#rituals for meeting new people | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ponderingmoonlight · 2 months ago

Text

JJK men pretending to date you to get rid of unwanted attention

Pairings: Geto x fem!reader; Megumi x fem!reader; Choso x fem!reader; Gojo x fem!reader

Word Count; 3,9k (Gojo's part is loooong)

Warnings: got carried away by Gojo again lol, no real warnings except creepy guys and fluff over fluff, forgive me Noritoshi lovers, I know I did our man dirty in Megumi's part

Geto Suguru

It’s a quiet afternoon in the city. You and Geto have been meeting at this cozy café once a week for months, a little ritual that started after one too many of countless exhausting missions. The place is familiar and comfortable, usually a perfect escape from the noise of jujutsu sorcery. But today, things are a little off.

You notice it immediately when you enter, the way the barista’s eyes follow you. He’s new, someone you’ve never seen here before, and while it’s normal for people to glance over at new faces, this guy’s gaze lingers. It’s unsettling, but you ignore it, not wanting to overthink things. Maybe it’s just the way your hair falls today or the fact that you’re still wearing your uniform since you’ve just returned from another mission.

You sit down across from Geto, who’s already sipping his tea and scrolling through his phone while lounging with his manspread on point.

As you allow yourself a sip of your favorite drink too, you try to relax. This has to be your imagination running wild, you aren’t even that pretty, right?

But every time you look up, the barista is staring at you, his eyes heavy with intent. Eventually, he makes his way over, holding a plate of complimentary cookies. Fuck, what are you supposed to do?

“These are for you,” he purrs, offering you a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“On the house.”

You blink, taken aback. The stinging smell of way too much masculine perfume almost makes your guts turn and forces you to hold your breathe. You can tell by one look in his eyes what his intentions are – and they definitely aren’t sincerely.

“Oh, um, thanks,” you murmur, unsure of how to refuse without making things awkward.

The guy lingers, his attention focused solely on you. When he takes another step towards you, the alarm in your head starts going wild. What the hell does this creep want?

“You come here often, don’t you? I’ve noticed you a few times.”

Geto looks up from his phone, his eyes narrowing slightly as he notices the barista’s attention. He says nothing at first, but there’s a subtle tension in the air that wasn’t there before. There’s no doubt in the fact that you’re feeling uncomfortable.

“Yeah, we come here a lot,” Geto interferes smoothly, his tone polite but firm.

“Together.”

The barista’s eyes flick to Geto for the first time, a shadow of irritation crossing his face. He clearly hadn’t noticed him before.

“Oh,” the guy mutters, his smile faltering.

“Are you two…?”

Geto leans forward in his chair, casually placing his warm hand on your thigh while giving you that smile that almost makes you choke. The move is subtle but possessive, his body language making it clear what he’s implying. And your body? Oh, you’re all over the place, your face already hot from the minimal touch of his palm.

“Yeah, we are” he replies simply, giving the barista a look that’s both confident and warning.

The guy frowns, obviously not pleased with the answer, but he doesn’t push it – much to your relief.

“Well, enjoy your cookies,” he gabbles before turning on his heel and heading back behind the counter.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, your body finally relaxing as the barista moves away.

“That was weird,” you comment, glancing at Geto with a small, grateful smile.

Geto shrugs, his usual calm smile returning.

“Some people don’t know how to take a hint.”

You chuckle, feeling the warmth of his hand still resting against your thigh.

“Thanks for stepping in. I didn’t know how to handle that without being rude.”

“It’s no problem,” Geto replies, his fingers brushing lightly against your covered skin while he leans in slightly.

“Besides, pretending to be your boyfriend has its perks.”

Your cheeks flush even deeper at his words, but you laugh it off, knowing he’s just teasing…

Does he?

There’s something about the way his eyes linger on you for a moment longer than usual, the faint smirk on his lips that makes your heart skip a beat.

“Come on,” Geto finally declares, standing up and offering you his hand.

“Let’s get out of here before that guy decides to bring us another free snack.”

You take his hand with a smile, letting him lead you out of the café, the tension from before completely forgotten.

Are you actually going insane or was there a…spark?

Megumi Fushiguro

It’s a typical day at the jujutsu high training grounds. You and Megumi have been sparring for a while, your breaths coming in short gasps as you try to keep up with him. He’s quick, precise, and annoyingly good at reading your movements, but you’re giving it your all.

During a quick break, you head to the sidelines to grab some water. As you wipe the sweat from your brow, you notice one of the students from Kyoto High approaching. You’ve seen him around before, but you’ve never spoken much beyond the occasional greeting. After all, you’ll wring each other’s next in a few hours, there’s no need for any formalities. Was his name Noritoshi Kamo? Before you’re even able to finish your sentence, he stands right in front of you…

And talks?

“Hey, that was some impressive stuff out there,” he begins, leaning against the fence next to you.

His smile is strangely friendly enough, but there’s a glint in his eye that makes you uneasy.

“Sorry, are you talking to me?” you reply, keeping your tone neutral as you take another sip of water.

The guy doesn’t take the hint.

“You know, if you ever want some private training, I’d be happy to help,” he offers, stepping a little closer.

“I could teach you a few tricks.”

You stiffen slightly, your eyes flicking to where Megumi is standing a few meters away, watching the interaction with narrowed eyes. Before you can respond, the guy takes another step toward you, his hand reaching out as if he’s about to touch your arm.

But before he can, Megumi steps forward, his expression hard.

“She’s not interested,” he says flatly, his voice cutting through the air like a blade.

The guy blinks, taken aback by the sudden interruption. “Oh, I didn’t realize you two were-”

“We are,” Megumi interrupts firmly, moving to stand between you and the guy.

His presence is protective but not overbearing, a silent wall that the other student quickly decides not to challenge. All you can do is to stare back and forth between the two. That guy, who never said anything to you and now suddenly tries to flirt and Megumi, who stands in front of you like a wall in order to protect you from unwanted attention? You have to be dreaming.

“Right… well, I’ll see you around, I guess,” the guy mutters awkwardly before turning and walking away.

Once he’s gone, you let out a small sigh of relief, glancing up at Megumi with a grateful smile, even though you can’t shake off those violent butterflies roaming around your stomach.

“Thanks for that. He was pretty straight forward and I was too bamboozled to act.”

Megumi shrugs, his usual stoic expression back in place.

“He was bothering you.”

You smile, appreciating the way he always looks out for you, even if he tries to downplay it.

“Still, you didn’t have to step in like that.”

Megumi glances at you, his cheeks flushing just slightly before he looks away.

“It wasn’t a big deal,” he mumbles.

“Besides, I didn’t want him to distract you from training.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head at his stubbornness. While this is the first time Megumi stood up for you in this strange way, you can’t help but fall over and over for that boy who hides his feelings like a treasure. Is there a chance that he might like you as well?

“Well, I’m glad you did.”

He doesn’t respond, but there’s a faint smile on his lips as he turns back to the training ground, ready to spar again. And though he doesn’t say it, you can feel the warmth in his actions - the way he stands a little closer, the way his eyes flick to you more often than usual.

“Maybe”, you mutter to yourself before returning to the training field by his side.

Choso Kamo

You never imagined that a simple grocery store run would turn into a whole situation. You’re wandering down the aisles, trying to decide between two different brands of pasta when you notice a guy lingering nearby. At first, you think nothing of it, people shop all the time, after all.

But then he approaches.

“Hey, need any help with that?” he asks, giving you a smile that’s a little too friendly for comfort.

You offer a polite smile back, shaking your head. Oh, you know men like him good enough, the ones who are only interested to drag you into bed. You’ve seen them countless times before, but in the grocery store? People are really desperate nowadays.

“No, I’m good, thanks.”

He doesn’t leave, though. Instead, he steps closer, his eyes roaming over you in a way that makes your skin crawl.

“You sure? I’ve got some great recipes I could share with you. Maybe over dinner sometime?”

You glance around, feeling trapped in the narrow aisle with no way out and no one nearby. Fuck, this isn’t good. Even if he won’t do anything in the grocery store, you still have to get back home – alone. And with that dark lust glittering in his eyes, he definitely won’t give up.

Just as you’re about to make up an excuse to leave and steady yourself for ramming your knee into his groin, you hear a familiar voice behind you.

“She’s already got dinner plans,” Choso announces, his tone calm but firm as he steps up beside you.

Choso.

Your heart skips a beat when you seem him, his eyes resting comforting on yours. Choso’s here? He didn’t even mention that he’ll go shopping when you last saw him at jujutsu high.

He places a gentle hand on your lower back, guiding you away from the guy with a quiet confidence that leaves no room for argument.

The guy raises an eyebrow, clearly irritated by the interruption.

“Oh yeah? And who are you?”

Choso’s expression doesn’t change, his dark eyes locked on the man with a quiet intensity.

“I’m her boyfriend.”

The guy snorts, clearly not believing it at first, but when he sees the way Choso stands protectively at your side, he seems to reconsider.

“Right… well, my bad,” he mutters before turning and walking away.

You let out a shaky breath, your body relaxing as soon as the guy is out of sight.

“Thank you. I thought this creep will follow me until I’m home” you murmur, looking up at Choso with a relieved smile.

“You could have just killed him.”

“You know I couldn’t do that…”, you reply with a scolding undertone.

These past weeks, you’ve spent a lot time with Choso and taught him simple human interaction. Was this why he stood up for you like that?

Choso glances down at you, his hand still resting lightly on your back.

“Are you okay?”

You nod, more than grateful for his presence. Even though his hand still resting against your back sends shivers down your spine.

In a strangely good way.

“Yeah, I’m fine now. I just… didn’t know how to get rid of him.”

Choso frowns slightly, his gaze softening as he watches you.

“You don’t have to deal with that alone. I’m always here if you need me. From now own, we will go to the grocery store together” he replies quietly.

Your heart swells at his words, and you smile up at him, feeling a warmth in your chest that goes beyond simple gratitude.

“I know. And I’m really lucky to have you.”

Choso’s cheeks flush slightly at your words, but he gives you a small nod, his usual calm demeanor returning.

“Let’s finish shopping,” he says, gently guiding you toward the next aisle.

“I’ll stick close, just in case.”

Gojo Satoru

The bass thumps through your body, the vibrations of the music almost tangible as they pulse through the packed nightclub. Neon lights flash over your head, casting everything in a rainbow of colors, and the crowd moves like a living, breathing body. It's a typical night out with Gojo, who insisted you both hit the club after a long week of missions.

