‘help’ is trying to get you pregnant.

wc. 5.1k

warnings. fem! reader, sugar daddy!gojo au, age gap (early twenties/early thirties), praise, dirty talk, mentions of pregnancy, implied multiple rounds, size kink, ōral (f! receiving), he makes out w your panties, overstim, major brēeding kink, nıpple play, spıt, impact play, petnames.

➤ sd! gojo masterlist.

fuck, these cramps never knew when to quit.

you were crawled up in a ball on the sofa, suffering in agonizing silence. you sigh, taking a brisk glance near the grandfather clock that sits beside satoru gojo, your sugar daddy’s glass cabinets. oh, you missed him. it’s been a few good months with him as his sugar baby and you felt like a princess—no, a queen. he’s showered you with many many praises, not just gifts but of course, that too. you’re so lonely in his mansion, but you wondered what he was doing right now. probably working, you knew how busy of a businessman he was, but you missed him. his smell, his presence, his petnames. whipping out your phone, you unlock it, skimming toward his contact. ‘toru’ with a pretty pink heart as his contact, you text him a sweet forward ‘miss you.’

not even seconds later, he replies, giving your message a heart. ‘Hi, sweetheart. i miss you too. being a good girl for me, yeah?’

with a pout, your eyes skim through his flirty words and you press the video call button. you couldn’t wait. . you needed to see him. satoru answers it, and as expected, he’s sat upright in his office. so handsome, his snowy white hair was ruffled yet neatly slicked back and parted. he wore the suit you picked out for him, the jet-black one with a tie that makes his pretty blue eyes pop. “hey you,” a raspy voice utters on the phone, and he’s snickering at how you’re just lazily slump on the couch, bored out of your damn skull. “put some clothes on, darlin’.”

“no,” you grump, although you did have clothes on. clothes that basically consisted of a thin sage tank top and panties. satoru was typing on his computer. you heard the quickness of his fingers typing away as he’s taking every few glances to look at you again. “come home, ‘toru. these cramps are killin’ me,” and you mumble the last part under your breath. “. . andiwantababy.”

it’s a long silent pause and he’s fully looking at you through the screen now. all that could be heard in the background was the screeching and beeps of his costly fax machine.

satoru’s got a glint in his eyes before his voice pitches, and he slyly hums. “oh, you want a baby, sweets? my, you really do need me ‘ta come home, huh.”

you squeeze your thighs together, positioning your phone to lie in landscape mode—you were still a bit sensitive from earlier, from touching yourself. as your breath excitingly hitches, you couldn’t help but pout again.

“ ‘toru, think ‘m havin’ baby fever or something,” and your words were oh so sweet. satoru’s sitting up against his chair, leaning up against his palm. the shine of his expensive g-shock glimmers in the light within each time he moves. “come home, please.”

“sweetheart,” he tsks, two white arched brows piercing together. he could never say no to you, he spoiled you so much . . not that he never minded either. you were his baby, and satoru playfully scoffs at your needy declaration. “you really can’t wait another hour? i’m almost done.”

“no,” you grouse, a cute glower stretching across your features, marinating as you speak. satoru chuckles at your bratty persistence, and you watch as he fixes his tie, lightly tugging on it.

“fine, fine,” he gruffs. “i’m coming, princess. wear that new designer set i bought for you, okay? ya know the one, the rose-gold?”

smearing your glossed lips against each other, you give him a nod. you ached for him, each second you spent on the phone was a constant reminder of how he wasn’t there with you. satoru found your clinginess adorable though. it was cute how you’d always text and call him while he’s at work. even if his responses were hours late, he’d always get back to you, sending you sweet ‘hi baby’ and ‘i miss you more, pretty,’ ‘s.

if you were feeling bold, you’d send him a few pictures of yourself in one of the many expensive custom-made sets of lingerie he buys you.

his favorite would have to be the ‘satoru gojo’ exclusive brand of lingerie for women, he literally bought the entire stock of all colors just for you.

“okay,” you mumble, already making your way toward his bedroom. a few of his servants and butlers were dusting away at furniture and his entire mansion was huge. it was spacey, you could practically get lost in it. as you stomp lightly, the bare soles of your feet slide against the glassy-textured floor before you glance down at your screen. “drive safe.”

“i will, sweets. see you soon, yeah?”

with a beep, the call ends and it’s just you trapped in your own silent thoughts.

as you made your way to the master bedroom, immediately, you’re met with the loud cologne scent of satoru. it’s enchanting, it’s always the same smell of cinnamon and spices. satoru gojo always smelled rich regardless. rich was his middle name. you dig through your walk-in closet he had made for you, fishing out the set he wanted to see you wear. it was dashingly pretty.

he bought the rose-gold set as a gift for your birthday, and even if it did hurt his pockets a lot, he never cared. anything for you—his pretty baby.

about forty minutes later, satoru returns home finally and he yawns, stretching his long limbs. you scurry to him, your head reaching just near the center of his chest and he lightly jerks back.

“hey baby,” he returns the hug, big callused hands roaming up and down your exposed skin. the lingerie fit you perfectly, displaying your curves and gorgeous physique. satoru buried his face into the crook of your neck, planting a soft kiss. “you’re so spoiled. i can’t always leave work jus’ because you miss me, y’know.”

“i know,” you let off a soft moan, his soft lips creating gingerly mushy traces everywhere near your skin. he was always so tender, nips of kisses slowly turning into flicks with his tongue. satoru’s left hand slowly snakes near your leg, raising it up before wrapping it around his slim torso. your ankle rubs against the burberry belt he wore. it clanks loudly and he then lifts you up. “s- satoru!”

“what?” he hums, leading you closer toward the bed.

you heard the playfulness in his tone, and he’s got you in such a firm grasp. his fingertips continue to roam down your soft skin, snagging against the laced fabric that wraps around your body like a christmas present. “god, you’re so hot,” he murmurs in a raspy tone, and you glance at his parted slick backed hair. it’s unkempt now, white strands and tresses running down his eyes. he lies you down on the bed gently, and that’s when he gets on top of you.

you gulp, meeting the eyes of satoru. pretty blue eyes, they’re always so mesmerizing to look at.

but this time, he’s got a more feral look in his pupils as they dilate. “sweetheart,” he whispers, using a thumb to caress the edge of your twitching lip. with the way you’re prettily sprawled all out like this for him at his very mercy, there’s so much he wanted to do. satoru’s eyes never leave yours, not for a single second. “do you really want a baby or is just the baby fever?”

“b- both,” you gasp, not even noticing his hand creeping down between your legs, parting them apart.

you moan, feeling his palm rub up against the outline of your panties. so soaked, satoru’s breath hitches at your sweet whimpers and he’s so close up to you. so close that his rock-hard boner presses up against you and fuck, it’s hard. a visible tinted bulge was sticking out the center of his slacks and it’s driving him mad.

the mental image of you with a swollen tummy, all plump and baring his child, it makes him groan. satoru’s had his fair share amount of sugar babies in the past, but none of them were you.

“such a silly little girl,” he huffs, a bit of humor in his tone. but not wanting to waste any time, he leans in, capturing your lips into a deep hungry kiss.

whiny moans pour into his mouth - he’s sweet.

the minty kind of sweet where you taste peppermint lingering on his tongue.

satoru kisses sloppy this time, gradually grinding his body against yours. it’s incredibly sloppy, not much passion and more-so filth—strings of spit tangle with each other, forming little lustrous cobwebs of saliva before he sucks on your tongue. his pretty white lashes flutter before he opens them, staring at you, grunting right in your mouth. his boner continues to rub off against your clothed pussy and his groans only grow louder.

“fuuuuckk,” he swears, smacks of lips ringing through his ears. it was something about you, he didn’t know what it was but you were addicting.

satoru starts to peel off the pieces of lingerie piece by piece. by peel, he’s carelessly tearing through it as if the entire designer set didn’t cost him an arm, a leg, and a fucking torso. but again, even with his pockets swollen and suffering because of you, he’d buy you the whole world if he could. well, he probably could. he’s satoru gojo. “sweets, ‘m gonna devour you.”

five words.

five words that constantly went on a loop in your head as satoru’s eating out your cunt like a starved man.

he was starved, it’s been hours since he’s seen you. as he’s delving his face right between the plush of your thighs. you moan, chomping the front row of your teeth down on your quivering bottom lip. fuck, he was just nasty.

merely seconds passed and he’s already slobbering over your pussy. strands and strands of glossy spit trickles from his lips and onto your folds. “ ‘toruuuu,” you whimper, relishing in the way his tongue curls all throughout your drooling core. he’s maneuvering all kinds of shapes and circles, even spelling all letters of his name on your cunt with his tongue. scarlet plump lips of his gently kiss near your labia whilst warm breath ghosts near your sappy slit. shaking all from his tongue, the bed grows rickety from your movements and you inhale a sharp breath.

your fingers get intertwined between his white locks of hair and you pull tight.

his head tugs forward into you and he grunts, swaying his slick pink muscle in and out of your cunt. “mngh,” he groans, and that’s when he sneaks a hand between your pried open legs.

you stare down at him as he’s devouring you whole, slurping everything out of you until he’s satisfied - and that won’t be for a good while.

it doesn’t take a while before he’s already completely pussy drunk.

satoru’s fingers slither near your pussy and as his flat tongue repeats to lap lap lap up your syrupy sweet juices, he pops inside a single finger.

an exasperated breathy gasp snatches straight out the back of throat before you immediately feel the mouthwatering stretch of his digits and it’s toe curling.

if it was one thing about satoru, his fingers were long, slender, and also very very thick.

with a single swirl motion he’s making with his finger shoved deep inside, you’re already at the verge of breaking. crumbling because of his sloppy tongue. his fingers could stretch you out just as much as his cock could.

satoru even had you keep your panties on for him. the same panties he bought you as a gift.

a gift where he collaborated with victoria’s secret, your panties had both of his infamous initials bedazzled on the front and back. god, every time he traces his tongue over the tiny little beads, it drives him crazy every time.

you drive him crazy.

his flat laid tongue teasingly licks at the silk fabric before it turns into a whole raunchy make out sesh. pretty white lashes flap as he’s slurping everything out of you, missing no spot.

he couldn’t afford to, not when you tasted this good.

“we’re a ‘lil squirmy today, huh,” he snickers, feeling your weak thighs writhe because of his tongue.

it felt so good, the way he’s casually slurping you, eating your pussy as if it was the last thing to devour on earth. such raunchy sloshing sloshes cry out from your cunt and he groans. your fingers remain tangled in his hair, yanking on his messy tresses before he flicks his tongue against that spot.

it’s soft and spongy, and with the help of his long fingers curling and scissoring in and out of your sopping pussy, you let off a candied three-second shriek. “oh, darlin. found it, did i?”

“fuck, ‘toru,” your body falls back against the silk pillows.

multiple wanton whimpers slither from your lips as he’s continuously toying his tongue against your g-spot. it seemed as if his tongue was helping with your cramps entirely. such pressure builds up in your body and you were just so hot that you felt like you were gonna explode. “gonna cum, fuck fuck.” you’re babbling out pathetic cries that fall deaf to his pointed ears. satoru hums in smug amusement, jaw feeling tight and locking but he doesn’t care.

he was feeling pretty exhausted from coming back from work but just a single taste of your pussy and suddenly, he was energized once again.

ironic.

his two fingers continue to swivel around inside your gripping walls as your body slumps into the mattress in lewd defeat. satoru grunts, grinding his boner against the edge of the bed to calm himself but you made it so hard.

you made him hard.

as he’s luxuriating in this eagle view of your legs prettily laid up for him, he’s merely knuckles deep.

you can barely stay still and the bed’s staring to grow rickety. satoru’s speed of his tongue doesn’t falters, and as he’s slurping every drop from your sappy folds—you let out your final elongated moan. it’s long, your legs erupt dramatically and shake within his hold before you’re finally cumming. it drags for a long time and you’re just nothing but hysterical.

overwrought with emotions and pleasure, your legs finally collapse—as if they weren’t already basically limp, you exhale deeply.

“fuck, fuck fuuuck,” you repeat, watching with hazy murky eyes as he pulls your panties back toward the center with his teeth. satoru licks up your sweet saccharine-flavored juices that seep out from you, savoring the honeyed taste on his tongue before you pull on his hair . . hard.

“tsk. watch the hair, girl,” he warns you, still being cheeky and playful.

your cunt embarrassingly twitches once he makes eye contact with you again. satoru sits up, his entire chin coated with nothing but your slit. its a stream of it and it’s pretty. it was just the way it trickles down and he laps the crevices of his lips with his tongue. “so cute,” he murmurs, and he closes the gap between you both. as satoru feels your trembly legs wrap around his waist, he pulls you into another deep passionate kiss.

you moan right into his mouth, lazily tossing your arms over his broad-built shoulders before feeling him yank your panties down your legs and ankles.

satoru’s body was hot.

he still had his business attire on, and he feels your hand slowly removing his tie. your other hand runs down his tux, sliding inside the center to feel his washboard chiseled and hiding underneath the piles of formal work clothes.

“such a needy ‘lil thing,” he whispers gruffly between kisses, chuckling once he sees the forming pout tweak against your swollen lips.

satoru rubs a thumb over you lip before his crystalline-colored irises meet yours. the silence was cold, he’s got a wolffish smirk compressing against his lips before he mutters right near your ear. “now, let’s give ya that baby, sweetheart.”

saying ‘baby’ was an understatement.

with the way satoru was about to fuck you, he planned on giving you triplets.

maybe even more, and the constant rambles of how little ‘ole you was stuck in his mansion all day with baby fever did something to him. oh, poor thing, suffering with cramps all day. it was the end of the world. to you at least it was. but like the loving sugar daddy he was, satoru figured he’d do his best to ease your little ‘problems.’

“gimme that pretty arch, goooood..” he purrs, using a hand to rub down your exposed back.

satoru groans—his formal trousers / pants were pulled down to his ankles and he’s staring at your pretty ass. so cute. he watches with a carnal glint in his eye as you position yourself, gnawing on your lip and the bars of your enclosure. the anticipation was about to bury you six feet under.

his leaky tip slowly smears and bedaubs against your dripping clit and you whine. your hands, clammy and all, roughly grip onto the richly-made sheets.

his tip was fat, it’s got a glistening swollen head that’s teasing you. satoru’s breathing grows shallow once he sees your pussy cutely trying to swallow. “fuck, please,” you croak, desperate for him to go inside. he always does this—everytime.

right before he’s preparing himself to fuck you raw, satoru smacks his bulbous cockhead against your sappy weeping folds, hearing your sweet little cries grow unsatisfied. all you could think about was having him breed you full . . over and over and over again, you didn’t just want it, you needed it.

you needed him.

“relaaaax, sweet thing. ‘m comin,” a chortle dies from his throat as he feels you trying to wriggle your hips.

you’re impatient, and once he’s fully aligned, he’s finally dipping his weighty cock inside your perfectly tucked folds.

suddenly, your needy whines stop and they turn into whines of rapture. satoru trails a big hand toward the cusps of your ass, tracing down the cute curvy curvature of your body before your skin’s met with a rude swat.

you moan as he’s easing himself inside your gummy walls, stretching you open even more than his fingers did. “atta fuckin’ girl. let me in, biiiiiig stretch, there we go.”

the stretch . . you’d never get used to it, never.

your stomach heaves once he’s reeling his hips in. “s- shit,” you kiss your teeth, your knees already buckling and becoming weak. satoru spanks your bare ass again just to hear those sweet yelps leave your lips. he’s so fucking big, it doesn’t take long before he’s bottoming out and you hear the welcoming ‘pop’. satoru groans once he starts to move, one hand holding onto your hip—another focused on your pretty perked ass. he likes this view, the view of his sweet girl arched over on all fours. satoru bites his lip as he starts to make delicious haste with his sharp keen hips.

“god,” his head throws itself back briefly at a certain angle.

already, white strands stick to his forehead with the help of his sweat substituting as glue. satoru’s voice shakes as his cock’s fully in, your clingy gripping walls were so warm and it makes his mouth water from the inside. “missed my favorite pussy so fuckin’ bad, so bad,” and you feel a few droplets plop down your back. satoru’s eyes rove over, watching you writhe again and he sheepishly snickers.

he was drooling.

“heh, sorry.” and he wipes his mouth with his wrist, the feral feeling pooling in his gut never fading.

you’re a mess underneath him, the second he starts to drill his hips into you—it’s over.

satoru’s stamina was always unhinged.

the bed croaks and groans from the constant shakes ‘n creaks it has to endure each second. the hinges were quite loud, you heard the rusty creaking wood that reverbs throughout the room. his cock continued to pound into you as his body’s on top of yours, in full sync with your own sloppy movement.

you’re whimpering, your head already being smushed against the pillow as the undersides of his thigh start to feel minuscule pangs. “toru, toruuu,” you mewl out in a melodic whisper. he’s hitting you deep, your glossed lips part into a circle before you huff.

each strike of his hips felt more precise and brutal. . you wanted more, you wanted to feel him more.

“i know, i know,” he coos, thumbs circling around your waist as he holds you in place.

satoru’s hips were so sculptured and sharp that they give you whiplash every time. he’s got such power within each salacious strike that it makes your head spin. every single stroke, you’re left stupid and speechless with your tongue already dangling out of your mouth. the room grew steamy within a span of a few minutes. it smells like nothing but pure passionate sex.

by now, your eyes were rolling toward the very backs of your sockets in utter elated pleasure. you’re seeing nothing but splashes of ivory black and white. “aht aht. c’mere, don’t fuckin’ run sweetheart,” his voice was as smooth as silk. satoru feels your unsteady hips trying to crawl away but he reels you back in. “nuh uh. take it, take it, take it, girl.” he groans, his heavy hanging balls thwacking right against your ass within each pivotal thrust.

the band of his platinum-colored watch rubs off against your skin again—he’s watching you jerk back against him. his cock was so full, he licks his lips at the thought of your pretty pussy and how you were gonna wring him dry like you always do.

“fuck me, fuck me ‘toru,” your whimpering words were repeating itself over and over as if you were a broken record. the pit of your stomach coils as each second draws itself out before he’s grunting gruffly. your cunt’s sloppy, coating his base with sheeny amounts and globs of slick. white hairs from his neat pubes stick against his skin and satoru’s now grinding into you. “ah, right there, ngh please.”

“thaaaaat’s it pretty girl,” he snarls in a raspy voice, feeling the fat smacking stings of your ass jolt backward into his pelvis. “fuck me right back, mhm. gimme this pussy, make me proud baby.”

as he’s whispering all sorts of praises and dirty words, you can feel yourself reaching your limit soon — it’s so close.

a fluttering sensation brews up inside your stomach before satoru suddenly groans. “fuck,” his cock’s wholly stretching you out to your elastic limit before it meets that same textured spongey barrier again. he knows right away because your knees buckle, your breath grows quicker, and you let off another surprised shriek.

right there, x marks the spot after all and he was constantly hitting his tip there until you let out cute shrilling screams.

“goddamn, ‘m gonna cum, sweets,” and his voice grows more shakier the longer he’s inside.

it’s as if time stood still.

the constant rotation of swiveling gyrations from each angle, each body has your head spinning like a merri-go-‘round.

you were probably looking a dumb cock-drunk mess. unkempt strands of hair were already flopping down your face and occluding your view of vision entirely. satoru pierces his white brows together before lightly shoving you further into the mattress. as you’re cutely arched forward with your ass raised up, he leans way into your back, wrapping a hand softly around the back your throat.

“gonna fuckin’ give ya twins. one isn’t enough, pretty girl. need that tummy swollen ‘n plump s- so bad,” and he inches his lips toward your spine, still pumping into you deep. “gonna make you my pretty ‘lil mama.”

as he continued to spoke, you whine as his cock plummets into your wet sopping cunt over and over. it’s to the point where your ears recognize the slapping sounds of skin. the squelches your wet cunt made had him groaning.

he’s breathing in huge chunks of air as he’s merely crushing you with his weight. as you both robustly rut into each other in flawless unison, satoru’s hefty weight that hovers over you anchors into yours, slamming further into you.

“fuck, don’t stop, hngh,” and your words were as shaky as your chattering teeth.

he couldn’t keep his hands off you, literally.

sweaty open palms paw at every part of your body. near your doughy tits, your ass—his favorite part, and even your pretty plush thighs that were nearly gluing together. “satoru, satoru, pleaseee.”

“mhm, sweets..” his voice tremors and cracks before a sharp gasp wretches out of him. out of nowhere, you feel his hips come to an abrupt stop and he groans loudly.

it’s so loud that it’s an almost bellowing roar, both of his ears clank at the blissful sensations. satoru grows quiet once he feels it, that familiar pressure that’s been stored full inside him for the longest.

he’s cumming, and it’s so much, a slimy knot shoots out and freely dribbles into your inviting swollen cunt and he chews the inside of his cheek. “fuck m- me,” he stammers, still holding both sides of your rickety hips.

the room’s filled with husky pants and skin slapping until he’s slowing down - velvety stringy ribbons spurt into you raw until he’s hoarsely panting like a dog at the sight.

he can’t stop staring. such a mess, but you’re his mess. god, the way it just leisurely trickles inside of you, spilling all down the sides of your jittery folds because it can’t keep all of it in. the sounds were even more filthy, sloshing squeaks feels the room and he goes quiet just to get a good enough listen. satoru came so much—so so much that it lasted for a plethora of long obscene seconds. as he’s trying to get over his orgasm, he’s still chewing at the inside of his cheek, his face growing flustered. his hips become strikingly sloppy and he’s basically humping you. “god, have my fuckin’ kids, sweetheart. ugh,” and satoru’s as prettiest as he’s ever been.

with his lip dragging from his teeth biting near the bottom, his eyes scrunch shut and white brows curl up. huffing out a big deep exhale, he’s sweating bullets.

his thick calves felt like they were on fire but he didn’t have enough of you yet. there was never enough of you. you had him whipped—he’s allowing you to milk him, relishing in the fact that your sweet cunt was just wringing him dry to the max.

satoru steadies your hips with his quavery hands, peering down at the masses of sweltering hot cum that drips down your legs and he grunts. “s- satoru,” you shiver, gasping once he pulls out only to flip you right over.

“not done. still got so much more ‘ta give my pretty girl,” he breathes, and it’s a feral look in his eyes. satoru raises your leg up slowly, his rings tickling against your bare skin. “lie on your back. i fuckin’ need more.”

satoru fucks you for hours.

any position you could even think of, he’s doing it.

both stacked bodies glisten with sheets of sweat as they rut back and forth against each other, fingers merrily intertwined. he’s determined to get you pregnant and your moans only fuel him. the rowdy snaps of his vigorous hips only grew stronger.

his stamina, you’re blinking, wondering if he’s even human. despite the drops of perspiration tearing from the sides of his face and his heaving long breaths, satoru showed no signs of fatigue.

he was drilling his thick cock into you again and again—giving you orgasm after orgasm.

your toes curl as you’re trying to keep up with him but it’s to no avail. weighty balls continue to rigorously slam into your core as you’re currently in mating press. the compressing weight of satoru melting against you makes you whine.

he’s so warm, and with the way he’s breathing down your neck, babbling how he’s gonna make you the most prettiest mommy in the world makes your cunt throb. “you’re so pretty like this,” he moans into your neck, his thrusts becoming weak yet again.

globs of cum dribble from your pussy as he’s right between your thighs, his cock springing up. he hisses at the feeling, feeling your arms wrap around his back. satoru groans at the twinge near his extensor muscles that flex.

you gave him scratches that ran all down his back. he pays for your weekly manicures just so you can paint his back with scratches with your pretty acrylics.

his pretty girl.

you’re a stammering mess, plugged all the way up with such creamy thin ropes and your body was already limp. with his dick still delved inside, satoru grabs your chin—pressing another kiss against your lips. you moan, twisting and tangling your balmy hot tongue with his before he presses a hand down on your tummy. you whine in his mouth, skimming your crumped up fingers down his little undercut.

satoru groans at the feeling of your digits toying with the back part of his hair. “s- satoru,” you speak between kisses in short gasps for air. your ankle brushes up and down his back and it makes him grunt - your touch made him weak. “ ‘m so full, fuck.”

“yeah you fuckin’ are, sweetheart,” he licks near your bottom lip.

satoru’s body was so hot against yours, even while he was fully milked out he was still stuffing you full. the sheets were a mess, but he didn’t care in the slightest. his cerulean-blue eyes rove down towards your chest before he leans down. you stare at him, panting—and that’s when he latches his tongue against your neglected tits.

so perfect,

he makes sure to lather viscous strings of saliva on both of them, including your sensitive perky nipples. “mhm.” he groans, feeling your fingers fish through his white tangled strands. he’s sucking on each of your breasts with the most stupidest pussy drunken grin.

after a few seconds, he removes his spit-slick lips, a string of saliva following before he gazes up at you. with a sly worn out gaze, he cups both of your tits with his hands, giving them a good squeeze. “aw. my girls are gonna be full of milk soon,” and satoru kisses near your chin, your forehead, your cheek, and then finally, your lips.

you return the wet sultry kiss before he abruptly pulls away, holding your chin. “can’t wait to be a daddy, darlin,” he says in a gruff drowsy voice. you watch as he gradually pulls out, moving his head down toward your bare tummy. satoru presses a kiss near your navel before his eyes stare right back up at you.

“now let’s wait for this pretty ‘lil bump, hm?”

7K notes · View notes

sttoru · 8 months ago

Text

·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you leave megumi with your husband so you can make them breakfast. you quickly realise that that might have backfired.

wc. around 1.3k

tags. dad!toji x wife!female reader. fluff. reader gets called ‘mama’ by both toji & megumi. half beta read.

“ow, careful there, brat.”

your husband’s deep voice echoes from within the bathroom. you’ve left megumi in his care this morning so you’d be able to make breakfast in peace. toji was all grumpy about it, since he had to wake up early when he had no work, but eventually agreed to your proposal.

you hum your favorite song while frying eggs. the sizzling in the pan did help avert your attention from toji’s grunts of annoyance somewhere in the distance, though only for a couple seconds. your hear your child’s laughter slip between the noises of aggravation. it piques your interest.

“one more time and i’m putting y’r ass in time out,” toji’s deep voice sounds muffled. he sounds rather serious about whatever is bothering him.

you turn the stove off and walk towards the hallway, standing at the doorframe as you look in the direction of the bathroom. you tilt your head and try your best to pick up on snippets of the conversation between your husband and son.

the sound of bottles dropping on the floor is the first thing that allows you to guess that megumi’s acting up. you know how mischievous your little toddler can get, especially at his age. toji isn’t one to gentle parent his kid—he tries to, of course, but sometimes he can’t help but be a bit rough.

“megumi fushiguro.”

you raise your eyebrows as toji uses your child’s full name. he rarely does, only when he’s really upset or about to lose his marbles. you decide to see what was going on for yourself. you walk towards the bathroom, cleaning your hands against the material of your apron. you knock once before pushing the door open.

you stick your head through the little gap, ready to identify the cause of the commotion. the first thing you notice is the chaos on the floor; bottles, tubes, toothbrushes, and all other kinds of products lay cluttered on the bathroom tiles.

your eyes then land on your husband’s broad and scarred back, “hey, honey. did something hap—”

your voice trails off once toji turns around, revealing the jaw dropping scene. nearly his entire face is covered in loads of shaving cream and even his black hair hasn’t escaped the soft foam.

the bathroom counter is completely wet, and the water runs down the edges in small drops. the culprit of this entire scene is sitting right on that same counter, clapping his dirty hands together that were smeared with toji’s shaving cream.

you blink and walk towards the two. you can’t possibly be mad at the sight, finding toji’s situation more funny than worrisome. You try to act serious and clear your throat, “uh, yeah. so what’s happened here?”

your husband rolls his eyes and nods his head at the little boy in front of him, who’s giggling and kicking his legs. toji tries to wipe the shaving cream from his nose, attempting to get it out of his hair as well, “i tried to be a good dad and include him in my morning routine, that’s what.”

the man clicks his tongue as he now realises how dumb of a mistake that was, “gave him the opportunity to put some shaving foam on my jaw ‘n the brat totally blew it. started attackin’ me with the stuff.”

toji grumbles. he wipes away the foam that got on the mirror afterwards. it’s nearly gotten everywhere. he lightly nudges megumi’s forehead with a scoff, “never again, y’hear? the little shit can’t sit still for even one second.”

that explains the stuff on the floor. you know that megumi could grow bored easily if he isn’t the centre of attention. he’d start doing anything to be the focus of his parents. toji probably didn’t pay him much mind, wanting to get his morning routine over with.

“language, honey.” you sigh and look down at megumi who’s still reaching his messy hands up to his dad.

toji huffs and leans back, not giving the little boy a chance to put more shaving cream on his face. he’s learnt his lesson; kids do not understand it when you tell them to ‘only put a little bit’.

megumi whines and threatens to throw a tantrum. you notice that immediately and try to keep his mind off things by picking him up. you turn on the faucet and try to wash his little hands, “c’mon. give mama your hands.”

the little boy shakes his head furiously, squirming in your embrace in attempt to get away. you sigh and grab his little wrists gently. you lower him to the sink, trying your best to wash away the shaving cream as the first step of solving this grande mess.

“no, mama!” megumi is stubborn as he voices his complains. toji watches from a distance whilst he struggles to clean the overload of shaving cream from his face.

you make the mistake of letting go of your child’s wrists to grab a washcloth. megumi takes his chance and pats his messy hands against your face, leaving you no space to process what he’s doing.

your mind takes a second before you realise what’s happening, “hey! quit it, ‘gumi.”

you try to grab ahold of megumi’s tiny hands again, but they move too fast for you. plus, he’s pretty skilled at avoiding yours. you can feel the foam slowly cover your entire face; from your jaw and cheeks, to your nose and forehead.

it was inevitable at this point.

“toji, do something,” you grunt and struggle to contain the energetic toddler in your arms. you take a peek at your husband and find him grinning at the predicament you’ve gotten yourself in.

toji simply shrugs and enjoys the fact that you’re experiencing exactly what he had experienced just moments ago. seeing you struggle to contain your disobedient child only proves that his parenting skills are not the problem in this situation, your toddler is.

“ye did that to y’rself, mama.” toji hums in amusement. he leans against the wall, the blue towel now loosely hanging off head after he’s given up on getting the foam out of his hair, “now y’know what i’m talkin’ about. he’s a lil’ monster.”

megumi squeals in victory after he’s gotten both his parents covered in shaving cream. you want to say something to your child, but you’re at a loss for words. even now, you cannot bring yourself to be mad at him. he’s just a kid who’s having fun with his parents.

“i made mama pretty! hehe.” megumi grins and encourages you to look in the mirror. he points at your reflection and awaits the words of confirmation. his blue eyes look up at you, nearly sparkling with joy, admiring how pretty he’s made you look with that white foam all over your face.

toji joins in on the fun. he comes to stand behind you, looking at you through the mirror. he snickers, already forgotten about his irritations that occurred in the first place. he nods in approval at megumi’s words, “gotta agree, son. y’r mama looks much prettier like this.”

your husband’s teasing comment adds fuel to the fire. though again, you cannot bring yourself to be upset at the situation.

you look at the reflection in the dirty mirror. you all may appear disheveled due to the foamy mess on your bodies—and yet even at that moment—the only thing you actually manage to see is a happy family of three.

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #toji x reader #jjk fluff #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x you #jjk x you #toji x y/n #jjk x y/n #female reader #divider by cafekitsune

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nereidprinc3ss · 8 months ago

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do you believe me now? | 2

in which fem!reader is feeling insecure about how inexperienced she is around spencer's friends and seeks his expertise to amend the problem

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: inexperienced reader, oral f receiving, (MUNCH!SPENCE RETURNS), fingering, (very) insecure reader, softdom!spencer, sub reader, nipple stuff, kinda sorta implied age gap, god i'm probably forgetting things pls lmk if i missed something important a/n: i've been laboring at this bad boy every day for so long i had to immediately post once it was completed lol. there will be a part three ... maybe i already started it ..... anyway i love u guys and i hope this is a satisfactory part two!! PLS lmk if you liked it!! hearing from u makes my day :')

When Spencer dropped you off at Penelope’s apartment for your first girl’s night—the hostess had promised you, JJ, and Emily lots of gossip sans 'icky men'—you had been ecstatic. You wouldn’t stop rambling to him about how excited you were.

When he picks you up two and a half hours later, he can hardly get a word out of you.

It’s not his fault, of course—well, not really, anyway. It’s just that all the girls had wanted to talk about was sex. A topic on which you held very little expertise and had essentially nothing to contribute. Out of the four, you were the only non-FBI agent, the youngest, and undoubtedly the least experienced. It was like high school all over again, except you actually desperately wanted to impress Spencer’s friends. All in all, you weaseled your way out of sharing without giving away that you were still very much a virgin. Sure, you could have said ‘we did hand stuff two weeks ago’, but you had a feeling these women wouldn’t consider that very impressive.

But you can’t easily relay that information to Spencer—even when he immediately picks up on your sullen mood. He asks you what’s wrong as you make your way down the echoey staircase, but you hold back, muttering something along the lines of we’ll talk about it later.

Later doesn’t come on the sidewalk outside. It doesn’t come in the car, or at any point during the twenty minute drive, but you feel it rapidly approaching as you climb the stairs to Spencer’s apartment. He unlocks the door and holds it open for you, doesn’t speak as you kick off your shoes and wander aimlessly into the living room.

“Did you eat?” He finally asks, hanging his keys on a hook by the door and glancing over to where you linger in the center of the room like a ghost.

“Not hungry.”

You both know that wasn’t the question, but he lets it go.

“Alright... well, I was thinking—“

“Why haven’t we had sex?”

The question flies from your mouth before you can stop it. It tastes like metal and you wish you could take it back as you stand there, cheeks hot and awaiting a reply. It seems you’ve thoroughly astonished Spencer as he gapes at you like a fish out of water for several silent moments, eventually opting to shove his hands in his pockets and shake his head at the wall as he processes the question.

“I… I don’t know. We just haven’t. Does that bother you?”

Suddenly your whole body feels intolerably warm. Your fingers twitch against your thighs. Of course it bothers you.

“Do you just not want to? You aren’t attracted to me like that?”

God, you despise how fragile your voice sounds—how much you obviously care, how insecure you clearly are. Spencer picks up on it, despite your most fervent wishing that he wouldn’t, and approaches, stopping a few feet away. You stare at the span of oriental design on the floor between your feet.

“That’s not at all what I said, angel. I wish you wouldn’t put words in my mouth.”

“Well, then… say something else,” you plead quietly, childishly, still unable to meet his eyes. Prove me wrong.

He sighs, which does not bode well for you. You wonder if you accidentally triggered the early demise of your relationship and christ do you wish you could rewind. When he steps closer, when his hands find your arms, you’re not sure where to look. But the low, sweet tone of his voice entices you to finally meet his gaze, charmed like a snake as his eyes dart between yours.

“You know that’s not how I feel.”

You shake your head earnestly, looking up at him with wide eyes as he slowly rubs your arms.

“No. No, I don’t know that.”

Spencer frowns, glancing at your lips as he speaks. It’s impossible to not do the same when he’s standing so close.

“But I’ve told you. I don’t understand how you couldn’t know how far from the truth that is.”

You think back to two weeks ago—the first and only time he’d ever done anything more than kiss you. A different kind of flush replaces the shameful one in your cheeks as you try to make your case and not get distracted by the memories of his hands all over you.

“So why won’t you prove it?”

It’d been intended to come out cool, but instead you sound a little desperate, a little out of breath as you realize you and Spencer somehow ended up so close to each other you can feel the warmth radiating from his body.

“Is that what you need from me? More proof?”

He speaks so lowly, his fingers press into the flesh of your arms portentously, and you think maybe you’ve poked the bear one too many times. But you won’t back down now—not when you think you might actually get what you want.

So you look up at him and nod, throat too dry to speak. His eyes are deceptively soft, but you don’t miss the big bad something lurking just beneath the surface of the placid hazel.

“And how do you think I should prove it?”

“I told you what I want,” you whisper, speaking above your pounding heart.

“Not tonight, honey. Choose something else.”

“Well—that’s not fair,” you stammer, “the whole point is for you to want to have sex with me.”

Spencer smiles a little, tucking hair behind your ear. “I do want that. I promise you I do. But there are other things I want us to do first.”

“Then I want to do that, too! I just—I don’t know what I’m doing, and you do, and I’m already out on a limb by asking for this much. I know this is what I want but I need you to take the lead here. I trust you, Spencer.” You top off the monologue with an imploring gaze—hoping it delivers even a fraction of the impact that his puppy-dog eyes always have on you.

He seems to study every square inch of your face as you wait in suspense for him to say something. At long last, his lips part—to no avail for several more seconds as he regards you.

When the words finally do come, they’re an immense relief of pressure.

“You’re going to promise me that you’ll communicate honestly. That means telling me if we need to slow down or stop, or if you don’t like something—”

“I promise,” you say, perhaps over-eagerly, offering him your extended little finger.

An incredulous smile narrows his eyes.

“Is this a pinky-promise?”

“It is.” You wiggle the finger in emphasis, and he shakes his head, smiling wider as you link pinkies.

“I left you with Garcia for far too long.”

You shush him, disentangling your hands to cup his jaw and press your lips to his. It’s sweet and smiley until it isn’t—until everything slows down like sticky molasses and his hand is ghosting over your cheek, your neck, the curve of your waist, finally substantiating itself on your hip—the other encouraging you to tilt your head back as he deepens the kiss and you feel yourself melting under the heat of his touch.

The pressure of his body against yours builds until you’re forced to take a step back, and then another, and another. Without question you allow yourself to be herded toward the bedroom, walked slowly backward as he keeps kissing you and blindly trusting he’ll make sure you don’t run in to anything. The bedroom door clicks shut behind him, and it is in all practicality a pointless gesture—but you find it incredibly comforting nonetheless.

It’s too warm beneath your sweater and his hands are cool as they slip under the hem, sliding against the curve of your hip. Spencer’s never seen you without a shirt, you realize, as he pulls away from the kiss by only centimeters.

“Off?” he mutters, thumbing at the knit fabric. And while you’re far from confident, you’ve certainly been making progress in this area. You help him tug it over your head without a word, noting a distinct and surprising lack of terror within yourself as you watch for his reaction to you. Hands glide slowly up your waist and you find yourself enchanted by the slight furrow of his brow, the parting of his lips. He traces down the lacy edge of your bra, skimming sensitive skin as he goes.

“Pretty,” he murmurs. “You’re… so pretty.”

It seems you’ve rendered him uncharacteristically prosaic. The reaction might be underwhelming if it were anyone else—but Spencer Reid is a man who probably knows every synonym for pretty in the English language. Looking at you, he can’t think of a single one. In an odd way, it’s the highest compliment he could pay you. Your cheeks heat and your stomach flips as he drags a knuckle up the center of the cup, and you can feel it through the layers of lace and fabric. He leans forward, ghosting his lips over yours and continuing to run his fingers over the sensitive spot. “Do you know how pretty you are?”

This is one argument you will not be winning—one he’ll keep bringing up at the most inopportune times until he gets his way.

“Spencer…”

“Don’t Spencer me. I’m asking you a question.”

The words don’t seem nearly as harsh as they really are when they’re delivered velvet-soft, with his lips and hands on you—when he’s so deftly popping the button on your jeans and dragging the zipper down with all the quickness of a slight-of-hand. It makes it hard to focus, even harder to speak.

“We have… we have differing views on this matter.”

Generous handfuls of your hips and ass are taken as he helps you tug down your jeans before you kick them off, now left just in your underwear.

“I thought I argued my point fairly well last time you were here. You didn’t learn anything from that?”

“Mm… maybe you just need to remind me.”

“Oh, I think I have to,” he agrees through a smile you can only hear. Gentle fingers skim up your back and tap the clasp of your bra. “How about this? Can we take this off?”

Any confidence from earlier crumbles and you loose a nervous hum—which is not the enthusiastic yes you’re sure Spencer will be seeking all evening. He pulls away, features etched with the beginnings of concern and a searching gaze. Asking would be unnecessary; the words simply come tumbling out of you.

“What if you don’t like how I look?”

Spencer doesn’t even blink.

“That’s not going to happen.”

How you wish you could have the same assuredness in yourself that he seems to.

“But what if… what if you’ve been with other girls who are more, like—I don’t know, just—better? Prettier?”

“Honey, you’re—” a sigh, a pause as he searches for the words—his eyes dart up and down your form, assessing, and when he looks back up at you, they’ve cleared and softened. He pulls you a little closer, rubbing circles into your back with his thumb. “I’m not thinking about anyone else right now. I’m not interested in anyone else right now. I already think you’re perfect, and I’m going to keep thinking that regardless of how you look. When I look at you, I’m not looking for things to critique. Do you understand me?”

As far as sentiments go, it’s a nice one. But the pressure of being seen still feels like an impossible burden. You whine, leaning your head against Spencer’s chest. He accepts your weight and runs his hand over your back as you look up at him.

“But what if I’m hideously deformed?”

His eyebrows raise.

“You’re not.”

“But what if I am?”

“Okay. It seems like you don’t feel ready yet, which is completely fine, we just won’t—”

“No!” you protest. “I am ready. I am. But… you have to promise to be nice to me no matter what. Or break up with me if you don’t like what you see so I don't have to wonder.”

“You’re ridiculous,” he says, kissing you, “and the only thing I’m willing to promise is that I’ll think you’re perfect. Me being nice will come as a natural byproduct of that which is very different than being nice by artifice. Take it or leave it.”

A moment of hesitance—but it’s short-lived. This is more important than your insecurities. Spencer is more important.

“Take it,” you mumble against his lips. His fingers trace up the smooth skin of your back, all the way to the fabric and metal hooks on your bra.

“Thank you.”

You wouldn’t have thought Spencer’s genius would manifest in being really good at undoing the clasp of a bra, but you can truly say you’re impressed by the ease with which he does it. It falls to the floor, leaving you completely shirtless for the first time in front of him.

“Well?” you murmur, arms crossed defensively underneath your chest, because you understand overtop would sort of ruin the whole thing. “What’s the verdict?”

“You,” Spencer manages after a moment—you literally watch him memorizing every square inch of your body— “are ridiculously beautiful.”

The way his voice gets quieter makes your stomach flip. It sounds genuine. Too genuine to be faked.

“So… no breakup?”

It seems that the more vulnerable you feel, the less likely you are to take a compliment. Spencer, who is always seeking patterns, probably recognizes this one, and doesn’t push you so hard this time. After a silent moment, he sighs and cradles your face in his hands.

“You’re gorgeous. I hate how incapable you are of seeing that. We’re going to talk about this.”

“Yeah, but not right now, right?” you murmur, standing up on your tiptoes to kiss him.

“Not right now,” he agrees.

His lips are so soft and gentle against your own it feels like love, it feels like being talked down from the ledge of your own insanity. Somehow the way he strokes your hip feels more nurturing than sexual. It’s like he has sex and chaste affection on tap, able to turn them on and off at will. You’re happy to drown in either. Ideally, both.

After a while, his hands begin roaming farther, become bolder in their excursions over your flesh. Up, down, over your waist and ribs. Clearly Spencer had been trying to ease you into it, but you still can’t hide your sharp inhalation when his thumbs graze the sensitive skin of your breasts. He pulls his lips from yours, hands splayed over your sides.

“Sit down.”

It’s much too gentle to be a command, but you frown.

“Without you?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he chuckles, lightly squeezing your waist. “Just sit. Utilize patience.”

You sit on the edge of the bed with an atypical reticence—you’re just a little too nervous for a snippy comeback. Spencer picks up on this, features softening sympathetically as he undoes his tie with nimble fingers. It lands somewhere on the bed and he leans over you, resting his weight on his fists and offering you a quick kiss. His voice is soft and designed to soothe as he speaks, mere inches away from your face, and so quiet it could only be heard at this range.

“Are you nervous?” Cloth from the duvet pinches between your fingers. For a moment you don’t reply, dropping your head to watch when Spencer runs his hand over your thigh. “It’s okay if you’re feeling anxious, baby. We don’t have to do anything tonight.”

You expel a frustrated huff.

“I want to. Just because I’m nervous doesn’t mean I don’t want this. I can handle a little bit of anxiety.”

He hums, dropping to a crouch and inserting himself directly in your line of sight.

“I know you can. But you don’t always have to push yourself so hard.”

“I’m fine pushing myself a little. I pinky-promised I would tell you if I wanted to stop, remember?”

“Oh, how could I forget a pinky-promise?” he smiles.

How could you forget anything, you think, becoming flushed and silently insolent at his dulcet teasing.

“Please, do something.” It’s a whisper, brushing his lips as you lean down until you’re nose to nose. His hands are on the back of your legs.

“I’m working on it.”

“It doesn’t look like it.”

“You’re smart, angel. Tell me why I've got you naked on my bed and I’m kneeling in front of you. Where could I possibly be taking this?”

Oh, you have a pretty strong inkling—but you’re scared to voice it and be wrong. Instead of risking it you shake your head slowly, shyly. What you’re not expecting is for Spencer to duck his head down, slide his hands up the side of your thighs and press kisses to the delicate skin there. It feels good—better than you’d have thought.

“You don’t know?” he asks, looking up at you through burnished gold-rimmed pupils. “No guesses?”

“No guesses,” you agree breathlessly, hotter than you were when you had your clothes on and all the energy in your body condensed into one point between your legs. Spencer hums like he’s considering your answer, smoothing his thumbs over the soft skin of your thighs so gently it feels like burning.

“I don’t think you’re being entirely truthful. Lie back, sweetheart.”

You do as you’re told, scooting up on the mattress and falling back on your elbows. Spencer wastes no time in climbing over you, leaving you in much the same position as the last time you’d been in his bed. The sheets feel cool against your bare skin, but he is exceptionally warm and solid over you.

“I’m being honest.” Lie. “I don’t know what you’re going to do.”

Lips find the most sensitive spot of your neck, dancing over it torturously. The front of his shirt brushes your chest. Your thighs clamp together.

“I don't like being lied to. Just say it, baby. I know you know.”

“Spencer,” you whine, fists bunching the excess fabric around his waist. Warm breath condensates on the skin of your neck as he chuckles.

“You don’t like being teased, huh?”

“Please, Spence,” you whisper. You notice the pattern of his breathing pause momentarily before it all comes rushing out at once—and you catalogue that particular plea for later usage.

“I can’t say no when you ask me like that.”

You push your fingers into his soft hair.

“I know.”

It was a lucky guess.

He’s still for a moment, relishing the feeling of your hands in his hair, before darting up to kiss you.

“I’m going to use my mouth this time,” he murmurs against your lips. Though you knew that was what he intended, your heart stumbles in its perpetual march. “Is that okay?”

“What if I…”

You trail off. This is a very intimate situation which you’re not quite sure you have delicate enough language for. Or maybe you’re just stalling. Either way, Spencer is eternally patient with you.

“You need to stop worrying so much, pretty girl. I’d love to do this for you. But it’s your call.”

“Love is a pretty strong word.”

“Sometimes I think not strong enough.”

The way he’s looking down at you so tenderly, brushing hair from your face, makes you think maybe he’s not just talking about how much he would love to go down on you. Regardless, it fortifies your trust in him. Spencer is the kindest person you know. He’s so clearly an enthusiastic giver. Why not allow him to give you this?

“Okay,” you breathe. “You can—yeah.”

As usual, you’re impressively awkward, but he doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, you think he not-so-secretly delights in being the one to fluster instead of the other way around. Rarely has he mentioned his past romantic and sexual exploits, but gathering bits and pieces, you assume he was a fairly late bloomer. He probably knows what it’s like to be nervous and so deeply unsure of yourself.

“Do you remember what you promised me?” he whispers, pressing butterfly-light kisses to your jaw. Your eyes flutter shut as his lips traverse down your neck, teeth skimming over the delicate skin while your breath catches.

“Mhm.”

“You’re not gonna break that promise, are you?”

His voice, soft and muffled by your skin, is the most exhilarating and disorienting high. Your entire body buzzes with anticipation, satisfied only where his lips soothe and his body presses against yours. It takes a moment for you to remember to reply.

“No.”

Reward comes in the form of his thumb brushing over the peak of your breast at the same time as he murmurs, “good girl.”

Your stomach flips at the endearment—you squeak and arch into him slightly. Spencer’s hand slides down your ribs as he chuckles, lips pressed just above your collarbone.

“You’ve never called me that before,” you shudder as he continues kissing over your neck.

“It’s not appropriate in most conversational contexts. But I can tell you’ve always been good.”

“Really? How?”

Spencer pauses, pushing himself up to regard you with searching eyes. The places he’d kissed feel cold without him.

“I just can. You’re thinking too much, baby. I need your focus on me.”

“It is on you,” you huff.

You watch his expression shift minutely. He loves games. Of course he’d love playing with you. That knowledge is why you’re only partially surprised when his thumb catches on your nipple again.

“Is it? You’re only thinking about how it feels when I touch you here?”

A stammering nod.

He toys with the sensitive flesh only a second more, amusement lighting his eyes, before dragging his hand down, down, down until it’s between your legs. Fingers trail over your clothed core, skimming the most sensitive part of you while your breath hitches.

“Tell me how it feels when I touch you here.”

“Really good,” you admit, a heavy exhale escaping parted lips as he pins you with his gaze.

“Really good, right. I can make it feel even better. Do you want me to make it feel better?”

Your thighs drop fully open and he adds just a bit more pressure until you’re pushing against his hand in search of more friction.

“Yes please.”

“Then no more questions. I need you to trust me.”

Your answer is a breathy, dreamy sigh—you’d do anything, say anything for him.

“Okay.”

Spencer kisses you, absorbing your noises of protest as his hand ceases between your legs and settles on your hip. But you’re trusting him. No whiny complaining. No unnecessary questions.

Things go much quicker once you’re not interrupting him every twenty seconds to say something. His lips reattach to your neck, retracing their path (albeit quicker) until he’s below your collarbone. You watch in rapt fascination, twisted brows and parted lips as he peppers kisses down over your breast before dragging his tongue over your nipple. A jolted little moan spills out because you hadn’t been prepared to hold one in. Waves of hair fall over Spencer’s face, obscuring him from your vision, but you don’t think to push it away—your body is too busy processing the sensation to be much use on any other front. He darts his tongue over the peaked flesh, eliciting more little open-mouthed exhalations of pleasure from you. Earlier you hadn’t really thought it necessary for your bra to come off—you had no idea this could actually feel so good. A moment later he begins toying with the other nipple and you gasp as a bolt of heat goes straight to your core.

You curse, further words catching in your throat as he suddenly switches, mouthing at your other breast and letting the cold air chill the other until you have goosebumps. It feels a little like hypnosis—you’re unable to move or speak as his tongue laves over you. Soon he’s replacing his mouth with a thumb again, sucking a mark onto your tit just above your nipple. You whimper a little at the pleasant brutality of it, hoping as he releases that it won’t soon fade. Spencer swipes over the stinging skin and presses a tender kiss to it, almost like an apology—but you sincerely doubt he’s actually sorry.

Then he resumes his descent, leaving soft kisses down between your breasts, over your ribcage and stomach—when he reaches your hips, he doesn’t pull off your underwear all at once. Rather, he slides the fabric down centimeter by centimeter, kissing the revealed skin like it’s precious.

This time you don’t need to be told to lift your hips. He helps you slip the final piece of clothing down and off of your legs, flinging it somewhere blindly before getting comfortable between your thighs once more. Your heart pounds with arousal and anxiety as his arms wrap around your thighs and his hands rub up and down the tops of them slowly.

“God, you’re fucking beautiful,” he mumbles, loosening his hold on one leg to thumb at your folds. They glisten in the dim light of his bedroom as he gently reveals your clit. A soft whine escapes you when he nudges at the aching bud, slipping over it a few times and alleviating a bit of the pressure that’s been building. “Shh, baby. I know. I’m gonna take care of it. You’re being so good for me.”

Fuck. The way he talks to you makes your brain turn to mush—you’re utterly incapable of forming an intelligent thought. Spencer has rendered you a complete idiot, and you’re not upset about it in the slightest.

He presses more gentle kisses to the creases between your thighs, just above your clit—everywhere except for where you need him most. Everything aches for him in the best way and at least you’re too turned on to be very insecure anymore. All you want is relief. But you’re trusting him.

Thankfully, he delivers.

The tip of his tongue grazes so lightly over your clit that if you weren’t this worked up you may not have felt it at all. In your current state, however, the stimulation echoes through every atom of your being. Every muscle is tense, frozen in place—you can’t even breathe for a second. He does it again, a little flatter, with a little more pressure, and you whimper. It’s a delicate thing, almost pained and definitely overwhelmed as he gently begins working his tongue against you. Your head cranes up to watch, your jaw drops. Approximations of curse words try to form, but come out only as, “f-fu—oh,” so whiny and soft it doesn’t even sound like you. He hums sympathetically, but you suspect it morphs into a chuckle as you continue to gasp and mewl.

There are times where you can hold back sounds of pleasure. When you’re by yourself, it’s typically not a problem. Two weeks ago when Spencer was knuckle deep in you for the first time, it had certainly been a challenge, and you’d pretty much given up. But this—this is something else entirely. It feels like religion. It feels like compulsion. Even if you had the slightest modicum of control over yourself, which you currently don’t, you wouldn’t want to keep quiet. You want him to know what he’s doing to you.

So you let every cry, every whine and whimper drag from your lungs, unbidden and unshaped. You’re new at this, after all—every broad lick feels so good that you have no fucking idea what do to with your hands or how to stop rolling your hips or how to censor your sounds.

“Spencer,” you keen in one of the moments you remember to breathe. He moans against you, taking you into his mouth and sucking lightly. Your hips buck. “Oh, my—fuck!”

The hand that’s still around your thigh rubs soothing lines up and down. The one that’s spreading you open pulls your folds apart a little bit further, granting him more access to your clit. He flicks his tongue and you almost come then and there, vision going gray for a split second.

“Wait, wait, Spence—“ you squeak, writhing and trying not to squeeze your thighs together for fear of hurting him. He pulls back and looks up at you, lips shining with your slick and eyes glazed with lust. Fuckfuckfuck he looks so fucking good. “Please, just… slow down, or I’m gonna… or it’s gonna be over.”

The corner of his mouth twitches as he rubs circles into your inner thigh.

“It’s over when you say it’s over. You don’t have a refractory period. We don’t have to stop at one.”

“Oh—you don’t—you don’t have to do that,” you stammer.

“I know I don’t have to. But if you want me to, I want to. You taste so good, angel girl.”

Well, shit.

He looks absurdly sexy between your legs like this. You have no idea how you got so lucky, but you don’t plan on taking it for granted. Your fingers tangle in his hair.

“I don’t know if I can do more than one,” you admit shyly, slightly embarrassed by how little you know about yourself and in general compared to Spencer. Hazel eyes sparkle in the warm light.

“How about we start with one and see how it feels?”

Your voice is breathy when you respond, “okay,” already impatient for him to get back to it. Spencer seems just as eager, immediately kissing between your legs with a passion that makes your lips jealous.

The flat of his tongue presses circles against you and your hips buck, already ramping up to that point you’d been at before calling a time-out. Slowly his fingers find their way to your entrance and he teases you with them, dipping in to the first knuckle before withdrawing again. If you could form words, you’d beg him to just do it already, but all you can manage is an affronted whine as you tilt your hips down, hoping he catches the meaning.

Of course he does—pushing two fingers inside you at once. The intrusive stretch adds a sharp edge to the pleasure, makes it more interesting, as your brain short-circuits and you choke out a moan. It only takes a few slow pumps of his fingers in tandem with the pressure of his tongue until your hips are writhing and you’re and mewling desperately, more overwhelmed with pleasure than you’ve ever been. You push his hair back, able to see him for the first time, and fully appreciate the hollow of his cheeks, the way he looks up at you with perfect, glassy half-lidded eyes, the rhythm of his hand and tongue—he takes your clit between his lips once more, sucking lightly, and you’re done for. A pornographic sob escapes from deep within you as you come, but he doesn’t stop. The orgasm lasts longer than you knew one could—although, it’s only your second time, so you don’t exactly have a lot of data to go off of. Your entire body feels warm and floaty, and what he’s doing feels so good you want him even deeper—but you know he won’t give you that yet. Instead you focus on the slow burn of your orgasm, allowing him to carry on for a while until you begin slowly drifting back to earth and it becomes a bit too much. He recognizes the barely-there whine for what it is and pulls his fingers from you carefully, pressing one final kiss to your clit that makes your legs twitch and summons a weak little moan.

Spencer’s lips find other avenues, over the delicate skin of your thighs and hips and stomach as he slowly drags himself up again. By the time you’re face to face again you’re still breathing hard. You sort of feel like prey underneath his weight, studied so scrupulously, known far more intimately by him than anyone has ever known you before. But there is so much light and kindness in the way he looks at you that you almost can’t make sense of it.

Maybe it’s possible to be known and still wanted. The possibility spins like a coin on its edge in your mind. An idea you spent so much time trying to nurture and is only just now beginning to sprout. Maybe someone could see you at your most vulnerable, and still find you worthy of kindness. Appreciation. Affection.

Spencer certainly could, it seems, as he ducks down to kiss you. You dodge it, turning your head demurely. He nudges his head against yours, speaking so, so softly, utterly cloying as he teases, “what? You’re not gonna kiss me now? Is that how it is?”

“No!” you balk, equally as quiet and especially bashful. “Not when you… no.”

“Let me kiss you,” he pleads, so earnestly you turn your head back to face him. His big eyes are hazy, reflecting all the warmth and dizziness you feel. “Let me kiss you. Please.”

You whine.

“I don’t wanna… taste… myself.”

Spencer doesn’t miss a beat.

“Hm. We’ll need to work on that. Because one day, I’ll make you come just like that again, and then I’m going to fuck you, and you’re really going to want me to kiss you then, angel.”

Something flickers in your core.

Suddenly you’re not so squeamish. You really want him to kiss you now. But it seems he’s going to have his fun, first.

“Open.” Without even thinking about it, your lips part. He really ought to be careful with what he tells you to do—you’re all too compliant. Even as his fingers slip between your lips, you’re obediently hollowing your cheeks around them, watching him with big eyes as his own mouth falls slightly open. “Oh, baby,” he croons. “What are we gonna do with you?”

That flicker has returned to a full-fledged throbbing once you open your mouth again, slightly dizzy from lack of oxygen.

“Can you make me come again right now?” you whisper, grasping lightly at his shirt. He grins like he loves the idea—and you let him have his way, accepting his lips on yours with no complaint. After a few moments, (the taste is surprisingly unobtrusive), he pulls away.

“I would love to.”

part three

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds smut

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traveler-at-heart · 1 month ago

Text

Good Luck Babe

Summary: Wanda's boyfriend is the biggest asshole you've ever met. You think she'll choose you in the end.

Wanda Romanoff x F!R, eventual Natasha Romanoff x F!R

A/N: Don't be fooled by the summary, this is a Natasha Romanoff x R fic

Classes can be a drag. Especially the early mornings, where not even a cup of coffee can make you focus.

And then, there’s Wanda Maximoff, looking at the professor as she speaks, diligently taking notes while looking perfect, as usual.

She catches you staring and you have to look away, pretending that you weren’t just wondering how she manages to look effortlessly beautiful.

Class is dismissed and you take a minute to pack your things, preparing for the next session. You try not to roll your eyes as you find Wanda with her idiot boyfriend right at the door. As usual, they take up too much space, and you have to push one of them aside.

“Coming through, princess”

You don’t have to look back to know Wanda glares at you, annoyed at the nickname.

To be fair, the first time you used it you thought you were both involved in playful banter. Hell, you even meant it to be flirty, but she took great offense in it, which was the case with most things you did, whether they were aimed at her or not.

It was pretty clear she hated your guts. You just didn’t know why.

——

“I don’t know what her problem is” Wanda says, the music loudly booming across the house.

“What?” Jarvis says, leaning forward because he didn’t hear a word Wanda said. Partly due to the loud music and also because he’s looking at other girls, albeit discreetly.

“Y/N. She’s always being a total ass” the girl says, watching as you enter the house, avoiding her stare.

“She’s just jealous because you’re so pretty” he says and that’s enough to distract Wanda.

Across the room, you curse under your breath at the sight of the Maximoff girl. God, you hate her stupid boyfriend. Always runnig his mouth to his friends about Wanda, telling them private things… you’d overheard them at a bar once and it took every ounce of your being not to kill him right then and there.

Not to mention, the rumoured affairs that everyone knew about. Everyone, but Wanda, that is.

“You made it!” Carol greets you, and then follows your gaze. “Ugh, that guy’s the worst”

“Agree” you nod, turning to look at her. “Shots?”

“Hell, yeah” your friend says, taking you to the kitchen where Val is pouring some alcohol.

To your relief, you get to avoid Wanda for the entirety of the night, and as your friends arrive you quickly forget what had soured your mood in the first place.

Wanda, on the other hand, is not having such a great time. At some point while she was chatting with Pepper, she lost sight of Jarvis and can’t seem to find him anywhere. Knowing Stark could get crazy ideas, she worries that they might be doing something reckless so she goes around the house, looking for her boyfriend.

She’s expecting everything but seeing him with his pants around his ankles while a girl Wanda doesn’t even know gives him head.

“Wanda!” Jarvis shouts, startled.

“That’s not my name” the girl says, smiling playfully. “Or are we role playing?”

“I need to get out of here” Wanda says, closing the door.

Of course, he chases her down the hall, desperately sayig any excuse he can think of. Wanda tries to walk past him, but he blocks her from going downstairs.

“Don’t be so uptight about it” he loses his patience when Wanda refuses his apology. “Guys just need to do it more than girls, it meant nothing”

“You’re an ass” she says, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Wanda, don’t leave” he warns, as she finally walks around him to go to the first floor. The shouting makes some people turn around, and it’s almost impossible to ignore the commotion.

You’re standing next to Val and Darcy, unable to look away as the oh so happy couple keeps shouting at each other.

“Guess he got caught red handed this time” Darcy mutters. She and Wanda were friends but had a fallout and you suspected it had to do with Jarvis and his side pieces.

“Let go of me” Wanda insists when he takes her arm, pulling her close to him.

“People are staring, shut your fucking mouth”

“You’re hurting me” she protests, trying to losen his grip.

Maybe it’s the way she says it, so defeated or even scared, but those words make you snap, and you walk up to them, pushing Jarvis away.

“Stay out of it” he warns.

“Make me”

You are expecting the first punch so you dodge it in time, but he manages to land another one on your mouth, and you feel the taste of blood.

“You’re gonna regret this” you say, launching yourself forward until you knock him over, landing on a coffee table that breaks. Grabbing him by the shirt, you land two punches and go for a third one when he kicks you, making you gasp for air.

“That’s enough” Thor steps in, his brother looking delighted at the chaos. “You better leave”

Jarvis glares at him, but truth be told, Thor doesn’t like him and he is your friend. He leaves the Odinson house, cursing under his breath.

“I’m fine” you tell your friends as they bring over ice to put on your cheek.

“Want us to take you home?” Carol offers.

“It’s good” you say, shaking your head. “I should go, take some painkillers”

“Call us if you need anything”

“Ok” you pat Darcy’s back, leaving the house where everyone’s partying like nothing even happened.

As you walk to your car, you spot Wanda, sitting on the sidewalk, wiping away the tears that roll down her cheeks.

“You ok?” you ask, standing next to her.

“He’s an idiot. No, I’m the idiot for being with him” she rambles.

There’s a very sarcastic comment at the tip of yout tongue but you save it.

“Did he drove you here?” Wanda nods and you jiggle the car keys. “Come on, I’ll drive you to your dorm”

“I don’t want to be alone” Wanda hugs her knees, and in spite of everything, your heart aches for her.

“Any friends that can take you in for the night?” she shakes her head no and you sigh. “Wanna stay at my place?”

“Are you sure it’s ok?”

“Yeah, come on” you say, walking to the car. You drive in silence, eager to get home and put some more ice on the punch.

Wanda gets out of the car and follows you to the dorm you share with Carol, who usually stays with Val most nights.

“Take the bed” you say, handing over some clean clothes so she can change.

Wanda looks at you, and you feel uncomfortable at the intensity of her gaze.

“I… thank you, Y/N”

“Sleep tight, princess” you say with a smile and for the first time she doesn’t look upset as you call her that.

——

The smell of bacon and butter wakes you up and you stretch, trying to remember why you’re in the couch.

When you see Wanda in your kitchen, everyhing that happened comes back and you groan, rubbing the sleep off your eyes.

“Ouch” you say when you rub close to the punch on your cheek.

“You’re up” Wanda says, smiling. It’s a strange sight, as she’s used to glaring at you or just ignoring your presence.

“You sleep ok?” you say, trying to hide your blush when you notice she’s still wearing the clothes you let her borrow.

“Yeah, thanks” she nods, pulling up two plates with pancakes. “I wanted to thank you for everythig you did last night”

“No need” you say, grabbing a fork and eating. Wanda’s just being nice and you honestly don’t want to force her to interact with you, so all you want is to finish your food and give her an out so she can leave.

“He’s been texting me” Wanda says, looking at her food but not eating anything. “Saying it was a mistake, a one time thing and that it would never happen again”

“And you believe him?” you try to control your tone.

“I’d heard the rumors… even from Darcy. You probably know already”

“We assumed that’s why you fought, but she told us it was none of our business. And I know this isn’t none of mine, but you deserve better”

Wanda giggles at that and you look at her, intrigued.

“I’m just… I thought you didn’t like me”

“Where’d you get that?”

“The nickname, your constant glares across the room…”

Oh, shit. Here you were thinking you were obvious about your crush, and Wanda thinks you hate her.

“I hate… Jarvis. I knew he was a dick so I always disliked him. Seeing him with you. Yeah”

“Do you like me?” Wanda asks and you take a deep breath, shrugging your shoulders.

The girl smiles, finishing her food. You stay in the kitchen, fidgeting with your fork until she comes back, changed into her own clothes.

“I should get back. Do you need anything? Painkillers, ice?” she leans forward, her hand touching your bruise gently. Then, you notice her eyes drifting to your lips.

“I’m fine” you say and she nods, stepping back.

“See you in class?”

“Yes” you say, smiling as she waves goodbye. Carol walks in ten seconds later, looking behind her.

“Was that…?”

“Yes”

“Did you…?”

“No” you cut her off. “She just didn’t want to be alone after what happened”

“Y/N…” Carol says in that tone you dislike so much. You’re about to get scolded over something that isn’t that big of a deal.

“Carol, come on. She slept in my room, I stayed on the couch. That’s it”

“I just don’t want to see you getting hurt” your friend says and you nod. “I mean, you got a split lip and a black eye already so maybe it’s a little late for that”

“Yeah, that’s true. Come on, there are some pancakes left”

——

You tell yourself it means nothing. Wanda sits next to you during class, and offers a second scone she got from the cafeteria.

“How’s the eye?”

“I’m not blind” you shrug your shoulders. “Jarvis hits like a little bitch”

Wanda snorts at that, and you can’t hold back your own laugh. That attracts the attention of Professor Harkness, who focuses on your eye.

“Do I even want to to know, Y/L/N?”

“Nah” you shake your head and she rolls her eyes.

“Alright”

With that, the lesson begins. You try hard to focus, but Wanda smells really nice and you’re only human. At one point, she shuffles in her seat, her leg coming in contact with yours and you give up on taking notes.

“You ok?” to your surprise, Wanda follows you out of the classroom. “I can let you borrow my notes, if you want”

“Wanda” you stop abruptly, sighing. “Listen, you don’t owe me anything. I helped because it was the right thing to do. So don’t worry about paying me back in any way”

“That’s not… ” she stutters, fixing her hair. “I don’t really have any friends. I was always with him”

“Oh” you feel like an idiot. “Well, ok. I could use those notes”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, come on. I’ll trade them for a coffee” you smile, walking next to her to the library.

—

It surprises you, how much you and Wanda have in common. She likes sitcoms and though you’re more of a Friends kind of girl, it’s fun to watch those old shows where they dance and sing from time to time.

“I only know Dick Van Dyke from Mary Poppins” you confess one time, which prompts Wanda to invite you to her dorm for a marathon.

“Where are you going?” Darcy says when you walk past her and Carol that evening.

“Oh, this is gonna be fun” Carol smiles and you glare at your friend.

“Well, Wanda and I…”

“Oh, my God! You traitor. Brutus!” Darcy shouts, throwing a napkin at you. “She’s the worst”

“I wouldn’t know. You didn’t tell me what happened”

“She got you there” Carol points out, eating popcorn while she enjoys the show.

“That is besides the point”

“Look, I’m not putting Wanda on my will or anything, we’re just hanging out. And if she mentions you, I’ll be the first one to defend you”

Darcy sighs, chewing on her lip.

“It’s not about me. Wanda has the habit of just… using people when she’s bored or on a break from that idiot. And then they get back together and forgets about you. Which sucks. I wouldn’t want it to be the case for you, that’s all”

“I’ll be careful” you promise.

Once at Wanda’s, you’re trying to enjoy the show, but Darcy’s words are echoing in your head. You had to admit that if you spent more time with Wanda, you’d probably develop an even bigger crush. And if she went back to that asshole, it would hurt you.

Was it really worth it?

“Is the show boring? We can watch something else. I know it’s weird that I like this” Wanda pauses mid episode.

“No, it’s just… Darcy said some things…”

“Oh. I wouldn’t blame you if you don’t want to hang out anymore” she sighs, looking down at her hands.

“I’m just thinking… maybe it would be good if you fix things with her? Say sorry. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it”

“I can try, but you know her. She won’t make it easy” you both laugh at that. “Is that all?”

“Yeah” you lie. “Come on, let’s keep watching. I wanna know if Rob goes to Ritchie’s play”

Wanda smiles, this time moving closer to you. Her head rests on your shoulder, relaxing against you. It’s so intoxicating, to have her so close, to feel her warmth.

And all you can think over and over again is “please don’t break my heart”. But you can’t ask for the impossible.

—

You’re really not expecting Wanda to take your suggestion at heart, but one day you see her speaking with Darcy in the hallway, your friend pretending to not be interested in the conversation at all.

The only sign that she actually forgives Wanda is when you’re sitting with the girl at the cafeteria and Darcy sits next to you, carrying a tray.

“This is the only seat that I could find” she mutters unconvincingly, making you and Wanda smile.

Though you spent most of the time in each other’s dorms, watching movies or shows. You learn that Jarvis was the one that dragged Wanda to all those parties and anytime you invite her to one she politely declines.

Now, you’re staying in while the rest of your friends are at the Odinson mansion. You don’t know if they’re allergies or a mild cold, but you’ve been feeling sick all day and wanted to rest.

“Coming” you groan when someone knocks. You open the door to find Wanda on the other side. “You’ll get sick, what are you doing here?”

“I made you soup”

“Thanks” you take the container, and you gotta admit the idea of warm soup makes your mouth water. “I’d say do you want to come in, but I really do worry this might be contagious”

“I’ll be fine” she walks inside, finding her usual place in the couch and patting the spot next to her. “Come on. We’ll even watch that boring show you like”

“The Office is not boring!” you huff, making her laugh.

A couple of episodes later, and you feel your eyes slowly closing, a side effect from the medicine you took. Wanda notices, and makes you walk to your room.

As you lay in bed, you’re drifting off to sleep when you feel Wanda sliding next to you, her hand on your forehead.

“Your fever is down”

“Mhm. Thanks to the magic soup”

“I’m staying, in case you need anything”

“Ok, baby” you nod, too sleepy to notice what you’re saying.

Wanda’s heart flutters at the term of endearment, and she watches you sleep peacefully, her mind racing with thoughts about what could this possibly mean to you both.

On the other hand, you don’t remember anything and are startled when you feel someone sleeping next to you.

“Wanda?” you say when you turn around, smiling at how cute she looks, all confused.

“I must have fallen asleep here. How are you feeling?”

“Better, thanks” you lay on your side, still smiling. Wanda is still thinking about the way you called her and it’s fairly obvious you don’t remember.

Still, she leans forward and you almost watch in slow motion as her lips meet yours in a short kiss.

“Why did you…”

“You make me feel… I don’t know. Safe. I’m sorry, if I crossed line. Maybe I should go…” she sits up and you follow suit, making her turn to you.

This second kiss is a bit more urgent and less delicate, but you hope it makes a point.

“Now I really hope that what I had wasn’t contagious”

Wanda laughs at that, her hand over yours.

——

The next few weeks you grow closer to Wanda. You spend most of the time at her place, watching sitcoms and more often than not, you end up making out on her bed, until you’re both out of breath.

She also enjoys teasing you endlessly, like that time she sat next to you in Agatha’s class and put her hand on your thigh. Your knee jolted forward, crashing against the table and making the professor glare at you.