You spot him easily in the chaos, standing at the bar with his signature sunglasses on even in the dim, flashing light. His presence is impossible to miss. After all, Gojo is always the center of attention wherever he goes. His tall frame, casual stance, and self-assured grin naturally draw people in. And tonight is no exception.

You watch from the other side of the club as a woman approaches him, her gaze locked on Gojo like a predator targeting her prey. She’s tall, confident, and clearly intent on making her move. At first, you don’t think much of it - this kind of thing happens all the time when you’re out with him. Gojo is Gojo, after all. But the way she leans into him, brushing her hand against his arm, makes something sharp twist in your gut.

You try to shake it off. You’re not the jealous type, and Gojo has always been playful when it comes to flirting. He simply enjoys the attention, but you know it’s harmless. Still, there’s something about the way this woman is looking at him that makes you feel uneasy.

Even though your not even his fucking girlfriend.

As you make your way through the crowd, heading toward the bar, you see the woman press herself closer to Gojo, her lips moving near his ear as she says something you can’t hear over the pounding music. Gojo’s grin only widens, and he says something back, causing the woman to laugh, her hand lingering on his chest.

Your pace quickens, a mix of frustration and something else bubbling up inside you. You’ve been with Gojo long enough to know how he works, but tonight, for some reason, the sight of him entertaining someone else makes your chest tighten.

Finally, you reach the bar just as the woman leans in even closer, her hand now resting on his shoulder.

“Hey,” you say, louder than necessary to cut through the music.

“I see you’ve made a friend.”

Gojo turns his head at the sound of your voice, his trademark grin plastered on his face.

“Oh, hey, babe!” he calls over the music, completely unfazed.

“I was just chatting with—uh, sorry, what was your name again?”

Wait, did he just call you babe?

The woman looks visibly annoyed as Gojo fumbles for her name, her gaze flicking to you with thinly veiled irritation.

“I was just about to get us drinks,” she purrs, trying to brush off your presence, clearly not deterred by the fact that Gojo is here with you.

You raise an eyebrow at her audacity, but before you can respond, Gojo’s arm snakes around your waist, pulling you close to him with a casual but unmistakably possessive gesture. His hand rests securely on your hip, and he leans down so his mouth is close to your ear, his breath warm against your skin.

You feel like fainting. Or maybe dying? Oh, your heart will definitely beat out of your chest if that dream continues.

“She’s not really my type,” he murmurs, his voice low but playful.

“I’m more into, well… you.”

Despite the loud music, the tension in the air shifts instantly. The woman stares at you, clearly catching Gojo’s not-so-subtle dismissal, her expression darkening. And you? If it wasn’t for Gojo’s hand that keeps you in place, you’d land straight on your wobbly knees.

“Really?” she huffs, glaring at you like you’ve somehow intruded on her territory.

“Yeah. Besides, I’m already taken” Gojo replies easily, his grin never wavering.

You feel a small surge of satisfaction at his words even though you know he’s lying to annoy the hell out of her, but the woman isn’t ready to give up just yet. She scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You sure you’re not missing out?” she challenges, giving you a once-over that makes your skin crawl.

Gojo’s grip tightens on your waist, and this time, his playful smile fades just a fraction.

“Nope, I’m sure. I don’t think we need any drinks after all. They won’t help with your disgusting attitude anyway” he comments, his tone firmer.

With that, he smoothly turns his back on her, guiding you away from the bar and into the crowd. You glance back just in time to see the woman’s face fall, a mixture of disbelief and irritation crossing her features before she disappears into the crowd of people.

Once you’re safely away from the bar, Gojo turns to you, his grin back in place as if nothing happened.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice light and teasing, but there’s a flicker of concern in his eyes.

“Yeah,” you mutter, feeling your face heat up slightly.

“But you…Did you just call me your girlfriend?”

Gojo’s smile softens, and he reaches up to gently cup your chin, tilting your face up so you’re looking at him.

“What if I did? Would that be okay for you?”

Your heart skips a beat, your body reacting to his words in an instant. Is he making fun of you, testing you? No, you can feel that he means it by the way he holds you by your waist, his fingers resting there like he’s afraid to let go. The world around you feels muffled, the music and the crowd fading into the background. It’s just you and Gojo now, his bright blue eyes shining under the neon lights.

You swallow, trying to find your voice.

“I-I… I don’t know,” you stammer, suddenly feeling like the confident façade you normally carry around him has vanished. The way he’s looking at you so seriously, intently, is doing things to your heart that you can’t quite control.

“I mean, you don’t-”

Gojo interrupts you with a soft laugh, his hand sliding up from your waist to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You don’t have to answer right now, you know,” he mutters, his voice a little softer than before.

“But I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I guess tonight just gave me the perfect excuse.”

You blink at him, too stunned to speak. Gojo Satoru, who flirts with everyone, who acts like nothing ever truly gets to him, has been thinking about you as more than just a friend? You’ve always had a bit of a thing for him, of course. It’s hard not to when he’s charming, gorgeous, and undeniably protective when it comes to you. But you never thought he felt the same way.

“I thought you were just messing with me,” you admit, your voice a little quieter now, feeling vulnerable under his gaze.

He grins, though this time it’s softer, not the usual cocky smirk.

“I mess with everyone. But with you? It’s different. I don’t just want your attention, I want you.”

His words sink in, and suddenly the air between you feels charged. Your heart is pounding in your chest, and you feel like you’re standing on the edge of something huge. You’ve seen Gojo in action. So fearless, confident, always in control, but the way he’s looking at you right now is different. He’s giving you the choice.

A swell of warmth floods through you as you meet his gaze. Maybe it’s the alcohol you drank earlier, or maybe it’s the fact that he’s just so close, but you can’t hold back anymore.

“You’re not playing around, are you?” you ask, searching his face for any sign of his usual teasing.

His smile softens further as he shakes his head.

“Not this time.”

Something inside you snaps, and before you can stop yourself, you close the gap between you.

You wrap your arms around his neck and press your lips to his in a kiss that’s been building for far too long. Gojo freezes for a moment, clearly surprised, but it only takes a second before he’s kissing you back with an intensity that makes your knees weak. His hand tightens on your waist, pulling you closer, and the world around you disappears completely.

The kiss is electric, everything you imagined it would be and more. You can feel the pent-up tension between you finally break as his lips move against yours, and when he deepens the kiss, your mind goes blank. All you can think about is the way he tastes, the way he feels, and the way your body seems to mold perfectly against his.

When you finally pull back, breathless and a little dizzy, Gojo is grinning down at you like you’ve just handed him the world.

“Well,” he comments, his voice slightly rougher than usual,

“I guess that answers my question.”

You laugh, your heart pounding wildly in your chest.

“I guess it does.”

He doesn’t let go of you, his arms still wrapped securely around your waist.

“You know, I don’t usually do this. Y’know, getting serious with anyone” he starts, his tone light but sincere.

“I know,” you reply, your smile softening.

“But I think we’re both a little different when it comes to each other, aren’t we?”

Gojo’s eyes flicker with something deeper as he nods.

“Yeah, we are” he murmurs, brushing his thumb gently along your cheek.

The club around you is still loud and chaotic, but in this moment, it feels like it’s just the two of you. Gojo, for once, isn’t playing his usual games. His smile is genuine, and there’s a warmth in his eyes that makes your heart race.

“So, does this mean I get to call you my girlfriend for real?” he questions, his grin slowly returning.

You laugh, feeling lightheaded and happy as you look up at him.

“Only if I get to call you my boyfriend.”

He raises an eyebrow, that familiar playful smirk creeping back onto his face.

“Oh, I think that can be arranged.”

Before you can say anything else, Gojo leans down and kisses you again, slow and deep, like he’s making sure this is real. And for the first time in a long time, everything feels right.

Tags:

@arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld

@hellkaiserinphoenix @lauv4chuuya @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen

@magalimachete @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut

@mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0

@ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @froufrousnowman @tomiokathedepresso @gojosrealwife

@coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain

@risuola @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny

@ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr

@sugu-love @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world

@oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @satoreo @kentocalls @cheesemachine44

@ryva @kenjakusconcubine @baku2345 @komelrebi-san @deezy12299

@okay-it-is-ivy @paridoliaaa @cupcaketeddybehr @ryumurin

1K notes · View notes

evilminji · 10 months ago

Text

You think the Zone has its version of Comic Con?

Like? Think about it. You have literally all of time to work on it, your Magnum Opus, your life's work. That DREAM comic. All the supplies you could ever wish for. Endless paper. Endless ink. You can practice and practice for CENTURIES until it's JUST right.

Wouldn't you want to share it?

There are definitely Ghosts who have Obsessions that make them collect.

And two people meeting would lead to a group. Lead to a bigger group. Lead to a large group. A gathering. A crowd even. Eventually you need a Lair to meet IN. It becomes An Event.

People hear about it.

Want to bring other art mediums. Food stalls. Report on it. It grows. Shoot offs start happening. Niche meet ups.

But like?

Unlike comic con? It's all FREE. Sure, you might have fork over the ecto to make your copy. And yeah, weaker ghosts can only do that so many times. Will have to prioritize. But? They can come back after leaving for a nap. Ask a buddy to come with. There ARE work arounds.

Just? Imagine the unbelievable HIPE? Danny would feel? But be unable to TELL anyone about? Zone Con happens several times a year! Cause so many people wanna come. The Zone being infinite, after all.

Problem 1? They're using THEIR standard of a "year". Which is actual 5 earth years. So it's only happens every year and a half for him. And Problem 2? He can't even TALK about how excited he is about Z Con with anyone (outside his friends and family) because they haven't heard of it and might Ask Questions.

It's ALSO held in a part of the Zone that's like? Three days of flying away from the portal. And no amount of begging is gonna get any of his loved ones to camp in the Speeder for around six-ish days just to go to a Con.

So you can imagine his DELIGHT. His utter JOY and *Target Spotted* "!!!" Noise, when? In the crowd? He spots A HUMAN! Hi fellow human!!! Omg, wanna be Con Besties? *doesn't even wait for an answer*

So now? This sad, blonde, deeply lost and kinda alarmed, trench coat dude? Is Danny's new Z Con Going Bestie! You got a map yet, bestie? No? That's cool, he has one. By the way, he has human food in the Speeder if you nee-

YES!

Cause, see, here's the THING. John? Lost to the Realms Infinte. Or Infinte Realms. Translation was iffy... and on fire... like the rest of the building. It was him or the kids those psychos had kidnapped, for what fucked "ritual" the voices in their heads, that THEY thought were demons but frankly he's pretty sure was just feedback from-

Look, doesn't matter, he had to choose. He always knew someday he'd have too. That even twisting Luck and talking fast wouldn't quite be enough. And he had to decide, in that moment, which outcome mattered more to him. They get out safe, or he does.