This time, you’re supposed to be studying in your room, but you find that looking at Wanda as she goes over her notes is far more interesting.

“Stop” she says after a few minutes and you smile.

“I’m not doing anything”

“You’re staring”

“Can you blame me?” you crawl behind her, placing small kisses down her neck. She sighs at the contact, leaning against your front.

“Are you doing this to get my notes?”

“Maybe” you laugh against her shoulder, making her turn until you’re kissing her, and she pushes you down on the bed, straddling your lap.

“You better work for them, then”

Next day, when you’re done with your test, the first thing you do is reach for Wanda’s hand. To your surprise, she flinches away, grabbing the strap of her bagpack.

“Did you do ok on the test?” she’s quick to ask, hoping you won’t push it too much.

“I think so, yeah”

“If you pass, I’d say you owe me for borrowing my notes” she smiles.

“Well, we could go out to the movies. Or dinner?” you suggest, your heart beating faster. It’s a thought that has been going through your mind recently.

Not that you don’t enjoy the kissing and sneaking around, but you’re eager to take Wanda out, find new places together, talk about something else other than classes and her old shows.

“I’m not sure I can make it” Wanda says, avoiding your eyes again.

This new rejection stings and you drop your shoulders, looking for an excuse to leave.

“Yeah, you’re right. We have lots of stuff to do. I’ll catch you later” you say, walking faster and not waiting for Wanda’s reply.

The rest of the day is spent in your dorm, which isn’t unusual. The only difference is that you’re alone instead of enjoying Wanda’s company, and hiding from seeing her.

“Wanna go to Joe’s with us?” Carol offers. “To celebrate midterms are over”

“Sounds fun” you agree, because it’s been forever since you’ve been with your friends.

“You can invite your girl”

“She’s not my girl”

“Oh?” Carol tilts her head to the side, putting the pieces together. “So that’s why you only hang out in the dorms”

“What did you think we were doing?”

“Having sex like crazy”

No answer comes to you, because sex is something that hasn’t happened yet. Or maybe never, considering Wanda doesn’t want anything more.

“I don’t think she knows what she wants, Carol”

“Do you?” she asks gently. Your immediate response is a shrug of your shoulders, and it’s a lie, because you know exactly what you want. “Come on, it’s her loss then. Let’s just go out and have fun”

Meeting your friends does improve your mood and you’re happy you listened to Carol. You eat and play pool, until everyone gets restless and looks for something else to do.

“Heard Stark is having a party” Carol says, knowing he always gets the fancy booze.

“Pass” you’re the first one to speak.

“Why?”

“Isn’t he best friends with Jarvis?” Darcy says. “We don’t want to have another fight, do we?”

“Oh come on, there will be so many people he won’t even notice that you’re there!” Carol insists, and you can tell she’s gonna be stubborn and annoying until she gets what she wants.

So, you agree, but spend the whole time looking around, waiting for that jerk to pop out of nowhere and pick up a fight.

“I don’t think he’s here” Darcy says, patting your back. “Let’s just have some fun, then Val will drag Carol out of here and we can go home, yeah?”

“Sounds like a plan” you nod.

For the next hour, you do enjoy the party and are even surprised when Tony seems happy to see you. To be fair, he is a lot nicer than most of his friends. You’re relaxed, dancing to the music and doing shots with Darcy and Val, almost forgetting why you were so sad in the first place.

That is, until you walk out of the living room to get another beer, but the place is so crowded you bump into a girl.

“Sorry, are you ok?” you say, turning to make sure she’s fine.

Your stomach drops when your eyes meet Wanda’s.

She calls for you, but the sound of her voice is drowned out by the music and the ringing in your ears. Jarvis says Wanda’s name, and you take advantage of the distraction to escape, pushing people out of the way.

When the fresh air hits you, the first thing you do is bend over the railing of the porch and throw up, coughing and wretching violently.

“It’s ok” Darcy comes out of nowhere, getting the hair out of your face.

“Shit” Val sobers up immediately. “Time to go home?”

“Yeah, come on. Let’s get a cab” Carol says, patting your back.

They think you’re wasted, but all you are is heartbroken. Wanda was with him, after everything you’ve been through.

The shame over being so naive makes you stay in your dorm for the entire day.

Wanda shows up the minute Carol leaves.

“You should go”

“Please let me explain”

“I don’t think that’s possible” you shake your head. You know it, deep down. She’ll never give you a place in her life.

“We’re just… friends. He wanted to talk, apologize”

“Wanda” you plead, hoping she’ll stop. But instead, she pushes past you, her hands in your face.

“I can’t lose you”

“Why would I stay?”

Wanda answers with a kiss, that is slow at first, and then borderline agressive. You’re pushing, then pulling, unsure of what you want from her, but she pulls your pants down, just enough for her hand to fit, moving past your underwear and circling your clit. Your nails dig into her shoulders, gasping and breathing as she enters roughly, her fingers moving fast and hard.

It’s not nice or affectionate, but a way to further claim you, ruin you, brand you. Now she’s reached and touched more of you, and you’ll never be able to erase it.

Your orgasm comes unexpectedly, and after the high, you come crashing down. All you feel is bitterness and guilt and anger. Wanda stays inside, biting your neck. The sting reminds you, you’re only gonna get pain out of this.

—

It becomes a vicious circle. Wanda is distant in public, because more often than not Jarvis is by her side. And then, she corners you in any spot she can find, kissing you and pressing her body against yours.

The more you let her in, the weaker you are and it’s nearly impossible to stay away. It will hurt if she leaves, and it hurts to be with her.

“I don’t know how to stay away” you confess to Carol one particularly hard night. Darcy was called to offer her support, and she provided that along with snacks. “You were right, Darcy”

“I didn’t want to be” she says, holding your hand. “You’re the only one who can put a stop to this. She’ll never stop looking for you”

You can’t see yourself doing that, but then you walk past her in the hallway, and you hear her saying those words to Jarvis.

“I love you”

You couldn’t even get her to hold your fucking hand.

Pushing past her, you walk away, hoping to find the nearest bathroom and lock yourself there. Lucky for you, Wanda doesn’t follow you.

There’s someone else waiting outside.

“Miss Y/L/N” Professor Harkness greets and you nod, looking at your feet and hoping she doesn’t notice your red eyes.

“Professor”

“You’re too advanced for my class. My wife has a spot in her lecture. New people to impress, most of them pHD students”

Her emphasis in the new makes you understand.

You won’t have to see Wanda in class.

“Ok. I’d like that”

“Keep your head high, kiddo” Agatha says, her hand on your chin. “And don’t tell any of this to Rio or she’ll accuse me of going soft”

“Yes, Professor Harkness. Thank you”

“Mhm” she nods, giving her signature smirk and turning around.

One less place where you’ll have to see Wanda.

Soon after that, you change everything about your routine. Where you eat, study, even go out for runs. Hell, you change your phone number and Darcy is kind enough to let you stay with her for a while. That, and the Thanksgiving break are enough to give you three weeks of space.

It hurts and more than once you have to stop yourself from looking for Wanda. But what’s the point of being a secret? The longer it goes on, the more it will hurt.

Still, there are days when anger weights heavier than sadness. You’re mad at yourself, for being so stupid. At Wanda, because she was a coward and a liar. And those times, you get restless and go out to run, listening to music until you reach a hidden lake. It’s one of the few places you can be at peace, because you found it after Wanda broke your heart. So, there’s no ghost of her here, only you and your conflicting emotions.

Throwing stones at the lake is a way to pass time, and you’re doing exactly that when you hear rustling behind you.

“Sorry” a raspy voice says. Your eyes meet green ones, but these are softer, almost shy. The girl has beautiful red hair, braided with a few strands lose. She misinterprets your silence, and quickly retreats. “I’ll find another spot”

“That’s ok. I can… I can go”

“No, you don’t have to” she’s quick to reassure.

“Well, we can always share” you propose, smiling. The girl nods, and places her bagpack next to a log. She pulls out a book, and begins reading. You continue throwing rocks, stealing glances here and there.

“Is the book any good?” you finally ask.

“Depends”

“On what?”

“On your fascination with social expectations in Russian society during the 19th century”

“Pass. Got anything lighter?” you joke. To your surprise, the girl pulls out another book.

“How about the perils of indulging in romantic fantasies?”

“I know those very well” you say, grimacing. She puts the book down, smiling at you. You try to smile back, but turn your attention back to the lake until you’re able to calm down.

“Lit major?” you guess, pointing at the spot next to her. She moves her bag, allowing you to sit.

“Yeah. You?”

“Anthropology. Minor in Art History. I’m surprised we haven’t seen each other in the building”

“I'm a grad student, so I’m usually at the library” the girl says.

“No parties?”

“No one ever invites me” she shakes her head.

“I’d invite you” you blurt out, finding her blush adorable. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be forward”

“It’s not… you’re fine”

“So. Anna Karenina and Madame Bovary. Are you trying to find out if Tolstoy really wrote his book with Flaubert’s in mind?”

The girl gives you an appreciative smile, nodding.

“Yeah, but it’s more about how men in 19th century wrote about women. Even in two different societies, the protagonists are punished for following their desires”

“No one should be punished for that” you say, looking at her. She averts her eyes, holding back a smile.

“Why Anthropology?” she changes the subject.

“Because. We’re the same and we’re not, even thousand of years apart. Isn’t that fascinating?”

“How so?”

“Do you think you have anything in common with someone who lived thirty thousand years ago?”

“We need food to survive. Sleep, water, oxygen” she lists, and you nod.

“Mhm. All basic needs. Next question, did you make a drawing of your hand when you were a kid?”

“Everyone did” she says, as if it’s obvious.

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to see what it looked like. Because it was my hand and no one else’s”

“And people thirty thousand years ago thought the same thing. And left their handprint in a cave in Southern France. Isn’t that something wonderful?”

She stays silent for a second and then smiles.

“I suppose it is, yes. To have an impact, so long after you’re gone too”

“You get it” you nod. “I’m Y/N, by the way”

“Natasha” she says, smiling at you.

The next few days, you catch yourself thinking about Natasha, and even with all the distractions, your mind goes back to her. It takes every ounce of self control to not wait everyday by the lake. Why would you want to get hurt, when you just started healing?

Love never ends well for Anna Karenina, Emma Bovary or yourself.

And yet… three days later you’re by the lake, holding a book of your own collection and an extra scone. You’re about to give up when Natasha shows up, and she seems as eager as you.

“Hey”

“Hi” she answers, a smile on her face. “Am I interrupting lunch?”

“This is for you. I mean, I was hoping I’d see you here” you stutter, looking everywhere but Natasha’s eyes.

“I was hoping to see you too” she confesses. It takes you by surprise, so she grabs the scone and the book as you try to gather your thoughts.

“Emily Dickinson” she reads. “Enjoying it?”

“You can borrow it if you want. I mean, yes I enjoyed it when I read it. But I just thought, you might like a change from male authors”

“Thank you” she nods, holding it close to her. “I actually have to go…”

“Oh, right” you nod, trying not to look disappointed.

“Can I have your number?” Natasha blurts out, her cheeks turning almost as red as her hair. “To give you your book back”

You smile, handing over your phone.

“I recently changed my number and I haven’t memorized it yet. So give me yours”

“Ok” she says. As soon as the device is back in your hands, you send her a text.

“See? Now I’m sure I gave you the right number”

“Talk to you soon. Thanks for the food”

When is it appropriate to text someone without looking desperate?

Either way, you can’t hold back your excitement as you walk to your dorm, jumping on Carol’s back as she’s eating her cereal.

“Are you mad?” she says, flakes and milk flying all over the counter.

“I’m just happy!”

“Why?” she glares, hoping you’re not back to your old ways.

“I spoke to a girl. And she gave me her phone number”

“Oh, my God! Y/N!” Carol shouts, the rest of her cereal thrown away as she dances around.

“What’s all the fuss?” Val says from the shower, concerned over the noise. Carol runs to the bathroom and opens the door wide.

“Y/N met a girl”

“Way to go!” Val joins the celebration and you’re about to say thank you when you notice she’s stepping out of the shower.

“Gah, bye”

“Yeah, we wouldn’t want your new girlfriend to think you’re a pervert!”

“Shut up” you say, walking to your room and flipping her off without turning back.

The rest of your evening is spent studying, but also looking at your phone waiting for anything to come through.

As you’re getting ready to sleep, there’s a text.

Nat: I’m ready to give the book back.

Y/N: It’s been… seven hours?

Nat: I’m a fast reader.

Nat: Secret spot? Saturday morning.

Y/N: I’ll be there

—

It’s the first time you’re there so early. The light filters through the leaves, birds chirping as their day begins with the rays of sunshine.

The walk to the lake is lovely, and you spot a couple of small flowers as you find your way to the place. Deciding to get one for luck, you twirl it around in your fingers.

You sit by the log, looking at the fog over the surface of the water when you hear soft footsteps approaching.

“I was afraid you’d stood me up” you joke when Natasha sits next to you.

“And stole your book?”

“The book, I could get over” you admit, giving her the flower. Natasha smiles, her fingertips caressing the petals delicately.

Your eyes are focused on the curve of her lips and those beaufitul eyes.

“Well, I’m here” she says, smiling when your eyes meet hers. “Thank you, I enjoyed reading it”

You take the book, your hands touching briefly.

“There’s a problem, though”

“What is it?” you say, worried that something’s wrong.

“I gave the book back, but I still have to thank you for that scone”

“Oh” you laugh.

“So, what is your preferred payment method? Ice cream? Coffee?”

“It’s a little early for ice cream”

“Then we’ll get it later. I know just the place”

“Yeah. I’d like that”

Though there are no classes, Natasha still has to meet with her advisor, so you chat for an hour until she has to go back to uni, agreeing to meet at your dorm in the evening.

“Is this a date?” you ask your friends on the video call as they agree on what you should wear.

“Of course it is, you silly goose!” Carol says, her face occupying half of the screen. “Wear something hot!”

“No, something comfortable. It’s an ice cream date, not a club” Val argues, trying to get a glimpse of the options.

“Something comfortable AND hot”

As they keep arguing, you opt for a pair of jeans, a white cotton t-shirt and a light jacket.

“Gotta go” you say when someone knocks. After hanging up, you are surprised to check Natasha’s ten minutes early. Plus, you don’t remember giving her your exact room number, agreeing you’d come down and meet at the lobby.

You’re about to open the door when the voice on the other side makes you stop in your tracks.

“Y/N? Please. Open up. I need you”

Wanda.

That voice, those words, the feelings you’ve been trying so hard to push away and bury come back. But instead of hurting you, they make you angry. You’re about to go out with a wonderful girl, who seems geniuenly interested in you. And here comes Wanda, trying to stain that as well.

Without thinking twice, you climb out of the window, holding on to the emergency ladder. You look down, unsure of what to do when you reach the last step.

"What are you doing?" Natasha says, rushing to stand above you.

"Parkour?" you reply weakly. "Is it too high?"

"Don't worry, I'll catch you"

Trusting her, you jump. Truth to her word, she eases the fall as you land, but you drag her along with you as you stay on the floor.

“Are you hurt? Why did you do that?”

Her hands are running over every inch of your face, going down to your shoulders and arms. The worry in her eyes only makes your heart beat faster.

“My roomate accidentally locked me inside”

You figure it's better than saying "My situationship is outside my door and I wanted to avoid her"

“You could have told me, and I would have gone and find her” Natasha insists.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. Let’s get ice cream? I won’t ever do this again” you promise, holding her hand. The redhead rolls her eyes, but nods and leads you away from the building.

You make small talk, appreciating how her hand doesn’t leave yours as you get away from campus and to the walking district. You try to look discreetly behind you, hoping Wanda didn’t see you and followed you.

Natasha finds the store, opening the door for you.

“Rocky road, please” you give Natasha puppy eyes and she smiles, ordering strawberry ice cream for her.

“So, what’s your deal?” she asks as you leave the store.

“My deal? What do you mean?” you say, mouth full of ice cream. The girl wipes the corner of your mouth with her napkin.

“You mentioned parties. Are you some sort of wild girl looking for someone to charm every night?”

“Oh, yes, I’m quite the Casanova” you laugh. “No, come on. My friends are cool and we just like to have fun from time to time”

“So, not a player” she notes with a smile.

“I did get my heart broken, though”

“Fella done you wrong?”

“His girlfriend done me wrong” you correct, wishing you were talking about anything else. But truthfully, if you want things to work out, you better be honest. “She was with me, but only on her terms and as if I were a secret”

“I’m sorry, you don’t deserve that”

“I moved on. So, don’t think I’m just messing here, Nat. I really like you” you hurry to say, blushing slightly.

“I like you too” she takes your hand. “Now, let’s finish our ice cream so I can show you this awesome bookstore I found”

The next few hours are spent talking about college, some of your plans for the future and also, your friends. You smile when Natasha comments she’d love to hang out with them.

Before it gets dark, you walk back to campus. Worried that Wanda might still be at your door, you asked Darcy a while back to go check. Apparently, the coast was clear.

Natasha walks you to the door.

“I had the best time” you say, smiling. “We should do it again. Maybe go to the movies?”

“Would love to” Natasha nods, her eyes drifting to your lips. You lean forward, heart beating fast as you’re eager to feel her lips on yours.

“Are you still here? I told you to beat it!” Darcy opens the door, making you both jump back. “Oops, I thought you were someone else. Sorry, I’ll go back inside. Pretend this didn’t happen, make out”

“Darcy” you groan. Your friend doesn’t get inside, though.

“The famous Natasha. Y/N here won’t shut up about you”

“Shhh, don’t listen to her, she’s off her meds” you ask Nat, covering Darcy’s mouth and pushing her inside. As you close the door, you hold it so she can’t open it again.

Natasha laughs, her hands going to your hips and pulling you softly. You take a few steps forward, smiling as she lifts your chin, leaning to connect your lips in a slow kiss.

It’s mindblowingly good, although too short for your liking.

“So, when are we doing this again?”

“The date or the kiss?” she jokes and your hands go around her neck.

“Both”

“As soon as you’re free” she says, kissing you once more before leaving for the day.

Darcy snaps a picture the second you walk inside.

“That’s the gayest you’ve ever looked, congrats” she says, sending the picture to the group chat.

You roll your eyes, pulling out your phone and smiling.

Y/N: Best I’ve ever had

Nat: The kiss or the ice cream?

Y/N: What do you think?

Smiling at your phone, you walk to the couch where your friend is sitting.

“I’m happy that you’re happy” she says, relieved that you’re healing from everything that Wanda put you through.

“Me too” you sigh, pulling your knees against your chest. “Though I do have to ask. Did Wanda say why was she here?”

“I didn’t care enough to find out. All I did was tell her to leave you alone. And then I pretended you were inside so she wouldn’t go anywhere else looking for you”

“You’re a great friend” you nudge her with your foot and she glares.

“Ew, get that thing away from me”

“I take it back” you show her your tongue.

The next week, you text Natasha between classes, and though she’s very busy, she’s always making time to get back to you. You agree to go out on another date on Friday, but neither one can wait to see each other, so you end up at the library on a Wednesday evening, each one focused on your work.

Well, Natasha is focused on her work. You’re looking at her, because this is the first time you’ve seen her wearing glasses and it’s adorable.

“Find anything interesting?”

“Plenty” you say, not even pretending to be reading your notes.

“You’re not the only one who’s staring” Natasha’s eyebrow arches, speaking without looking up. “Brunette, green eyes, a lot of rings and eyeshadow”

“Oh”

“Is that the infamous ex?” she says and you’re scared she’ll be upset about this whole situation.

“Uhm… yeah. I’m sorry. If she’s making you uncomfortable, I’ll just leave…”

Natasha looks up at that, eyeing you up and down as you struggle to read her expression. She surprises you by pulling your chair until it bumps against hers, leaning forward and kissing you, one of her hands on your thigh and the other holding your chin, in that signature move that always makes your head spin.

“Maybe that’ll keep her away” Natasha says, smiling and bumping her nose against yours.

“You can’t just kiss me like that and expect me to focus on an essay” you say, biting your lip.

“Then let’s get something to eat. We need a break from all this studying” she proposes, picking up her things and leading you out of the library, her hand in yours.

You don’t care to look around for Wanda to check if she’s watching, because this moment with Natasha is yours. She’s holding your hand, kissing you, spending time with you whenever she can, instead of hiding you like you’re a dirty secret.

By being herself, she’s given you the one thing you always craved for. Something real.

Finally, Friday comes and you’re buzzing with excitement, getting ready to meet Natasha.

“Wanna go to a party tomorrow? You can invite your girlfriend” Val says, painting her nails while Carol throws a ball in the air.

“We haven’t had the talk about being each other girlfriends”

“What? And you call yourself a lesbian? This is the second date, you should be adopting a cat by now”

“Like you and Val with Goose?”

“Yes!”

“Well, sorry to disappoint the sapphics, I’m just trying to not scare her away. And about the party, yeah, if Natasha’s up for it, we’ll stop by”

“Alright, it’s at Stark’s”

“Oh. Maybe not, then”

Your friends share a look, and you glare as they both stay silent.

“You can’t avoid her forever” Val is the first one to speak. “She’s gonna keep looking for you, getting in the middle of what could be a good relationship just because she thinks she can”

“Yeah, next time you see her, don’t jump out the window. Open the door and tell her off” Carol agrees.

“You did what?” Val looks at you, baffled.

“It’s ok, Nat was there to catch me. Speaking of which” you hear a knock on the door, and stand up. “See ya, cat ladies”

“Hey! We only have the one”

You laugh as you open the door, but then you’re interrupted by Natasha’s lips on yours.

“Hey”

“Hello” she smiles, and then looks behind you as your friends whistle.

“Meet Val and Carol. My two former best friends” you grumble when they make kissing sounds.

“Nice to meet you” Natasha greets over your shoulder.

“Bring her home at a decent time” Carol says. “Unless you plan on having sex. In that case take her back to yours so she doesn’t wake me up”

“I hate you so much” you sigh, pulling Nat away.

“We’ll see you at the party tomorrow”

“Sorry about them” you mumble when you’re going down the stairs.

“What was that about a party?” she asks, opening the car door for you.

“Ever heard of Tony Stark? Big house, bigger ego. Loves to have parties. We don’t have to go unless you want to” you say, half expecting her to turn down the invitation.

“If you want me to go I’ll be there”

“I just want us to spend some time together, doing whatever you want” you say, blushing.

“I did promise I’d try going to a party with you, and it seems like the perfect time. Could meet the rest of your friends”

“Alright then” you nod, excited and terrified about how things could turn out if a certain someone is there.

Carol is right, though. You can’t be looking over your shoulder all the time, expecting Wanda to approach you and open those wounds.

If you have closure, in whatever way that is, she won’t have the power to hurt you anymore.

It’s hard to focus on the movie with Natasha by your side, her hand clasped in yours over your leg. At one point, you lean against her shoulder and she kisses your temple.

She’s so perfect, it makes you dizzy.

“What did you think about the movie?” she asks as you go out of the theater, her arm around your waist.

“It was good. I’m glad I understood most of it without having watched those other Alien movies”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I would have picked a different one” she protests, pulling you to a stop.

“I just want to be with you. Plus you looked so excited to watch it, I had a hard time saying no”

“Is that so?” she arches an eyebrow.

“Don’t use that against me, Natasha” you warn, getting ready to argue but her lips silence you, and you moan against the kiss.

It’s not nearly enough, and you need more of her, not just kissing.

“So if I ask you to go back home with me, will you still have a hard time saying no?”

“On the second date? What do you think I am, a harlot?”

“I’d count the lake as a date of it’s own. And the library too”

“So, this is like the fourth one?” you say, counting with your fingers.

“You don’t have to, I was only…”

Natasha’s words are cut off by your lips on hers, and she holds back a moan of her own when you run your tongue over her bottom lip.

“I’d very much like to go back to your place”

The drive back is silent, but not in an uncomfortable way. There’s a certain tension, and the expectation of what is about to happen makes you feel like your heart is beating out of your chest.

“This is home” Natasha says, opening the door to her apartment. Of course, as a grad student, you expected her to have her own place, but you still admire how homey it feels. There are books everywhere, which makes sense, and pictures of Natasha’s family.

“It’s lovely” you say, turning back to look at her. The tour of the place is forgotten, as you watch Natasha approach you slowly, her hands dropping to your waist.

“Nervous?”

“Yeah. A bit” you admit, because lying to Natasha has never been something you’d consider doing. “I want this to be perfect. And for you to really like it”

For me to be enough.

“It’s already perfect” she says, coming closer and kissing you slowly. Your eyes close as you enjoy the sensation of her lips against yours, hands wandering to your lower back. Without breaking the kiss, you discard your jacket and take hers off as well, and she immediately pulls you against her, your hands holding her cheeks as she deepens the kiss.

“Are we doing it standing up?” you ask when she breaks apart, breathing heavily against your neck. “Because I’ve never tried it, but I am open to experimenting”

“You could just say that we should take this to the bedroom” she laughs against your temple.

“Now, where’s the fun in that?”

Still, she laughs as you pull her by the belt loop of her pants, guessing that her bedroom must be that last door to the left.

“Bingo” you smile, opening the door. There are more books scattered on the nightstand and the floor, but at least the bed is clear. “God, Nat, your reading is gonna kill me” you say as you fall to the bed and make her land on top of you.

“Sorry, I don’t have company very often”

“Are you a virgin?” you tease, knowing full well she’s dated in the past, though nothing serious.

Instead of answering, she kisses you again, her lips drifting down to your neck, and then lower to your stomach. In one swift motion, she unsclaps your bra and lifts your shirt up, her tongue swirling around a nipple. You moan, surprised at the contact, holding her head in place as she moves to the other nipple.

“Does it look like my first time?” Natasha says against your lips, her hands going down to undo the button of your jeans.

“I’m sorry, I was only joking, baby” you say, and it’s almost embarassing how desperate you sound.

“Good girl” she comments, pulling your pants down. You struggle with your underwear and Natasha’s too impatient, so she pulls it aside and starts eating you out, her tongue making circles and swirling around your clit.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck” you say, biting your hand to keep you from screaming. Natasha nudges your clit with her nose as she moves to go up and down and you’re close when she stops. “Why?”

“I want to be inside you”

It’s a mystery, how your brain doesn’t stop functioning at that, but you manage to discard your shirt and start to undress Natasha, eager to feel her skin against yours. Once you’re both naked, she flips you, so you’re on top of her, straddling her lap.

“I’m debating if it would be better to have my fingers or my strap buried in your pussy” she says, and you wonder how the girl who is so well spoken can manage to be so crass.

Not that you’re complaining.

��Anything you want” you say, aware that you’re rubbing your center against her thigh.

“What’s that?”

“I… please. Just use me” you plead, desperate for some release.

Those words do it for Natasha, who takes out a strap on from her nightstand. You protest when she stands up to fasten it around her hips, feeling like you’re gonna combust if she’s not touching you.

“Shh, I’m here” she soothes you, laying on top of you and rubbing the strap against your entrance.

“Fuck me, Nat” you squeeze your legs around her, hoping she stops teasing you.

“That’s the plan, baby. Tell me if it hurts?” Natasha asks as she begins to fill you up, and you’re too far gone to give a verbal confirmation, nodding instead.

“More” you insist when she stops, searching for any sign of discomfort. Natasha thrusts forward, sinking the entire shaft and you moan, arching your back. “Harder”

Truthfully, Natasha’s never been so adventurous or forward in her sex life, but the way you’re pleading, clenching and panting underneath her, wakes something entirely new inside her. Pushing your knees against your chest, she moves in and out, reaching new spots that make you see stars.

“Yes, yes, yes” is all you manage to say, holding on to the sheets as your knuckles turn white. “Nat, I’m gonna…”

The words are stuck in your mouth as a powerful orgasm takes over, leaving you breathless. You feel Natasha slowing down her movements, and then she goes to kiss your neck, the strap still buried inside you.

“That was…” you sigh, trying to make your brain work. As your breathing steadies, your muscles relax and you let a finger run up and down Natasha’s side. “I don’t know what to say. You’re the one with the big words”

“That was fucking hot” she says, making you laugh. “And I’m not done with you”

Good thing your schedule was clear for the next day, because you weren’t getting any sleep tonight.

—

Your muscles feel sore when you wake up, stretching and turning in Natasha’s arms, watching her sleep.

Her alarm woke you up, but she’s still sound asleep.

“Nat” you say, moving her fiery hair out of her face. “Baby”

“No” she protests.

“Time to get up. You’re meeting your advisor, remember?”

Natasha curses under her breath, clearly not caring enough to wake up.

“Hey… what if I sit on your face?”

“I’m up” she says, opening her eyes and pulling you by the waist. “Come on, giddy up”

“Nuh-uh. Get dressed”

“Why would you lie about something like that?” she whines, burying her face in your neck.

“I didn’t lie, because technically, I didn’t say I’d do it right now. Get dressed, I’ll make breakfast and then we can go back to uni”

“Fine. But this discussion is not over” she kisses your cheeks, neck and then your lips, smiling as you laugh. “Morning”

“Morning, baby” you say, appreciating how beautiful she looks even with bed hair.

When she gets up, you find one of her t-shirts and go to the kitchen, looking at your options. You opt for french toast and make some coffee, because Natasha is definitely gonna need it to stay awake.

“Tastes amazing” she comments when you sit down to eat.

“Breakfast or me?” you tease and she almost chokes with her coffee. “Sorry, let’s eat”

“So, what are the plans for today?”

“Laundry, some homework. Standard stuff”

“Do you have any plans for lunch?” Natasha asks and you shake your head no. “Would you like to eat with me? After I’m done with my meeting and you finish your stuff, of course”

“Would love to” you say, smiling at how domestic and perfect it all feels.

Once you finish breakfast, you get changed and walk to Nat’s car. Parking close to your dorm, she kisses you goodbye and walks to the professor's offices.

You’re so distracted, thinking about everything that happened that you don’t notice Wanda sitting outside your dorm until you’re at the door.

“Wanda” you say, your hands in the pocket of your jeans. “Hey”

“Y/N? Did you just get here?” she says, looking around and then at the time on her phone. “You didn’t sleep here?”

“What do you want?”

“I want… to apologize”

You sigh, hoping the conversation ends soon so you don’t have to ever talk to her again.

“Anything else?”

“I thought he would change. He promised. But then it happened, again and again. And all I could think about is how you’d never do that to me”

“No, I wouldn’t. But now it’s too late. You made your choice”

“It was the wrong choice. Please, just give me another chance. I was scared before…”

“No, Wanda. I’m sorry, but I don’t want to hear it and we’re not gonna be anything at all. Natasha is… she’s amazing and I want to be with her. You had a choice to make and you went with him. And now… I have to choose the girl I’m in love with”

“Is there anything I can do or say…?”

“No. I’m sorry” you shake your head. Wanda nods, wiping away the tears. It does tug at your heart, seeing her so alone and broken. But it’s not on you to fix this.

Not anymore.

You let out a sigh when she leaves the hallway, turning in the other direction so she doesn’t see you wiping away a tear of your own.

Your eyes meet Natasha’s. She’s holding a bouquet, looking at you intensely.

“Nat. I can explain.”

The redhead drops the flowers and you’re scared she’ll walk away, but instead, she approaches you, lifting you as she kisses you. You sigh against her lips, holding on to her as if she’s the only thing in the world.

“I heard. Everything. You don’t have to explain anything” she puts you down, smiling. “I’m in love with you too”

“I don’t… know what to say” you laugh, craddling her face in your hands.

“No need to speak” she pulls you closer again, walking back until your're cornered against your door.

“I swear to God, if it’s that girl again I’m going to…” Carol opens the door without a warning, making you almost fall. “Awww, you guys! Val, come look! They’re kissing”

“With tongue?”

“I hate you so much” you complain, hiding your face in Natasha’s neck. She laughs, kissing your temple. “Now close the door so I can say goodbye to my girlfriend”

“Girlfriend? Val, they’re girlfriends!”

“Wohoo!” the girl screams from somewhere inside the apartment.

“Agh, it’s like having overbearing lesbian mothers” you slam the door shut, turning to Natasha. “I’m staying at your place tonight, or they will drive me insane with all their questions”

“Tonight, every night. Whatever you want. Just know… you’re getting very little sleep” she says with a smirk, kissing you.

“I can live with that”

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n

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wolfiihoney · 3 months ago

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Nanami is the type of husband who… ᧔࿔᧓

︶︶⊹ ୨ I love writing about nanami ୧ ⊹︶︶

Part 2 of my “the type of husband who” series.

Unedited, srry loves <3

Nanami is the type of husband who refuses to text you and will call you just because you texted a simple "hi."

Nanami is the type of husband who makes sure to learn how to perfect your favorite coffee or tea, so when you wake up in the morning it’s already there waiting for you.

Namami is the type of husband who can communicate his feelings VERY well and will help you with yours.

Namami is the type of husband who always yearned for marriage so when he got it, it became somewhat of a badge of honor. (Gojo also got him a “The Best Husband Ever” shirt for a wedding gift because he knew Kento wanted to be a husband and Nanami wears it as a bedtime shirt😭).

Nanami is the type of husband who doesn’t show public affection, but he will hold your hand with the occasional little back rub.

Nanami is the type of husband who wants babies and a lot of them. He always knew deep down that he wanted little ones running around but pushed the thought away because of his job (that’s until he met you).

Nanami is the type of husband who loves nicknames and rarely calls you by your real name. He prefers "darling" and "love".

Nanami is the type of husband who likes to wake up early but hates waking you up early because he knows how much you love to sleep, so he’ll just lay in bed watching you sleep, rubbing your hair. (He’s a super, loving man).

Nanami is the type of husband who works way too hard and needs a vacation every so often. he always lets you pick the destination though. (he took you to Malaysia for the honeymoon of course).

Nanami is the type of husband who LOVES to cuddle and will randomly grab a book and your hand to go out and cuddle in the big hammock in your backyard (just imagine that seriously).

Nanami is the type of husband who loves giving you what you want and struggles to say no. Do you want those nasty chips that have too much red food dye? Go grab a bag baby. Want to spend all night watching princess movies and eating candy? He’ll go fetch the blankets.

Nanami is the type of husband who adores the colder seasons and will randomly come home with 4 bags of fall decor (he’s so wholesome).

Nanami is the type of husband who is oblivious to how adorable he is. he does the cutest things throughout the whole day and when you bring it to his attention he’s just like “Oh”.

Nanami is the type of husband who you will hear in the next room bragging about how “smart and amazing ” you are, You'll randomly hear him say “My wife made the most lovely bread today” to one of his co workers.

Nanami is the type of husband who gets shy when his students ask to see a picture of you because they can’t believe he actually got married. (he shows them a thousand pictures of you lol).

Nanami is the type of husband who loves back scratches. He doesn’t like to expect anything from you but he will expect back scratches.

Nanami is the type of husband who holds your legs up so he can vacuum under where your legs are (he’s way too strong).

Nanami is the type of husband who starts a little book club with just the two of you and he looks forward to it every other week.

Nanami is the type of husband who will secretly feel betrayed when you take a nice bath without him because that’s something he likes to do with you.

Nanami is the type of husband who loves to take care of you but also loves when you take care of him. (He likes being babied and you are the only person who will ever know that information)

Reblogs are definitely appreciated ♡♡♡

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luveline · 5 months ago

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this might be silly but i imagined the boys (marauders) playfully arguing over who gets to marry reader first and they’re just listing times they did these ridiculously romantic things to win the name of husband

“I’ve been thinking…”

You’re focused on your keychain, but you hum to show you’re listening. Once you get to the end of this row, you can talk properly.

Sirius sits beside you, his hands paused on either side of his own keyring. They’re technically alpha patterns made from knotted embroidery threads, but you and Sirius call them keychains.

This is the second time he’s sat with you to make them, and it makes you so happy you could cry. Last Saturday he’d been sitting on the sofa as he usually does when you’re by the coffee table in the evenings, Remus at the other end, feet in his lap, when he touched your shoulder lightly and asked if he could try to make one with you.

It’s definitely not an easy craft to teach, but it isn’t rocket science, either. Sirius is a quick learner, and his keychain looks very neat.

“Would you wanna get married, someday?” he asks quietly.

“Of course I would.”

You put your string bobbins down. You’d answered without thinking, and the true answer is a little sad. Of course you wanna get married someday, but you’re not exactly in a conventional relationship. Marriages don’t tend to go four ways.

“You know I wouldn’t have it in a church or anything, but we could still dress up. You could wear a white dress,” he says, looping a bobbin string under one of the anchors, knotting it, and moving on to the next. “I’d get you any dress you want.”