Wasn't much of a question, was it?

So, there he is. Staring down oblivion and all those debts unpaid. 'Bout to see who's gonna come for him this time, and take what left of wretched soul. When? He bleeds on the FUCKIN two-bit crap circle they squiggled in God only knows what. Remembers that "oh YEAH, set dressings!" Sometimes when you focus too hard on insuring a Good Outcome?

You weird weird as shit byproducts happening on the side to balance it all out.

Or BAD ones.

He wakes up someone fucking green and crowded. For the life of him can't tell you which one it is. And THAT was of course, bout two days ago.

Biggest and most immediate problem? He... does NOT recognize what flavor of magical fuckery this is. Doesn't seem Fae. And doesn't smell like Hell. There are... there are honest to God BOOTH BABES hanging around. Hunks too. The view is LOVELY.

And nerdy.

Very, very nerdy.

But he isn't THAT out of touch. So he should recognize SOMETHING. Or at least the languages. But nope! It's like aliens and magic had a nerd baby and dipped it in GREEN. And the worst thing? Is there is food everywhere, but it all glows and John's not stupid enough to eat it.

Then? Sweet merciful fuck. Salvation! Some teeny bopper Barely No Longer Teen fresh faced INFANT of a Hero kid. With a SHIP. Who has FOOD and a clear idea of where they are. Hello~ John's new BEST FRIEND. Yes. Absolutely. Con Buddies, whatever.

Just feed me, kid.

Only? Once he inhales like 5 "Fenton rations"? He only gets half way through introducing himself before getting interrupted. Kid hears "magic" and "occult Detective" and just? Goes "oh! So you wanna check out the magic Ally with me? Sam wanted me to pick up some witchy stuff!"

..............how magic?

(In Which? Constantine becomes Danny's interdimensional Con buddy)

@the-witchhunter @hypewinter @hdgnj @mutable-manifestation @lolottes @nerdpoe

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom

3K notes · View notes

riaki · 1 year ago

Note

ur highschool bully gojo was chefs kiss 💋 what do u think about them going to the same college and taking the same classes?? and the reader sitting next/talking to some other guy and satoru gets jealous?? arwahhhshdhshshs so many possibilities, i hope u continue writing it!!

hi nonnie !! thank you so much :) this is ur official part 2 ! i was struggling to think up some possibilities but this helped a lot :oo | read part 1 here ! -> cw: swearing, jealousy, i let it get fic length oops

(former) highschoolbully!gojo on the brain again… like. when you end up seeing him again however many months later, and you can tell that he’s changed. it’s not like its immediately obvious to anyone who doesn’t really know him like you (used to); but he’s a little softer-spoken and his smiles seem nine times more genuine. it’s not a hundred percent; the kind that really lights up his face instead of just barely falling short of his stark blue eyes, but it's something.

of course, you have nothing to base it off of, because when you do inevitably see him again it's the very definition of meet ugly.

college is a new frontier, but its also a clean slate. its your first time going into something so new without your old bestfriend at your side, but some faint flickering thought reminds you that it might be better that way. but the universe is against you from the very first day, when youre gettin yourself some coffee from the same chain you did the morning of that fateful presentation so many moons ago. you're too busy thinking to yourself what kind of strange parting ritual it is to relive your trauma to notice the lanky, white-haired boy who hits his head on the chiming bell over the doorway. people are giggling around you n sighing dreamily but youre too deep in the music pumping through your headphones to notice and your eyes are glued to the class schedule on your phone, trying to ensure you dont get lost on the first day when—

you blink and your ass is flat on the dirty floor of the coffee shop, and the first thing you register is that your stomach is soaked and burning. you'd spilled your coffee. it takes you a moment to realize, but when you do you're pissed. so you quickly get to your feet, trying to reign in what little of your ego you have left to give the offender who bumped into you a piece of your mind as you look up, then..

how unlucky do you have to be?

just like that, satoru's slid himself back into your life, after ramming through its locked gates. you forget that he always forgets the point of keys, both when it comes to his apartment (which you still have the spare key of in case of emergencies), and the door to your heart. to rub salt in the wound, the only thing that's stained with your coffee order are his shoes, which look like they cost three weeks of your old job salary, but it's all over your shirt. of course it is. because why not? make it look like you tripped and fell into a patch of mud on your way to the lecture hall and tack on an unwelcome reunion with your ex-bestfriend.

to you, it's like the cloud of gloom from your highschool youth has resettled over your head like a swarm of gnats on a dreary, hot summer day. the stars always seem to skew and misalign themselves for you. but for satoru, the stars have handed him one of those huge swirly lollipops that you only ever see being paraded about by toddlers. he recovers almost instantly, trading the burn on his feet and the way it sours your expression like he's just squirted pure citric acid into your throat for a pleasant burn of his own on his cheeks. but it's whatever. girls seem to like it when he blushes, for some reason. he won't question it, if it works on the only one he cares about.

he holds his hand out, ready to help you out like the good samaritan he's become— and it's like a real burn to his heart this time when you ignore it and stand up on your own, refusing to look up and meet his pleading gaze. might as well have taken an iron stoker right out of the fire and jabbed him with it. but he's gojo satoru! he won't be defeated by this one mere, maybe very significant reunion. he's got stamina.

so he offers to buy you a new drink, feels his heart sink when you shake your head (can't even spare a little 'no' in his direction), and talks enough for the both of you when you leave the dingy little store make your way down to campus and the lecture building. you clearly don't want to see him, but he ignores that in exchange to notice the way you shiver every so often. the previously searing-hot coffee that stains your shirt turns cold fast, and moisture n wind don't mix well. he wishes he could offer you some of his own warm coffee, no doubt sickeningly sweet, but he has some sensitivity now, apparently. so, in a brash moment, he decides to take his blazer off and drape it over your shoulders instead.

when you cross the threshold between city and campus, you expect him to yank it off your back and be on his merry way. but he keeps walking next to you, so you walk a little faster, and you absolutely loathe the cheeky little grin that curves the corners of his lips up to show a glint of teeth when he effortlessly keeps up. you curse his long legs when you find yourself winded, but at least you can lose him when you get there.

or, that's what you think. once again, your constellations break themselves to rebuild anew for satoru. you're about to call him a stalker when he follows you all the way to your classroom with that smirk that's growing exponentially until— oh, no.

your phone that's been on the schedule up until now desperately scrolls to the roster— and there it is. he's in your class. needless to say, not another word goes between you as you stomp in and take a seat. luckily for you, you've already corresponded with your roommate's brother (who's annoyingly cute, satoru notices) and agreed to sit next to each other. satoru takes the seat right above you and never stops kicking his freakishly long legs against the wood the entire time.

so yeah, it's obvious he's not a saint; he still has that undoable ego and he's cocky as fuck (as you have the misfortune of finding out when he quickly bullies your professor), but there's a certain familiarity in that no matter how ugly it might appear to others. and if you asked (which he really, really hopes you will someday), he doesn't hang around douchebags who use kids' foreheads for ashtrays and treat girls like they're candy from a glittery pez dispenser. and at least he's switched harassment targets. even though he has an overwhelming sense of superiority over others and never has his lips together for more than five seconds, and even though he has this hellish habit of clicking his pen whenever he's not talking (or when someone else is), it seems like he's changed.

and over time, you gradually find yourself warming up to him. the spunkiness that used to get on your nerves ceaselessly becomes an object of endearment, and you don't really mind the way he never seems to stop moving anymore. it's a nice sort of distraction in the lifeless still of the lecture hall, albeit the pen clicking still drives you near insanity. you notice he always does it obnoxiously and quickly when you're talking to your roommate's brother, but you ignore it.

and for satoru? he hates that he can kinda sorta really tell that you're the only one who can read him like he's a damn book, cus you slowly start to soften up in the nostalgia of his presence like cold playdough between warm fingers that tell you he may have finally caught you again after letting you slip the first time. and he notices it. this time, he's determined not to let you be the one that got away again. but youre really giving him a shit time outta it with the way you constantly entertain the guy who always has his breath in your face.

yeah, he's got a cute face that's sunkissed by freckles. yeah, his hair looks like he models for shampoo companies. and fuck, he has a nice voice. but what of it? satoru's the one with the mesmerizing blue irises and the cloudy white hair your professor wishes he had instead of sad little wisps of old age. still, as chilly days turn into frigid weeks, he gets the perfect backseat angle of the growing relationship between the two of you. the boy's kinda dumb so you copy off of satoru’s work when you need to (he has to hide the 1-0 scoreboard between him and the guy on a sticky note from you when you take his notes), but said guy’s always buying you stuff and lending you erasers and laughing when you flick the shavings at the annoying girl who never stops whispering in the front of the room.

satoru tries to act unbothered, and he almost convinces everyone. including himself. but the angry, burning knot in his chest that's entirely different from coffee stains suggests something more. that should be him at your side. him, making balls of paper with rude scribbles and silly doodles to throw at the people he knows you don't like. him, surprising you with little gifts and the cheap trinkets he knows you adore so much instead of all the luxury things he could afford. there's no way this punk could possibly measure up to him, right? but at least you and satoru are well on your way to becoming friends again. not as close as you used to be, but it's something. substantial. and he's learned to be patient in the time you've been gone.

but he'd be lying through his teeth if he said he wasn't tired of it. he’s endlessly plagued with thoughts of increasing intensity— first, it starts out with just you. only you. the way he likes it. the way he likes your face, and your pretty eyes and your gorgeous lips and your soft hair and your figure and the complimenting clothes you wear. but it takes a turn; thoughts turn into dreams that turn into fantasies and he's lying when he says he doesn't enjoy them when he accidentally lets it slip during a group study session— and it’s all fine— but then, that guy appears. the brat who seems to sit a centimeter closer to you with each coming day. not only does he haunt satoru in real life, he’s tormenting his dreams, too. tainting the image of beautiful you.

needless to say, satoru starts to wake up with his hands gripping his damp pillow like he's choking it, acutely aware of the sweat sliding down his neck and over his chest as he stares up at the ceiling, listening to the dorm's air conditioner run and thinking of what it'd be like for dreams (the ones where he replaces the boy) to become reality.

it's a buildup. and soon, he reaches the apex; it's like a rollercoaster, that stomach-twisting moment when you reach the top of the rail that points to the steep descent downward. but this time, he hopes it's a thrill he gets instead of the usual falling fright; the one he got when he realized he’d slipped between your fingers in highschool.