“That would be nice,” you agree, leaning in to hug his side. You kiss his shoulder, lips pressed to a sleeve.

“And then you could get divorced and marry me,” James says, backing into the room with a tray of drinks and snacks alike. He sets them down on the table behind your craft station, before rounding it, and sitting behind you to feel your shoulders. “Better yet, marry me first, and Sirius can go second.”

“No, I’m going first,” Sirius says without worry.

“You can’t just go first.”

“Says who?” Sirius turns into your hugging to hug you back gently.

“Me?” James says. “You can’t just decide that. What I want to marry you first?”

“You haven’t asked me to get married.”

You laugh at the ridiculousness of their conversation. There’s sincerity in it somewhere.

They bicker about who’s doing what and where and who’s with who. You revel in the feeling of Sirius’ hand on your back moving a slow back and forth, each line of his fingers. You love his hands.

“Babe,” James says eventually, “would you marry me first, please?”

“Sirius asked first.”

James groans. “Okay, but does Sirius deserve to be first?”

“James,” you warn softly.

“It’s fine,” Sirius says. “He’s kidding.”

“I’m not kidding,” James says, though he is. “What has Sirius done for you to deserve you as I do? Who brings you a bouquet every Sunday?”

Technically, the bouquet is from everyone, or so they say, but it is James who wakes up early for bread, milk, and flowers.

“And who rearranges it? Who gives you your back rub every night?” James pulls you away from Sirius, your head dipping back against his thighs. His smile is catching.

“Those are very nice things, Jamie, but Sirius takes good care of me too.”

James cups your cheek.

“I’m the one who kissed her first,” Remus says. You startle at his voice. He’d been quieter than Sirius, letting himself into the room, climbing over the arm to sit on the sofa behind Sirius. “Which was very romantic. Not sure if you remember.”

You remember.

“That disqualifies you from any more firsts,” Sirius says.

“By that logic, you’re disqualified too,” James says.

You flush and sit up properly. “I’m not marrying any of you because I’m not something to be argued over.”

Again, you’re kidding around, but Sirius holds your arm to his side, tired enough to be affectionate. “Sorry,” he says, smiling, “I was just thinking about it.”

You lean back against James’ legs. How lovely is that? You’re stressing over embroidery lines and he’s thinking of you at the courthouse together.

“I’ll marry you,” Remus says, giving Sirius a nudge. “Yes?”

“Yes please.”

“See,” James says, “they’ll get married and we’ll get married, as I wanted.”

“And when they’re married and you don’t get to call Remus your husband, you’ll be okay with that?” you ask.

James frowns deeply. “Well, I hadn’t thought of it until now.”

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chastiefoul · 11 months ago

Text

0:56 a.m. | nanami kento

0.6k words

“kento,” you whispered into the silence of the night and the dimmed lights on your room. It’s been way past midnight and you hadn’t been able to sleep, contrary to your boyfriend who’s lying beside you—his breath steady and calm.

when your voice didn’t budge him out of his slumber you tried once more.

“kento.” this time a little louder.

he then muttered an inaudible word, still closing his eyes. his hand wandered though, tightening his hold around the back of your shoulder; bringing you close to his chest. better, but the gesture was not enough for you who’s not feeling even a little sleepy, as mischief ideas filled your head.

third time’s a charm, they said. so you called him once more.

this time it finally did something as he hummed a reply, his free hand rubbed your side in a calming pattern, his hand went underneath your shirt that’s all rode up. he settled his grip just an inch under your chest, his thumb slowly moved up and down. “that tickles,” you said as you put a hand over his, refraining his little movement. Although, you’re sure he could hear the smile on your voice.

he finally opened his eyes as he gave you a lazy little smile and you swore you didn’t remember seeing anything more gorgeous than that. “why aren’t you asleep, hm?” his voice a tone heavier than usual, a tad husky as it laced deep with sleep. “i can’t sleep,” you whispered, like telling a secret to your best friends in a slumber party. “right. so i don’t get to either, yeah?” he replied, a smile on his face; and it’s only fondness shine across his feature.

“i mean, i understand if the old man needs his sleep even though tomorrow’s weekend. so by all means,” you said playfully, and that earned a deep chuckle from him. “don’t tease, who said we should have an early night today?” he raised an eyebrow, and for such a calm sleeper he now couldn’t stop his wandering hand as he’s diligent on giving you back-scratches—not that you’re complaining. “yes, but that was before my confidence in being able to fall asleep crumbled right before my eyes,” you claimed, feigning a serious tone. “i see, my mistake.” his eyes narrowed affectionately and you had a feeling you could say the dumbest excuse and he’d let you get away with anything.

you felt the need to sit up and do something but before you could even do that he held you down gently. “none of that, you’ll feel even more restless, love.” you couldn’t even protest at that since you knew he’s always right. “then what do you suggest we do now?”

“it’s a we problem now, hm?” he stared at you in amusement, knowing who dragged him into the sleepless night as well was none other than you. “is that a complaint i hear?” you threw him a questioning look. “it’s excitement, of course.” he laughed softly as he stroke your hair ever-so-gently.

“i should just start rambling maybe it’ll get me tired,” you said randomly and he just nodded without offering any question. “sure, i’m listening.” his hand didn’t stop moving. “where should i start?” you asked, relying on his answer. And of course it came easy for the man who seemed like he knew all the right words. “start anywhere, love. you could repeat anything, skipped over some words, or even tell it backwards and i’ll be here to point it out,” he said lovingly.

and you don’t know if it’s just his power you didn’t know about but it’s not even ten minutes after you started talking and as he kept doing the little gesture you could feel the sleepiness coming, welcoming you to one of your best slumber in a while.

idk how it took me this long to write this man. i love him so much.

#jjk x reader #jjk fluff #nanami x reader #nanami kento #kento x reader

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sainns · 5 months ago

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SIGNS OF AFFECTION.

𝓢.ㅤ the portrayal of their love for you.

OT7ㅤ୨୧ ⠀ femreader⠀ . . .ㅤ fluff, riki's lowkey a third wheel in jake's part oops, he is also a d1 complainer in his part, not proofreadㅤ2224 words

LEE HEESEUNG “baby, stay with me,” heeseung all but whines, pulling on your arm in an attempt to drag you back down to his bed. his voice is hoarse from not having spoken in a while; you had been laying together in silence, the both of you doing your own thing in each other’s space.

“hee, i have to go,” you try to free yourself from his grasp and you almost succeed but once he notices that he’s losing his grip, he tugs you towards him and wraps his arms around your waist, head resting against your stomach.

“just spend the night, i don’t think your roommate will care,”

“of course she isn’t going to care but i care. i have to go study,”

he looks up, his chin pressing against your stomach, lips forming a pout as he stares at you with a pleading expression. you can’t help but smile at him, bringing a hand up to fix his tousled hair.

you like when he gets clingy like this—he’s always clingy��it’s comforting knowing that he likes your presence as much as you do his. maybe even more, considering he’s always asking you to go over or if he can hang out at your apartment even if you don’t plan on doing anything. when you ask why or propose actually doing something he laughs you off, saying that simply sitting in the same room as you is enough for him.

“study here,”

“i don’t have my stuff,”

“okay, study tomorrow then,” he sits up, removing his arms from around you. though, he keeps his hands on your waist, squeezing, “i wanna stay with you,”

you stare at him for a moment, acting as if you were debating on whether or not to give in. it was all for show, though; you’re going to give in to him every single time and he knows it. so a smug smile takes place on his lips, knowing that he’s won when you let out a sigh, shoving his shoulder lightly so that he could make room for you on his bed.

PARK JONGSEONG you search for jay’s warmth right when you wake up, eyebrows furrowing and lips turning downwards when you don’t find it. you open your eyes to see nothing, jay nowhere to be seen.

you lay in bed for a minute longer before deciding to get up and go look for him in your small apartment, but before you can even pull the covers away from your body, your boyfriend walks in.

he looks like he’s been awake for a while—you can tell he took a shower by his still damp hair and he’s already dressed, wearing simple jeans and a t-shirt. he smiles at you, “hey, sleepyhead,”

“hi… you’re up early,”

“i was making you breakfast,” you feel the bed dip from his weight as he sits next to where you’re still laying, “and i cleaned the apartment a little,”

you reach over and grab his hand, placing a kiss against his knuckles, “thank you, but you didn’t have to. it’s my apartment, i can do it myself,” despite saying that, you know he’s going to ignore you, continuing on with taking care of you, your needs, and your apartment.

he hums, but doesn’t respond verbally, instead squeezing your hand in his. the two of you sit in a comfortable silence—you trying to fully wake up and him waiting for you—for what feels like forever until he finally breaks it.

“i like doing things for you, you know?”

“do you?”

“yeah, i do. you smile at his response, lifting your head to silently ask for a kiss.

he obliges, mumbling against your lips, “you gonna get up and eat breakfast now?”

SIM JAEYUN “how do you deal with jake being on top of you constantly?”

you raise your eyebrows at riki’s question, watching as the teenager throws a piece of popcorn at your boyfriend from the other end of the couch.

jake throws it back, “dude, i’m not on top of her,” except he is on top of you—his arms wrapped around your waist, head resting against your shoulder.

“uh… yeah, you are,”

the boys’ argument fades into the background as you think about riki’s question. honestly, you never noticed that jake was, in fact, always ‘on top’ of you.

you don’t mind it, obviously—you enjoy it—but now that you’re thinking back on your relationship, jake really is very physically affectionate towards you. you don’t think you can recall a time where his arms weren’t wrapped around you, or his hand holding wasn’t holding yours, or he wasn’t standing so close to you that the both of you looked like you’re glued together.

“jake,” you interrupt their argument, laughing as you poke at him cheek, “maybe you should pull away before you try and defend yourself,”

he scoffs at you in faux annoyance, doing the exact opposite of what you told him to do—he pulls you closer to him, practically forcing you onto his lap. you’re sitting sideways, your head against his shoulder now.

“nope, you’re warm,”

“i don’t think it’s cold,”

“i’m cold, though,” shrugging, he places a kiss on top of your head, “also, ki, she’s on top of me, so you’re making zero sense,”

“i just watched you move her on top of you,” riki groans, throwing a pillow at the both of you, making you laugh when the two begin arguing again, the movie you had been watching long forgotten.

PARK SUNGHOON everyday you are beyond thankful for park sunghoon, whatever higher power there is must really like you to give you the opportunity of being his girlfriend.

the fact that he’ll wake up at 3:28AM just to go buy you some kind of snack or food is one of the things you love about the man, simply because you know almost nobody who would ever do that—unless their partner was pregnant—but he does.

“i love you, by the way,” you smile, tapping your feet in excitement against the car floor, stopping when you feel sunghoon’s hand squeeze your thigh gently.

“because i’m going to go get you an ice cream?” he turns on the blinker, stopping before turning to the right, driving to a nearby convenience store where you’re planning on getting said ice cream.

“that too, but i just love you in general,”

“yeah?” he glances at you, an eyebrow raised.

“yes,”

“good,” his thumb rubbing circles against your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake, “i love you too, i hope you know i’d never get up this late for anyone else,”

“i hope not,” the car pulls into the convenience store’s empty—save for the singular employee’s car—parking lot, sunghoon putting the car into park. he gets out, leaving you alone in the car for a brief moment, rounding to your side and opening the door.

he leans against it, staring at you with a soft, fond smile. the look makes you nervous, your face heating up at the prolonged eye contact. it gets to be too much after a few seconds, and you reach up to cover his eyes with your hand, “okay, stop staring, you’re weird,”

he lets out a laugh, removing your hand from his eyes, “i’m weird? you’re the one who wants ice cream at three in the morning,”

“well, you still drove me here, so you’re equally as weird. you could’ve said no,”

“nope, i can’t say no to you. it’s impossible,”

he doesn’t say anything else as he grabs your hand, helping you out of the car. you’re perfectly capable of stepping out of it yourself but you let him help you, not really thinking about it—a habit that’s formed after years of dating him. you smile to yourself, the cold air of the convenience store making you shiver while you follow behind sunghoon to the small freezer section.

KIM SEONWOO you smile when sunoo hands you a shopping bag, looking inside to see an album you’d been wanting for a while now. you’d only mentioned it to him once, an offhand statement that you moved on from immediately after saying it. you should’ve known sunoo was going to remember and buy it for you, even though you could have bought it yourself.

noticing something else in the bag, you move the album out of the way, your eyes widening in surprise when you see that he also bought you the phone charm you’d really wanted. you hadn’t been able to find it in any stores, though, and yet somehow sunoo did.

“those are the ones you wanted right?” his eyes go back and forth between you and the bag, watching your reaction, “i saw the charm and remembered you wanted it, so i got it. it was the last one,”

“mhm, it is, thank you,” you take it out, looking it over with a grin on your face, “you didn’t need to get the album, i could’ve bought it,”

he waves you off, “it’s fine. i just got it while i was there. you like them, though, right?”

“obviously, i like them,” you lean forward, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, embracing him. he hugs you back, placing his hands on your waist. he can’t help but let out an exasperated sigh when you continue your sentence, “but i feel bad that you’re always wasting your money,”

“i don’t waste money, it’s for a good cause. as long as you like it, angel, then who cares. i’ll get you whatever you want, it’s not a big deal,” he pulls away from you, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek, pulling you into a gentle kiss.

YANG JUNGWON “you look pretty in that shirt,” jungwon says, snapping yet another photo of you since you started your clothing haul. you giggle, looking at him through your mirror—he’s looking at his phone, probably scrolling through the pictures he’s taken so far.

“you don’t have to take a picture of every outfit, won,” you turn, walking over to sit next to him on your bed, “i’ll wear them again,”

“but i like taking pictures of you,” he shows you his phone, a photo of you from earlier on his screen. you hadn’t noticed him take this one—it was while you were wearing one of the first outfits you had tried on, your face in a weird expression. you assume jungwon had taken in while you were talking and you grimace when he continues speaking, “you look pretty,”

you give him a look, “i look bad in that picture,”

your boyfriend frowns, setting his phone to the side, putting your focus back on his face rather than his phone. he narrows his eyes at you, playfully glaring, “i don’t think so, you look good in every picture,”

“no,” you scoff, “you’re just saying that because you’re my boyfriend,”

“no,” he mocks you, sticking his tongue out at you. you laugh at his immaturity, moving to push his shoulder but he stops you, hand gripping onto your wrist. you pause, biting your lip to keep from laughing when you notice he’s still glaring at you, “it’s because you are pretty. so pretty that i go crazy every time i see you,”

“you’re overselling it,” you look away, feeling your face heat up at his compliments. you still aren’t used to him being so… nice. not that he was ever mean, but the constant barrage of compliments the boy gives you on a daily basis is enough to make anyone nervous.

“am not,” he gives you an offended look, letting out a huff of air, “i’m just telling the truth, lovely.”

NISHIMURA RIKI you glance to your side, stifling a giggle when riki lets out a loud groan, his feet dragging against the floor as you walk into yet another store.

you’ve been shopping for the past three hours, having gone into most of the businesses at the mall. riki, despite you telling him he didn’t have to come, tagged along but he started complaining almost immediately after you exited the third store.

“you definitely don’t have enough money to buy anything else—can we go?” he squeezes your hand, rubbing his thumb against your knuckles. the act almost makes you comply with his request.

“i told you that you didn’t have to come,”

you always tell him that he doesn’t have to go with you, whether it be to the mall or something else. every single time he insists, telling you that he’ll go with you so you don’t ‘feel lonely’, only for him to start complaining within five minutes of whatever it is that you’re doing. you know that it’s lighthearted, but you can’t help but (lovingly) roll your eyes at him every time he does this.

“i didn’t think we’d be here for five days,”

you scoff, bumping him with your shoulder while you card through a rack of t-shirts with your free hand, “you’re dramatic,”

“no, i’m not. my feet just hurt,”

humming, you pull out a shirt, scrutinizing it for a few moments before ultimately deciding to buy it, “go sit in the car then, babe,”

“uh, no,” he gives you a dirty look, grabbing the shirt from your hand so that he could hold it instead, “i came ‘cos i wanted to spend time with you, not the car.”

note. PHEWWWW whyd this take me a week to write bye sunoo was making me go crazy. anyways yay guess their love languages!!!! i think it's obvious but if it isn't oops + layout inspired by my fav bywons <3

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sincerelybubbles · 6 months ago

Text

it's a date || spencer reid x reader

part 2

warnings: cannon-typical violence/mentions of murder and kidnapping, slow burn, fluff!, early seasons spencer, not proof read

word count: 6.1k

You sigh and crack your knuckles, staring down at the pot simmering on the stove. You know that the sauce would be okay if you left it for a few minutes, did something else, but you remain standing, uselessly stirring it every few seconds. Truthfully, you’re bored. Your mind shifts from cooking to work tomorrow, itching to pull out your documents and scan through them one more time. But you know you shouldn’t, advise about work-life balance tugging at your attention.

You’re debating if you should pick up a book and try to read, something light to take your mind off of the day, when a knock sounds from the front door. Your dog, Penny, a lovely golden retriever you rescued a few years ago, lets out a weak woof before slowly standing and trotting to the door. She’s old, more grey than golden, but she never fails to answer the door with you.

You turn the stove off and move the pot off of the burner, wiping your hands as you walk, when another knock echoes through the hallway. It’s sharp, official, loud. The sound fills you with anxiety. You stand on your toes to look out of the peephole.

“Hello?” You ask through the door, not recognizing the men standing outside and seeing no package in sight.

“Hello, Jason Gideon, FBI, could we have a word?” The older man says, voice stern but not unkind.

You open the door without unlatching the chain, peering out through the crack. “FBI?”

Jason Gideon, the one who spoke, pulls out his badge first. The lankier man next to him follows in suit. Your eyes linger on him for a second longer than the other agent, taking in his toussled brown hair. You scan the badges for a second before shutting the door to undo the chain.

“Sorry, you can’t be too careful, you know?”

“Oh, we know that all too well,” Gideon says good-naturedly, “it’s good to be cautious.”

He asks your name, you give it, and nods sharply, looking to his partner. “Well, like I said, I’m Jason Gideon with the Behavioral Analysis Unit, FBI, and this is my partner Doctor Spencer Reid.”

“Well, come on in, Agent Gideon and Dr. Reid,” you say, waving them both in and shutting the door.

“Just Gideon is fine.”

Dr. Reid sends you a tight lipped smile as he walks in, adjusting his shirt and otherwise avoiding your gaze. He seems nervous.

“Would you two like something to drink while you tell me why you’re here? Coffee, tea, water?” You ask, twisting the dishcloth between your hands as you lead them inside.

“I wouldn’t say no to some coffee,” Gideon says. You nod and turn to Dr. Reid, who is staring at you with his mouth slightly agape.

“Oh, yeah, coffee for me too, please.”

“Of course, have a seat,” you say, waving them to the small table in your kitchen and moving to prepare their drinks. Neither of them sit.

“How well do you know your neighbors?” Gideon asks as you start the coffee.

You shrug. “As well as anyone does these days, I guess. I wave when I drive past them, smile when they’re out front at the same time. Why, has something happened? I saw the police cars earlier, on my way home from work, but I haven’t heard anything else.”

“Yes ma’am,” Dr. Reid says, even though he looks your age, maybe even a few years older. “Your neighbor across the street was murdered last night, Mrs. Furgison, and her eight-year-old son is missing. Did you hear anything?”

You fall still, facing away from the two officers. Numb, you shake your head, “No, I didn’t. I wasn’t home last night. I was watching my niece for my sister.” You turn around to face them, leaning back against the counter. “But there are cameras outside, I’m assuming that’s why you’re here?” “Yes,” Gideon confirms with a nod. “Would you be okay if we took a look at the last few weeks of footage if you have it?”

“You want to see if he’s been visiting before last night,” you mumble, nodding. “Yes, of course.”

“Do you work in law enforcement?” Dr. Reid asks, the question erupting from him like he couldn’t hold it back. “You’re shockingly calm and seem to know what we’re going to ask before we get to it.”

“Oh, yeah,” you chuckle, waving a hand in the air and turning to pull the pot of coffee out. “BAU, of course, you’d see right through me. I’m a victim liaison. I read through this process hundreds of times a week. Sugar?”

“No, thanks,” Gideon answers as Dr. Reid blurts out, “Yes, please.”

You set the mugs on the kitchen counter along with a container of sugar.

“Help yourself, I’ll grab my laptop to get those files for you.”

When you come back, laptop in tow, Gideon and Dr. Reid are having a hushed conversation, both holding their mugs of coffee. You round the corner slowly but loudly, aware that sometimes agents can be jumpy. Gideon smiles at you while Dr. Reid looks over sharply.

It fits, given their ages and presumably how long each have been in the field. You try to send him a reassuring smile. He reciprocates but still looks obviously awkward, fixing his hair and taking a sip of coffee.

“Would you like me to put the files on a USB? Email them somewhere? Or just,” you motion with the computer, offering it over.

“I can take it,” Dr. Reid offers, “send the files to Garcia.”

You let him, passing him the computer easily. With your job, the government is already elbows deep in that laptop, anyway; you have nothing to hide.

You watch as Dr. Reid begins typing away on your computer, leaning over the table and resting his forearms on the edge.

Both of the agents are dressed professionally: button-down shirts, slacks, dress shoes. Guns ready at the hip.

“You like to cook?” Gideon asks, nodding toward your forgotten pasta on the stove.

“Yes and no,” you admit, chuckling and turning your attention to him. “It always tastes better than takeout but it’s hard to get the motivation. Are you hungry? Can I offer you anything else?”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary, but thank you.”

“Of course. I know how overworked you lot can be.” You cross your arms and lean back against your counter. “What about you? Do you cook?”

“Not as often as I should,” he admits, smiling sadly. “Victim liaison, you said?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You seem a little young.” “Could say the same about him.” You nod at Dr. Reid who doesn’t hear you, too focused on his work. “But I guess drive and pretty much no social life can get you anywhere,” you admit with a laugh.

“Garcia should have the files in a minute,” Dr. Reid interrupts, looking up from your laptop.

“I’ll give her a call.”

He steps out with a nod to you, walking back into the front hallway of your small home and leaving you alone with the doctor.

He opens his mouth to say something before his eyes focus over your shoulder and his attention is stolen. “Sorry,” he says, moving past you and into your living room, toward your bookshelf. “Is that a Russian copy of Crime and Punishment?” He asks, brushing his finger over the spine of the book.

“Oh, yeah, it is.” You follow him, staring up at your own bookshelf like you’ve never seen it before. It’s crammed full of books. There are more filling your bedroom down the hall as well. “It’s a slow read, I have to use a lexicon a lot of the time, but I sort of like the work. Translating’s a hobby of mine, I guess. When I have time. Sorry, that might be weird.”

“No, it’s not weird at all! Not to me, at least. Are you using a Dictionary-based lexicon? Can I see it? I have one that I love. I haven’t read much Russian but I have one for Greek. They’re rarely used anymore, falling out of popularity with the creation of the internet where everything is readily available to just search up, but I find them fascinating and I’ve never seen one for Russian before.”

He talks enthusiastically with his hands. His eyes shine, the interest lighting up his face. You think, before you remember the reason why he’s there, that he’s actually quite handsome. You become slightly breathless at the realization. You don’t really notice people like this often. But, towering above you, buttoned shirt pushed up to show his forearms and a self-concious smile stretching across his face, you’re a little flustered.

You take a breath, remembering that your neighbor is dead and a little boy is missing, sending Dr. Reid a small smile and motioning behind you.

“It’s in my office if you want to go look at it. I prefer it to just typing out the stuff I don’t know — mostly because I don’t have a Russian keyboard — and it’s easier to learn when you have to research it.”

“I would actually love –”

“Reid,” Gideon interrupts, ending his call, “Garcia got the files, we have to go.”

“Oh, yes, of course.”

“Thank you so much for your help,” Gideon says, walking toward you and offering his hand. “And for the coffee. So sorry to have interrupted your cooking.”

“Anytime detective,” you say, shaking his hand and smiling up at him, “always happy to help. I can give you my card if you need anything else?”

“That would be great, thank you.”

You rush to your bag to pull out one of your cards and hand it to Gideon before turning to offer Dr. Reid your hand.

“It was nice to meet you, too, Dr. Reid.”

He takes your hand firmly. “Spencer’s fine,” he says, stumbling over his words slightly but still smiling. “Thank you for your help.”

“Anytime,” you repeat, letting them out and returning to your sad pasta.

Your mind wonders, not to the murder or kidnapping, but to Spencer Reid. Wide brown eyes, tousled hair pushed out of his face, a sweet smile. Smart, too. Way too smart.

You’re not exactly experienced when it comes to dating, you hadn’t lied to Gideon when you said you don’t make time for a social life, dating included, but you do know that an interest in a too-smart profiler might spell bad news.

Still, as you portion out your meal, you can’t help but think that you’re feeling awfully motivated to return to working on Crime and Punishment. You don’t lie to yourself about the origins of this sudden spark of motivation, but you do rationalize it. What’s the harm in a fleeting crush, then? Especially if it gives you the push to finally finish one of the many projects hanging on your ever-growing list?

You suppose you might see them arround the office if they’re working in this jurisdiction, but then he’ll be gone and it’ll fade away. In the meantime, you make yourself a plate of food and settle down in your living room with the book and lexicon.

||||

“Well, that certainly poses an interesting problem,” you hear Cheif Saunders say as you walk into the police department the next morning, arms full of files ready for sorting.

You round the corner to escape this attention but aren’t fast enough and he calls you over by name. Cringing, you turn on your heel and are faced, once again, with Gideon and Spencer. With them are two more men and two girls, all intimidating and confident.

All FBI, if you had to wager a bet.

“Morning,” you say, nodding to Gideon and Spencer respectively. “Nice to see you two again.”

“You’ve met?” The tall man next to Gideon asks, pointing the question to Spencer. He grins, white teeth overtaking his dark, handsome face. He reaches his hand out to shake yours, “Morgan, nice to meet you.”

You introduce yourself, explain your position, and receive introductions from JJ, Elle, and Hotchner as well.

“Where did you meet our friends?” Chief Saunders asks, folding his hands in front of him and setting an accusatory glare on you. “Still preening for a new job?”

“No sir,” you say, uncomfortable. The chief is often cold with you, refusing to acknowledge your knowledge or work. When he found that you were looking to transfer stations to the one a district over, he’d still thrown a fit, though. You guess he can’t ignore how well your numbers reflect on him as easily as he deflects your accomplishments to your face.

“We stopped by to get access to her cameras, she lives across the street from the Furgison’s,” Gideon explains, watchful eyes glancing between you and the chief.

“They proved to be surprisingly useful,” Spencer interrupts. “We now know the make, model, and color of the unsubs car as well as his general height. Garcia is still trying to make out plates, but we are able to confirm at least pieces of our profile with the information.”

“You live across the street?” The chief asks, still staring at you. You shift your weight, holding the files closer to your chest.

“Yes, sir. In a duplex.”

“Then, fellas, I’ve found the solution to our problem. You’ll set up with our little liaison, then.”

“Sorry?” You ask, startled.

“We have reason to believe that the unsub is returning to the crime scenes after the police have left the area and allowed the family to return. But, if we know our guy, and we think we do,” Elle says, begrudingly, “he’s smart. He’s going to notice if we’re camped out in a car. And, in a residential street, it’s much harder to hide in a building.”

“So, you’ll have the opportunity to make yourself useful,” Chief Saunders chuckles, laying a heavy hand on your shoulder and shaking you.

“Only if you’re comfortable,” Gideon adds, glancing at you with a patient expression.

“Yes, it would be a complete invasion of your privacy, agents would be there twenty-four-seven monitoring. We would only stay in the front areas of the house, of course, but you needn’t do anything you’re not comfortable with. There are always other ways.” Agent Hotchner fixes you with a level look, voice sincere.

“Oh, she’s comfortable, aren’t ya?” The chief says, shaking you again with a wide smile.

“Yes, of course,” you say, nodding at the others. You mean it, you’ll do whatever you can to help out, you just wish you could’ve made the choice yourself.

“This way, you don’t have to worry about confidentiality, either. Little Miss has full access to ongoing investigations, she’ll be there for all of the briefings and such.”

You nod, discretely moving a step back so his hand falls from your shoulder.

“Yes, I’m meant to be kept up to date with all ongoing, violent investigations where and if possible to act as a bridge between law enforcement and victims and families of victims. Especially those with children involved — I should have mentioned we would cross paths again last night, I just wasn’t thinking.”

“Yes, we’ve worked with our fair share of liaisons,” Gideon chuckles, looking over his shoulder at JJ who gives him a small smile.

“Then it’s all set. You boys let me know when you have your profile ready.” Elle watches him walk off with a hard stare, obviously just as rubbed wrong by him as you are.

“Lovely man, isn’t he?” You joke, trying to make the situation lighthearted.

“We’ve interacted before. Our headquarters isn’t actually far from here, just a twenty-minute drive, we’re up in Quantico. He doesn’t get any better with time, though.” Agent Hotchner shakes his head, turning to grab a file off of the desk behind him.

“Well, he always forgets to offer his office space to visitors so I usually keep mine available. It’s quieter and there’s a whiteboard, follow me.”

||||

Since you started renting the small duplex by yourself, you’ve never felt awkward in your own home. Now, though, you feel odd taking up your own space.

The majority of the Quantico team is set up in your front room with laptops, cameras, and microphones.

“We don’t know exactly how long he usually takes to come back to scenes, only that it typically happens within the week,” Elle explains to you apologetically.

“No problem — comes with the job, no?” You say, smiling and trying to brush it off. Elle laughs gently, nose wrinkling as she shakes her head.

“No, not really. I wouldn’t be thrilled if these boys set up shop in my house, you’re taking this with much more grace than I would.”

You shrug, crossing your arms and tilting your head from side to side. “I won’t act like it’s normal, it is pretty weird having you guys here, but if it helps you catch this guy, why would I say no? Better me than some random civilian.” You hesitate, scrunching up your nose, “Better now than waiting for him to kill someone else.”

“Much more compassionate than I am,” Elle jokes, shaking her head and walking away as Gideon calls her name.

The main problem, you think, is that the duplex isn’t very big. The part of the team that’ll be staying with you — Spencer, Gideon, Elle, and Morgan — have all settled in. They won’t come and go, their car is firmly parked in your garage, and they’ll keep a low profile to prevent the unsub from noticing their presence. You’re meant to come and go as normal to keep suspicion low in case he’s cased the entire neighborhood. But, with only two bedrooms, a baths, and a small office, you’re feeling slightly cramped. Whenever you turn, you feel like you’re coming toe-to-toe with someone. It’s awkward, considering you’re very used to living alone.

Still, you’re determined to be a good host, so you set to preparing lunch for everyone. They’d insisted that you didn’t need to, but you really don’t know what else to do. You’d been given the day to help them all settle in and provide assistance wherever possible, but there isn’t much to do other than wait.

You’re pulling out the things for sandwiches when Spencer walks in.

“Hey, do you have an extra ethernet cable? Garcia thinks that a direct line would be better,” he asks.

“Maybe, you’re free to check in the office if you want. If you need, you can always pull the one from my desktop,” you say, shutting the fridge and trying to balance everything in your arms in one trip.

“What’re you doing?” Spencer asks, reaching forward to grab the ham and mayo from the top of your stack.

“Making sandwiches!”

“You really don’t have to. We can have food ordered, it’s okay.”

“I wanna make myself useful, I feel weird just standing around watching you guys work,” you say, dumping the materials on the counter. “I hope you guys like ham or turkey, it’s all I have.”

“You are being useful, though. You’ve let us set up in your home, how much more useful can you be?”

“I could provide food as well,” you say, sending him a smile. “Ham or turkey?”

Spencer looks exasperated, setting the ham and mayo down and shaking his head. Nervously, he uses both of his hands to push his hair back. “Either. Either is fine, thank you.”

You start to prepare the sandwiches, Spencer watching and still looking like he wants to say something.

“Hey, Reid, I found one, we’re all set,” Morgan says, rounding the corner and waving the white chord in the air. “Oh, what’re you making?” He asks, stepping closer and leaning over your shoulder.

“Sandwiches. I was asking Spence if you guys like ham and turkey but he wasn’t being helpful.”

“Well, Spence can be like that,” Morgan says, throwing Spencer a smirk over his shoulder. “But we’d appreciate anything.” “I was trying to tell her,” Spencer interrupts, “that it’s entirely unnecessary for her to make us lunch. She’s already done enough for us letting us set up here. The effort is appreciated, of course, obviously, you just shouldn’t have to. Because we’re already intruding.” He trails off as Morgan sends him a look, raising his eyebrow.

“Well, I, for one, appreciate the offer,” Morgan says, leaning on the counter and smiling down at you. You laugh at him.

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate it! I do,” he says, turning to you and holding one of his hands up in a placating way, “I just don’t think, it’s very kind of course, I just –”

You cut him off, taking pity, “He’s fucking with you. Relax.”

||||

“I just can’t believe that you’re actually processing any of what you’re reading at that speed!” You say, throwing your arms up.

“I actually am. Speed reading, when done right, doesn’t take away from comprehension at all. Plus, with my eidetic memory, I can always think back and process later if I need to,” Spencer explains.

“Fine, you’re understanding what you’re reading in a general sense, but where’s the enjoyment in it? How can you possibly understand all the intricacies of the writing, what the author is doing, and appreciate the characters and their growth if you don’t take your time with it?” “I tend to focus my reading moreso on informational writing, so that’s not often a problem. And when I do read something fictional or with more nuance, I’m never lacking in any way when it comes to my understanding of the content, even when speed reading.”

“So you’re not actually taking the time to have fun reading is what I’m hearing.”

“Reading is inherently fun when you’re learning something, though,” he says, lips quirked in a slight smirk and a line forming between his eyebrows as he looks down at you. The look is so disarming that you find yourself deflating a little.

You’re in your living room, a few books scattered on the coffee table between you two, debating the merits of each one.

“I dunno,” you say, argument leaving you as you become distracted.

“Just say I’m right! You know I am,” Spencer says with a chuckle, shaking his head and leaning toward you slightly, hands spread.

You thought he was cute when he was shy, bumbling in your house yesterday, but after a few hours to warm up to each other, you can’t deny you really like him.

The only thing that completely blocks the disappointment that they’ll all soon be leaving is that their UnSub will be caught when they have to leave. Your community and neighborhood will be better off for it.

“No, I still think you’re wrong. Sure, you understand what you’re reading but I just don’t buy that you could possibly enjoy it in the same way that I am!” You’re trying your damndest to regain your confidence, shaking your head side-to-side with a wide smile to erase the vision of his own smirk, his hands, his rolled up sleeves from your mind. “I mean, nothing beats curling up with a book and taking your time with it.” “Well,” Spencer interrupts, lifting a finger, “how can you say if you’ve never tried my way?”

“Speed reading? I’ve done it, actually.” You shrug at his hesitating look, suddenly feeling vulnerable under the weight of his eyes.

“Really? What method? What was your fastest time? What —” Morgan cuts off his questioning by walking in and calling for him.

“Gideon wants you to take a look at something.” “Ah. Breaks over.” Spencer stands from where he was sitting on your armchair, brushing his hands off on his pants. He points at you while he walks away, “We’re not finished, though!”

“Oh?” Morgan asks when he’s gone, raising his eyebrows at you. “Unfinished business?” You scoff, moving to pick up the books you pulled out to talk to Spencer about.

You like Morgan. He’s an easy one to like and he feels like the bigger brother you don’t have with his easy smiles. The chaos in your house hasn’t been easy, you appreciate his consistent presence to lighten the atmosphere.

You’ve actually come to like all of them. Elle with her stories, Gideon with his dry smiles, and Spencer. Really, you just like Spencer. You’re an adult, you’re not ashamed to admit it. Just, only to yourself, lest you mess something up and make him uncomfortable.

“You know, I can’t really say I haven’t seen him this excited before because the kid gets excited about everything but,” Morgan shrugs, pushing himself off of the wall he’s been leaning on and coming to sit next to you, “you do seem to get along well.”

“Oh, yeah, Spencer’s nice,” you say, standing to put the books away.

“Nice,” Morgan muses, leaning back on the couch and crossing his arms.

“He is! You all are.” You laugh when Morgan raises his eyebrows again. “I’m being serious, I would kill to work on a team like yours. You all actually work together.”

“We have to.”

“It certainly works out better when you do.”

“Yeah, your boss is a real dick. He usually walk all over you like that?” You wrinkle your nose at him as you sit down, pulling your legs under you. “More or less I guess. My personal opinion is that he’d like more men on the team and … no women,” you joke, giving him a what can you do? look, smiling sadly.