and satoru finally comes to a grinding halt at the top of the ride one breezy fall day when he decides he wants you back in his life after you smile brightly at him and wave goodbye for the day. he’s tired of you having one foot in and one foot out of his heart; he wants, needs more. he always has, he realizes.

so he’s thinking about you and how to approach the feelings he’s realized during those long lectures, and one morning he comes up with some semblance of a plan when he’s high on the sugar from the fruit tea you bought him that morning. and he hopes that, by the end of it, he'll leave your apartment with your hand in his currently empty one, chilled with the remnants of cold condensation from the bottle.

soon enough, satoru finds himself extinguishing his nerves and raising a tense fist to knock on the door with nothing but the clothes on his back and a flimsy plan to ask you out on a midterm study sesh and maybe even a date, but he stops when he realizes it’s slightly ajar. a brief thought of what look might be on your face when he surprises you crosses his mind, so he lets himself in quietly, because he knows every single floorboard that creaks like the back of his palm from his childhood. he’s hit with a wave of warmth and an achingly familiar scent that twists at his heart, and your apartment is cozy and safe and it screams you and he thinks he catches sight of his jacket slung across the back of the couch in your living room, but he’s not sure so he takes a step forward and—

he’s greeted with the sight of that stupid guy with the nice hair and the freckles, and it makes his heart drop. but even worse, he’s kissing you and his arms are winding around your waist but you’re kissing him back with a slight hesitation that’s blinded to satoru by his shock and the fingers he thought would end up in his own tonight card through the boy’s hair and your lips glisten with the strawberry-kiwi flavored gloss he watched the boy give you a few days back and his world is turning red and he feels like his throat is constricting and he can’t breathe—

and he doesn’t even realize you’ve parted lips and you’re calling his name through the newfound tightness of his chest and the painful ringing in his ears thats even louder than any silence of a lecture hall, or the void that should’ve been filled with your voice during the time you were apart. but now satoru realizes he’d take that any fucking chance to have that again because it’s so much better than what he’s stuck with now. having you, but not really having you, because you’re there but you’re someone else’s and you’re not his and he isn’t yours. the best thing he could ever hope for was for you to own an article of his clothing and a piece of his shattered heart, broken into a million fragments. some cruel voice in his buzzing head reminds him to change the scoreboard to 0-100.

and he could buy you cheap hot coffee or earn your smiles from scrunched up paper balls or even hear your laugh with crude jokes, but there’s no point when he realizes he can’t buy you with caffeine or earn you with hitting the back of people’s heads with his bio notes or have you and your laugh all to himself anymore.

it’s almost pathetic, the way satoru’s voice cracks and changes. the look of unadulterated concern on the face of the boy who stole your lips just adds fuel to the fire.

“gojo? what are you doing here— hey, are you okay? you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

he noticed you’d stopped calling him satoru a few weeks back. he should’ve seen it coming.

“huh? oh, yeah. i’m good. i think you’re the one hallucinating.”

he’d never told a bigger lie in his life.

satoru had left after excusing himself for intruding. how very unlike him to be so polite, you think.

so in the end, he leaves your apartment with something in his hand, after all. but it's not your own— just his blazer that you’d given back to him before he stepped out the door, taunting him with the faint scent of coffee and lingering perfume. his hope was foolish, so it seems. it’s too bad, he thinks. if it were him, he would’ve sandwiched you against your counter while he kissed. but it wasn’t. apparently, it was your turn for your stars to align at the price of his.

and so, gojo satoru, the boy force-turned man with a chipped ego and a completely broken heart, loses you again.

bonus bonus.. part 2….

#here u go. yes!! u!!!!!! sorry it got long #thank you guys for the reception on the last part literally checking tumblr religiously the rbs and comments made me feel like floating #yea hes a hopeless loser srry i dont make the rules #ABND I TRIED TO HOLD HERRR but there was nothing i could do to stop her from cutting her beautiful blue hair off 🐐🐐#gojo satoru #gojo angst #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru gojo #jjk gojo #gojo jjk #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk angst #did not proofread b i hope it’s good 🙇‍♂️🙇‍♂️#actually i j realized the coffee campus intro part is similar to another fic i’ve read sorry if u noticed that it was on my subconscious 😞#billet-doux

6K notes · View notes

heizlut · 6 months ago

Text

Little Lamb

ꕀ cw: public (no one is around though), one mention of kidnapping

ꕀ tags: sub fem!reader, dom!scar, creampie, rough sex, oral m!receiving, minor spoilers for rover’s 1st encounter with scar, mostly proofread

ꕀ nsfw under the cut

ꕀ m!list here

Scar stalks circles around you as you stand there in the abandoned village that was decimated by a ritual done by its own people, “Don’t you wonder whatever happened to the little lamb in my fable, love?” Your eyes track him as he moves around you, as if you were the prey to a very dangerous creature, “Maybe you should enlighten me.” He smirks down at you then moves behind you in one smooth motion, “Gladly…”

His hands travel down your body slowly, sending tingles down your spine. His fingers trailing lightly over every curve, pausing only to linger on your breasts. He didn’t squeeze them as you had expected but the lingering touch ignited something inside of you. Scar’s fingers trailed lightly over your pebbled nipples that poked through your top, making you let out the softest, breathy moan.

His smirk widens at your reaction and he bends down slightly to whisper huskily in your ear, “Did you like that, my sweet lamb?” You capture your bottom lip between your teeth, not trusting your voice to answer as you arch your back against his chest. Scar chuckles lowly, “That’s what I thought.”

His hands continue down your body, resting at your hips when he suddenly pulls you flush against him. His hardened cock pushing against your ass as he whispers down in your ear once again, “Such a helpless little thing… Whatever should I do with you?” The feeling of his cock against your ass practically has you reeling, “Please…” Scar raises a brow and chuckles once more, “Please what, little lamb?” You whimper at his response, hoping he would just read your mind and get on with it instead of relentlessly teasing you.

A resounding laugh falls from Scar’s lips and his grip tightens on your hips, “Come on, love, tell me…” He grinds his throbbing, clothed cock against your ass, making you moan and your eyes flutter, “Please… I need to feel you inside of me.” Oh, if you could only see the smirk on his face, you would’ve crumbled within his grasp even more than you had already done, “Anything for you…”

With that, his hands were tugging down your skin-tight pants. Maybe a part of you was silently thanking the fact that no one else was around, but truthfully, your thoughts were a muddled mess. You are held against him, in just the cutest red panties Scar had ever seen. His fingertips trace the edges with a feather-light touch, his hot breath fanning over your ear, “Did you wear these in anticipation of meeting me? How cute~”

You wanted to shake your head and deny his claims, but that would’ve been a lie. You’d heard of him briefly through others from this strange new world, but you would swear it was just your subconscious preparing yourself for an encounter such as this. He laughs again, it’s a husky sound that drives deep within you, “You can’t even deny it~”

You shiver under his touch when he begins to slowly pull those panties down, already dripping in anticipation for his more intimate touch. Scar of course does not give you what you want as you expect it; his fingers slowly moving down and teasing your inner thighs, oh so close to where you were desperate for his touch, “Is there something more you want to ask from me?~” Scar’s voice is low and teasing as he speaks. All you want are his fingers on your clit and inside of you, pressing into your most sensitive spots, “I.. want your touch..”

Scar laughs, his eyes darkening, “Cute… To think such a powerful being would fall so weak to little old me~” If you had been lucid enough to respond properly, you would have rolled your eyes and maybe even walked away, but it was as if you were under a spell… His spell… Maybe you wanted this. Maybe there was something about him that made you utterly weak to him. That had to be it, why else would you be here? As if you’d view him as an actual romantic interest…

The calloused pad of Scar’s middle finger presses against your clit, making you weak at the knees as you suck in a sharp breath. One corner of his lips curve up, “Just trust me… I’ll make you feel pleasure you’ve never experienced before.” Who were you to deny him?

His finger rubs in slow, sweet circles on your clit. Your back arches once more against him, your breathing heavy. Scar uses his other arm to hold your upper body close to his, his free hand gently squeezing your breasts.

He relishes they way your breasts squish and mold into his touch. His tongue darts out and licks the shell of your ear, sending a new round of hair-raising tingles throughout your body, “Your reactions are simply too delicious for me to stop… I should just take you away into one of my domains and lock you up so I can have these reactions all to myself… whenever I please.”

Before you can even try to get your thoughts straight to respond to him, Scar’s finger dips into your dripping entrance, immediately curling against your sweet spot. “S-scar..!”, you whine as your eyes threaten to roll back from pleasure. His breathy, low chuckle fans over your ear as he continues his motion, “Oh how I love when you say my name~”

He removes his finger from your warm walls and forces you to face him. Your eyes take in his scarred face and mismatched eyes, making Scar’s lips turn up in a dangerous smile, “See something you like?” If this had been any other interaction with him, you definitely would’ve scoffed and spat back some witty retort. But this interaction wasn’t normal. And maybe you were completely fine with that.

Rough fingers trace along your jaw, his thumb pausing on your bottom lip then presses down gently on it, “Open up, little lamb. I want a taste…” The way he spoke was so low, twisting with an aura of danger and pleasure. You open your mouth only for him to make another demand, “Tongue out.”

Once you stick your tongue out of your open mouth, Scar leans down and flicks his tongue against yours before sucking on the tip. Once he released your tongue, he straightens back up with a devilish smirk, “Mmm.. so sweet, I could just swallow you whole~”

You stand there almost gawking at him, trying to comprehend what just happened. You had expected a kiss, not the strange sensation of his tongue licking against yours and the feeling of your tongue sucked between his pretty lips. You can definitely understand why people would follow him with his magnetizing aura. It made you tremble in both fear and excitement.

The sight of you pulls a husky laugh from his lips and he tilts his head slightly, his shaggy white and red hair following his motion, "That look in your eyes tells me I've got you right where I want you..." With that, he grabs your thigh and lifts your leg, making you more exposed than you already were. He wraps his other arm around your waist to support your now off-kiltered balance.

Scars lips almost graze yours when he speaks again, "Why don't you be a good girl for me and take out my cock, yes?" You blink, wide-eyed as you process the request, bringing back that devilish grin on his lips, "Go on... Unless you'd like to stay in this position til someone finds us here~"

You gulp at the thought and his voice lowers to a hushed teasing tone, "Unless that's what my little lamb would like?" That snaps you out of it and you make quick work of the zipper of his full-body suit. A stray thought crosses your mind that this would've been so much easier if he had been in a proper outfit with pants you could just tug down, but you would have to make do with this.