“And you tried to transfer?”

“Stop profiling me,” you say, eyes narrowing. Morgan smiles, all teeth.

“Not profiling, just remembering him saying something like that when we talked at the station.”

“Oh,” you say, slouching back. “That’s considerably less impressive.” “Ouch.”

“Yeah, yeah, I wound you. But I did look into transferring a while back. I’ve been trying to move up for a while and keep getting blocked. But, no surprise, I got blocked again.” You raise an imaginary glass, cheers-ing with the air, “Go government!”

“That’s fucked,” Morgan says, letting out a low whistle. “So you don’t want to stay a victims liasion?”

“No, I do. But it’s not my only job right now. It’s a little complicated, but our office is too small to have a head liaison. So I really just run around filling gaps wherever I can until I’m needed to do my actual job. I’d love to do just liaison work, I really like working with the public. Feels like I’m actually helping people, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” “Hey,” you say suddenly, not wanting to keep the mood somber (or ignore the FBI agent in your house with your silly woes while a murder investigation is underway), “you want some tea? Coffee?”

“Sure doll, I’ll take some coffee,” Morgan says, a confused smile taking over his face, “if you’re offering.”

||||

“It’s actually pretty interesting,” Spencer is saying, flipping through files and leaning over to show Elle something.

“Oh, I bet. Nothing better than vicious murder,” you say, dry, rolling a pen between your fingers.

“I mean the process behind deciphering their reasoning,” Spencer says, shrugging.

“I just don’t know how you look past it to see anything other than the violence,” you say, shuddering.

He and Elle have taken the night shift and are giving you a rundown on profiling. You’ve worked with profilers before, but they’re small-town cops, more interested in closing cases than being scientific, or, at times, even correct.

“How do you look past a crying mother after her daughter has been murdered to get the information you need?” Elle asks. “I’ve worked with hundreds of victims, I think I’m pretty good at it, but your records show that you’re one of the best.”

You heat at the praise, shrugging your shoulders. “I wouldn’t say I look past them. I actually try to get into their shoes to figure out what I can say to get through to them.”

“Often the victims families know more than they think. Every bit of information they can give us or the police about the victim only lead us closer to the unsub. We often rely on your job to get important information out of victims and families that we wouldn’t otherwise have. It requires tact, empathy, and extreme emotional control,” Spencer explains, setting the file down and brushing his hair back.

“Well, thank you?”

“I think he’s trying to say what we do is similar,” Elle explains, “it’s just the opposite side of it.”

“I’m still not following — but I’m definitely not built to be a profiler, that’s for sure.”

“But you could be. You profile in your own way. We look at the bad guys, the killing patterns, stuff like that,” Spencer leans forward, enthusiastic. “You just profile less intense people. Gather information from them, figure out what they need. Get in their shoes, to use your words. You use their actions, small phrases, and what you can gather from their homes to approach them the best way, no?”

“Looking at their clothes and body language and stuff, sure.”

“We do exactly that with crime scenes. Recognize patterns. Just like you can’t imagine seeing past the violence, some of us can’t imaigne having to see past the emotion of someone dealing with fresh loss.” Elle smiles. “You’d probably make a really good profiler. You’re just a better victims advocate.”

You consider that, weighing their words. “Sure, maybe,” you admit. “I still think it’s kinda like magic, though. Your knowledge, your intuition, your teamwork. It’s cool.”

“Thank you,” Elle says kindly.

Spencer jumps back into his explanation of the types of murder-kidnappers, musing with Elle again about their profile. Their ability to constantly return to the same evidence over and over without any hesitation is still amazing to you. Despite what Elle said, you’re sure you’d get bored.

You’re even more sure that it would stick to you in a way that working with the victims never did. You visit crime scenes, sure, but you never do everything in your power to commit every bit of them to memory.

As they talk, you move toward the window and move the curtains over slightly. It’s the middle of the night, the second the team has spent in your home, and you’re curious how much longer this unsub will take to be caught.

You’ve done your best to keep to your usual schedule and luckily it’s not unusual for you to be up late. The movement behind the curtains won’t be suspicious, so you stand and peek out curiously at the home across the street.

Penny sighs from her bed in the living room, snoring softly. She’s taken a liking to your guests who are always willing to give her attention and scraps of food.

The Furgison house bigger than yours, a family home with a large backyard. It’s a faded blue, lightened by the sun, with a white door. Theres a dim porch light that’s been left on, throwing yellow shaddows across the street.

You swear you see a curtain move in the window and your entire body freezes, breath stolen from your lungs.

“Hey guys?” You say, dead quiet, as you see the curtains flutter again. Small, nearly inperceptable movement. Greys and blacks angainst more greys and blacks.

“Yeah?” Elle asks, still reading over the file with Spencer.

“You’re sure that nobodys gone in tonight?”

“Certain,” Elle says, moving quickly to stand next to you. “Why?”

“Curtains moved,” you say, nodding toward the house.

“Maybe the AC was left on?” Elle suggests and you shake your head.

“No, we would’ve noticed it before now. They have no animals, the house should be empty.”

Your heart is racing as Spencer joins you at the window.

“You sure you saw it move?” He asks, moving to stand behind you, just out of sight at the window, a hand pressed to your back. Gentle pressure, just his fingertips, that makes you siffen even more. He moves his hand, whispering an apology.

You wish he hadn’t.

Your mind spins, distracted for a moment, shaking your head again.

“Yes, I’m certain.”

“Go get Morgan and Gideon,” Spencer tells you, sharing a look with Elle.

||||

You follow the team out, despite their insistence that you don’t have to, holding your own handgun out and following the light Morgan casts.

You live in a relatively sleepy neighborhood. Shared duplexes and little houses line the streets, most with little flowerbeds out front. The Furgison house is no exception: it’s a little blue house with rose bushes out front. It backs the small patch of wood that runs along the length of the highway.

Heart racing and head light from adrenaline, you stay out front to watch for any movement inside while Morgan and Hotch creep around one side of the house, Spencer and Elle take the other side.

“Back here,” you faintly hear Morgan say through your earpiece. “The cellar door is open. It was deadlocked last time.”

You sitffen, readjusting your grip on your gun.

“Wasn’t it cleared, though, when we were here last?” Elle asks.

“Yeah, but he could’ve snuck in through the woods — there’s no telling.”

“Didn’t we position police cars on the highway?” Elle again. You can imagine them all standing behind the house, guns drawn. It’s intersting to hear them communicate so efficiently, voices low.

“We’ll worry about it later. Morgan, you take the lead, I’ll take the rear, Elle stay out here.”

For a long few seconds, you hear Morgan, Spencer, and Hotch begin to clear the basement, until you’re jolted out of the repetitive “clear!”s by Hotch yelling, “FBI, put your hands up!”

The next few minutes turn into a whirlwind as police cars arrive and Morgan drags the UnSub out of the house by his handcuffed arms.

The Furgison boy comes out next, disheveled and passed to the paramedics in the back of an ambulance. Once you see Hotch, Spencer, and Elle are okay as well, you jump into action, going to sit with the boy and comfort him. Morgan is there, too, crouched down to talk to the kid.

“You’re all good now,” he’s saying, reaching forward to ruffle his hair. “And my friend here is going to make sure that you see your dad as soon as possible.” Morgan gestures to you and you nod at the little boy.

The sight of him makes your chest ache: he’s scrawny with wide brown eyes and a mop of curls on the top of his head.

“Agent Morgan is right, your dad is going to meet us at the hospital.”

The boy doesn’t say anything, shaking under his emergency blanket.

“I’ll ride with you in the ambulance, too, and that’ll be fun, right?” You ask, jumping up to sit next to him. Slowly and sluggish the boy rests his head on your shoulder, still shivering. You wrap an arm around him before mouthing ‘I’ve got him’ to Morgan. He gives you a small sile, waves at the boy, and goes to join his team.

After being checked over again by the paramedics, the boy falls asleep quickly in the hospital, holding his dads hand. You’re leaving the room, shutting the door with a soft click, when you see Spencer sitting in the hallway.

“How is he?” Spencer asks, standing up at the sight of you.

“He’s okay, some minor bruises and scrapes, dehydrated but on an IV. They’re just happy to be back together.”

“That’s good,” Spencer says, falling quiet and looking away.

“And, hey, you guys caught the bad guy — now you all get to go home!”

“Yeah,” Spencer says, turning to look at you again, chuckling slightly without any heart behind it.

“Are you not excited?” You ask, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s always nice coming back home after a trip, even one as close to home as this one is. But it’s a little bittersweet.”

“How so?”

You practically see Spencer gathering his courage, straightening his shoulders and sending you a small but genuine smile.

“Well, we have some unfinished business, remember? And you never showed me your lexicon.”

“Well,” you say, smiling, “you’ll just have to keep in touch, then. Maybe we can get dinner?”

“Yeah. Yes, of course. Dinner.” Spencer is fully grinning now, eyes squinting with the force of it. You can’t help but mirror him, laughing a little. “Well, I do have a car to catch. I just wanted to check on him and say goodbye.”

“Well, goodbye for now Dr. Reid.”

“Goodbye,” he says, smiling at you for a second longer before turning to walk to the exit. He makes it to the doors before he hesitates, one hand on the handle. He stands there, still, for a moment before turning around and asking, “Dinner, like a date, right?”

Giddy, your smile only widens as you nod. “I would really like that, if you’re asking, yeah.”

“I’m asking.”

“Okay, then it’s a date.”

i wanted more to happen here but then i got this far and still had so much more i could write about these two aahhh

lmk if u want a pt 2 bc i kind of have ideas :) tysm for reading!!

1K notes · View notes

feirceangel · 8 months ago

Note

Okay so you’ve written protective/possessive Feyd—what about protective Paul seeing his wife badly hurt or narrowly escaping an attack? I live for the “who did this to you” trope, got me weak at the knees 🥹

I sorta missed the whole wife part, whoops! But I hope you still like it!!

Imagine | Beloved (Paul Atreides)

Word Count: 1,820

Warnings: reader is harassed, I invented an OC to be the antagonist, protective! Paul, hurt/comfort

The halls of Castle Caladan are cold tonight.

Goosebumps are already forming on your arms as you walk through the dark.

Perhaps going for a late night stroll wasn't the best idea, but you just couldn't sleep tonight.

So you stroll instead, peering out of the windows to observe the rain clouds forming.

Castle Caladan has been your home for ages, even though you are not an Atreides. You've lived alongside House Caladan, having come from one of the lesser houses in an attempt to give you a better standing in society.

You're not angry about it.

In fact, you're grateful to live on this oceanic planet. And, you're happy to be alongside your best friend, Paul Atreides.

There weren't any others your age in Castle Caladan, so naturally you sought each other out early on.

Being friends came easily.

Paul has always been sweet, adventurous, friendly - and you are much the same.

Of course, you both had different teachings and priorities, but you always found each other whenever possible.

There was no greater joy than racing through the castle and playing near the waves alongside the boy with dark hair.

And now you're both older.

Life has intruded upon those times of peaceful play and brought forth more schoolings and politics that the young aren't susceptible to.

Although he has a higher standing in society, Paul always manages to remember you, make time for you. He vowed to never abandon you.

And you believe him.

But the subtle glares that Lady Jessica sends your way are not easy to ignore, nor are the signs that others in the castle are uncomfortable with the situation.

You try not to dwell on those things. Because the only thing that matters is being there for Paul. He deserves to have a friend that isn't a mentor or a parental figure.

As you walk though the sleeping palace, your find your mind troubled. Maybe that's why you can't sleep tonight.

Footsteps silent on the stone floor, you arrive before Paul's chambers. You hadn't realized you were walking here. Unconsciously, you sought him out in your time of uncertainty.

Resting your palm on the door, you close your eyes and sigh. You wouldn't disturb him at this hour- you know how bad it would look.

Before you can continue on your way, a voice calls out from the shadows.

"What are you doing here at this hour?"

It's a male's voice, one that you wish was unfamiliar.

"I didn't realize I couldn't roam as I please, Aric," you reply comply to the guard who walks closer.

His grin is wolffish, "I didn't realize you were stupid enough to come to him after dark."

"I was not going to disturb him."

"Oh no, I imagine he'd be excited to see you at this late hour."

"I don't like what you're insinuating," you start to walk away, hearing him continue after you.

He is right beside you, “I meant no insult, I assure you.”

“Your assurances are as empty as your head,” you retort, not even giving him a glance.

You’ve never liked Aric, so you see no reason to be civil with him. He’s always been an ass to you, finding any reason to make your life a bit more miserable.

“That was uncalled for,” he growls, grabbing your arm to stop you from walking away.

You fix him with an unimpressed stare.

“What do you want, Aric? It seems like you’re always following me,” you say calmly as he releases you.

He regains his composure, “I want you.”

You blink at him.

“I’m serious, I want you to stop fawning over Paul and turn to me instead,” his whisper is harsh and grating to your ears. “Be my wife. You’re of age now and I know you have no other offers.”

You can’t help but scoff. Stepping back from him, you cross your arms, “I do not fawn over Paul, and I am certainly not fond of you. I will do is both a favour and pretend you never asked.”

Rage lights up his features, his hand forming a fist at his side.

“I could give you everything you could ask for.”

“And you would take everything from me in the meantime. I know you, Aric. You are not kind,” you hiss, stepping back while he steps forward.

“Kindness gets you nowhere in this life.”

You shake your head, “Your actions in this life determine the outcome. And so far your actions are untoward. Cornering me at this time of night?”

“Paul will never marry you, you know,” he changes tactics.

You roll your eyes, “Admit defeat, Aric. I will never be yours.”

Suddenly, he is right in your face, sneering down at you, “I can take what I want. Like you said, it’s late, no one is here.”

“I will not let you.”

He laughs, grabbing your arm in a bruising grip once again. He wrenches you forward but you twist out of his grip and shove him into the wall.

He groans and recovers quickly, shoving you violently. You hit a corner and collapse on the ground, your arm dripping crimson.

Infuriated, you stand and glare at the smug bastard.

“Leave now,” you command him, using the Voice. You’re not a master at it, by any means, but you’re trained enough to get this brute to back down.

He leaves without a word, and you realize that you should have done that right away.

You grasp your arm and walk back to your chambers. Luckily, the wound isn’t deep and you’re finally able to sleep.

~~~

The next day commences as normal.

That is, until Paul appears next to you as you walk down the beach.

“I was looking for you,” he grins as he approaches.

His smile could brighten the darkest corner of space. His eyes are piercing and perceptive, you fear you could drown in their depths.

You smile back at him, “You found me.”

“I haven’t seen you in a few days, has everything been alright?”

That’s Paul, always so considerate of you and your wellbeing. The reminder of his care brings a softer smile to your face.

“I’m fine, just been tired lately.”

“Why?”

“Sleep’s been evading me,” you chuckle, bending to pick up a stone near your feet. “I’ll catch it eventually.”

A sudden tension fills the air, bringing you upright immediately. You look at Paul and see his gaze fixed on your bandaged arm.

“What happened?” He asks, concern dripping from his words like rain.

You move your arm from his direct view, “Nothing, it was an accident.”

His eyes flicker up to yours.

“You’re lying.”

You curse his Bene Gesserit training which makes it so easy for him to read you.

“I told you it’s nothing.”

“If it was nothing, you would’ve already launched into how it happened,” he points out. “Like that time you scraped your knee when you tripped down the stairs.”

You groan at the reminder, “You said you wouldn’t bring that up again!”

“Tell me what happened,” he reaches out to gently take your arm in his hands.

He examines the clean bandage before beginning to unwrap it. You shake your head but his eyes are pleading.

“Please.”

You sigh, unable to resist. He doesn’t even need to use the Voice on you, he controls you with his words, his eyes, his hands. You would give him everything if he simply asked for it.

He’d do the same for you.

“It was Aric,” you say, as Paul stares at the small cut on your bruised arm. “He got angry that I would never marry him in a million years.”

Paul’s expression goes dark, any mirth he might have had leaving him in an instant.

“Aric asked you to wed him?”

You nod.

“Then he did this?”

“Pushed me into the wall,” you confess. “I had ti use the Voice to get him to leave.”

You watch as Paul tenderly presses his lips to your arm, the contact warm and sweet.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

“You can’t be with me all the time, silly.”

He shakes his dark hair, “I promise, he won’t do this to you ever again.”

“How-“

Paul turns in a flurry, stalking back towards the castle. You race after him, suddenly unsure.

You knew you shouldn’t have told him what happened. This isn’t the Paul you know, this is someone else.

“Paul!” You shout as you run after him.

He’s too fast, storming to where Aric stands in the hall. Before Aric even notices his presence, Paul has punched him clear across the face.

Stunned, Aric stumbles back with a curse.

Paul doesn’t give him time to recover, kneeing him in the stomach so that he bends over in pain. You watch as Paul kicks him down to the ground, standing over him with a furious expression.

“I heard what you did last night, Aric.”

Aric groans in response.

Paul continues, “I know you tried to harm my beloved, tried to belittle her. Did you think you wouldn’t be punished?”

“Paul, I think he’s learnt his lesson,” you try to calm him.

“No, no he hasn’t.”

Paul watches as Aric rises to his feet, mouth bloodied.

“I should’ve known that whore would snitch.”

You wince, not at the intended insult, but at the fury blazing in Paul’s eyes. This isn’t going to end well.

“Stop talking,” Paul uses the Voice, before punching him once again.

“Get on your knees.”

You watch as Aric drops to the floor.

“Beg for her forgiveness and I’ll let you walk away,” Paul says casually. “If you don’t, I think you know what’ll happen.”

Watching with a flicker of amusement, you incline your head, “Go on.”

Aric grits his teeth, “I’m sorry.”

“That wasn’t good enough,” Paul seethes, “Do it better!”

Aric slams his head on the floor, “Please, please, don’t let him kill me. I won’t ever speak to you again!”

“I know you won’t,” you nod at Paul. “I think all is well now.”

“Get up Aric,” Paul commands. “I don’t want to see your face again, you hear me?”

Aric nods and retreats with a burning face.

You turn to Paul, crossing your arms, “Beloved, huh?”

He rubs the back of his neck, averting his gaze, “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Paul, hearing you call me that fills my heart to the brim. Your my beloved as well, you know.”

Paul bridges the space between you, clasping the back of your head and pressing his forehead against yours.

“I don’t think I could ever be without you. Even the thought of someone trying to take you from me, turn you against me…”

“Don’t worry, Paul,” you ghost your lips across his. “That will never happen, not as long as I have breath in my lungs.”

He wraps his arms around you, “I’ll cherish you always, protect you always.”

“I know.”

[A/n - It’s my first time writing Paul so I hope I did ok!]

#female reader #imagine #dune x reader #dune part two #dune #x reader #paul atredies x reader #paul atreides #paul atreides x reader #paul atreides imagine #paul atreides one shot #paul atreides x you #hurt/comfort

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lumiambrose · 8 days ago

Text

Sae Itoshi doesn’t dance.

You figured so anyways; it’s not like your boyfriend is the most… expressive.

So when the two of you run into a lively plaza full of locals and tourists alike dancing to romantic music on your vacation, you take the incentive to explore on your own. Twisting and turning through the sea of people as you enjoy the live band, a massive grin on your face.

To no surprise, even if you begged him, Sae wouldn’t join your antics in public. Instead, opting to watch you from a distance. Taking in the way you move to the rhythm as you casually dance with some of the locals. Sae finds it adorable, watching you enjoy yourself so much. If anyone looked at him hard enough, they might even see a small smile play on his lips.

That is until he sees a stranger—a man, grabbing you by the hand, leading you to the center of the plaza, away from him. You seem reluctant, of course you are. Why the hell would you be dancing with a random when you have the Sae Itoshi? The smile once adorning his face quickly fades as he storms through the crowd, pushing the man away from you, growling a few, what you presume to be spanish swear words at him before picking you up and carrying you back to your hotel room.

You arrive home and god, Sae is pissed. That man has no right to you like that. Nervous, you internally prepare to explain the situation to him. That the man caught you by surprise, and it wasn’t that deep. That the stranger didn’t do anything to you.

You open your mouth, but are quickly shushed by him as he seems to be searching for something in the hotel room. Unexpectedly, he pulls out a speaker. Connecting it to his phone and playing a melody, a very similar melody to what you heard at the plaza.

“Give me your hands,” he says in such a casual manner, as if he didn’t adorn the expression of a future murderer less than a minute ago.

You comply, giving him your hands as he helps you up, to then pull you in close, embracing you. His breath hot on your ear as he whispers, “Follow my lead.”

Now… just because Sae Itoshi doesn’t dance, it doesn’t mean he can’t.

Being a professional football player requires good agility and even better footwork, so to him, dancing comes naturally.

You though, are completely taken aback. He doesn’t give you time to process what’s happening as he guides you to the center of your suite, body in sync with the music as he mimics the matching movements to the ones you were dancing earlier.

You compliment him as the two of you bask in the music and each others company. Away from any strangers or creeps. Just you and him, together, as you dance through the early night.

“I didn’t know you could dance,” you giggle, almost teasing him for surprising you with his unexpected skills.

“Bad judge of character, angel,” he replies, even matching your teasing tone before dropping into a more intimate whisper. “Por ti haré cualquier cosa.”

©lumiambrose ─ do not translate, repost, copy any of my works

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lordprettyflackotara · 8 months ago

Text

sandman || fred weasley

smut 18+, minors dni

You lacked the capability to relax.

Being in Ravenclaw the expectations of the world were on your shoulders, not including the dementors that circled Hogwarts walls that made your skin crawl.

You had been up late studying with Hermione in the Gryffindor common room, who had already been dragged to bed by Ginny.

Clutching your quill you continued to scribble on the parchment paper, your temple beginning to throb.

“How did a Raven manage to fly into the lions den this late at night?” Fred Weasley’s recognizable voice asked you. You poked your head up from your Herbology textbook, Fred’s curious eyes watching you.

“I was studying with Hermione, she ditched me early. So much for an all nighter,” You explained, marking your page. You resisted the urge to fold the corners, placing your quill in between the pages about gillweed.

“Granger going to bed early to avoid studying? How out of character. Did you give her some of our drowsy draught potion?” Fred teased. You giggled, watching the lean quidditch player approach you. A white wife beater revealed how much muscle he truly had, his usual robes keeping them concealed.

He strode over to you confidently, taking a seat on the floor beside you. The fireplace cackled behind you, the warmth of the fire drawing Fred closer. “It’s almost three am, do you plan on sleeping?” Fred asked curiously. You knew as well as he did that he was notorious for sleeping through anything. Including the dreadful hail storm that once terrorized Hogwarts.

“I’m basically an insomniac at this point, I can’t relax for more than five seconds without racking my brain to solve an equation,” You admitted sheepishly. You nervously tucked your hair behind your ear as Fred leaned back on his hands. “Here turn your back towards me, I have some legit magic that’ll help you relax,” Fred told you. You hesitantly raised your eyebrow. The ginger tended to be a mischievous prankster, even if you weren’t a victim of his tricks.

“And you’re not going to prank me?”

“Pfft, of course not,”

“Promise Weasley?”

“I promise,”

You shifted around, your back now turned to Fred as you pulled your skirt down. You weren’t sure what to expect, acutely aware of how close you both were. Fred brushed your hair away from your back and over your shoulder, before beginning to massage your shoulders. “I thought you said this was magic,” You say timidly, his large hands massaging your skin with ease. Fred chuckled at your response, brushing some of his shaggy hair out of his face.

Merlin he needed a haircut.

“Yes this is the magic of relaxation,”

Your tense body began to slowly relax under Fred’s touch, the gingers eyes scanning your neck.

“Looks like you’re good at something other than pranks Weasley,” You say teasingly. Fred rolled his eyes. “I’m good at quidditch too ya know,” He countered. Fred could feel himself growing flustered as he continued massaging you, his eyes wondering down your figure.

“Your neck looks pretty tense, I can fix that for you if you want. I’ll just need you to turn around,” Fred offered, trying to appear cool and confident. You felt your face flush pink as you shifted around, facing him. You had never gotten a chance to interact with Fred one on one, George always connected to his hip.

The moment seemed oddly intimate, even though you had never considered relationships or sex worth your time. Yet the ginger sat in front of you with his large hands and soft lips, practically begging for you to kiss him. You had never considered yourself to be attracted to Fred Weasley, yet your body was yearning for more of his touch.

Fred couldn’t contain himself anymore, closing the gap between your lips and his. He tasted faintly of butterbeer, your eyes fluttering shut as your lips danced against his. Your arms found themselves around his neck, Fred’s hands slithering down to your waist. In a swift motion he had pulled you onto his lap, straddling him in front of the fire. Your fingers found his hair, small groans being swallowed by him as your hips bucked against his.

You could feel a wet patch growing in your panties, the soaked fabric rubbing right against Fred’s growing boner. His large hands slipped up your skirt, grabbing your ass. Your hips grinded against his, lust boiling in your stomach. “I wanna taste you,” Fred muttered against your lips, his words a confession. You felt heat rush to your cheeks as you briefly pulled away, Fred’s lips almost chasing yours.

“W-what Weasley?”

Fred brought his thumb to your lower lip, dragging it downwards.

“I want your lips wrapped around my cock as I make you cum on my face,”

His filthy words sent a shiver of arousal down your spine, right down to your cunt.

You went to unzip your skirt before Fred grabbed your wrist to stop you.

“Keep it on,” He whispered, his order teetering on the line of a plea. You swallowed as the ginger laid down in front of you, eagerly awaiting you. “I don’t wanna hurt you,” You admitted, causing the ginger to chuckle. You stood up, pushing your panties down to your ankles before stepping out of them.

“I’d be a lucky man if I were to die between your thighs. C’mere,” Fred told you. You kneeled down over his head, your cunt inches away from his face.

“Fred what if I crush-”

Your concern was silenced by Fred’s hands pushing you down onto his face. You whimpered as his warm tongue licked a stripe up your cunt before assaulting your clit. You felt your thighs tighten around his head as his hands kept you in place, your filthy noises becoming louder by the minute.

“Fuck, right fucking there,” You moaned, grinding your hips onto his mouth. His lips began to suck at your clit, causing your thighs to shake. Your eyes centered on Fred’s boner, his cock throbbing inside of his pajama pants. You leaned forward, hungrily shoving them down. The lack of boxers caused you to giggle as his cock landed on his stomach.

“No underwear huh? Naughty boy,” You teased. A sharp smack landed on your bare ass, causing you to winch in pain for a brief moment before Fred’s tongue brought you back to ecstasy.

The ginger was longer than you expected him to be. You took his shaft into your hands, bringing it into your mouth. A soft groan was muffled by your folds, encouraging you to sink your head further down onto his cock. You took as much of him as you could in your mouth, using your hand to jerk the rest of his cock.

Fred admired your determination and for a brief moment he considered switching positions, the thought of you on your knees for him mouth watering. Yet, there was something about having your pretty lips wrapped around his cock as he was buried into your pussy that pleased him more.

You tasted divine, much sweeter than any other girl he had fooled around with. He licked up your cunt, pushing his tongue inside of your hole. You were involuntarily animalistic, your hips having a mind of their own as Fred laid there in heaven.

Fred’s hips were beginning to do the same, bucking upwards. His cock hit the back of your throat, causing you to gag as saliva trailed down your chin. Fred momentarily pulled away from your dripping cunt, smirking as your juices coated his lips and chin. You took him out of your mouth, gasping for air.

“You sound so pretty when you gag on my cock. Do it again and i’ll make you cum,” Fred ordered. You tried to grind down onto Fred’s face but his strong hands kept you in place. You could feel his warm breath a mere inch away from your cunt, taunting you.

The idea of cumming on Fred Weasley’s face had never been more appealing to you.

Desperately you brought his cock back to your lips, shoving it down your throat. You forced yourself to keep his shaft in place as you gagged around him. Saliva was trailing down your chin and neck, beginning to dampen your blouse.

“Such a good listener aren’t we? What a good girl,” Fred praised, kitten licking your folds. You pulled back, inhaling deep breaths of air.

“Now be a good girl and ride my face until you make yourself cum,”

You leaned back hesitantly, gripping his chest for support as he placed his mouth back onto your cunt. It was as if he somehow had memorized your body, his tongue licking every right place. Your moans were sinful enough to wake up the entire Gryffindor house and it was a miracle no one had bothered to go into the common room.

“Freddie, I, fuck-” You groaned, a familiar knot in your stomach forming. His lips had wrapped themselves around your clit, sucking harshly at the sensitive bud as your thighs trembled around his head. His large hands kept you on his face, refusing to let you move away.

You could feel your cunt clench around nothing as your thighs began to shake, squeezing Fred’s head unintentionally. Unholy moans that were mantras of his name echoed off of the common room walls as you came. Euphoria had washed over you, your nails digging into Fred’s chest.

Fred licked and sucked at your clit until you slowly lifted off of him, your knees almost buckling as you shifted away from his face. You weakly sat beside him, your after orgasm glow apparent to the ginger in front of you. “Look at you, you’re so cute,” Fred teased, using his thumb to wipe away the remaining spit on your chin.

In a swift motion you brought your lips back to his, Fred rising to his knees. You could taste your juices on his lips as you roughly meshed your lips against his. Fred couldn’t take it anymore, pulling away to meet your gaze. He shrugged his wife beater over his head, discarding it without a second thought.

“Bend over for me, yeah?”

You turned around, bending over in front of him without a second thought. You could feel him lubricate the tip of his cock by running it up and down your folds. The sensation of it hitting your abused clit made you shiver. “You have no idea how long i’ve thought about doing this,” Fred confessed. A cool breeze hit your bare skin as Fred lifted up your skirt, exposing your ass in full to him. As he pushed inside of you his fingers gripped your waist forcefully, as if he were afraid you’d disappear.

“So full- shit,” You groaned, your eyes screwing shut as he bottomed out.

“You’re practically fucking milking my cock, merlin, you slut,” Fred groaned. Your cunt only clenched around him tighter at the sound of his degrading words, causing him to smirk.

He began picking up the pace, fucking into you slowly. Your noises only grew louder as his hips began to snap into yours faster. Fred’s thrust were merciless, his body chasing an ecstasy only you could provide.

Strings of curses mixed in with your name left Fred’s lips as he watched his cock go in and out of you. He was so deep inside of you that you almost thought you were seeing stars, your body drunk off of the feeling of his cock.

“You feel so good Freddie, so fucking- good,” You slurred, your words of encouragement only making Fred pound into you faster. His cock was abusing your g spot, causing your legs to shake as your knees dug into the carpet below you. You could feel the rug digging into your skin, making it raw which each thrust.

“I wanna fuck you everyday, make you my personal Raven,” Fred grunted. He could feel you getting closer to your final high, his hand slithering down to your swollen clit. You began to squirm as his fingers circled around your sensitive bud, unable to handle the fast circles he was drawing. “Oh- i’m gonna cum, I can’t, fuck!” You cried, your walls spasming as Fred ripped you into a state of euphoria.

Fred fucked you through your orgasm mercilessly, ravishing in the sight of you in a state of pure bliss. He was so focused on you that by the time he tried to pull out his cock it was too late, his cum painting the inner walls of your cunt. Your body was spent, slumping over onto the floor as Fred pulled out of you.

Two orgasms was all it took to get you to finally go to sleep. Fred smirked to himself as he shoved his pajama pants back on, your small sleeping body curled up into a ball in front of the fire. He grabbed your things, shoving them into a bag he knew he’d deliver to you in the afternoon when you ran into each other in defense against the dark arts.

He eyed your panties on the floor, contemplating putting them back on you. Instead a more mischievous thought came to mind, which caused him to decide to shove them in his pocket instead. He picked up your body up bridal style, carrying you upstairs to the girls dorm. Fred knocked on the door, hoping whichever gryffindor girl opened it wouldn’t be a first year.

A sleepy Hermione Granger opened the door, rubbing her eyes as her vision settled. “Y/n is still here?” She asked. Her mind was already scrambling itself on what to do, the responsibility of being a prefect weighing on her shoulders. “Yeah she finally just went to sleep, I don’t think I can deliver her to Ravenclaw tower at this hour,” Fred shrugged. Hermione stared at Fred, shirtless and hair messy. He looked like a wreck, and you didn’t look much better.

Questions were on the tip of her tongue, ones she decided could wait until the morning. Hermione knew there were a few extra beds that were designated for first years, but in emergencies they would have to do. “The spare beds are to the right, be very quiet and don’t pull anything stupid,” Hermione said sternly. Fred carried you inside of the room, ignoring the dozens upon dozens of sleeping gryffindor girls. Hermione trailed close behind him, ensuring he wasn’t up to any funny business.

“How’d you get her to go to sleep anyways? Shes practically an insomniac,”

Fred shrugged, laying you down and bringing the red colored comforter up to your shoulders.

“I’m not sure myself, guess you can call me the sandman,”

#harry potter #fred weasley #fred weasley smut #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x oc #weasley twins #george weasley #harry potter smut #george wealsey x reader #george wealsey imagine #wealsey twin smut

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gyuuberryy · 1 month ago

Text

trapped

pairing: hotel owner!heeseung x reader, slight sunoo x reader

genre: reincarnation au, supernatural themes, horror

synopsis: a road trip with your parents gone wrong lands you at a mysterious mansion in the middle of nowhere. after it turns out to be a hotel, your parents decide to stop over. everything about this place screams deja vu to you which is strange because you've never even heard about it. the hotel was not the only weird thing though, its handsome yet mysterious owner who looked like he stepped out of the 1920s is way too enthusiastic about your stay. every encounter with him leaves you feeling weirded out yet enamoured. but he is not who you think he seems to be. he will be the one to decide the duration of your stay here and it looks like it will not be ending anytime soon.

warnings: READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION! horror themes, suggestive content, slight yandere themes, manipulation, possessive!hee, murder, blood, lmk if i missed anything

note: i just came back from a party and my legs are killingg me so im half awake as i post this BUTTT it's finally out!! i love this plot so much omg. i think the ending could've been written better but eh. enjoyy and lemme know what you think of it!

word count: 24.3k

if you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3

the endless bickering between your parents filled the car like white noise. you were used to it by now—too used to it—but today, it grated on your nerves more than usual. you pressed your forehead against the cold glass of the window, watching the dark trees rush by, a blurry mix of black and grey.

"well, if you hadn’t taken that ridiculous detour, we wouldn’t have wasted half the day!" your mom snapped, her voice rising with every syllable.

your dad clenched the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles turning white. "oh, right, because everything’s my fault! you’re the one who insisted we take this ‘bonding trip’ in the first place."

you sighed. there it was, that phrase again: bonding trip. a doomed effort to salvage what was left of your parents’ relationship before you left for your two-year exchange program. your mom had decided that spending time together, crammed in a car for hours on end, would somehow solve years of unresolved issues.

"maybe if you actually listened to me for once, we wouldn’t be in this mess!" your mom retorted, arms crossed, glaring at your dad from the passenger seat.

you resisted the urge to groan out loud and instead slumped back in your seat. what was the point? nothing ever changed between them. you glanced down at your phone; no service, of course. this road trip to the ‘resort’ was supposed to be a goodbye vacation before you headed overseas, but the way things were going, you were counting the hours until it was over.

the car began to slow down as your dad pulled into a shabby gas station. it wasn’t much—a couple of pumps under flickering neon lights and a small convenience store that looked like it hadn’t been updated since the early 2000s.

“we’re stopping here?” your mom said, exasperated. “this place looks like it’s one step away from falling apart.”

“we need gas and food. you can’t survive on passive-aggressive comments alone,” your dad muttered, turning the car off and stepping out.

you stifled a laugh but quickly hid it when your mom shot you a look. without a word, you pushed the door open, desperate for a break from their constant bickering. you could feel their voices rising behind you as you made your way towards the store, the bell over the door jingling weakly as you stepped inside.

the guy behind the counter looked about your age, his face illuminated by the dull glow of a hanging light. his disinterested gaze shifted from the magazine he was reading to you as you approached. the store smelled like stale chips and cheap air freshener, a layer of dust coating the shelves.

“hey,” you greeted, leaning against the counter, “do you know if there are any motels up ahead?”

the guy looked up, raising an eyebrow as if the question itself was a bother. he glanced at the darkening sky outside and then back at you. "motels? there’s a town maybe three or four hours ahead. not much else between here and there, though."

you frowned. “three or four hours?” your stomach twisted. that would mean driving into the night—and with your parents still at each other’s throats, the idea didn’t sit well with you.

“yeah,” he shrugged, “but it’s getting late. if i were you, i’d try to get there quick. you don’t wanna be out here after dark.”

his tone sent a shiver down your spine, but you nodded anyway, brushing it off. you grabbed a couple of snacks and paid quickly, eager to get out of the unsettling atmosphere of the store.

outside, the bickering had not only continued, but it had escalated. your mom was leaning against the car with her arms crossed, while your dad angrily fumbled with the gas pump.

“what do you mean it’s not taking the card?” your mom was saying, her voice sharp with irritation.

“i don’t know! maybe it’s your stupid card,” your dad shot back, slamming the pump back into its holder.

you rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt. wordlessly, you tossed the snacks into the backseat and climbed in, shutting the door with a little more force than necessary. you didn’t want to deal with their drama anymore. after a few more minutes of back-and-forth arguing, they finally got the gas pump working, and soon, you were back on the road.

the silence in the car was thick, broken only by the occasional sigh or muttered insult from the front seat. you kept your gaze fixed on the road ahead, trying to tune it all out, when suddenly the car began to sputter.

your dad’s face tightened as the car jerked, the dashboard lights flickering. “what the—?”

with a final shudder, the car rolled to a stop, dead on the side of a long, deserted road. darkness had fully settled around you, swallowing the car in a sea of black. you could barely make out the outline of the trees surrounding you, their twisted branches reaching up like claws against the sky.

“great,” your mom groaned, massaging her temples. “just perfect.”

your dad cursed under his breath and got out to pop the hood, leaving you and your mom in the eerie silence of the car. you sighed, reluctantly stepping out to help. you had no idea what you were doing, but sitting in the car doing nothing felt worse.

as you peered under the hood with your dad, who was muttering to himself as he checked the engine, your mom’s voice suddenly cut through the night air.

“look!” she said, her voice urgent. “there—do you see those lights?”

you looked up, squinting into the distance. sure enough, faint lights were flickering between the trees far ahead, barely visible but unmistakable.

a chill ran down your spine. you’d been looking at the gps not too long ago, and there hadn’t been any signs of life for miles. no towns. no houses. nothing.

“something’s not right,” you muttered, turning toward your dad. “there was nothing out here when i checked earlier.”

your dad waved you off, closing the hood with a loud bang. “you’re just tired. we’ll check it out. maybe there’s a house or something up ahead.”

your mom was already back in the car, apparently unconcerned. you stood there for a moment, staring at the mysterious lights that flickered in the distance. something about them felt… off, but as usual, no one was listening to you. with a groan of frustration, you climbed back into the car, your nerves tingling with unease.

the engine sputtered weakly to life once again, and as your dad drove toward the lights, you couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever was waiting for you up ahead wasn’t what you thought it was.

the car stuttered one last time before it gave up entirely, coming to a dead stop right in front of the lights. you blinked, heart racing as you took in the sight before you.

a mansion—no, the mansion—rose out of the darkness like something from an old gothic novel. the sprawling, ivy-clad structure stretched far beyond what you could make out in the dim light, its towers stabbing into the sky. faded stone gargoyles leered down from the corners of the building, their grim faces illuminated by the faint, flickering lamps that lined the driveway. the mansion seemed alive, ancient, its very presence looming over you like a dark shadow. it was eerily silent, save for the wind that whistled through the trees surrounding it.

for a second, you couldn’t breathe.

you swallowed hard. “this can’t be real.”

your dad got out of the car first, slamming the door shut with a mix of frustration and exhaustion. “we’ll figure out the car in the morning,” he grumbled. “we don’t have a choice. let’s see if they’ll let us stay.”

your mom, already out of the car and standing beside him, nodded in agreement. she didn’t even look fazed, just happy to be somewhere with lights and (hopefully) a bed. “come on, it’s late,” she said, like she hadn’t noticed the eerie silence hanging in the air or the fact that this place seemed plucked out of another century.

“are you serious?” you muttered under your breath, standing frozen next to the car. “this place looks like a horror movie set.”

your dad gave you a weary look. “we’re not staying in the car, that’s for sure. stop being dramatic and come on. it’s just a mansion.”

just a mansion? you wanted to scream. there was no way this was a normal place—no way a mansion this large, this old, could have gone unnoticed on the gps. but the protests died in your throat when you realised neither of them cared. like always, they were too focused on practicalities to notice the screaming red flags around them.

with a sigh, you unwillingly followed them up the cracked stone steps that led to the massive, elaborately carved front doors. every footstep echoed, the wind seeming to still as you approached the entrance. you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched, like a pair of invisible eyes followed your every movement.

your dad pressed the doorbell—a soft chime rang out, sounding way too delicate for a place like this. you couldn’t help but wince, your nerves on edge. the silence that followed stretched on, thick and suffocating. it felt as though the mansion itself was holding its breath, waiting.

then, slowly, the door creaked open.

a young man stood in the doorway, his face illuminated by the warm glow of a chandelier behind him. his expression was neutral, almost blank, as if he had opened the door purely out of obligation. he was dressed impeccably, a sharp black tuxedo that seemed far too formal for a place like this—or maybe it was just perfect for this kind of mansion. either way, it unnerved you.

his eyes swept over your parents first, taking in their travel-worn appearance with little interest. “hello?” your dad started, clearing his throat awkwardly. “we, uh… we had some car trouble just outside. we were hoping… maybe you could help us?”

for a moment, the man—sunoo, as you’d later learn—didn’t say anything. he simply stood there, watching your parents with a blank face, like he was waiting for them to say something more interesting. his eyes flicked up to yours, and the world seemed to tilt slightly as his gaze met yours.

it was only for a second—just a fleeting moment—but something shifted in his expression. his cold, neutral stare melted into something… darker, more intrigued. a spark of something flashed in his eyes before his face returned to its impassive mask. the brief change left you rattled, a chill creeping up your spine.

your mom jumped in to break the awkward silence, her voice bright despite the situation. “yes, we’ve been driving for hours, and when our car broke down, we were hoping to find a place to stay. is this…” she glanced up at the looming mansion, almost sheepishly. “is this a hotel?”

there was a brief pause, and then, without warning, sunoo’s face split into the widest, most overenthusiastic grin you’d ever seen. it was such a drastic change from his earlier demeanour that it made your skin crawl. “oh, of course! you’ve come to the right place. this is a hotel, and you’re more than welcome to stay.” he extended an arm, gesturing grandly to the vast, dimly lit entryway behind him. “we have plenty of rooms available!”

your dad exhaled in relief, completely missing the oddity of sunoo’s exaggerated reaction. “thank god. you’re a lifesaver.”

you couldn’t stop staring at sunoo, watching the way his smile stretched just a little too wide, the way his eyes gleamed with something that wasn’t quite right. “this is a hotel?” you asked, voice filled with scepticism. “i didn’t see anything about it on the gps.”

sunoo’s eyes flicked back to you, and the unsettling smile never left his face. “oh? how strange. we’ve been here for a long time… surely, you must have heard about it.”

“no,” you said flatly, narrowing your eyes. “i’m sure. there was nothing around here.”

just as you were about to explain further, he smoothly cut you off with a bright, “well, no matter! you’re here now, and that’s what counts. come, come! let’s not waste any more time standing out in the cold.”

he practically ushered your parents through the doorway, his sudden energy making you want to take a step back. your dad muttered a quick “thank you” and walked right inside, your mom following closely behind. neither of them seemed to notice the way sunoo’s cheerful demeanour seemed… off.

you, however, couldn’t ignore the gnawing discomfort twisting in your gut. every instinct screamed at you to leave, to drag your parents back to the car, but the reality of your situation left you with little choice. sighing in frustration, you reluctantly followed them into the mansion.

the door shut behind you with an ominous thud that echoed through the long hallway, and the heavy weight of the mansion seemed to settle around you. you felt trapped, as if stepping into this place had sealed your fate.

as sunoo led your parents through the dimly lit entry hall, you lagged behind, your skin prickling with unease. you leaned toward your mom, lowering your voice to a whisper. “this is creepy. something’s not right about this place.”

she barely spared you a glance. “you’re being paranoid. it’s just an old mansion.”

“an old mansion that no one’s ever heard of? that wasn’t on the map? you didn’t see the way that guy was acting. he’s way too happy about us being stranded here.”

your dad huffed, clearly having reached the end of his patience. “it’s a hotel. we need a place to stay, and we don’t have any other options. you can sleep in the car if you’re that worried.”

you rolled your eyes, biting back the rest of your protests. of course, they wouldn’t listen. they never did. they couldn’t see the danger right in front of them.

as you followed your parents deeper into the mansion, the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. the walls seemed to close in around you, and every footstep echoed like a warning.

something was wrong here. you knew it. you could feel it in your bones.

sunoo led your parents away, gesturing toward a desk where they could check in. you lingered behind, reluctant to follow them. the dimly lit hallway stretched before you, lined with dark wood panelling and framed with ornate carvings. despite the grandeur of the place, there was an eerie stillness that seemed to swallow every sound. no humming of guests, no distant chatter, no echoes of footsteps on marble floors—just a vast, consuming silence.

you slowly started walking, glancing around, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling crawling up your spine. for a hotel this size, it should have been bustling with activity. yet, there was no one. not a single person walking through the hallways, no staff except sunoo at the entrance. just the soft padding of your own footsteps, echoing like whispers through the still air.

as you turned a corner, your eyes landed on a giant painting mounted on the wall. you stopped in your tracks, something about it tugging at your mind. the painting depicted a dark, stormy landscape—a crumbling stone mansion, much like the one you stood in now, surrounded by leafless trees that seemed to reach out toward it like skeletal hands. the sky above was swirling with ominous clouds, and a full moon cast a pale, ghostly glow on the scene.

but it wasn’t just the image itself that made your skin crawl—it was the strange feeling of familiarity. you couldn’t shake the sensation that you’d seen this before, as though it was pulled from the corners of a forgotten memory. a knot formed in your chest as you stared, lost in thought. where have you seen this before?

suddenly, a voice, smooth as silk, broke through your thoughts.

“interesting, isn’t it?”

you jumped, your heart leaping into your throat as you spun around. standing behind you was a man, and not just any man—he was stunningly handsome. his dark hair was neatly styled, framing a face that could’ve been carved from marble. his suit, a luxurious black ensemble that fit him perfectly, was undeniably expensive.

but what struck you most were his eyes—wide and dark, locked on yours with an intensity that sent a flush of heat creeping up your neck.

“i'm sorry,” he broke out into a soft laugh as he took a step back. “i didn’t mean to scare you.”

his voice was smooth, almost hypnotic, but he paused mid-sentence when his gaze landed squarely on your face. his eyes seemed to freeze there, widening slightly as if he were studying every detail. a look of surprise, or maybe recognition, flashed across his face for just a moment before he quickly composed himself. but the intensity in his stare remained, his eyes never leaving yours.

you felt a wave of flustered heat rise to your cheeks under his gaze. he wasn’t just looking at you—he was seeing you, like you were the only person in the world. the weight of his attention made you feel strangely vulnerable, your pulse quickening in response.

you cleared your throat, trying to shake off the sudden rush of nerves. “uh… it’s fine,” you mumbled. “you just startled me.”

he blinked, as if snapping out of whatever trance had held him. a slow, charming smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “i’m heeseung,” he said, his voice smooth and deep. “the owner of this mansion.”

“the owner?” you echoed, taken aback. “wow. i… i wasn’t expecting to meet the owner so soon.”

he smiled again, a soft, enigmatic grin that sent another wave of unease down your spine. “i like to keep close to my guests. this place… it’s very special to me.”

you tried to return his smile but faltered slightly, still unsettled by how intently he was watching you. “i’m—” you began, but before you could introduce yourself, your parents’ voices echoed down the hall.

“there you are!” your dad called, striding over to where you stood with heeseung. your mom followed closely behind, oblivious to the awkward tension in the air. “we were just getting checked in.”

you barely had time to react before your dad turned to heeseung, giving him a polite nod. “this is the owner of the mansion,” you quickly explained, introducing him. “heeseung.”

your parents seemed relieved to meet someone in charge, especially after the ordeal with the car. “oh, thank you so much for accommodating us on such short notice,” your mom said with a grateful smile. “our car broke down just outside, and we didn’t know what else to do.”

you shot a glance at your parents, your eyes widening in warning. why are they telling him that? you thought in frustration. it wasn’t exactly the kind of information you wanted to share so freely—especially not in a place like this, with a stranger who gave off such unsettling vibes.

heeseung’s smile widened at your parents’ words, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was far too pleased to hear about your vulnerability. “no need to worry,” he said smoothly, his gaze briefly flicking back to you before focusing on your parents. “i’ll make sure your car is taken care of. i’ll have it sent for repairs tonight.”

“really?” your dad sounded relieved. “that’s incredibly generous. thank you.”

heeseung waved a hand dismissively. “it’s no trouble at all. you’re my guests now.” he paused, his eyes lingering on you for a beat longer than necessary. “i’ll make sure you’re well taken care of.”

you swallowed hard, fighting back the gnawing sense of dread as you all started heading down the hallway. the mansion seemed to stretch on forever, with countless doors and long, winding corridors. despite the size, heeseung explained that most rooms were booked, which meant you would be in a room far from your parents.

your room was tucked away in one of the mansion’s oldest wings, a beautifully vintage suite with antique furniture and intricate wallpaper. the four-poster bed was draped in elegant, embroidered sheets, and the room was bathed in the warm, golden glow of a chandelier. it was charming, old-fashioned, and just a little too perfect. the type of room that might seem cosy under normal circumstances but felt unnervingly isolated in this mansion.

after settling in, you reached for your phone, hoping to check for updates on the car—or anything, really—but your frown deepened when you realised there were no charging ports in the room. none at all. you glanced around, frustrated, searching for a way to charge your phone, but there was nothing modern about this place. to make matters worse, your phone had no cell reception. it was like the mansion existed in its own bubble, cut off from the rest of the world.

letting out an exasperated sigh, you tossed your phone onto the nightstand. looks like you’d have to borrow your dad’s power bank later. you were exhausted, but the nagging feeling of unease wouldn’t let you relax. after changing into your nightwear, you slipped under the heavy, ornate blankets, hoping that sleep would take over soon.

but as you lay in bed, staring up at the dark canopy above, you couldn’t help but feel that something—someone—was watching you.

you lay in bed, the warmth of the heavy blankets doing little to ease the chill that seemed to settle deep in your bones. the eerie silence stretched on, the only sound the faint rustling of the curtains as a gentle breeze swept in from the cracked window. you hadn't noticed it was open before.

rolling onto your side, you glanced at your phone again. still no reception. it felt like you were completely cut off from the world, alone in this strange, sprawling mansion with no way to communicate with the outside. the feeling gnawed at you, a strange mix of frustration and unease swirling in your chest.

the longer you lay there, the more restless you became. every creak of the floorboards, every shift of the wind seemed to amplify the unsettling atmosphere around you. the chandelier overhead swayed gently, casting shifting shadows across the walls. you closed your eyes, trying to focus on your breathing, telling yourself it was just a normal hotel. nothing weird, nothing out of the ordinary—just a quirky, old-fashioned place.

but the image of heeseung’s face kept creeping into your mind. the way his gaze lingered on you, intense and unreadable, like he was seeing something in you that no one else did. something about him felt off, not just unsettling but almost too perfect, too polished, as if he didn’t quite belong in a place like this.

eventually, the exhaustion started to pull you toward sleep. just as your mind began to blur at the edges, a soft sound reached your ears. a whisper. faint but unmistakable. you bolted upright in bed, eyes wide, heart hammering in your chest as you strained to hear.

at first, you thought it was the wind. but no, it wasn’t coming from outside—it was closer, much closer. the sound seemed to echo from just beyond your door, like soft voices carrying on a conversation, too low for you to make out the words. your skin prickled with unease.

you pushed back the blankets and slipped out of bed, your bare feet hitting the cold floor. the mansion felt even more imposing in the darkness, the once quaint vintage charm now taking on a more sinister tone. stepping cautiously, you moved toward the door, pressing your ear against it, listening.

nothing.

the whispering had stopped.

you hesitated for a moment, hand hovering over the doorknob, debating whether you should open it. it’s just your imagination, you told yourself. you’re tired. you're in a creepy place. it’s normal to feel a little on edge.

but your curiosity—and the nagging sense of something being very wrong—won out. slowly, you turned the knob, the door creaking as it swung open into the dark hallway. the air was colder out here, carrying a faint, almost imperceptible scent of something sweet—like roses that had been left too long in the vase, just starting to wilt.

the hallway stretched out in both directions, the same eerie silence blanketing the mansion. no voices, no footsteps. nothing. but your eyes caught on something—the flickering light at the far end of the hall. the soft glow of a single candle, perched on a small table near one of the old-fashioned sitting areas.

you frowned. that candle hadn’t been lit earlier.

carefully, you padded down the hallway toward the light. as you got closer, you noticed something strange—the candle’s flame wasn’t moving. it stayed perfectly still, not even flickering despite the faint breeze you felt coming from the windows. it was almost like it wasn’t real.

just as you were about to reach it, a figure stepped out of the shadows.

you gasped, taking a step back, but quickly realised who it was.

heeseung stood before you, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the hallway. his suit was immaculate as before, not a single wrinkle out of place, and his expression was calm—too calm. he smiled softly, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“couldn’t sleep?” he asked, his voice low and smooth, though it sent a shiver down your spine.

you hesitated, your mind racing with questions. why was he here? why wasn’t there anyone else around? but instead, you forced a tight smile, trying to appear composed. “yeah, i guess… this place is just a little unsettling.”

heeseung tilted his head slightly, his gaze once again holding that unnerving intensity. “you’re not the first to say that. old places like this tend to… hold onto things. memories. feelings.” his words hung in the air, heavy with an unspoken meaning.

you swallowed, the unease bubbling up again. “it’s just… weird that there’s no one else around. for such a big hotel, it’s completely empty.”

heeseung’s smile widened, but there was something off about it. “most guests prefer the quiet. it allows them to reflect, to... feel things they’ve long forgotten.”

there it was again—that cryptic, almost too-perfect way of speaking. it made your skin crawl.

“well,” you said, your voice a little shakier than you intended, “i think i’ll head back to my room now. it’s late.”

as you turned to leave, heeseung reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm. the contact sent a jolt through you, though his touch was oddly cold. you froze, glancing back at him.

“there’s no need to be afraid,” he said softly, his gaze never leaving yours. “you’re safe here. i’ll make sure of it.”

the way he said those words—like a promise—sent another shiver down your spine. you forced a nod, pulling your arm away gently and stepping back. “thanks,” you mumbled, backing away from him.

heeseung watched you for a moment longer, his expression unreadable before he finally stepped aside, allowing you to retreat to your room.

once you were safely inside, you shut the door firmly behind you, heart still pounding in your chest. the mansion was far too quiet again, but this time it felt suffocating. something wasn’t right here, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could ignore the sinking feeling in your gut.

you climbed back into bed, but sleep didn’t come easily. every sound, every shadow seemed to hold something sinister. and you couldn’t shake the feeling that somewhere, in this sprawling, empty mansion, heeseung was watching. waiting.

the next morning, you were roused from sleep by a soft knock at your door. groggy and still heavy with sleep, you sat up, rubbing your eyes as the knocking continued, more insistent this time.

“coming,” you mumbled, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. you padded across the room, and when you opened the door, you found your mom standing there, a tired smile on her face.

“good morning, honey. they’ve called us for breakfast downstairs,” she said, her voice chipper despite the early hour. “you should hurry and get ready. we don’t want to be late.”

you nodded, stifling a yawn. “okay, i’ll be down in a minute.”

she gave you a small smile and headed back down the hallway. you shut the door and took a moment to shake off the lingering unease from the night before. the encounter with heeseung had left a strange feeling in the pit of your stomach, and the mansion’s eerie stillness hadn’t done much to help. but this morning was different, right? it was daylight now, and everything felt less intimidating in the warm morning light streaming through the window.

you quickly got dressed, choosing something comfortable yet presentable. once you were ready, you stepped out into the hallway, glancing left and right. your mom hadn’t mentioned where the dining hall was, and you realised you had no idea how to find it. the mansion’s labyrinthine corridors all looked the same—long stretches of dark wood panelling and ornate furniture that seemed to belong to a different century.

with a sigh, you started walking, hoping you’d stumble upon it. as you rounded a corner, you nearly bumped into someone. you gasped, pulling back just in time, and looked up to find heeseung standing before you, a charming smile on his face.

“good morning,” he said, his voice smooth and soft. “i see you’re trying to find your way to breakfast?”

you nodded, trying to keep your tone neutral. “yeah, i’m not sure where the dining hall is.”

heeseung’s smile widened slightly. “no problem. i’m heading there myself. we can go together.”

you hesitated for a moment but nodded, falling into step beside him as he led the way. the hallway felt even longer with him by your side, his presence both unsettling and magnetic. he walked with an easy grace, like he belonged in a place like this, and yet something about him still made your skin prickle with unease.

“so,” he began after a few moments of silence, “you mentioned last night that you’re on a family vacation? that sounds lovely.”

you nodded, keeping your answers short. “yeah, just a road trip before i leave for university.”

“ah, university. where are you headed?”

“exchange program. i’ll be gone for two years,” you answered curtly, trying not to give too much away.

heeseung hummed thoughtfully. “that’s quite a long time. your parents must be proud—and a bit sad, i imagine.”

you shrugged, glancing away. “i guess.”

he let the silence stretch for a moment, and you could feel his eyes on you, studying you in that same intense way he had the night before. it was like he was trying to figure you out, peel back layers you didn’t even know you had. you kept your gaze forward, determined not to let him get under your skin.

finally, you reached the dining hall. heeseung pushed open the large double doors, and you stepped inside, immediately taking in the scene. the room was vast, grand in an old-world kind of way, with high ceilings and walls lined with towering windows draped in heavy velvet curtains. a long dining table dominated the centre of the room, stretching almost the entire length of the hall. the table was covered with a pristine white cloth, and an array of silverware was laid out with meticulous precision.

but what struck you most was how empty it was.

apart from your parents, who sat at one end of the long table, there was no one else. the chairs were all perfectly arranged, as if waiting for guests who had yet to arrive. but the eerie thing was, it felt like no one would arrive. the silence in the room only amplified the emptiness.