You didn't know how much time either of you had before some random adventurer wandered through this village. You fumble slightly as you reach in through the zipper and your fingers make contact with the soft, velvety skin of his cock that was throbbing to be pulled out.

Scar sucks in a sharp breath when your fingers wrap around his length and pull it out, the tip already oozing with pre cum. With your hand wrapped around his cock and the way he inhaled so sharply made you feel like you had some semblance of power over him, if only but for a moment. You rub your thumb across his slit, the pre cum wetting the pad of your finger.

Scar bites his bottom lip at the feeling and his grip on you tightens, "That's enough playing." Not allowing you to linger in your newfound sense of power, he pushes his hips forward, the tip of his cock rubbing against your clit and through your folds, "I"m going to fuck you so hard your pussy will only be able to take my cock, no one else's."

The motion and his words seep into you as you subconsciously let go of his throbbing length that twitches and bobs from its own weight. Scar clicks his tongue and your eyes find his mismatched ones yet again, "Gonna make me do all the work huh? Grab it and position it correctly while I'm still playing nice, yeah?"

You let out a choked whimper and wrap your fingers around his cock once more, lining it up with your dripping entrance. You let go once you feel the mushroom-like tip push into your awaiting gummy walls. With a breathy chuckle, Scar pushes in hard, sheathing his full length inside of you as you quickly wrap your arms around his neck for support, "What a good girl~"

Scar wasted no time as his hips begin to thrust up into you at a rough pace that you could barely handle. It was silly to even think that he would give you a moment to adjust to his thick length. He was a villain after all. You felt stuffed full beyond belief as his cock ruts into the deepest parts of you, hitting in all the right spots.

All you can do is hold onto him and babble his name between the lewdest sounding moans and whimpers. Scar's hair begins to stick to his forehead from sweat, his abs flexing with each thrust as he holds your leg up. The angle made his cock feel even bigger than it truly was and you were not about to complain.

His hot breath fans across your lips. You mouth falling open in a sweet moan. Scar takes this moment to capture your lips in his, his tongue twisting and moving against yours. His thrusts become shallow and remain deep, not due to an impending orgasm, but with the need to be as closely and wholly connected to you as humanly possible.

Your clothed breasts bounce and squish against his broad chest in time with his cock fucking into you. Scar's voice is raspy and breathless as he speaks, "Need to feel your pussy squeeze around my cock. Come on, little lamb, milk me for all I'm worth."

Everything was overwhelming your senses and his words drove you over the edge, "Ngh! Scar!" You cry out his name, letting it echo through the abandoned village as you cum hard on his cock. Your wet, tight walls squeeze impossibly tighter around his length, causing Scar to let out a deep, resounding groan from his throat. He was about to fucking lose it.

Everything about you made him wish he could have you all to himself with 24/7 access. Gods be damned if he couldn’t make that reality. From the moment he saw you in this very clearing, trying to make sense of the tragedy that occurred in this poor village, he knew he would make you his. His cock throbs and pulsates within you, unintentionally pressing up against your sweet spot which made your eyes flutter shut.

Scar clicks his tongue once more, “Eyes on me, sweetheart.” Your eyes gaze deep into his as he gives a particularly harsh thrust up into you. Your pretty eyes on him is his undoing as ropes of cum spill into you as a ragged groan falls from his lips.

The way he’s holding you so tight is sure to leave bruises, to which he hoped you would proudly flaunt. His cock twitches with the residuals of his orgasm, his cum already leaking out past his length that was still resting inside of you.

Gently, he releases your leg, but being back on both legs after such a brutal fuck had you literally weak in the knees. You would have collapsed if it weren't for his strong arms wrapping around your waist as he smirks down at you as if he wasn't just as affected by the occurrence, "See? You need me."

The weak whimper that claws up from your throat just boosts his ego even more. He pulls you against him as he looks down at you, almost nose to nose with you, "Follow me, little lamb, and you'll be granted everything you could ever wish for..."

🂲🃍🂶🂲🃍🂶🂲🃍🂶🂲🃍🂶🂲🃍🂶🂲🃍

a/n: this is what i would like to think would've happened if we had been given a third option in our dialog with him while he tried to get us to look for clues😌 (i chose to fight him after looking at the first two clues, i couldn’t resist lmao)

#scar x reader smut #wuthering waves smut #wuwa smut #scar smut #scar x reader #wuthering waves scar #wuwa scar

1K notes · View notes

determinate-negation · 10 months ago

Note

ridiculous how many people are just taking it as just "secret new york jew tunnels" when the reality is so much funnier. the messiah is alive and 122 years old but he pretended to die 30 years ago, we need to dig a tunnel to fuck with the 99% of fake fans who claim to support him but believe slanders like "he died from natural causes at age 92" and "if he's still around why has nobody heard from him since 1994"

yeah people are like “hmm what are the secret jew tunnels for 🤔 why does no one know” but we do know and the answer is more mundane and also crazier than captures the average american because its like the internal religious politics of chabad and the really weird messianic movement associated with them. its soo funny but its starting to just get depressing seeing like protocols of the elders of zion type shit promoted constantly on twitter about the tunnels (truly completely gone to shit as a website) because people seeing it passively just dont understand anything about how the hasidim are in nyc or how this city is. like the guys who dug the tunnels, which u may see referred to as bocherim (young unmarried men who are in religious studies) are like bachelors or frat guys who deeply believe in an esoteric messianic sect its not talmudic ritual child trafficking tunnels that all the world leaders meet at. chabad is probably downplaying how significant this sect is at least in nyc but again this isnt a conspiracy everyone whos been here knows this

2K notes · View notes

daisukitoo · 2 years ago

Text

I am 40% of the way through Gideon the Ninth. There are no plot spoilers below.

What is refreshing about Gideon as a protagonist and POV character is that she is a jock. She fundamentally does not care about all this nerd shit going on, i.e. the entire setting and plot. She misses exposition, background, and other explanations because, as one person who starts explaining how magic works observes, "right, you're not even pretending to pay attention."

Most writers are writers, so this is not a common perspective for a book to hold. Plot-relevant details can be sprinkled freely because Gideon's narrative will see them and not even shrug before moving on.

GIdeon lacks the emotional and mental maturity to be a good person. She is not evil as such, just apparently unaware of the existence of moral implications. When we meet her, her motivation is to get out of this hick town and join the military, because fighting is glorious and cool and this hick town sucks. She likes weapons and fighting and working out and hot chicks. She fantasizes about leading military charges that bring death to new worlds and fuel necromantic rituals because that would mean hot goth babes would see how cool she is and be grateful. She does not dwell on the thought of worlds that apparently have never known death and her plan to look cool leading imperial invasions and killing enough people to fuel necromantic rituals. She does dwell on the thought of that prissy bitch from her high school having to see how cool and hot she is now that she's a war hero who gets medals and hot babes.

You as the reader can be carried along very quickly by this incurious perspective that does not think twice about things. You as the reader may want Gideon to backtrack and dwell on something or explore it further. The weirdness of the setting is more or less swept under the rug by Gideon's not noticing it. 98.5% of the children on a planet gone (died?), but Gideon doesn't devote a second sentence to boring backstory like that. What was that about galactic conquest, in a setting where the main weapons are swords and necromantic magic? How little advancement has there been in technology or magic in 10,000 years, despite a possibly continuous civilization that whole time? Or some references to what sound like dark ages? Damned if Gideon cares or even notices.

The necromancers are dying to talk shop about their powers. Gideon rolls her eyes and wants to talk to that woman about the cool flip she did, because Gideon wants to look cool doing flips during fights and have girls notice how cool she looks. Also her biceps. Gideon cannot pay attention for a full sentence on necromantic magic, but she does have a half-page to dwell on girls noticing how big her biceps are.

#gideon the ninth #tlt #the locked tomb #tamsyn muir #gideon nav

8K notes · View notes

ylangelegy · 1 month ago

Text

blindsided ꩜ wonwoo x reader.

── .✦ 💌 includes: fem!reader, office worker!wonwoo, alternate universe: office, pining, in denial!wonwoo, lewd thoughts, alcohol, making out, hand job, loss of virginity, praise kink, aftercare.

── .✦ 📟 inspired by THE business proposal scene. we all know which one, but gif attached anyway ♡︎ wc: 2,700

── .✦ 🚏 MDNI. 18+ CONTENT.

(Or: The three times Wonwoo keeps his glasses on, and the one time he doesn't.)

Wonwoo knows he's done for the moment that you walk in for your first day.

Despite his bad eyesight, he's not blind. He can tell when somebody is hot, and you fit that bill. Sue him.

Still, he tries to rationalize. There's not a lot of good-looking people in the company's IT department. That's probably it, he thinks to himself, as you smile warmly and introduce yourself to everyone.

Wonwoo has just been deprived of good views. That's it. That's all.

As you go to do rounds, he tries to focus on troubleshooting the network issue that some higher-up has been complaining about. But then you get to him, expecting his name, and Wonwoo suddenly can't bring himself to care about the DNS check he's supposed to be running.

"Jeon Wonwoo," he says in a perfectly level voice. "Welcome to the company."

Your face lights up. "Oh! I think you're the one who's supposed to be training me on the new systems."

Right. His boss had mentioned this. Something about onboarding the newbies. And Wonwoo had said yes, because that was just the type of person he was.

Fan-fucking-tastic, Wonwoo thinks as he gives you a quick once-over.

He manages to look bored as he does it. Almost scrutinizing. Truthfully, Wonwoo is not-so discreetly checking you out. The crisp white blouse, the tight pencil skirt, the black stockings.

So help him, God.

"Hope you can keep up," Wonwoo says for the lack of better thing to say.

The easy smile on your face remains, like you're unperturbed by Wonwoo's infamously cool demeanor. Somehow, that makes things infinitely worse.

He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose as you leave to meet other people. He tries very, very hard not to watch the way your hips move as you walk away.

You're good, he'll give you that.

Wonwoo, once again, tries to make excuses. One had to be good in this field of work, in this company. You're not an exception; you're supposed to be the norm.

Even as the thought crosses his mind, he knows it's not entirely true.

There's one too many nepotism babies and pushovers who barely survive performance evaluations. But you're good. Eager to learn. Sharp in all the right places.

Wonwoo is a little bit jealous.

He doesn't have time to dwell on it, though, in between training you on the company's cloud service models and hammering out the new machine learning workflows.

And so he keeps his head down, and he points out the bugs in your codes, and he chalks up his initial attraction as a moment of weakness.