you frowned, glancing over at heeseung as he escorted you to the table. “where is everyone?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop yourself. “this place is huge, but... it’s like there’s no one else here.”

heeseung’s smile didn’t falter, but there was a flicker of something behind his eyes—something almost too quick to catch. “most of our guests prefer to have breakfast very early,” he explained smoothly. “they’re probably already off enjoying the grounds or have checked out. i typically have my breakfast after the guests. but since you’re a bit late this morning, i thought it would be nice to join you.”

you stared at him for a moment, trying to read between the lines of his carefully chosen words. it didn’t quite add up. the mansion had felt empty from the moment you’d arrived, and now, seeing this massive dining hall with only your family in it, that feeling only intensified. still, you didn’t press further. instead, you forced a small smile and nodded, going along with his explanation for now.

your parents, seemingly unaware of the strange atmosphere, smiled as you took a seat next to them. “this place is incredible, isn’t it?” your mom said, her eyes sparkling as she looked around the room. “i can’t believe how lucky we were to find it.”

you tried to match her enthusiasm, but something about this whole situation still felt off. the room, the empty table, heeseung’s unsettling politeness—it all gnawed at the back of your mind, a whisper of warning you couldn’t quite shake.

breakfast was laid out in a lavish spread, far more than the three of you could possibly eat. there were plates of fresh fruit, pastries, eggs, and other delicacies you couldn’t even name. everything was prepared with a level of care and detail that felt almost excessive. you glanced at heeseung, who sat at the head of the table, watching your family with that same, unreadable smile.

he gestured toward the food. “please, help yourselves. i had the chef prepare a little bit of everything.”

your dad wasted no time digging in, clearly impressed by the spread. your mom followed suit, smiling warmly at heeseung as she complimented the food. you, on the other hand, hesitated, your appetite dulled by the nagging sense of something not quite right.

as you picked at your plate, you caught heeseung’s eyes on you again, his gaze sharp, studying, as if waiting for something. the way he watched you—so intently—made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

you couldn’t shake the feeling that, despite the empty chairs, the empty mansion, you weren’t alone.

as you carefully picked at your food, trying to ignore the unnerving atmosphere, your dad set down his fork and wiped his mouth with a napkin. he turned to heeseung with a casual smile, though you could see the underlying hint of concern in his eyes.

“so,” your dad began, “any idea how long it’ll take for the car to be repaired? we’d like to get back on the road as soon as possible.”

heeseung, ever the picture of politeness, gave a reassuring smile, leaning back in his chair with ease. “not to worry, sir. the mechanic i contacted is very efficient. the car should be ready by this afternoon, if not sooner. you’ll be on your way in no time.”

your dad seemed relieved, nodding. “that’s great to hear. we were worried we’d be stuck out here for too long.”

heeseung’s smile widened slightly, though there was a strange glint in his eyes as he said, “we’d never dream of keeping you longer than necessary. but please, take your time enjoying our hospitality.”

you glanced up at him, something about his choice of words sending a ripple of discomfort through you. there was something about the way he spoke, always so measured, so... calculated. it was as if every word was carefully chosen for some hidden purpose. you couldn’t help but wonder what he really meant by that.

your parents finished their meals before you and heeseung, having arrived earlier to start breakfast. as they wiped their hands and prepared to stand, sunoo appeared at the door. his arrival was quiet, almost too quiet, and you hadn’t noticed him until he stepped into the room. he was dressed just as impeccably as before, his tuxedo crisp and perfect, but there was something off about his overly cheerful demeanour.

“if you’d like,” sunoo began, his eyes bright and a bit too wide, “i’d be happy to give you a tour of the gardens while you wait for the car. they’re lovely this time of year.”

your mom’s face lit up with enthusiasm. “oh, that sounds wonderful! what do you think, dear?” she asked your dad, who nodded in agreement.

“sure, why not? it’ll be nice to stretch our legs a bit.”

you watched as your parents exchanged smiles with sunoo, who beckoned them toward the door with a dramatic sweep of his arm. but your heart sank as you realised what this meant—your parents were leaving, and you were about to be left alone with heeseung.

before you could even offer to join them, sunoo ushered them out of the dining hall with a smile. “we’ll take our time, don’t worry! you two enjoy the rest of your breakfast.”

the door closed behind them with a soft click, leaving you sitting at the grand dining table, the echo of their footsteps fading into the distance.

and then it was just you.

and heeseung.

the silence stretched between you like a chasm, the weight of it pressing down on your chest. you tried to focus on your food, but the air felt thicker now, charged with an unsettling energy that made it hard to swallow. you could feel his eyes on you, studying you again with that same, intense scrutiny that had left you uneasy from the moment you arrived.

you kept your gaze fixed on your plate, hoping that if you didn’t look at him, he might just lose interest. but you could still sense his presence, feel the way his attention never wavered.

“you’re not eating much,” heeseung remarked, breaking the silence, his voice smooth and deceptively casual. “is the food not to your liking?”

his tone was polite, but there was a subtle edge to it that made you feel like the wrong answer could mean something more than just criticism. you forced a small smile, shaking your head.

“no, it’s fine. i’m just not that hungry.”

heeseung leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table, his eyes never leaving yours. “you seem... uncomfortable,” he said softly, his words hanging in the air. “is something bothering you?”

your pulse quickened. the way he asked the question, so calm and controlled, made you feel like he already knew the answer. like he was testing you, waiting to see how you’d respond. you didn’t want to give him any more reason to focus on you than he already had.

“no,” you replied, your voice a little too quick. “it’s just... a lot to take in. this place is... different.”

heeseung’s lips curved into a faint smile, but there was no warmth behind it. “different can be good,” he said, his eyes glittering with something you couldn’t quite place. “sometimes it’s the unexpected that makes an experience truly memorable.”

you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, the strange tension between you growing heavier by the second. there was something almost predatory in the way he watched you, like he was waiting for the perfect moment to pounce.

“i suppose,” you muttered, pushing your food around your plate. “i guess i’m just not used to places like this.”

heeseung chuckled softly, the sound low and almost dangerous. “not many people are.”

another silence fell between you, thick and uncomfortable. you could hear the faint ticking of a distant clock, the only sound breaking the stillness of the room. you glanced toward the door, half-hoping sunoo and your parents would return sooner rather than later, but there was no sign of them.

heeseung’s voice interrupted your thoughts, his tone soft but insistent. “you didn’t seem very interested in the history of the mansion last night,” he said, leaning back in his chair, his eyes still fixed on you. “but if you’d like, i could tell you a little more about it now. it has... quite the past.”

your throat tightened at his words. part of you wanted to refuse, to keep the conversation as shallow and short as possible, but another part of you couldn’t help but be curious. what kind of history could a place like this have? why did it feel like there was something dark lurking beneath the surface?

you hesitated, your fingers gripping your fork a little too tightly. “sure,” you said quietly, against your better judgement. “i’d like to hear about it.”

heeseung’s smile widened, a slow, almost sinister curl to his lips as he leaned forward again, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous kind of interest.

“good,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “because there’s so much for you to learn.”

heeseung’s words seemed to echo in the cavernous dining hall, each syllable hanging in the air like a weight pressing down on your chest. you shifted in your seat, suddenly aware of how isolated you were from everyone else. your parents were somewhere outside, wandering the sprawling gardens with sunoo, oblivious to the tension brewing in this room. and you were here—alone with heeseung, who was studying you like you were the most fascinating thing in the world.

he leaned back in his chair, a slow, deliberate movement, his eyes never leaving yours. “this mansion has a long history,” he began, his voice low and smooth, like velvet. “it’s been standing for centuries, long before this area became what it is now.”

you swallowed, trying to keep your unease from showing. “centuries? that’s... impressive.”

heeseung nodded, his fingers tracing the edge of his plate in a casual, almost absent-minded way. “impressive, yes. but also... haunted by its past.” his eyes gleamed with something you couldn’t quite place. “you see, many who come here find themselves drawn in by the allure of the unknown. they come seeking something different, something unique. and often, they find more than they bargained for.”

you felt a chill run down your spine. the way he spoke—so calm, so composed—made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. it was as if he was telling you a story he had told many times before, one with a punchline you wouldn’t like.

“what do you mean by that?” you asked, your voice quiet but firm. you didn’t want to seem rattled, even though you were starting to feel like the walls were closing in around you.

heeseung’s smile widened, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “let’s just say this mansion has a way of revealing things... about the people who stay here. things they may not even realise about themselves.”

your pulse quickened. “that sounds a little ominous.”

heeseung chuckled, the sound soft and unsettling. “it’s not meant to be. it’s just... the nature of this place. it has a way of bringing the truth to the surface. you’ll see, in time.”

you didn’t like the way he said that, as if you were going to be here long enough for the mansion to work its mysterious magic on you. you were only supposed to stay until the car was fixed, and then you and your family would be gone. the thought of staying here any longer than necessary made your stomach churn.

“i don’t think we’ll be here long enough for that,” you said, forcing a small smile.

heeseung’s eyes flashed with something—disappointment? amusement? it was hard to tell. “you never know,” he said quietly, his gaze intense. “sometimes, plans change.”

you glanced away, focusing on your barely touched plate. the food that had once looked so appealing now seemed like a burden, something you had no appetite for. you just wanted this conversation to end, to find your parents and get out of this place as soon as possible.

as if sensing your discomfort, heeseung leaned back again, his demeanour shifting ever so slightly. “i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he said, though there was a glint in his eyes that told you he knew exactly what he was doing. “it’s just that... guests here tend to stay longer than they anticipate. this place has a way of... captivating people.”

the word captivating sounded too much like trapping for your liking.

before you could respond, the door to the dining hall creaked open, and you breathed a silent sigh of relief as your parents entered, laughing and chatting with sunoo, who was still wearing his unsettlingly bright smile. their carefree demeanour was such a stark contrast to the tension you’d been feeling that it almost made you dizzy.

“sweetie, you should see the gardens!” your mom exclaimed as she approached the table, oblivious to the undercurrent of unease between you and heeseung. “they’re absolutely gorgeous. i’ve never seen anything like it.”

your dad nodded in agreement, beaming. “it’s like something out of a storybook.”

you forced a smile, trying to match their enthusiasm. “that’s great. i’m glad you had fun.”

sunoo’s eyes flicked to heeseung for a brief moment, something unspoken passing between them, and then he turned his bright gaze back to your family. “i’m sure you’ll have plenty of time to explore the rest of the estate before you leave.”

you stiffened at his words, catching the subtle implication. you weren’t leaving any time soon.

heeseung stood then, smoothing down the front of his suit, his gaze lingering on you for just a beat too long before he addressed your parents. “i’ve arranged for the mechanic to give me an update on the car shortly. in the meantime, please, make yourselves comfortable. feel free to explore the mansion further if you’d like.”

your parents seemed delighted by the prospect, but you felt a knot of anxiety tighten in your chest. you couldn’t shake the feeling that this place was trying to keep you here, that every step you took deeper into the mansion only tangled you further in its web.

heeseung’s gaze slid back to you, his smile as charming and unsettling as ever. “i’ll make sure everything is taken care of. don’t worry.”

but worry was all you could feel as your family began to follow sunoo out of the dining hall, leaving you to trail behind, your thoughts spinning. as you exited the room, you couldn’t help but glance back at heeseung, who stood by the door, watching you with that same piercing gaze.

there was something about the way he looked at you—something that made you feel like a fly caught in a spider’s web.

and you weren’t sure if you could escape.

the afternoon dragged on in an unbearable haze of waiting. you, your parents, and heeseung sat in the grand living room, the heavy silence punctuated only by the occasional ticking of an old grandfather clock in the corner. outside, the sky had darkened, heavy clouds looming like a bad omen. the only thing on your mind was the car—where it was, how much longer it would take, and when you could finally leave this unsettling mansion behind.

your parents seemed more at ease, happily sipping tea that sunoo had prepared earlier, oblivious to the undercurrent of unease that rippled beneath the surface of every interaction with heeseung. you, on the other hand, were fidgeting, your leg bouncing nervously as you tried to avoid catching heeseung’s gaze. he had been watching you ever since you mentioned the car, his expression growing darker, his easy charm slipping.

“you seem quite eager to leave,” heeseung finally said, breaking the silence. his voice was calm, but there was an edge to it, something cold hidden beneath the surface.

you glanced up at him, forcing a tight smile. “well, we have to get to our resort, and we’ve already spent a lot of time here. i’d hate to miss out on more of the trip.”

heeseung’s lips twitched, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. “you don’t like it here?”

there was something almost accusatory in his tone, and it made your skin prickle. you hesitated, not wanting to offend him but unable to shake the growing feeling of unease that seemed to cling to the walls of this place.

“it’s not that,” you said carefully, shifting in your seat. “it’s just that we had plans. you know, a family bonding trip. and... well, we’ve been here longer than we expected.”

heeseung’s gaze didn’t waver, his expression unreadable. “plans change,” he said softly, his eyes narrowing just the slightest bit. “sometimes, staying a little longer can be... beneficial.”

a cold shiver ran down your spine at his words. the way he said it felt off, as if there was something deeper he wasn’t saying, something he didn’t want you to understand just yet. you opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, the sound of footsteps echoed through the hallway, and sunoo appeared, running into the room with a frantic expression.

“heeseung!” sunoo called out breathlessly, his usual cheery demeanour replaced with genuine concern. “there’s a storm! a really bad one. the roads are flooding, and the mechanic just called—he can’t bring the car back today.”

your heart sank at his words, and you shot a glance at your parents, who exchanged a look of resignation.

your father sighed, rubbing his temples. “well, i guess we’re not going anywhere today.”

your mother nodded in agreement, placing her teacup down with a little clink. “we’ll have to stay another night, then. there’s nothing we can do about it.”

you could hardly believe it. you were so close to leaving, so close to getting out of this place, and now a storm? it felt too convenient, too well-timed. you turned to heeseung, expecting some kind of reaction, and you weren’t disappointed. he was smiling again—but this time, it was different. it wasn’t the charming, polished smile he had worn before. this one was darker, more predatory. his eyes glinted with something that made your stomach twist.

“i suppose that settles it,” heeseung said smoothly, his voice like silk. “looks like you’ll be our guests for another night.”

his words sent a wave of discomfort rolling through you, and you felt your throat tighten. you looked away, staring out the window as the rain began to pour in heavy sheets, the dark sky flashing occasionally with streaks of lightning. the storm outside felt like a reflection of the storm brewing within you.

“i’m sure the car will be ready first thing tomorrow,” your father said, ever the optimist, though his voice carried a tinge of doubt.

sunoo nodded enthusiastically, stepping forward with his usual bright smile. “of course! we’ll make sure everything is perfect for you until then. don’t worry!”

you wanted to scream. how could no one else feel what you were feeling? how could your parents be so at ease when everything about this situation screamed danger? the mansion, the people, the timing of the storm—it all felt like a trap closing in around you.

heeseung’s eyes flicked toward you again, and you caught the smirk curling at the corner of his lips. he knew. he knew how unsettled you were, how desperately you wanted to leave, and he was relishing it.

“please, make yourselves comfortable,” heeseung said, his gaze locking onto you as he stood up from his seat. “we have plenty of time to enjoy the rest of your stay. after all, it’s not every day you get to experience a place like this.”

his words felt like a warning, a reminder that you were stuck here, and you had no choice but to play along with whatever game he was setting up. you forced a smile, feeling your pulse quicken.

“great,” you muttered under your breath, barely loud enough for anyone to hear. but heeseung did. his eyes flashed with amusement, and he gave you a slow, knowing smile that made your skin crawl.

“don’t worry,” he said in a voice so low only you could hear. “you’ll be safe here.”

the way he said it made you doubt every word.

that evening, the mansion’s eerie atmosphere feels heavier on your shoulders than ever. as the storm rages outside, you find yourself wandering through the darkened hallways, trying to shake off the strange feeling heeseung left you with earlier. something about his cryptic words keeps circling back in your mind, making it impossible to relax. you run your fingers along the old wooden bannister as you walk, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the too-quiet halls. but even that sound feels strange—the echoes don’t seem to bounce back to you the same way. it’s almost like they fade into the walls, swallowed by the house.

you pause as you notice a clock hanging on the wall ahead. the second hand ticks steadily, but when you glance at another clock just around the corner, you feel your skin prickle. the second hand on that clock is moving faster—much faster. you stand frozen, watching the two clocks run at different speeds, as if time itself is slipping out of sync.

the light overhead flickers, and you feel a chill run down your spine. the mansion is still as beautiful as it is unsettling, but tonight, it seems to be shifting in subtle ways. you walk further down the hallway, but something feels… wrong. the layout doesn’t seem quite right, as if the corridor you just passed should have been longer or led somewhere else entirely. you shake off the feeling, convincing yourself that it’s just your imagination playing tricks on you in this old, dimly lit place.

whispers.

you swear you hear them. at first, you think it might just be the wind rattling through the old windows, but the sound is too human—too hushed, like voices speaking just outside the range of your hearing. you spin around, expecting to find someone behind you, but there’s nothing. just shadows dancing along the walls, moving ever so slightly as the flickering light fights to keep them at bay.

your pulse quickens as you walk on, drawn down a side corridor you’re sure you haven’t been down before. the walls here are different—more elaborate, with heavy drapery and intricate mouldings. at the end of the hallway, you come to a door. something about it makes you pause. you reach for the brass doorknob, your fingers brushing against the cold metal, and a shiver runs through you.

when you open it, a wave of familiarity washes over you, hitting you like a forgotten memory. inside, the room is dimly lit, filled with old-fashioned furniture that feels like it belongs to a different era—plush chairs, wooden tables with detailed carvings, and an antique music box sitting on a dresser. the air smells faintly of dust and something sweet, like old perfume that’s been lingering for years.

your eyes fall on the music box. it’s small, delicate, with intricate designs etched into its surface. without thinking, you step forward and reach out, fingers brushing lightly against it. before you can even wind the mechanism, it begins playing on its own, the soft, haunting melody filling the room.

your breath catches in your throat as that eerie sense of déjà vu tightens its grip on you. the tune is familiar—so familiar, but you can’t place where you’ve heard it before. it pulls at something deep within you, like a forgotten dream just out of reach. you’re transfixed, unable to pull away from the music, when suddenly, the door creaks behind you.

you whip around, and your heart skips a beat when you see heeseung standing in the doorway. his expression is unreadable, but there’s a coldness in his eyes that sends a shiver through you. he steps into the room, his presence filling the space, and the music stops abruptly, as if the mansion itself is responding to him.

“what are you doing here?” his voice is stern, not the smooth charm you’ve come to expect from him. there’s an edge to it that makes you take a step back.

“i—i was just looking around,” you stammer, feeling like a child caught snooping where they shouldn’t be. the weight of his gaze presses down on you as he moves closer.

“this is my study,” he says, his tone low and controlled, but you can hear the warning in his voice. “you’re not supposed to be in here.”

you feel a flush of embarrassment and unease wash over you. “i didn’t know… i just—”

“didn’t know?” heeseung cuts you off, raising an eyebrow as his eyes narrow. “or were you curious about what you’d find?”

the tension between you feels thick, almost suffocating. heeseung’s gaze is unwavering, as though he’s trying to read your every thought, his earlier charm replaced with something far more dangerous. you feel like you’ve crossed a line—one that you didn’t even know existed until now.

heeseung’s intense gaze softens slightly as he notices the way your face flushes with embarrassment. his lips part, as if he’s about to say something harsh, but then, as if catching himself, he lets out a sigh. the coldness in his eyes melts away, replaced by that familiar, smooth charm.

“i didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, his voice lowering, smoothing over like silk. “why don’t i show you the library instead? i think you’ll find it... interesting.”

you hesitate, still rattled by the sharpness of his previous tone. something inside you whispers to be careful, to keep your distance. but the magnetic pull of heeseung’s presence is hard to resist, and despite your instincts, you find yourself nodding.

heeseung smiles faintly, though his expression remains unreadable. he gestures for you to follow him, and together, you walk down the dimly lit corridors of the mansion. the silence is unsettling, broken only by the soft shuffling of your footsteps against the creaky wooden floors. you can’t help but feel like the walls themselves are watching you, the weight of the mansion pressing in from all sides.

as you walk, you become aware of how time feels... off. the clocks you pass seem to tick irregularly, some faster, some slower, as though they belong to different realities entirely. the light filtering through the tall windows is dim, though it doesn’t seem like it’s evening yet. you glance back, feeling the hairs on the back of your neck prickle as if something—someone—is just out of sight.

you stumble over a loose tile, your thoughts breaking apart. with a yelp, you trip forward, bracing yourself for a fall. but before you hit the floor, strong hands catch you—heeseung, steadying you with effortless ease. his grip is firm but strangely gentle. you gasp, heart hammering in your chest as you realise how close he is.

“you should be more careful,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear, a hint of amusement playing at the edges of his voice.

“thanks,” you mutter, flustered as you quickly pull away from his touch. your cheeks burn with embarrassment, and you avoid his gaze as he releases you, his soft chuckle following you down the hall.

the library is massive, far larger than you anticipated. the shelves seem to stretch endlessly, filled with books of every size and colour, their spines gleaming under the warm light of chandeliers. the space feels grand and intimate all at once, the kind of place that would normally make you feel at ease, but here... something feels different.

heeseung watches you carefully, his dark eyes studying your every move. you glance at him for permission before running your fingers along the spines of the books, your curiosity getting the better of you. with a nod, he gives you his approval, and you can’t help but dart forward, eager to explore the room further.

you lose yourself in the rows of shelves, marvelling at the collection of novels, old tomes, and handwritten manuscripts that line the walls. the air smells of dust and aged paper, steeped in centuries of history. you glance over your shoulder, half expecting to see heeseung watching you, but he remains a respectful distance away, his gaze soft and almost fond as he follows your movements.

but something feels... off. as you drift deeper into the library, a strange sensation pulls at your mind, as if something is guiding you, drawing you toward a particular section. without thinking, you find yourself moving toward the back, where the older, dustier books are kept.

your fingertips brush across the spines of these ancient tomes, and an eerie sense of déjà vu washes over you. there’s something about this place—this corner of the library—that feels unsettlingly familiar, like you’ve been here before in another time. the hairs on your arms stand on end, and you shiver involuntarily.

just as your fingers graze the spine of a particularly worn book, you feel it—the presence behind you. heeseung.

you turn slowly to find him standing there, his expression unreadable, but there’s a dark intensity in his eyes that makes your breath catch. he takes a step toward you, and without realising it, you step back, your shoulders hitting the bookshelf behind you.

his eyes remain locked on yours, his proximity making it hard to think clearly. there’s no anger in his gaze now, just that familiar magnetic pull—like he’s trying to draw you closer, to see through you.

“you’re curious, aren’t you?” his voice is barely above a whisper, but it sends a shiver down your spine.

you swallow, trying to push back the fear creeping into your chest. “about what?”

“about this place. about me,” he replies, his tone smooth, almost teasing.

his eyes seem to darken as he takes another step forward, closing the distance between you. the heat of his body presses in on you, and you feel your pulse quicken as his fingers trail lightly along the bookshelf beside your head. heeseung’s smile sharpens, a predatory glint flashing in his gaze.

“curiosity can be dangerous,” he murmurs, his voice low and intoxicating. “you never know what you might uncover if you start digging too deep.”

his words hang in the air, a challenge laced with something far more sinister. your heart pounds in your chest, torn between the urge to escape and the overwhelming draw of his presence. you can feel his breath against your skin, his closeness making it hard to think, to breathe.

for a moment, neither of you speak. his gaze flickers to your lips before meeting your eyes again, and you can sense the power he holds in this place—like he knows far more than he’s letting on. like he’s been waiting for you to find something... or for you to lose yourself completely.

you break the silence, your voice shaking slightly. “what do you want from me?”

heeseung smiles, though it’s a slow, dangerous curve of his lips. “maybe the question is... what do you want from me?”

the uneasy chuckle escapes your lips before you can stop it. "you’re being ridiculous," you say, forcing more confidence into your voice than you actually feel. you try to shake off the tension hanging between you, hoping to laugh this off like it’s some strange dream.

but heeseung’s expression doesn’t change. he merely raises an eyebrow, his lips curling into the barest hint of a smirk. "very well then," he murmurs, his voice calm and unbothered, as though he knows something you don’t.

for a moment, you’re not sure whether you’ve defused the situation or walked deeper into it, but heeseung steps away, the heavy tension between you seeming to dissipate with each step he takes toward the door. he gestures with a small bow. "i’ll leave you to your evening, then."

you nod quickly, not trusting your voice to say anything that won’t betray the swirl of confusion and unease knotting in your chest. with that, heeseung disappears into the corridor, leaving you alone in the vast library. the silence is thick, almost oppressive, as if the mansion itself is holding its breath.

when you finally leave the library, your mind is buzzing. the conversation with heeseung, though cryptic, has left you more rattled than ever. his words, the way he watched you—there’s something deeper here, something you’re only starting to scratch the surface of. but, for now, you decide to push it aside. you need to clear your head.

by the time dinner rolls around, you’re feeling on edge. your parents are already seated at the dining table, chatting quietly as you join them. the room is dimly lit, casting long shadows across the grand, empty space. it feels strange—eerily quiet without the other guests.

you glance around, frowning. “where’s heeseung? and the other guests?”

sunoo, who’s been silently setting the table, looks up at you with his usual cheery smile. "ah, i’m afraid the other guests have already had their meal earlier. heeseung sends his apologies—he’s been caught up in some... urgent business.”

it’s the same excuse they keep giving you, and each time it feels less believable. you open your mouth to press further, but before you can say anything, your mother cuts in with a light laugh. “honestly, you’re always so curious, darling. just let it go.”

her words sound playful, but there’s an odd edge to them, as if she’s brushing off your concerns without really thinking about them. you glance at your father, hoping for some support, but he just nods in agreement, distracted as he stirs his soup.

you bite your lip, trying to push down the growing frustration. why aren’t they worried? can’t they sense that something’s off here?

dinner passes in a strange blur, the silence at the table broken only by the clinking of silverware. sunoo continues to move about the room like nothing is wrong, but the more you watch him, the more something about him feels... rehearsed, like he’s going through the motions of being normal without actually feeling any of it.

after the meal, you head back to your room, feeling more unsettled than ever. your parents’ strange behaviour, the missing guests, heeseung’s cryptic words—it’s all starting to feel like pieces of a puzzle you can’t quite put together.

that night, you toss and turn in bed, unable to fall asleep. every creak of the floorboards, every faint whisper of the wind outside sends your nerves into overdrive. the mansion seems to come alive in the darkness, its walls groaning, floors shifting, as though it’s trying to speak to you—trying to tell you something.

you sit up, your heart pounding in your chest. there’s no way you’re getting any sleep tonight, not with this strange energy crackling around you. something is wrong with this place, and you need to figure it out.

quietly, you slip out of bed, careful not to make any noise as you tiptoe toward the door. the hallways are dimly lit, the chandeliers casting long, ghostly shadows against the walls. you pause for a moment, listening to the silence, and then make your way through the mansion, your footsteps soft on the old, creaky floors.

as you wander, something strange begins to happen. the air feels colder, heavier, and the walls seem to shift subtly, as though the layout of the mansion itself is changing. you turn down a corridor you don’t remember seeing before and find yourself in front of a door, slightly ajar, that you swear wasn’t there earlier.

your hand trembles as you push the door open.

inside, the room is dimly lit by a single flickering candle. it smells of dust and time, as though no one’s been here for years. but what catches your attention immediately are the photographs lining the walls—old, faded photographs in ornate frames. you step closer, squinting at the faces in the pictures.

your breath catches in your throat.

the people in these photos… they look like you. some of them even resemble your parents. the clothes are different, much older—decades, maybe centuries old—but the faces… it’s impossible. how could they look so familiar?

you take a step back, your heart racing. something about this room feels wrong, like you’ve stumbled onto something you weren’t meant to see.

your eyes scan the rest of the room, and that’s when you notice the guestbook sitting on an old wooden desk in the corner. you approach it cautiously, your fingers brushing over the brittle pages as you open it.

the names written inside are faded, barely legible from age. but as you turn the pages, one name catches your eye—your father’s name, written in the same elegant script as the others.

your heart pounds in your chest. you flip through more pages, and there’s your mother’s name, too. and then… your own.

but the dates next to the names don’t make any sense. they’re from decades ago, long before you were even born.

you slam the book shut, a chill running down your spine. this can’t be real. it doesn’t make sense.

before you can gather your thoughts, a soft creak echoes through the room. you whip around, your heart in your throat, and see a shadow flicker in the doorway.

it’s sunoo, his expression unreadable in the dim light.

“what are you doing here?” he asks, his voice soft but carrying an unsettling edge.

you freeze, unable to find the words to respond. sunoo steps further into the room, his ever-present smile feeling more like a mask than ever before.

“you shouldn’t be snooping around,” he says, his tone calm, almost soothing. “some things are better left alone.”

before you can say anything, sunoo’s eyes shift toward the guestbook in your hands. his smile falters for just a split second—barely noticeable, but enough to send a fresh wave of unease through you.

"i’ll take you back to your room,” he says, his voice steady again. “come on, it’s late.”

you don’t argue. you just nod,and follow him out of the room, feeling the weight of the mansion pressing down on you with every step.

the next morning, you wake up to the sound of heavy rain beating against the windows. groaning, you pull the covers over your head, hoping that maybe the storm has let up by now, but from the relentless sound, it’s clear that isn’t the case.

you make your way downstairs, hoping for better news, but your parents are sitting at the breakfast table, both looking completely at ease, as though the weather outside is no big deal.

“good morning, sweetheart!” your mom chirps, her voice unnaturally bright.

"morning," you mumble, taking a seat as you glance toward the large windows in the dining room. the sky is a swirling mess of dark clouds, rain pouring down so hard you can barely see the surrounding grounds.

“storm’s not going anywhere for the next few days,” your dad says casually, stirring his coffee. “looks like we’re stuck here for a bit longer.”

you frown, a wave of frustration bubbling inside you. "what about the resort? the plans we made?"

your mom exchanges a glance with your dad, then she turns to you with a serene smile. “you know, maybe this is a sign. the resort will still be there later, and this mansion… well, it’s kind of charming in its own way, isn’t it? why not just enjoy it?”

you stare at her, incredulous. "you want to stay here?"

“it’s vintage, classy, and we’re already settled in. it feels… perfect, in a way,” your mother continues, her voice light but with an unsettling certainty. “it’s like we were meant to be here.”

something about the way she says it sends a shiver down your spine. you’ve been feeling like you weren’t supposed to be here at all—like you’ve stumbled into a trap you can’t escape. but looking at your parents’ relaxed faces, they clearly don’t share your unease.

you sigh, rubbing your temples. “fine. i guess we’re staying.”

it’s not like you have a choice anyway. the storm doesn’t seem like it’s stopping anytime soon, and the roads would be impossible to navigate in this weather.

you wander through the mansion’s winding hallways, the silence heavy and oppressive. no matter how grand or beautiful this place is, it feels like a cage—isolated, suffocating, filled with unseen eyes and secrets buried in every corner. the tension from this morning still clings to your thoughts like a dark cloud, refusing to let you find peace.

as you turn a corner, you nearly collide with sunoo, who’s balancing a tray of ingredients. his usual brightness doesn’t fade; instead, his eyes light up as he sees you. but there’s something in his smile—something mischievous, playful, and... unsettling.

"looking bored?" he asks with that trademark grin, though his eyes seem to flicker with something deeper. "want to bake something with me?"

you hesitate, feeling an odd sensation settle in your stomach. you haven’t exactly gotten close to sunoo since you arrived here. something about him always felt a little strange, as if he’s holding back, concealing his true self behind that playful mask. but the silence of the mansion is worse than the idea of baking with someone like him.

after a beat, you nod. "yeah, okay."

sunoo's grin widens, and he leads you into the mansion’s oversized kitchen, the high ceilings and gleaming countertops almost intimidating in their grandeur. you can’t help but feel like even this space is part of the house’s deception—too perfect, too polished.

“you’re in for a treat,” sunoo says, his voice slipping into a more casual tone as he sets the tray on the counter. “i make the best cookies you’ll ever taste.”

you don’t respond, already lost in your own thoughts, trying to distract yourself from everything that's happened. the tasks of measuring and mixing are a welcome escape. sunoo chatters on as he gathers ingredients, but you only half-listen, trying to ignore the prickle of unease creeping up your spine.

as you mix the batter, sunoo’s light-hearted teasing pulls you in despite yourself. his comments, although flippant, ease some of the tension you’ve been holding, and before you realise it, you’re laughing at one of his jokes. you sneak a bit of dough when he’s not looking, and it feels almost… normal.

but then sunoo catches you, playfully swatting your hand. "hey! no cheating!" he scolds with mock seriousness.

you let out a chuckle, taking the opportunity to swipe some flour onto his cheek. "oops."

sunoo gasps, clutching his chest in exaggerated shock. "oh, you’re going to pay for that."

before you can react, he smears flour across your nose. the playful gesture sends you both into fits of laughter, the tension of the mansion temporarily lifting. for a brief moment, the world outside this kitchen—its darkness and mysteries—feels far away. the warmth of sunoo’s laughter fills the room, and you can’t help but feel yourself relax in his presence.

but then something changes.

the playfulness lingers, but when sunoo’s hand grazes your arm, wiping away some flour from your cheek, the touch lingers a little longer than it should. his fingers brush your skin lightly, and suddenly, the laughter fades into a different kind of tension. his eyes meet yours, and for the briefest second, there’s something there—something unspoken, something... charged.

you swallow hard, unsure how to respond. the lighthearted moment has turned into something else entirely, and the air between you grows thick. sunoo’s grin remains, but his gaze—intense and a little too intimate—holds you captive for a moment longer than feels safe. you’re aware of his closeness, of how different this interaction feels compared to everything else between you.

and then, just as quickly, the moment is broken.

the sensation of being watched crawls back over your skin, sending a cold shiver down your spine. you freeze, the weight of a gaze pressing heavily on you, suffocating the playful atmosphere. slowly, you turn toward the doorway.

heeseung is standing there, leaning against the doorframe with an expression that makes your blood run cold. his eyes are locked on you, darker and more intense than you’ve ever seen them. the tension in the room shifts, and it’s no longer playful—it’s dangerous.

sunoo’s posture stiffens, but his smirk doesn’t falter. if anything, he seems to relish the moment. “oh, hey heeseung,” he drawls, his voice dripping with mock innocence. “we were just having a little fun. you don’t mind, do you?”

heeseung doesn’t respond right away, his gaze flicking from you to sunoo, then back to you. his eyes are sharp, a dark possessiveness brewing behind them. when he finally speaks, his voice is low, dangerous. “i’m sure you’re keeping her... entertained.”

sunoo’s smirk widens as he steps a little closer to you, just enough to make the tension unbearable. “oh, absolutely. we make quite the team in here,” he says, his hand grazing your shoulder briefly in a gesture that feels too familiar, too intimate.

your heart races as you stand between them, caught in their unspoken battle. heeseung’s eyes darken further, his jaw clenched tightly as sunoo continues to play his game, his fingers brushing more flour off your cheek. the touch sends a jolt through you—not of comfort, but of confusion. why does this feel wrong? and why can’t you pull away?

heeseung’s calm facade cracks. he steps forward, his movements deliberate, as if every step brings him closer to an edge you can’t see. his voice, when he finally speaks, is smooth but holds a razor-sharp edge. “i think you’ve had enough fun for today.”

heeseung’s hand reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering just a little too long, the touch possessive. sunoo’s playful demeanour falters slightly, but he steps back with a knowing look, eyes flicking between you and heeseung.

“i guess that’s my cue,” sunoo says with a sly wink, retreating from the kitchen. but before he leaves, his gaze lingers on you one last time, and in that moment, it feels like the game is far from over.

the moment sunoo is gone, the atmosphere shifts. heeseung’s hand lingers on your arm, his fingers ghosting over your skin as he pulls you closer, his gaze locking onto yours. his touch, once soft, now feels like a cage, holding you in place as his lips curl into a dark smile.

“you shouldn’t let him get so close to you,” heeseung says softly, his voice like velvet, wrapping around you with a dark intensity. “he doesn’t have your best interests at heart.”

your pulse quickens, and you try to pull away, but heeseung’s grip tightens. his eyes are soft, but the look in them is anything but. he’s watching you like you belong to him, and the thought sends another wave of fear crashing over you.

“i…” you don’t know what to say. you’re caught between the two of them, between the strange camaraderie they share and the way heeseung’s mood shifts on a knife’s edge.

heeseung leans closer, his breath warm against your skin as he whispers, “you should only trust me. i’m the one who cares about you.”

the words send a chill through you, and yet… you can’t pull away.

heeseung’s hand remains on your arm, his touch gentle but firm as he leads you out of the kitchen. his earlier tension has shifted into something more deliberate, more focused, and you can’t shake the feeling that he’s leading you somewhere for a reason—one that you’re not entirely sure you’re ready to face.

“there’s a better way to pass the time,” he murmurs, his voice low as he glances at you from the corner of his eye. there’s something unreadable in his gaze, a dark glimmer of emotion that both unnerves and draws you in.

you don’t respond, your mind still spinning from the earlier interaction with sunoo, from the way heeseung had claimed your attention so completely. now, as he leads you down another unfamiliar hallway, you can’t help but feel like you’re walking deeper into something—into the very heart of the mansion’s secrets.

eventually, you reach a door at the end of the corridor, and heeseung pushes it open with a soft creak. the room beyond takes your breath away.

it’s elegant, grand in a way that feels both timeless and dreamlike. a grand piano sits in the centre, its polished surface gleaming under the light streaming in from a gigantic window. the window offers a perfect view of the garden outside, which—despite the ongoing storm—seems eerily peaceful, the flowers swaying gently as though untouched by the chaos in the sky.

you step inside, your feet moving almost of their own accord. the air in here feels different, thick with something unnameable. as you look around, that familiar feeling of déjà vu washes over you again, stronger this time. you’ve been here before—or at least, it feels like you have.

heeseung watches you closely, his dark eyes following your every movement. there’s something in his gaze—something that flickers between hunger and sorrow, desperation and longing. it’s as if he’s waiting for you to remember something important, something crucial.

without a word, he sits down at the piano. his fingers brush lightly over the keys, and after a brief moment of silence, he begins to play.

the melody is soft at first, gentle and haunting, and yet… you know it. somehow, impossibly, you recognize the tune even though you’ve never heard it before. the notes seem to pull at something deep inside you, stirring emotions you can’t explain.

as heeseung plays, his gaze never leaves you. his eyes are dark, intense, filled with a pain that tugs at your heart. but behind that pain, there’s something else—something dangerous, something that feels like it’s pulling you toward him, binding you to him in ways you can’t understand.

the music swells, filling the room with a haunting beauty that leaves you breathless. your chest tightens, and before you realise what’s happening, you feel tears streaming down your face. your body moves on its own, your feet carrying you across the room toward heeseung.

you stop in front of him, your vision blurred with tears. gently, almost instinctively, you reach out and place your hand on his cheek. his skin is warm under your touch, and for a moment, he closes his eyes, leaning into your hand as if savouring the contact.

the final note of the melody lingers in the air, and heeseung’s fingers are still on the keys. the silence that follows feels thick, heavy with unspoken words and unasked questions.

you gasp, suddenly realising what you’re doing. you pull your hand away from his face, stepping back as if you’ve crossed an invisible line. your heart pounds in your chest, your mind swirling with confusion.

“i—i’m sorry,” you stammer, wiping at your tears. “i don’t know what came over me.”

heeseung opens his eyes slowly, and when he looks at you, there’s a sadness there so profound it makes your heart ache. he doesn’t speak for a long moment, simply watching you as though waiting for you to understand something.

you take a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. “what is this place, heeseung? why… why does it feel like i’ve been here before?”

his expression darkens, his gaze growing distant as if he’s wrestling with something inside himself. for a moment, you think he’s going to deflect your questions like he always does, but then, to your surprise, he speaks.

“this mansion,” he begins, his voice low and almost resigned, “is not what it seems.”

your blood runs cold at his words, and you feel a chill creep up your spine.

“what do you mean?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

heeseung rises from the piano bench, taking slow, deliberate steps toward you. there’s something predatory in the way he moves, but there’s also a deep sadness in his eyes, as though he’s weighed down by centuries of pain.

“this place…” he says quietly, glancing around the room. “it has a way of trapping those who stay too long. the walls, the halls—they shift, they change, and time here doesn’t flow the way it should.”

your mind races as you process his words. “trapping? how?”

heeseung’s gaze locks with yours, his expression unreadable. “the mansion is alive in its own way. it feeds off the presence of those who come here, twisting their reality until they can no longer leave.”

you take a step back, your heart pounding in your chest. “are you saying… we’re trapped?”

heeseung’s jaw tightens, and he looks away, his hands clenched at his sides. “yes,” he says softly. “but you… you’re different.”

“different?” you echo, confusion swirling in your mind. “what do you mean?”

heeseung steps closer, his eyes filled with an emotion you can’t quite place. “the mansion brought you here for a reason. it’s not a coincidence that you ended up at this place—it’s because of who you are.”

you shake your head, backing away from him. “what are you talking about?”

heeseung’s gaze is piercing, and his next words make your blood run cold.

“you’ve been here before,” he says, his voice low. “a long time ago.”

your heart skips a beat, and you feel a wave of nausea wash over you. “that’s impossible.”

heeseung takes another step forward, his eyes filled with desperation now. “it’s not impossible. you were here, in another time, in another life. and you were with me.”

the room feels like it’s spinning. your thoughts race as you try to make sense of his words, but nothing adds up. “you’re lying,” you whisper, but even as you say it, a part of you knows that he’s telling the truth.

“i’m not lying,” heeseung says, his voice filled with quiet sorrow. “we were together, bound to this place. and now… the mansion has brought you back to me.”

you shake your head, tears welling up in your eyes. “i don’t understand.”

heeseung’s expression softens, and for a moment, he looks almost vulnerable. “the mansion has a way of bringing people back, of trapping them in a cycle. i’m bound to this place, cursed to live here for eternity. and now that you’re here again…”

he doesn’t finish the sentence, but the implication hangs in the air.

you take a shaky breath, your mind reeling. “you think… you think i’m supposed to share your fate?”

heeseung looks at you with a mix of desperation and longing. “i don’t know. but i do know that this place… it won’t let you leave easily.”

the weight of his words sinks in, and you feel a chill run through you. the mansion—the strange feeling of familiarity, the way time seemed to warp—it all suddenly makes sense. you were meant to be here, drawn back into heeseung’s orbit, bound by forces far beyond your control.

but even as you grapple with the reality of it, one question burns in your mind: what are you willing to do to escape? and more importantly, are you even sure you want to?

the air between you and heeseung feels heavy after his haunting confession, a truth that lingers like a cloud over your thoughts. your heart is racing, torn between fear and an inexplicable pull towards him. his words replay in your mind, looping with eerie familiarity: you’ve been here before. with me.

it doesn’t make sense, and yet somehow, in the deep recesses of your memory, it does.

heeseung’s dark eyes soften as he steps closer to you, his previous intensity fading into something almost fragile. you expect him to push further, to lock you into his twisted truth, but instead, his posture slackens as if he’s letting go of something—some control he’s been gripping too tightly. there’s a new softness in his gaze, and it catches you off guard.

“i didn’t mean to scare you,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “it’s just… this place, this mansion—it does things to people. to me.”

he reaches out, hesitant, as if afraid you might flinch away. but you don’t. you stand frozen, your mind still reeling. when his fingers brush against your arm, there’s a strange warmth to his touch, and you feel that pull again, that magnetic force that both terrifies and draws you to him.