That is, until the two of you are last to leave the office on an unassuming Tuesday evening.

The two of you had gotten in to some long-winded debate about the future of AI. Wonwoo is only made acutely aware about how much time has passed when the janitor shuts off the lights, assuming everyone has gone home. You giggle; Wonwoo cracks the smallest of smiles.

As you both emerge from the company building, Wonwoo's glasses fog up.

It's a normal enough occurrence that he shouldn't be annoyed but it's also a little bit embarrassing. He's used to going home late, to being alone when he does this little ritual of his.

He's just about to take off his glasses when you do it for him.

There's nothing much he can do or say as you gently tug the glasses off his face, as you use a corner of your blouse to swipe off the condensation on the lenses. You're saying something— something about this being the most annoying thing about wearing glasses, about knowing the struggle— but Wonwoo can't hear it.

His gaze is fixed on your lithe fingers and the careful way they hold his specs. Something sparks in the back of his head. A thought, unbidden. How those fingers would look so much better wrapped around his—

Jesus. Wonwoo swallows hard as you hold out his glasses back to him.

The look on his face must be odd, because you're suddenly apologetic. "I must have overstepped," you say sheepishly.

Overstepped?

Wonwoo is pretty sure he's the one overstepping. He's the one imagining you bent over his desk, after all, where he'd be more than happy to keep two fingers in your mouth to keep you quiet.

Instead, Wonwoo mumbles "you're good" as he puts his glasses back on just a little too forcefully. The nose pad presses in to his skin and leaves the smallest of marks, but he figures he deserves it with how he's being.

Wonwoo decides that maybe he's just repressed.

He's always been too busy to sleep around, to sleep with anyone, so this is just some twisted form of karmic justice. To have someone so desirable within sight but not within reach.

He asks for Mingyu to start setting him up on dates. His best friend is a little too glad to comply.

Wonwoo goes on about four before giving up.

Because it doesn't matter if he ends the night with a heated kiss or a mouth around his cock. Every single time, with each girl, he can only picture his company's drab cubicles, fingers flying across a keyboard, clicks of heels on a floor. (You, you, you.)

Things only go from bad to worse when the company celebrates its annual Christmas party at some swanky speakeasy. The alcohol is free-flowing, and God knows that Wonwoo needs it— because you're certainly not doing him any favors.

Your dress is a touch too short, and your smile is pretty, and Wonwoo really needs to get his head out of the goddamn gutter. He cannot, should not be fantasizing about what it would be like to drag you in to the alleyway outside, to hitch up your leg around his waist, to finally feel his aching hardness slide in to your—

"Wonwoo?"

He starts. It's a good thing he downed his drink earlier. Otherwise, he might've spilled his cuba libre all over the front of your purple dress.

You're squinting at him, a playful sort of grin on your face. For a moment, he terrified you've read his mind, but then you're slurring out, "Your glass is empty."

"That it is," Wonwoo says dryly. He lets you lead him over to the bar.

As the two of you wait for his drink to be made, you pull the rug out from underneath Wonwoo once again.

It happens so fast. One moment, you're discussing go-to karaoke songs; the next, you're grabbing his spectacles and trying them on for yourself.

They're ill-fitting on you and the frames don't match your face shape. Wonwoo nearly winces when you awkwardly try to adjust them by the temples.

"Your eyesight is a lot worse than I thought," you whine— a whine, my God. Wonwoo wants to die then and there.

When his whiskey sour is served, Wonwoo shoots it back and promptly orders another one.

"How do I look?" you prompt, tilting your head to one side.

For a moment, Wonwoo contemplates telling the truth.

You look like sin, he could say. You look like you'd make the prettiest sounds if your back was up against the door of the bar bathroom, if his hands were feeling you up over your dress, if his mouth was leaving open-mouthed kisses along your throat.

Wonwoo shakes his head. He's definitely not drunk enough to be saying all that.

"Fine," he grumbles. "You look fine."

Once you've had your fun, once his glasses are back on his face and you're off to charm whoever the hell else, he'll wish he could have been a little more truthful.

Here's the thing: For all of Wonwoo's intelligence as the company's go-to IT guy, he's still pretty oblivious where it matters.

He doesn't realize that you don't really give two shits about AI, that you're only staying so late at work for him. He doesn't pick up that your party dress had been purple because he had offhandedly mentioned once that it was his favorite color.

All of those little things only hit him when he finds you standing outside his apartment, looking mildly miffed. "How much longer do I have to flirt with you, Jeon Wonwoo?" you demand.

Oh. Oh.

"Not another day more," Wonwoo promises as he wraps his fingers around your wrist and pulls you in to his flat. He thanks all the higher powers in the universe that Mingyu has decided to buzz off for the night.

Wonwoo's mouth is on yours the moment the door shuts behind you. It's messy, all clashing teeth and warring tongues. The sudden force of it has you reeling back a step.

His fingers find purchase at your hips, right over the very skirt of his wildest fantasies. You tilt your head like you're trying to deepen the kiss— only to have your forehead bump against his glasses.

You make a sound of protest against his mouth and he swears he sees stars.

Without missing a beat, Wonwoo lifts one of his hands just long enough to pull his glasses off. He casts them aside unceremoniously. He'll buy a new pair if he has to.

He's back to kissing you before you can even open your eyes.

By some miracle, the two of you make it to his bedroom.

It's only then that Wonwoo manages to tear himself away from your mouth, looking slightly panicked.

You're pinned underneath him, the top buttons of your blouse already undone. And you're a vision— your hair splayed out underneath you, your chest rising and falling with every heavy breath. Wonwoo has to resist the physical urge to keep making out with you.

"I—" he chokes out. "I haven't—"

Thank God you're smarter than him, because you immediately get what he's trying to say. You prop yourself up by your elbows to look at him. "We don't have to," you say carefully, your fingers curling around his bicep.

"That's the thing." He doesn't even bother to hide how desperate he sounds. "I kind of really fucking want to."

The smile you give him then makes his heart stutter. He resolves to unpack that later.

Right now, he focuses on the way you pull off his slacks, the way you spit in to your palm, the way you dip your hand past his boxers and—

"Holy shit," he exhales, because this is definitely leagues better than his imagination.

You're watching his every reaction as you slide the curve of your palm against him, as your fingers close and squeeze and tug, and it takes absolutely everything in Wonwoo not to flip your positions.

He prays for patience; he prays for grace. He prays that he doesn't finish just from a goddamn handjob.

Once you've deemed him sufficiently hard, the two of you do switch positions. Wonwoo reaches in to his bedside drawer for the condom that's been sitting there for months. (Mingyu, the cheeky bastard, had left it there as a gift. Wonwoo has never been more grateful for his best friend.)

Wonwoo snaps it on with a lot less finesse than he would've wanted. Soon enough, he's hovering over you, his fingers curled in to a white-knuckled grip around his sheets.

"I should probably stretch you out a bit," he whispers, his voice strained with the effort it's taking to keep himself together

But you shake your head, your hands catching in his dark locks as you practically drag him down. "Wonwoo, I swear," you whine. "If you don't fuck me this instant—"

It's not the hands in his hair that does it. Not the bluntness of your words.

It's that stupid, stupid whine.

Wonwoo thrusts in to you without preamble, and the scream catches in your throat as he fills you up.

"Fucking take it, then," he hisses.

Wonwoo was a bit worried that his inexperience would get in the way, but there's one thing he seems to have in common with you: He can be a pretty quick learner, too.

His thrusts are a bit clumsy and erratic, but he figures out what you like based on the sounds that you make, the way that you move.

You arch your hips up whenever he bottoms out. You whimper whenever his balls slap in to the cleft of your ass. And when his fingers finally find your bundles of nerves, you say his name so beautifully.

"Just like that, Wonu," you gasp, rendered incapable of saying his full name. He likes the way it sounds, so he rewards you with another sharp thrust. You babble on, "Fuck, yeah. That's good. You're so fucking good."

Something inside him burns, then. Enough to have him picking up the pace, to have him pressing the calloused pads of his fingers in to every inch of bare skin that he can reach.

You seem to notice his renewed vigor, and the minx that you are— despite the fact you're being fucked stupid— you give him more.

You moan that he's perfect and doing so well and so fucking hot, and his cock only bullies in to you harder with every pretty word.

"I'm not going to last—" Wonwoo warns through gritted teeth, his grip bruising on your hip. "I'm not going to last much longer if you keep talking to me like that."

His fingers are already fumbling; his pace, stuttering. He's not sure how much more praise he can take, but then you have to go and whimper about how badly you've wanted him, just like this—

Wonwoo manages to bottom out just one more time before coming undone.

The feeling of him twitching inside you, of him panting against the side of your neck, has you following not long after. It's absolutely torturous, the way you clamp down on him like you're squeezing him dry.

Wonwoo gathers his bearings enough to pull out. He heaves out a sigh and falls back on to his bed beside you, his own thighs still shaking a bit from all the effort he's exerted.

A beat. Neither of you speak; you're both too busy catching your breath, coming down from your respective highs.

But then you're sitting up, moving, and Wonwoo physically feels his heart drop.

"Where are you going?" he stammers. He can't even bring himself to sound cool about the prospect of this just being a one-time thing.

You put him out of his misery rather swiftly. At the foot of his bed, you pause, take one look at his face, and then soften significantly. Your gentle pat to his ankle is a welcome reprieve.

"We should clean up," you tell him, somehow managing to reassure his unspoken fears. "Where's your bathroom?"

"Ah— first door down the hall."

You don't pull on any of your clothes as you go, so Wonwoo doesn't bother to hide the way he watches you leave.

Once you're out his bedroom door, Wonwoo suddenly feels boneless. He sinks further in to his bed and contemplates how the hell he's going to go about this— whatever this is.

Wonwoo's overthinking is cut short when you bound back in to his room, your hands behind your back. He barely has any time to speak before your lips are on his.

It's a sweet kiss, one that catches him off-guard. He's frozen for only a millisecond before his eyes flutter close and he melts right in to you, his hand resting at the side of your face.

It's not quite the answer that he's looking for, but it's a close thing.

When you peel away, his head rises from his pillow, desperately chasing your mouth. You let out a tinkling sort of laugh before pulling your hands out from behind you— and placing his glasses on for him.

Wonwoo blinks confusedly underneath his lenses.

"Just need to make sure that you can see what you're getting in to," you tease as you push his hair out of his forehead.

He just looks at you for a second. And oh, is he done for.

"Yeah," he breathes. "I see you."

#jeon wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo smut #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen smut #svt smut #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #( wonwoo with glasses. save me. save me wonwoo with glasses )#( pathetic attempt at a 3 + 1 fic. u will be seeing more of that from me btw ... ! )#( listened to sabrina's Juno the whole time i was writing this woooh )#➤ ylangelegy: mine #➤ ylangelegy: svt

1K notes · View notes

manqo · 2 years ago

Text

this is so funny i’ve only ever taken my shot at girls i never do shit w boys

#i’m holding back information and it is that i didn’t actually shoot my shot i was BUILDING UP TO IT #idk why it wasn’t obvious to me until now but my love language is treating people to something #random ‘made me think of u’ ‘thought you’d like this’ gifts #sharing my food or fully buying them a meal or a drink on me #that’s me shooting my shot #also i can say all this here bc the ppl that know me here know none of this is abt them BYE #anyways first one ill never forget was grade 2 little 8 year old me #it felt so right bc i had this ritual of drawing a portrait of a girl the night before the first day of school #FULLY THINKING ‘tomorrow i’ll meet this person i just drew’ and on the two years i did that (yes only rly lasted two years)#i DID meet girls that looked exactly like my portraits #like my manifestation powers was off the charts im tellin ya maybe that’s how i oughta manifest these days #i never think of using my drawing skills for my practice #IM DOING IT #oops rambled what’s new

1 note · View note

anomaly-hivemind · 1 month ago

Text

Dive In ☆ Merman! Gojo x Scrientist! Reader | Kinktober Day 14

Summary: You were brought in to study a merman whom you heard was quite aggressive; however, he’s always been kind to you. You were able to get close. Maybe a bit too close.

Word Count: 3978

Tags: Merman!Gojo, afab!reader, vaginal penetration, scratch marks, porn with plot, cunnilingus, handjobs, experimental sex, mating, government facilities, the reader becomes a fugitive, mating rituals, creampie, breeding, transformations, wet dreams.

When you got a call from the federal government you didn’t know what to expect. You were honestly a bit worried that you had done something you weren’t supposed to and were going to be silenced. The last thing you expected to see however was a mermaid, or merman in this case.

You were a NOAA scientist and had seen so many strange sea creatures, so the possibility of mermaids being out there wasn't out of the realm of possibility. However, you didn’t think that they would exist like this. The closest thing humanity has had to mermaids is manatees and dugongs. When thinking critically this is what most people assumed mermaids would look similarly to. That they would have rough skin and blubber and coarse hair or fur. However, this merman swimming before you looked like something right out of a fairy tale.

Based on the way it floated around his head, his hair looked to be the same texture as human hair. His whole upper half looked to be very human aside from the gills you could see on the sides of his neck, the fins on his arms, and the fin-like ears he had.

“Ah Dr.L/N, Pleased to meet you,” An older man came up to you and extended his hand. He was in a fine pair of slacks and a pristine button-down with a black tie and white lab coat overtop.

You took his hand and gave it a firm shake. He introduced himself as the lead researcher for this top-secret project and gave you the rundown. A fisherman from a small town in Kauai, Hawaii called in about a wild animal of some sort stealing fish. Eventually, another fisherman got a strange “Fishman” caught in his nets and called the Coast Guard, and from there, it became a bit more about coverup from the general public. The fisherman was compensated handsomely to keep hush and this merman was carted off to this government facility.

They began running tests and researching the merman however he attacked one of the researchers and they ended up losing an eye. So they had to pivot and decided to bring in someone with expertise in predatory marine life, that being you.

You looked back at the white-haired merman in the tank, he didn’t look aggressive, but you’d have to be an idiot to think that he wasn’t actually dangerous.

“I’ll let you take over as lead researcher, come on and I’ll introduce you to the team.” You followed after him and met the other researchers. It was a small group, most likely for the sake of confidentiality. They were kind but you didn’t want to waste any time chatting when you were eager to learn more about the merman.

The tank of the merman was that of a large shark, it was important to keep a new species as comfortable as possible to avoid any personal injuries. At the bottom it was made of the usually thick tempered glass of any high-grade aquarium, Is almost twenty feet deep of water, wide enough for the merman to swim freely without bumping into the walls, and filled to the brim with clean salt water filtering into the tank.

A cage was newly added on top of the tank after the first incident to ensure the workers' safety. So the only way to get up close and personal was up the flight of stairs and through the locked door to stand on the built-in ledge over the water/tank opening.

You walked back over to the tank where the merman swam around lethargically. You ripped off a paper from a nearby notepad and took the pen as you began writing basic facts about his appearance.

Long white hair, pale skin, silvery-blue scales covering the tail, and a few stray clusters of scales in the torso here and there, slightly forked caudal fin, fins are a translucent dark blue. About 12 ft long. You looked back up and were met with the merman in question staring back at you. His eyes were such a mesmerizing shade of blue, like the sky, or shining jewels.

You wondered if it was an evolutionary trait to aid hunting. His webbed hands were pressed up against the glass with his sharp nails on display.

Yeah, definitely dangerous. You thought, thinking back to the researcher who lost an eye.

One of the researchers called for you and when you turned back round the merman had swam to the back of the tank. You were looking forward to officially starting work.

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

The first few days you spent observing the merman’s behaviors. It seemed like he could tell what fish had been the most recently caught because that’s what he prefers.

You put in an order request for aquatic plants as you wanted to see if he was omnivorous however they hadn’t come in yet. Based on his behavior you would say that he’s just as curious about you as you are to him. He had never displayed aggressive behavior when you were around and he wasn’t exactly eating from your hand but you could hand the fish to him at feeding times instead of tossing it into the tank like the other researchers.

You were sitting by the tank, reviewing your notes and drawing diagrams of his outward physiology when you heard someone call your name.

“Hello?” You called out, looking up from your work, however no one was there.

“Y/N…” They called out again. You looked towards the tank and saw the merman peering over the edge, his hands were gripping the metal bars and he was looking at you curiously.

“Y/N,” He repeated…

“You can talk?!” The merman cocked his head before diving back into the tank. You raced to the top and peered over the edge. He swam back to the top and looked at you.

“Y/N.” He can really talk.

“Yes, that’s my name, Y/N.” You said, gesturing to yourself.”Do you have a name?”

“Y/N,” he repeated once again. You sighed. Maybe he can only make parrot noises. It was impressive nonetheless.

“I am Y/N, you are…?”

“Sa..to..ru,” He said. “Satoru,” He said. His bright eyes stare back at you.

“Okay then, nice to meet you Satoru,” You smiled.

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

Satoru picked up speaking fairly quickly, he wasn't fluent and often flubbed his sentences but he had a good grasp of language. With that addition, it became much easier to observe his personality and mannerisms.

He had no concept of money but boy did he have expensive taste. Almost immediately after learning how to speak, he began voicing complaints and making requests. Apparently, the cod and red snapper he’s being fed aren’t good enough, and after much back and forth on what exactly he was talking about he requested bluefin tuna, Alaskan salmon, and swordfish.

He was very playful, at least with you. He Loved to call your name… and to tell the other researchers to go away. Those were his favorite things to say.

You walked up the stairs with your lunch and lunch for Satoru, which was halibut today.

“Hello, Y/N,” Satoru said, quickly swimming up to the surface and flashing you a sharp-tooth smile.

“Hello Satoru,” You tossed him the fish and he began eating eagerly. You applied sanitizer then wiped your hands with a wet wipe before opening your lunch to begin eating.

“What’s that?” Satoru asked, looking back at you, he was somehow already done eating.

“This is nigiri sushi, it’s thinly sliced raw fish over rice. Wanna try some?”

“Really?” He said, with wide eyes. You nodded, taking a piece of salmon nigiri and offering it to him. Instead of taking it, he ate it straight out of your hand in one bite. His cold lips tickled and he licked the stray grains of rice from your hand.

“So… what do you think?”

He was silent for a moment before smiling back at you. It made your heart flutter a bit but you pushed the feeling back.

“I Like it,”

“Here have some more,” you said, offering straight from the box this time.

When you went home and went to sleep that night you had a dream about Satoru, He was human. His white hair was short and fluffy, and he still had piercing blue eyes. You were lying on the beach together on the sand, and for some reason, he was kissing all over your legs, his plump lips softly made their way up your legs, and right as his face was inches away from your groin you woke up.

You woke up covered in sweat, your pajamas sticking to your skin as you stared up in the dark abyss. Your breath heaved… and it took a while before you could go back to sleep.

After that day, Satoru became even more attached to you and complained when you weren’t by his side.

A while later the head researcher stopped by to see how things were going.

“So I hear you’ve gotten pretty close with the merman, even got him to talk,”

“Satoru, yes. He’s very interesting, he has two pairs of lungs one for the air and the other for the dissolved oxygen in the water and..” You proceeded to ramble on about what you’ve learned and his personality. “While he is a predator I haven’t been able to observe any real aggressive behavior, he’s always so sweet and curious when I’m around- oh I’m sorry I’m rambling,”

The head researcher laughed and waved his hand,” You’re all good, almost sounds like love to me.”

Your face grew hot and you laughed off what he said.”What can I say, I really love my work,”

“That’s amazing, you’ve been doing wonderful work here.” He said looking at all the data you’ve collected.

“I’m sensing a but…” You said, wringing your hands together nervously.

“I’ll get right to the point then, you don’t have any data on how or if they reproduce,”

Oh… right. You were certainly curious about it since you learned he could talk, you had been putting it off, it felt less like research and more like an invasion of his privacy.

“I’ll get on it, sir,” You nodded.

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

You headed over to the tank with papers to talk with Satoru. As usual, when you walked up, Satoru swam right over with his usual smile.

“Hello Y/N,”

“Hello Satoru,” You said with a sigh.”So I had a few questions, but they’re a bit more personal.” You blushed thinking about it, you’d start off with the normal stuff first.

“Okay,”

“So are there others out there like you? Before you came here were you in a group?”

“A few. But I was not with a pod before being here.” He answered.

“Why weren’t you with your pod?”

“I was looking. Looking for a mate.” He said, his eyes meeting yours.

“Oh, is that what you all do? Split off to find a mate?” You asked.

“No, just me. A mate is an equal, in the pod I am the best. No equal, no mate. So I went off, to find another strong as me.”

“How long have you been looking for a mate?” Pausing from what you were writing.

He paused for a moment before answering.”Twenty-Eight moon cycles,”

That was about two years! Must get lonely, all by himself, separated from his pod, you thought. Maybe you could help him escape, you could convince them that it’s better to observe the group rather than one mercreature on its own (I mean you weren’t lying.)

“So if you could, I guess you would go home huh?” you asked, already knowing the answer.