"i've been trapped here for so long," he continues, his voice trembling just slightly. he sits down on the sofa by the fire, the flickering flames casting shadows on his face, highlighting the hollowness in his expression. “i don’t even know how much time has passed. decades? centuries? it all blurs together after a while.”

you remain standing, watching him closely. his earlier intensity—the predatory edge in his voice—seems to have dissolved, leaving behind someone who looks genuinely broken. his eyes drop to the floor, and for the first time since you arrived, he looks vulnerable, as though the weight of his endless existence is finally catching up to him.

“i didn’t ask for this,” heeseung says, his voice raw with emotion. “i didn’t ask to be bound here, to this place. i never wanted to be a prisoner.” he glances up at you, and in the dim light, you see something flickering in his gaze: pain, longing… regret.

your chest tightens. the mansion, the strange events, the unshakable feeling that you’ve been here before—it all swirls inside your head like a storm. but now, looking at him, sitting in front of you like this, you feel a pang of sympathy. maybe he isn’t the monster you thought he was. maybe he’s just as trapped as you are, desperate for a way out.

you find yourself stepping closer to him, your feet moving on their own. you sit down beside him, keeping a small distance, your body tense. for a long moment, neither of you speak. the only sound is the crackling of the fire, filling the room with warmth and an eerie sense of peace.

“i’m sorry,” heeseung whispers, his voice so soft it almost gets lost in the quiet. “for dragging you into this. you shouldn’t have to suffer because of me.”

your heart clenches at the raw emotion in his words, and against your better judgement, you find yourself reaching out, your hand resting on his. he looks down at the contact, his eyes wide as if he didn’t expect your touch, and for a fleeting moment, he closes his eyes, savouring the warmth.

“it’s not your fault,” you say, your voice trembling slightly. “none of this is your fault.”

heeseung’s eyes snap open, and he looks at you, truly looks at you, with a mix of shock and something else—something deeper. for a long time, neither of you speaks, but the silence between you feels heavy with unspoken words.

then, without warning, he lets out a shaky breath, almost a laugh, though there’s no humour in it. “i don’t know why i’m telling you all of this,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “maybe because you’re the first person i’ve seen in so long… maybe because i’ve been alone for too long.”

the sadness in his voice tugs at your heart. you can’t help but imagine what it must be like—to be stuck in this place for eternity, unable to leave, watching the world move on without you. the thought sends a chill down your spine.

“i don’t want you to be alone anymore,” you say, the words escaping your lips before you can stop them.

heeseung’s gaze snaps to yours, his eyes wide with surprise. for a moment, the two of you just stare at each other, the weight of your words hanging in the air. then, slowly, he shifts closer, his fingers brushing against your arm, the touch light and hesitant, as though he’s afraid of pushing you away.

“you don’t know what you’re saying,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “if you stay… you’ll be trapped, just like me.”

the reality of his words hits you like a wave of cold water, but even as you register the danger, you can’t seem to pull away from him. there’s something about heeseung that draws you in, something that makes you want to help him, even if it means risking yourself.

“i’m not afraid,” you say, your voice trembling slightly. “i don’t know why, but i feel like… like i know you. like we’ve been through this before.”

heeseung’s breath catches, and for a moment, he looks at you with such intensity that it takes your breath away. then, without a word, he reaches for your hand, holding it tightly as though he’s afraid you might slip away.

“i wish it could be different,” he whispers, his voice filled with quiet desperation. “i wish i could let you go, but… i can’t.”

the next few days pass in a blur of quiet moments shared between you and heeseung. there’s an unspoken understanding that neither of you fully addresses—the haunting truth of the mansion and its curse—but in these days, heeseung’s vulnerability and warmth seem genuine. the dark edges of his earlier intensity have softened, leaving you with the version of him that feels...safe.

each evening, the two of you sit together by the grand fireplace in the main hall, the warmth of the flames casting a golden glow over heeseung’s features. the way he speaks to you during these moments is intimate, his voice low and soothing. he shares bits and pieces of his past—not the dark, twisted parts, but memories of beauty and light.

one night, you find yourselves sitting across from one another at a small, round table, a cosy dinner spread out between you. the fire crackles beside you, filling the room with warmth. heeseung had insisted on preparing the meal, and though you’d never seen him cook before, the food is surprisingly delicious. it’s simple, nothing extravagant, but there’s something deeply comforting about the whole scene.

heeseung pours you a glass of wine, the red liquid glistening in the candlelight. he smiles gently as he hands it to you, and for the first time since you arrived, the tension between you feels like it’s beginning to ease.

“it feels normal, doesn’t it?” he asks quietly, his voice tinged with something you can’t quite place—hope, maybe. “like we could be anyone, anywhere. like none of this…” he gestures vaguely to the mansion around you, “…exists.”

you take a sip of the wine, savouring its sweetness before you nod. “it does,” you agree softly. “for the first time since i got here, it feels… peaceful.”

heeseung’s gaze lingers on you, and when he speaks again, his voice is barely above a whisper. “that’s all i’ve ever wanted. a moment of peace.”

the words hang in the air between you, and you can’t help but feel the weight of them. heeseung’s life—if you can even call it that—has been one long stretch of isolation and pain. and now, here he is, seeking solace in the small moments he can share with you. your heart aches for him.

“you’ve been alone for so long,” you murmur, placing your hand on top of his. his skin is warm beneath your touch, and for a moment, heeseung’s eyes flicker with something deep, something raw.

“i’ve had to be,” he says, his voice heavy with emotion. “i don’t know what i’d become if i let myself feel anything. if i let myself believe that things could ever be different.”

he looks away, staring into the fire as if searching for answers in the flames. “but with you… it feels different. like there’s a chance for something better.”

your chest tightens at his words. there’s a sincerity in his voice that you can’t deny, a vulnerability that makes you want to believe him. you’ve seen the darkness in heeseung, felt the weight of his mysterious past, but now… now you see the man beneath it all. the man who’s been trapped, longing for freedom, for connection.

“i want to help you, heeseung,” you say, your voice trembling slightly. “i don’t know how, but… i want to try.”

heeseung turns back to you, his eyes shining with something akin to hope. he lifts your hand to his lips, brushing a soft kiss against your knuckles. the gesture is tender, intimate, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

“you’ve already done more for me than you know,” he whispers. his gaze locks with yours, and in that moment, it feels like the rest of the world falls away. there’s only you and him, caught in this strange, timeless place.

the next morning, heeseung takes you on a walk through the mansion’s garden. the day is overcast, the sky a soft blanket of grey, but the air is warm, filled with the scent of the blooming flowers that line the winding paths. it’s quiet out here, save for the occasional rustle of leaves or the chirp of a bird hidden somewhere in the overgrown hedges.

heeseung leads you toward the edge of the garden, where a large, ancient tree stands tall and proud, its branches stretching out like arms welcoming you. the bark is weathered, covered in thick moss, and there’s a certain energy that emanates from it, something both powerful and deeply familiar.

“this tree,” heeseung begins softly, running his hand over the rough bark, “has been here longer than the mansion itself. some say it’s the heart of this place, that it holds the memories of all those who’ve lived here.”

you step closer, staring up at the gnarled branches twisting above you. there’s something haunting about the tree, something that feels almost… alive.

“it’s strange,” you murmur, “but i feel like i know this tree. like i’ve stood here before.”

heeseung turns to you, his gaze filled with a deep intensity. “that’s because you have.”

your breath catches at his words, and you glance up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “what do you mean?”

heeseung steps closer, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm. “there are pieces of you that remember this place,” he says quietly. “just like there are pieces of me that have never forgotten you.”

his words send a shiver down your spine, and you feel a strange pull toward him once again, a sense that the two of you are bound together by something far greater than just this moment.

“do you ever wonder,” heeseung asks, his voice barely above a whisper, “why this place feels like home?”

your mind races, trying to process the weight of his question. you don’t know how to answer, because the truth is, you’ve been wondering that since the moment you arrived. and now, with heeseung standing beside you, the mansion looming behind you, and the ancient tree towering above you, the feeling is stronger than ever.

“maybe,” you whisper, “it’s because it is.”

heeseung’s gaze locks with yours, and for a moment, it feels like time itself stops. there’s a deep, unspoken understanding between you—a sense that, no matter how much you try to fight it, your fates are intertwined.

but as the days pass, those sweet moments with heeseung—the cosy dinners by the fire, the walks through the garden, the soft, lingering touches—begin to feel like something more. they feel like a promise. like he’s slowly binding you to this place, to him.

and you can’t shake the feeling that maybe that’s exactly what he wants.

the following morning is quieter than usual, with heeseung nowhere to be found. you drift through the halls of the mansion, feeling a strange mix of restlessness and curiosity, until you find yourself in the kitchen. the smell of something sweet wafts through the air, and when you step inside, you see sunoo standing by the counter, mixing a bowl of dough with effortless grace.

he looks up as you enter, a bright smile spreading across his face. “good morning!” he chirps, his voice as light and cheerful as always. “i thought we could bake something today. you seemed to enjoy the cookies i made last time.”

you hesitate in the doorway, unsure why your chest tightens a little at his easy demeanour. sunoo has always been polite and warm, a calming presence in the otherwise eerie mansion, but lately, something about him has started to feel... off. his constant cheerfulness, his perfect hospitality—it all seems too deliberate, too practised.

still, you find yourself drawn to the idea of something normal, something grounded in the here and now. so you nod, stepping into the kitchen to join him.

“what are we making?” you ask, moving to stand beside him at the counter.

sunoo beams. “heeseung loves cinnamon rolls,” he says with a knowing glint in his eye. “i thought we’d make a batch for him.”

you feel a flutter in your chest at the mention of heeseung. you’ve spent so much time with him lately that it’s hard not to think about him constantly.

“how long have you been here, sunoo?” you ask after a moment, trying to sound casual. you’ve never really asked before—never thought to, really—but now that you’ve started thinking about it, the question gnaws at you.

sunoo’s smile tightens just a fraction, his hands stilling for a moment before he continues kneading. “longer than i can remember,” he says with a light laugh. “time is strange here. you lose track after a while.”

his words send a shiver down your spine. you’ve heard heeseung talk about the mansion warping time, but to hear sunoo echo the same sentiment makes it feel even more real. and the way he brushes off the question only adds to the growing sense of unease.

you try to shake the feeling, focusing instead on helping him roll out the dough. the kitchen feels warm and cosy, a stark contrast to the unsettling thoughts swirling in your mind. sunoo hums softly as he works, his movements fluid and graceful.

but then, just as you’re starting to relax again, sunoo speaks, his voice soft but laced with something... knowing.

“cinnamon rolls were always your favourite, too.”

you freeze, your hand hovering over the tray of dough. his words sink in slowly, like a cold drop of water trickling down your spine.

“what did you just say?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

sunoo looks up at you, blinking in confusion as if he doesn’t quite understand the gravity of what he’s just said. “i said cinnamon rolls were always your favourite,” he repeats, his tone casual but his eyes flickering with something deeper.

you stare at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “how would you know that?”

for the first time since you’ve met him, sunoo seems caught off guard. his usually calm, cheerful demeanour falters, and he fumbles with his words. “i-i mean, heeseung mentioned it once,” he says quickly, his smile strained. “you must’ve said something about it, right?”

but you know you didn’t. you’ve never mentioned cinnamon rolls or anything about your preferences to either of them. you would remember if you had. and the way sunoo’s face pales slightly, the way his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes—none of it feels right.

“sunoo,” you say, your voice sharper than you intended. “how do you really know that?”

he straightens up, the playful light in his eyes dimming. for a brief moment, you see something else in him—something darker, something far more calculated than the friendly host you’ve come to know. he looks at you as though measuring his next move, deciding how much to say.

“i—” sunoo stammers, then forces a bright smile again, though it no longer seems genuine. “you know how heeseung and i have lived here for so long. it just... slipped out. i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

he’s deflecting. you can see it in the way he avoids your gaze, in the way his hands fidget nervously at his sides. the confidence that usually defines him is gone, replaced by something much more guarded.

you narrow your eyes, stepping closer to him. “that’s not it, sunoo. you know more than you’re telling me.”

for a moment, sunoo’s cheerful facade cracks completely. his eyes meet yours, and the playfulness drains from his expression. what’s left behind is cold, calculating, and far too knowing for comfort.

“you don’t want to ask questions you aren’t ready to hear the answers to,” he says quietly, his voice carrying a strange weight that sends another shiver down your spine.

before you can respond, he turns away, resuming his work on the cinnamon rolls as though the conversation never happened. the air between you feels thick with unspoken truths, and your mind races with questions you don’t know how to voice.

how does sunoo know things about you that you’ve never shared? and why does it feel like he’s hiding something—something big, something dangerous?

as the silence stretches on, your unease only grows. the cosy warmth of the kitchen now feels suffocating, and every glance sunoo throws your way feels like a veiled warning. you try to focus on the task at hand, but your thoughts keep spiralling, circling back to the same unsettling conclusion:

there’s something very wrong here.

later that evening, as you sit with heeseung by the fire once again, you can’t stop thinking about what sunoo said. you want to ask heeseung, to get some kind of explanation, but you don’t know how to bring it up without sounding paranoid. every time you try to voice your thoughts, the words get caught in your throat.

heeseung notices your distraction, of course. he always does. his dark eyes flicker with concern as he reaches out to brush a strand of hair from your face.

“are you alright?” he asks softly, his voice filled with that familiar warmth that always seems to melt your defences.

you force a smile, though it feels brittle. “i’m fine,” you lie, your heart racing.

but as heeseung leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, you can’t shake the feeling that everything is slipping out of your control. the mansion, sunoo, heeseung—it’s all starting to unravel, and you’re not sure if you’re prepared for what you’ll find once the proper truth comes to light.

the storm that had raged outside the mansion for what felt like days finally breaks, leaving the air heavy with the scent of damp earth and the last drops of rain dripping off the eaves. the sky is clear now, a pale blue that feels far too serene after the eerie chaos of the past few days. you should be relieved, ready to leave this strange place and return to the life you know, but there’s a tension clinging to you that refuses to dissipate.

your parents, already packing up in their room, seem eager to get back on the road. they’ve been talking about the upcoming week—about how you need to prepare for your university exchange program and the final stretch of family time before you go. you should feel the same urgency, the same excitement to return to normalcy, but something keeps you rooted in place, lingering in the mansion’s dim corridors.

and then there’s heeseung.

he’s been quieter than usual since the storm ended, his smiles fewer and his demeanour darker, but every time you try to bring it up, he brushes it off. it’s like he’s biding his time, waiting for the right moment to say whatever’s been brewing behind his careful mask.

that moment comes after dinner, when your parents step outside to check on the car. you find yourself alone with heeseung in his room, the fire casting long, flickering shadows across the walls. the atmosphere is heavy, thick with unspoken words. you glance at him, and something in his expression—a tightness around his eyes, a tension in his jaw—makes your pulse quicken.

“heeseung…” you begin, your voice tentative. “we’re leaving soon. i have to get back in time for the program.”

at your words, something shifts in him, subtle but palpable. his dark eyes lock onto yours, and the pleasant facade he’s been wearing all this time cracks, just slightly. the smile that curls his lips doesn’t reach his eyes.

“you’re really going to leave me?” his voice is soft, almost too soft, and yet there’s an edge to it that makes your stomach churn.

you take a step towards him, trying to explain. “i have to go. the program—it’s important, and i can’t just stay here.”

heeseung’s expression darkens, and he takes a step toward you, closing the distance between you. “what’s more important? some exchange program or me?”

the question catches you off guard. his voice is low, laced with something that sounds like hurt, but there’s a simmering anger beneath it that makes you nervous.

“i… it’s not like that,” you stammer, trying to find the right words. “i’ve worked so hard for this, heeseung. it’s a big opportunity. you understand, don’t you?”

but he’s not listening. heeseung’s jaw clenches, and his eyes narrow as he steps closer, his presence suddenly overwhelming. “no, i don’t understand,” he snaps, his voice rising with barely contained fury. “you can’t just leave! after everything we’ve been through—after everything i’ve done for you—you’re just going to walk away?”

your heart pounds in your chest as his words hit you like a physical blow. there’s something wild in his gaze now, something unhinged. heeseung reaches out, grabbing your arm, and his grip is too tight, his fingers digging into your skin.

“you’re not going,” he says, his voice low and dangerous, the fury in his tone barely masked. “you can’t.”

the room feels like it’s closing in on you, the fire’s warmth suddenly stifling. you try to pull away, but heeseung’s grip tightens, his fingers digging deeper into your arm. his face contorts with an emotion you can’t fully name—something between rage and desperation.

“heeseung, you’re hurting me,” you manage to say, your voice shaky as you try to free yourself from his grasp.

at your words, his expression shifts again—this time to something that almost looks like regret, but it’s fleeting, quickly replaced by that same desperate intensity. he loosens his grip, but he doesn’t let go. instead, he pulls you closer, his other hand coming up to cup the side of your face.

“i’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, but there’s still an unsettling edge to it. “i didn’t mean to hurt you. i just… i can’t lose you.”

his face is inches from yours, and there’s something predatory in the way he looks at you now. before you can react, he leans in, his lips crashing against yours with a force that makes you stumble back. the kiss is rough, possessive, not at all like the tender moments you’ve shared before. it’s as if he’s trying to claim you, to make you stay through sheer force of will.

you try to push him away, but he’s too strong, his hands holding you in place. panic flares in your chest, but just as quickly as the kiss began, he pulls back, his face contorted with a mixture of fury and something akin to pleading.

“don’t go,” he whispers, his voice trembling now, and you can see tears welling up in his eyes. “please… don’t leave me.”

the sudden shift is dizzying. one moment, he was angry—furious, even—and now he’s begging, his voice raw with emotion. heeseung’s hands slide from your face to your shoulders, his fingers trembling as he holds onto you as if you’re his only lifeline.

“i’ve been trapped here for so long,” he says, his voice breaking. “you’re the only good thing that’s happened to me in… i don’t even know how long. i can’t bear the thought of being alone again. not after everything we’ve shared.”

you feel a pang of guilt at the sight of him like this—vulnerable, broken. his eyes are filled with so much pain, so much longing, that it tugs at something deep inside you. despite the warning bells ringing in your mind, a part of you feels drawn to him, feels the weight of his desperation, his need for you.

“i don’t want to hurt you,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “but i can’t let you leave. i can’t let you forget about me.”

his words send a chill through you, but they also stir something else—something darker, something that makes you question your own resolve. can you really leave him here, alone, after everything?

“heeseung,” you begin, your voice shaky, “i don’t want to hurt you either, but i have to go back. my life… i can’t just abandon it.”

his expression hardens for a moment, and for a terrifying second, you think his anger will return, but instead, he collapses against you, resting his forehead on your shoulder. his body trembles, and you feel the wetness of his tears soaking into your shirt.

“stay with me,” he whispers, his voice raw with emotion. “please… i need you.”

the weight of his words crashes down on you, and you feel your resolve slipping. heeseung’s vulnerability, his desperation—it’s overwhelming. you can’t deny the pull you feel toward him, the way your heart aches at the thought of leaving him behind.

maybe it’s the mansion, with its strange, unearthly hold on you, or maybe it’s heeseung himself—the way he’s embedded himself into your heart, into your very being. either way, the thought of leaving him feels unbearable.

slowly, you wrap your arms around him, holding him as he clings to you. “i’ll stay… for now,” you whisper, the words slipping from your lips before you can stop them.

heeseung pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes searching yours, filled with a mix of hope and relief. “you will?”

you nod, even as your heart twists with doubt. “just for a little longer.”

the smile that spreads across his face is soft, almost tender, but there’s a flicker of something else in his eyes—something darker, something that sends a shiver down your spine.

but for now, you push it aside. you’ll deal with the consequences of your decision later. right now, you just want to believe that you’re doing the right thing, that staying with heeseung is what’s best.

even if, deep down, you know it might be the worst mistake you’ve ever made.

the room is bathed in the soft, flickering light of candles, their flames casting shadows that dance along the walls. the air is thick with the scent of something floral, a heady mix of desire and tension swirling around you as heeseung’s lips trail down your neck, sending shivers through your body. his touch is gentle, worshipping, as if he’s afraid you might disappear at any moment.

it feels almost too perfect—like a dream you’re not quite sure you want to wake up from. his hands are on your skin, warm and possessive, and despite everything, despite the lingering doubts in your mind, you feel yourself giving in. his breath is hot against your collarbone, and your body responds to him, melting into his every touch.

heeseung presses you down onto the soft bed, his movements slow and deliberate. there's an intensity in his gaze, a hunger that’s been simmering under the surface ever since you arrived. his eyes never leave yours, and in the flickering light, there’s something primal in the way he looks at you—something that makes your pulse quicken with both anticipation and a strange sense of foreboding.

“i’ve waited so long for this,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion as his fingers trace the curve of your waist, his lips hovering just above yours. “you have no idea how long…”

his words make your heart stutter, but you push the uneasy feeling aside. this moment feels too intimate, too charged to ruin with questions. you close your eyes as he leans in, kissing you deeply, and for a moment, all your doubts dissolve in the heat of the moment.

heeseung’s hands move with purpose, his touch both tender and possessive, and soon you find yourself swept away by the passion between you. it feels like time has stopped, like the mansion itself has paused its strange, shifting nature to let you have this moment together. his body presses against yours, and the world outside the room seems to blur into nothingness.

as the intensity builds, heeseung’s breath grows heavier, and so does the atmosphere around you. his whispered words become more erratic, laced with a strange urgency. he murmurs your name like a prayer, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks in low, fervent tones. you try to hold on to the heat between you, to the passion, but there’s something unsettling underneath it all. something you can’t quite put your finger on. the way he touches you—so familiar, like he’s done this before. like you’ve done this before.

as the moment deepens, you’re both lost in each other, but then, somewhere between the whispers and the heat of his skin against yours, heeseung says something that makes your heart stutter.

“you know he was never good enough for you.”

his words are laced with a bitterness that cuts through the intimacy like a knife. your body tenses beneath him, but you don’t fully register the meaning of his words right away. who is he talking about? the thought flashes through your mind, but it’s quickly drowned out by the sensation of his hands on your skin, the warmth of his body pressed against yours.

still, the words echo, growing louder with each passing second. he? who is he talking about?

your mind begins to wander, to places you’ve been trying to avoid. somewhere deep inside, there’s a flicker of recognition. the inkling of a past lover, a shadowy figure whose face you can’t quite remember but whose presence lingers in your mind. it’s as though there’s something—or someone—you’ve forgotten, buried beneath layers of a life you no longer recall.

heeseung’s lips press against your skin again, pulling you back into the moment, but the unease has already taken root. you can’t shake the feeling that something is off. his words—he was never good enough for you—ring in your ears. but who? who could he mean?

you try to push it away, to focus on the present, but there’s a strange shift in the atmosphere now. the way heeseung touches you, the way his voice wraps around your name—it feels less like adoration and more like possession. and the way he said he—the bitterness, the jealousy—it felt too personal, too pointed.

you close your eyes, trying to lose yourself in the heat of his body, but the unease grows, knotting in your chest. you can’t stop thinking about what he said, about who he might be referring to. you don’t remember anyone else—at least, not fully. yet there’s this nagging feeling, like you’re forgetting something important. or someone.

heeseung seems oblivious to your growing discomfort. his hands roam over you with a kind of desperation now, his grip tightening as if he’s afraid to let go. there’s a possessive edge to the way he holds you, a subtle shift in the dynamic that makes your heart race for reasons that have nothing to do with passion.

“you’ve always been mine,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear. “from the beginning.”

the words send a chill through you. from the beginning. it’s a simple phrase, but something about the way he says it—like he’s claiming you, like he’s rewriting your past—makes you uneasy. you don’t know why, but those words feel loaded, like they mean more than he’s letting on.

and then, as he kisses you again, his voice drops to a whisper, soft but chilling: “even before… before him.”

your body goes rigid. there it is again—him. the mystery lover you can’t remember. the one who, according to heeseung, wasn’t good enough for you. the one who existed before heeseung.

your heart pounds in your chest as your mind races, trying to piece together the fragments of memories you don’t have. who is he? and why does heeseung sound so bitter, so possessive, when he talks about him?

you don’t ask the questions that are burning inside you. not yet. you’re not sure you’re ready to hear the answers. instead, you let heeseung pull you closer, let him kiss you with that same intensity, but the warmth between you has shifted. there’s something darker in the air now, something unsettling, and no matter how much you try to ignore it, the words before him continue to echo in your mind.

later, when the passion has faded and the room has fallen into silence, you lie beside heeseung, staring at the ceiling, your thoughts racing. heeseung’s arm is draped over your waist, his breathing slow and even as if he’s already drifted off into a peaceful sleep. but you can’t rest. not with the weight of his words hanging over you.

he was never good enough for you.

as you lie there, wrapped in heeseung’s arms, the reality of your situation starts to sink in. the mansion, the strange familiarity, the way heeseung acts as though he’s known you forever—it all feels too real, too deliberate. you want to believe that what you have with him is real, but there’s a part of you, buried deep inside, that knows something isn’t right.

something is missing. something from your past, something—or someone—that heeseung isn’t telling you about.

and the scariest part? you’re not sure if you want to remember.

the air feels heavy, pressing down on you as you toss and turn in the unfamiliar bed, your mind restless even in sleep. the warmth of heeseung’s presence lingers, but something inside you feels unsettled—his words still echoing in your mind, he was never good enough for you. a cold shiver runs down your spine as you drift deeper into unconsciousness, slipping into the kind of dream that feels far too real.

the room is dark, but something’s wrong—everything feels… different. you sit up slowly, eyes scanning the space. the door that led to the hallway earlier now opens to somewhere else entirely, revealing a long corridor that seems to stretch into nothingness. the walls seem to shift, pulsating like they’re alive, and the low hum of eerie whispers fills the air.

your heart pounds as you swing your legs over the edge of the bed. the floor beneath your feet feels colder than it should, like ice seeping through the soles of your skin. your instincts scream at you to stay where you are, but something compels you to move, to explore. you walk toward the mirror on the wall, drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

but when you look into it, the reflection staring back at you isn’t your own—or at least, not how you recognize yourself. the figure in the mirror is wearing clothes from another time—a long, flowing dress, intricate lace details that seem ancient, out of place in this modern world. you can’t breathe. the woman in the reflection is you, but not you. she looks like you… but she belongs to another life.

a flicker of movement in the mirror catches your attention, and you turn to see heeseung standing in the doorway, his figure bathed in shadows. but this isn’t the heeseung you’ve come to know. the softness in his expression is gone, replaced with something darker, more sinister. his face is cold, almost expressionless, but his eyes—his eyes gleam with something sharp, dangerous.

“you’re here,” he says, his voice deeper than usual, lacking the warmth you’ve grown used to. he steps into the room, and the air seems to thicken around you. “i was hoping you’d remember sooner.”

“remember?” you whisper, confusion and fear swirling in your chest. “what are you talking about?”

heeseung’s lips curl into a bitter smile. “this place, us… none of it is a coincidence. you think you were just passing through? that the mansion drew you in by some strange force?” he laughs, a low, humourless sound that sends chills down your spine. “i brought you here.”

you take a step back, your mind reeling. “what… what do you mean?”

heeseung tilts his head, studying you like you’re a puzzle he’s waiting for you to solve. “this mansion, this cursed place—it’s ours. we built it together. we ran this hotel together. don’t you remember? you and i… we were supposed to live here, forever. but you chose him.”

a cold weight settles in your stomach. flashes of images invade your mind—distant memories you don’t understand, flickering in and out of focus. heeseung standing beside you, both of you smiling. the mansion was alive back then too, bustling with guests, full of life. but something feels wrong, distorted.

you suddenly feel like you’re suffocating, trapped under the weight of something you’re not sure you want to remember. the walls seem to shift again, the whispers growing louder, more insistent. bloodstains appear on the floor beneath you, as though seeping up from the wood itself.

heeseung’s voice pulls you back. “i loved you,” he says softly, stepping closer. his words should feel comforting, but they don’t. there’s a hunger in them, a possessive edge that makes your skin crawl. “but you were going to marry him… sim jake. you never gave me a chance.”

your heart skips a beat. jake. the name pulls at something deep within you, something you’ve been trying to ignore. memories you can’t quite grasp swirl at the edges of your consciousness, threatening to break free. you shake your head, unable to speak, your throat tight.

“i watched you with him,” heeseung continues, his eyes never leaving yours. “watched as you planned a future that didn’t include me. but i couldn’t let it happen. i couldn’t let him take you away.”

the bloodstains grow darker, spreading across the floor. you take another step back, your breath quickening.

and then it hits you—a flash of memory, so vivid it nearly knocks the air out of your lungs. you’re standing in the grand foyer of the mansion, dressed in that same lace gown from the mirror. jake is beside you, holding your hand, and you’re smiling up at him, heart full of love and excitement for the life you’re about to start together.

but then heeseung appears, his expression twisted in anger, betrayal simmering beneath the surface. and beside him is sunoo, his usually cheerful face cold and calculating. you see the way they look at jake, the silent exchange between them. before you can even process what’s happening, sunoo moves like lightning—his hand coming down in a flash of steel.

blood.

you gasp, your body trembling as you relive the moment. jake’s body crumpling to the ground, lifeless. your scream echoing through the halls, terror and grief crashing into you like a tidal wave.

in the dream—or is it a memory?—you turn, locking eyes with heeseung. you see it in his face, the mix of guilt and satisfaction. he’s done it. he’s made sure jake will never have you. but you… you’re not supposed to be there. you weren’t supposed to see it.

heeseung’s lips part as if to speak, but before he can, sunoo moves again. you don’t feel the blade; you just see your own blood spilling onto the floor, mixing with jake’s. heeseung’s yell is heard in the background and then… darkness.

the memory snaps you back to the present with a force that makes you stumble, your hands clutching the edge of the bed as you struggle to breathe. your heart is pounding in your ears, and your vision blurs with tears as the reality of it all sinks in.

you stare at him, your mind reeling. “sunoo killed me…” the words barely escape your lips, your voice trembling. “you… you both… killed us.”

heeseung’s expression hardens. “it was never supposed to end like that. but sunoo—he was afraid. afraid you’d ruin everything. so he—”

“he killed me,” you repeat, the weight of the revelation crashing down on you. “because of you.”

“because i loved you,” heeseung snaps, his voice sharp, eyes blazing with fury. “because i couldn’t stand the thought of you being with him. you were supposed to be mine!”

the room begins to shift, the walls closing in around you, the whispers rising to a deafening roar. you see it all now—how the mansion is tied to you, how it’s always been tied to you. it’s not just a place; it’s a prison. a prison where heeseung, sunoo, and you have been trapped for eternity, bound by the violence and betrayal that happened within its walls.

and heeseung… he’s not the victim he claimed to be. he’s the one who set all of this into motion, the mastermind behind the lies, the manipulation. he brought you back here, trapped you in this cycle, because he refuses to let go. he refuses to let you go.

“you can’t leave,” he whispers, stepping closer, his voice soft but laced with something sinister. “not now. not ever.”

your body trembles, fear twisting in your gut. the mansion—the distorted laughter, the bloodstains that won’t fade, the sensation of being watched—it’s all his doing. all part of his twisted game to keep you here, with him, forever.

but now, you remember. and you know the truth.

you wake up suddenly, your breath catching in your throat. the room is filled with the steady sound of heeseung’s breathing, soft and rhythmic as he sleeps beside you, his arms still wrapped around you protectively. but there’s no peace in it for you. your heart races, your mind tangled in a web of fear and confusion after what you just experienced. the images of the dream—or was it a memory?—flash through your mind. heeseung and sunoo killing jake. your own death. the truth about the mansion. it all feels too real, too vivid.

you glance at heeseung's sleeping form. his face is peaceful, innocent even, as if none of the horrors you've just seen could possibly be tied to him. but you know better now. his charm, his warmth, it’s all a mask—a cruel lie.

carefully, you slide out of bed, every movement deliberate, trying not to make a sound. you hold your breath as you tiptoe across the floor, your hands trembling. you don’t dare look back at him, too terrified that he might wake up and catch you. you know that if you stay here any longer, you’ll be trapped forever, just like in your dream. or worse—your nightmare.

you slip out of the room, heart pounding in your ears as you make your way down the dark hallway toward your parents' room. the walls seem to loom larger in the dim light, shadows flickering at the edges of your vision. the mansion feels like it’s alive, watching your every step, waiting for you to fail.

when you reach their door, you knock softly, trying not to panic. “mom, dad,” you whisper urgently. “we need to leave. please, wake up.”

after a moment, your mother opens the door, her face groggy with sleep. "what's going on?" she asks, rubbing her eyes.

"we need to leave," you repeat, your voice shaking. "something's wrong with this place. please, trust me. we have to go now."

your father stirs awake as well, frowning. "leave? in the middle of the night? what's gotten into you?"

"please," you beg, "i can't explain it right now, but we have to go. meet me outside, okay? just pack your things and meet me at the gates."

they exchange concerned glances but for once, sensing the urgency in your voice, they nod and begin to gather their things. relief washes over you for a brief moment as you make your way down the stairs, moving swiftly toward the mansion’s grand entrance. you're almost there, just a few more steps.

but as you reach the towering iron gates, you’re suddenly pulled back and pinned against the wall. you’re not surprised to see heeseung looming above you, with the most furious look you’ve ever seen on him.

“where do you think you’re going, my love?”, he spits out venomously.

you try to push him away, but to no avail he just grabs both your wrists, pinning them to your chest.

“you lied to me about all of this”, you look at him with betrayal, “you’re nothing but a manipulative liar. you killed us!”

heeseung seems to freeze at that, a look of realisation crossing over his face. he lets out a chuckle in disbelief, staring at you with a dark look.

“you found out then huh. but, you don’t know the full truth, do you?”

you furrow your brows in confusion at that. what was he talking about now?

he smirks at that, letting go of your hands now. “you’ve left me no choice y/n. you did this to yourself.”

with that ominous declaration, he brings his hand up to your forehead. a series of images rapidly flash in front of your eyes, and you immediately blackout.

you’re back in the dream again, but this time it’s different. you see yourself—your past self—walking through the halls of the mansion. the air is warm, the sunlight streaming through the large windows, and everything feels… peaceful. you look younger, happier, laughing at something heeseung said. he’s beside you, his arm brushing against yours as you both walk through the corridors like you belong there. like this place is yours.

heeseung is smiling at you, but not in the charming, calculated way you’ve come to expect. it’s a genuine smile, filled with warmth and affection. your heart flutters as he leans closer, his voice soft as he speaks. “you always make everything feel right,” he says, eyes shining with something you can’t quite place.

you smile back, a soft blush colouring your cheeks, and it hits you—he loved you then too. but you were too caught up in your engagement to jake to see it.

the scene shifts. you’re sitting together, laughing over something, your hand resting on his arm as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. there’s an intimacy between you that makes your stomach twist with unease. this version of you looks so in love with him. you’re touching him like you belong to him.

but that can’t be right. jake was your fiancé. you were going to marry him.

the memory shifts again, this time darker. heeseung leans in, his hand resting on yours for just a moment too long. “if only things were different,” he murmurs, his gaze heavy with unspoken longing.

your past self looks away, guilt flashing in your eyes. “i can’t leave him,” you whisper, barely audible. “it wouldn’t be good for my family or us. for the business.”

heeseung’s jaw tightens, his fingers brushing over yours with a tenderness that makes your heart ache. “but you want to,” he says softly, the words hanging in the air between you like a dangerous secret.

and you… you don’t deny it.

you wake up with a gasp, your heart racing as you bolt upright. your head throbs where as if you were hit, and the confusion of the dream still lingers like a fog in your mind. you’re back in heeseung’s room. alone. sunlight spills in through the curtains which means..

panic floods your veins. you scramble out of bed, your feet hitting the cold floor as you rush to the door. you can’t stay here. you have to find your parents and leave before it’s too late.

when you reach the foyer, your breath catches in your throat. your parents are there, bags packed, ready to leave. relief crashes over you like a wave, and you run toward them. “mom! dad! let’s go, we have to—”

but then they turn to you, confusion etched on their faces. your mother tilts her head slightly, her brow furrowing. “who… are you?”

the words hit you like a punch to the gut. “what do you mean? i’m your daughter! we need to leave, now!”

your father frowns, glancing at your mother, then back at you. “i think you’re mistaken. we don’t have a daughter.”

your laughter bubbles up, but it’s panicked, forced. “what? no, stop. this isn’t funny. we need to go, we need to leave right now!”

suddenly, you feel an arm snake around your waist, pulling you into a strong hold. you freeze, knowing exactly who it is before you even turn to look. heeseung. his smile is charming, but the coldness in his eyes sends a chill down your spine.

“ah, sweetheart,” he says smoothly, turning to your parents with an amused chuckle. “she likes to play these little pranks sometimes. always such a joker, my wife.”

your parents—no, these strangers—laugh awkwardly, nodding along like everything makes sense. “oh, we see,” your mother—no, not your mother—says with a forced smile.

your blood runs cold. you twist in heeseung’s grip, looking at him with wide, horrified eyes. “what have you done?”

heeseung’s smile falters slightly, but he feigns hurt, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. “what have i done? darling, i think you’re a little confused.”

you struggle against him, but his grip tightens. "mom! dad! please, it's me! it's your daughter! you have to believe me!"

but they just stare at you, their expressions growing more uncomfortable by the second. your father clears his throat, glancing at heeseung. “i think it’s time for us to go.”

heeseung nods, his smile never wavering. “of course. i’m sorry about all this. she’s been under a lot of stress lately. sunoo,” he calls over his shoulder.

sunoo appears from the shadows, his ever-cheerful grin now twisted into something darker, more malicious. he moves toward you, grabbing your arm with surprising strength. “come on now, let’s not make a scene.”

“no!” you scream, thrashing in sunoo’s hold. “please, you have to remember me! i’m your daughter!”

but your parents—these strangers—just exchange awkward glances before turning away. you all watch them leave, sunoo’s arm still securely around your waist, holding you in place.

you break free from his grip, bolting toward the door screaming for your parents, desperate to escape. but as soon as you reach the threshold, you slam into an invisible barrier. the impact knocks the air from your lungs, and you stumble back, disoriented.

heeseung is behind you in an instant, wrapping his arms around you from behind, his breath hot against your ear. “i told you, didn’t i?” his voice is low, cold. “you’re mine. you’ve always been mine.”

tears stream down your face as you push against the barrier, your hands shaking. “what have you done to me? why are you doing this?”

heeseung’s grip tightens, and he spins you around to face him, his eyes dark with a possessive intensity that sends shivers down your spine. “you think you’re innocent in all of this?” his voice is soft, but there’s a dangerous edge to it. “you think you didn’t know what was happening? you chose me. you were mine long before jake was ever in the picture.”

you shake your head in disbelief. “no, i didn’t… i didn’t—”

sunoo steps closer, a mocking pout on his lips. “oh, sweetheart, you did. you just didn’t want to admit it.” his finger traces the line of your cheek, and you flinch away from him. “you knew about heeseung’s feelings. you used him. and when jake became a problem, you turned a blind eye to it all. you knew we would kill him.” he sighs, “unfortunately, miscommunication led to your demise and we were eventually hanged. and now our souls are cursed to be bound to this mansion for eternity.”

heeseung’s voice lowers, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “you’re just as guilty as i am. and now… you’ll suffer with me. for eternity.”

you stand frozen, your mind reeling from heeseung’s words. the weight of the truth, the accusations, presses down on you like a boulder. memories you didn’t even know you had flicker behind your eyes—of stolen glances, secret touches, a forbidden affair. the you from before, so desperate to keep everything intact—your reputation, your future—had made a choice. a terrible, selfish choice.

“no…” you whisper, backing away from heeseung, shaking your head in denial. “that’s not true. i didn’t—”

“didn’t what?” heeseung cuts you off, his voice sharp and cruel now, all traces of tenderness gone. “didn’t love me? didn’t lead me on while you paraded around with him?” he spits the last word like it’s poison. “you knew exactly what you were doing. you wanted to have it both ways, and when i couldn’t stand it any longer, you let me kill jake because it was easier for you.”

the room spins as his words hit you like a tidal wave. you feel sick, your stomach twisting in knots. but even as the guilt rises in your throat, something inside you resists. “i didn’t… i didn’t want that…” you stammer, but your voice is weak, and the look in heeseung’s eyes tells you that he doesn’t believe you. maybe you don’t even believe yourself.

he steps closer, his eyes dark and filled with anger and betrayal. “you were mine, always mine. but you just had to keep playing your little games, didn’t you? you thought you could control everything. but look where it’s gotten us.”

you stumble backward, hitting the invisible barrier once again. this time it feels like it’s closing in on you, trapping you not just physically but mentally, emotionally. “i didn’t want anyone to die!” you shout, your voice cracking as the tears blur your vision. “i didn’t want this!”

sunoo chuckles softly from the corner, leaning casually against the wall, his expression unreadable. “well, that’s a nice story,” he says, voice light and mocking. “but none of us are getting out of here. not you, not me, not heeseung.” he crosses the room, his eyes gleaming with malice as he moves toward you. “you see, you set all of this in motion. you thought you could control us, control your fate, but now you’ll be trapped here just like us.”

heeseung’s grip on your arm tightens painfully, and you can feel his desperation, his anger, boiling over. “you’re not leaving, no matter how hard you try. this mansion, this curse, it’s our prison. and now it’s yours, too. we’re all in this together, for eternity.”

the word “eternity” sends a fresh wave of panic through your veins. “no!” you scream, thrashing in his grip, desperate to break free. “i won’t stay here! i won’t!”

but heeseung only tightens his hold on you, his face twisted in a mixture of rage and possessiveness. “you will stay,” he growls, his voice low and dangerous. “you belong to me. you always have.”

sunoo steps beside heeseung, his gaze cold and detached as he watches your struggle. his mocking smile only deepens the pit of dread in your stomach. “it’s only fair, don’t you think?” sunoo says, his voice filled with cruel amusement. “after all, you did help put us in this mess. you turned a blind eye to what heeseung did. and now…” he trails his fingers along your cheek, his touch sending a shiver of fear down your spine. “you’ll pay for that mistake.”

you shake your head wildly, trying to back away, but the barrier prevents any escape. “please, no!” you beg, your voice breaking as you sob. “i didn’t know… i didn’t mean for any of this to happen…”

but heeseung’s grip is unrelenting. he pulls you closer, his eyes gleaming with twisted satisfaction as he watches you unravel. “it doesn’t matter now,” he says, his voice soft but filled with dark intent. “your parents don’t remember you anymore and we’re bound together, all of us. the mansion, the curse, it’s our fate. and now it’s yours, too.”

as his words sink in, you feel the weight of your past bearing down on you. the memories, the guilt, the betrayal—it’s all too much. you collapse against the invisible barrier, tears streaming down your face as you realise the full extent of what’s happened. you’re trapped. trapped with heeseung and sunoo in this mansion, cursed to live out eternity in this twisted nightmare.

heeseung kneels down beside you, brushing a strand of hair from your face with a cruel tenderness. “it’s better this way,” he whispers. “now you can’t leave me. you’ll never leave me again.”

you choke back a sob, shaking your head. “i never wanted this… i never wanted to hurt anyone…”

heeseung’s lips curl into a dark smile. “but you did,” he says softly. “and now, you’ll live with that guilt forever.”

sunoo crouches beside heeseung, his gaze filled with mock pity as he watches you break down. “look on the bright side,” he says with a smirk. “at least you won’t be lonely. you’ll have us… forever.”

the finality of their words crashes over you like a wave, and as you look into heeseung’s cold, possessive eyes, you realise there’s no escape. you’re trapped in this mansion, bound to heeseung and sunoo for all eternity, forced to relive the mistakes of your past life in an endless cycle of torment.

with a sinking heart, you realise that heeseung was right all along. you’ve always been his. and now, you’ll never be free.

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