“Only if you went.” You were surprised by that answer.

“Why me?”

“It’s bad to leave mates behind,” he answered. At first, you thought he was joking but you remembered you hadn’t explained the concept yet, he was completely serious.

“Satoru, what makes you think we’re mates?” You asked, your face growing a bit hot.

“You share your nigiri with me; only mates share food, or parents and pups.”

Oh…

OH…

No wonder he was so surprised when you offered him the Nigiri, and why he’s been so clingy.

“I didn’t know, I’m sorry,”

“You don’t want to be my mate then?” He asked with a sad expression which made you feel like you were shot through the heart.

“It’s not exactly that, I’m not a mermaid, I can’t breathe underwater,”

“Mates can be human, you’ll change after the mate bond,”

“I’ll grow a tail?” you asked bewildered.

“No, gills, scales, fins, then tail”

“I’m not nearly as physically strong as you either,” You replied.

“No, but you know many things, knowing many things like fish, many things that will be good for the pod.”

While you were intrigued by the process it just seemed like too much. At least that’s what you tried to tell yourself.

“It’s me then, you don’t like me.”

“No, no, no I do like you, I love you, Satoru, but ah-” You stopped when you caught what you said.

“...Love? What’s what?”

“It’s when others feel strongly about each other, when they really really like eachother or something. Like families or friends or a pet… or a mate…” You said swallowing nervously.

“So you love me?” He asked, his body basically pressed up against the edge of the platform.

“...yes,”

“Do you love me like family?”

“... No,” you said, shaking your head.

“Like a pet?”

“No,”

“Then do you love me like a mate?” You looked back at him and as you looked into his eyes you knew the answer.

“Yes, Satoru, I love you, I’ll be your mate.” As you said those words he had the biggest grin on his face and dived back into the water, swiftly swimming in circles and flipping out of the water. You laughed, you had never seen him this happy before.

He swam back over to where you sat and leaned over your lap, water dripping onto your legs.

“How does mating work anyways?”

“It’s easier to show than to tell, but not here, in shallow water,” He explained.

“Okay, then I guess I definitely have to break you out of here then, It wouldn’t be right to leave my mate locked up in some secret government facility.”

You waited until dark when everyone had gone aside from security here and there before you began your heist. You got one of the big carts they wheeled around all the fish they fed Satoru in and filled it with water. Then there was the painstaking process of getting him out of the tank and down the stairs. You knew you couldn't carry him when he weighed well over eight hundred pounds so you had to guide him and make sure he didn’t hurt himself as he flopped down the metal stairs.

Then you wheeled him out and into your car, however the best you could do for him was plenty of tarps and an inflatable pool to turn the back seat of your minivan into a makeshift tank of some sort, You grabbed some things from home and then drove to where you hoped no one could find you, which just so happened to be a place that looked like a mermaid grotto.

It wasn’t easy to get him from your car to the water but it was worth it to see the smile on his face.

“Y/n, dive into the water,” Satoru called; you stripped from your clothes and cannonballed into the spring. Satoru swam in circles around you; his blue fins sparkled under the moonlight.

You laughed as he made small splashes around you. He swam closer to you and wrapped his wet arms around your waist.

“Uhh Satoru…?”

“Didn’t you want to know how we mate?” Satoru said in a low voice, the seductive look in his eyes sent a chill down your spine. His cool fingers caressed your face, pushing your loose hair behind your ear.

“Yeah,” you turn to fully look at him, wrapping your arms around him.

“Great,” His lips pressed against yours, happily obliging to kiss him back. As you continued, the kiss became heated. His cold fingers slipped down your bare skin, and your back pressed against the edge of the grotto pool.

“I can't say I'll be fully gentle but I'll make sure you're fully taken care of,” he said as his nails scratched against your skin. You hissed, and he pressed soft kisses to your neck. The mating process was kinda rough, but you liked it as well.

“If you don’t mind me asking why is the scratching necessary?” you do your best to look at the marks on your skin.

“Scratching is arousing, You are turned on, are you not?” he runs his sharp nail down your arm slightly.

“Yes, but I can show you a better way,” You said, guiding his hand down to your cunt. His eyes widened a bit as he felt your folds with the pads of his fingers. As he pressed against your mound of flesh, you could feel the webbing between his fingers, between that and those nails of his, you were certain there wouldn’t be any fingering for you today.

He pressed against your clit, and you took a sharp breath. He quirked his head to the side.

“Does that feel good?” he whispered while staring up into your eyes.

You nodded and added more. His fingers began massaging your nub in small circles. You rested your head on his shoulder and let out a little moan.

“Bite me” Gojo whimpered and it took a second to process what he said. But you were already on his shoulder the least you could do was obliged him. You sink your teeth into his shoulder and with his thick skin was tough to mark into him. He lets out a pleased hiss as you effectively caused a small dent just off near his gills.

“Now it's your turn. Sorry, this may hurt a bit,” he said teasingly, her lips ghosting over your skin before he sunk his teeth into your shoulder. You winced with how deep his teeth were; you were sure that they had drawn blood.

Satoru wrapped his hands around your waist and lifted you out of the water onto the rocks. He gently parted your legs before leaning forward. He pressed soft, tender kisses to your inner thighs. His cold lips tickled and made your stomach do somersaults. His tongue took a precautionary lick to your pussy before lapping at your wet folds.

A small moan escaped your lips as his lips closed around your clit. His tongue circled, flicked, and sucked out your sensitive bud. You couldn’t control the noises that were coming out of your mouth, and your legs were enclosing around Satoru’s head. He used his strong hands to hold them open, his wet palms gripping your thighs.

Just as you were about to release all over his face, Satoru pulled away. You whined and looked up at him.

“Don’t you wanna get to the good part?” He gave you a smirk.

He slid up onto the rocks beside you and positioned himself in an off-able way. Your hand hovered in the air for a moment, and you weren’t quite sure what you were supposed to be doing. You guessed that Satoru sensed your confusion because he grabbed your hand and guided it to where a slit was ah, yes, his mermanussy. Your fingers slipped around and stroked the area for a moment before his long, smooth length slipped out of it, springing out from its sheath and bobbing in the air.

Your hand warped around his member and stroked it up and down a few times. He was slightly slimy and slim-tipped, with it being more skin color. Your finger teased his tip, and his sticky precum followed in strong lines attached to your fingers. You twisted and turned your hands as you jerked him until he was amply hard.

Now that he was rock hard, you positioned yourself to be on top of him and slowly sunk down on his cock. You moaned, and Satoru hissed.

“There's no going back now,” you said and slowly began to move your hips to meet him. He grabs your hips and moves up to suck in your skin.

“You feel so good~” Satoru tightened his grip and started to fuck up into you. You pressed yourself on his chest to be upright in order to not be a mushed mess laying on top of him. You flattened your hands on his chest as you rode him gently, your hole clenched around him as you bounced on his long cock. Wet sounds and the lewd noise of skin slapping against skin bouncing around the grotto walls, along with the wanton moans coming from your mouth.

The rocking of his hips meets yours as you hold back the urge to wiggle and squirm. Your walls flutter around his length, and you take him in a kiss. It was messy, passionate, and pretty uncoordinated, but neither did you care because you were caught up in the moment.

Satoru tilts your body back a bit as he ruts into you with a new determined force. You felt like you had little control at this unbalanced angle. He licks your breast and kisses your neck, and you let out whines and moans. Satoru let out a few whimpers as he got closer to climax, and you were definitely right along with him.

“Ahh, I’m gonna cum, come inside me!” you panted out, feeling like the air was getting harder to breathe.

You couldn't come back anymore, and you let yourself experience a sweet release. The walls of your cunt clench around him as he comes, and your juices leak around the base of his cock. Around the same time, Satoru groaned, his grip on you growing tighter and his nails digging into your hips, and hot ropes of cum spilled inside your pussy. Your warm walls milked him of every last drop, the translucent milky liquid leaking from your hole.

You slowly remove him from inside you, feeling his fluid leaking out of you with a sticky slowness.

You smile fondly as you rest against his chest. You fell asleep on his strong chest. Not much later, you woke up to a strange sensation. You had a strong urge to jump in the water like it would be more enriching than the air. You slowly and carefully slipped out of Satoru’s arms and into the water. As your head ducks under you find yourself not needing to hold your breath. You reached up and felt delicate gills on the sides of your neck.

Then scales pushed their way through your skin, and fins sprouted out along with webbing between your fingers finally, and most uncomfortably, your legs stuck themself together and overtop grew flesh and scales. Your legs and back hurt so bad like your bones were breaking and reforming. However, the pain didn’t last longer than a few moments, and when you flexed your new tail, it felt much more flexible than you imagined. It was almost like your body was a worm in a string with the way you could toggle around.

When satoru woke up he looked over at your new form with admiration. He slipped into the water to get a better view. You looked out at the surface world one last time before taking Satoru’s hand and diving into the world below.

“So, are you excited to see your pod after such a long time?”

“I’m excited for you to pop out some guppies,” Satoru smirked as you both swam off to your new life.

407 notes · View notes

inprogresspokemon · 3 months ago

Text

Berylian Pikachu

Electrodent Pokémon Type: Electric/Dragon Size: 2'00" | 26.5 lbs Ability: Fluffy or Thunderous: The Pokémon electrifies its body, allowing it to deal additional Electric damage with its physical moves and to attackers that make direct contact. The effect increases with an active Electric Terrain, but is canceled by sandstorms and other sand and mud-based moves. Hidden Ability: Electric Surge Evolution Method: Evolves from Pichu by leveling up with high friendship while in the Beryl Region

Description: Berylian Pikachu, unlike their temperate forest-dwelling counterparts, are adapted to the harsher, less wooded environments of Beryl. By changing their diet and becoming gluttonous, they have evolved to be larger, fluffier, with more muscle and fat, sacrificing speed and agility for enhanced physical attack, defense, and stamina. This allows Berylian Pikachu to deliver powerful blows, run long distances, and better protect young Pichu from predators. The mystical energy of the Beryl region also granted this line a Dragon-type, making them more aggressive and hostile towards most Pokémon, except other electric rodents. Berylian Pikachu's fluffy fur retains the electricity that is discharged from their cheeks, enabling them to electrify their physical moves or generate an electric shield when overcharged. Unlike the common Pikachu, the Berylian variant is nomadic, rarely staying in one place for long. When colonies meet, half of the newly evolved Pikachu migrate to new groups. Annually, during the rainy season, the oldest Pikachu gather in crystal-rich areas, causing storms as they dance until triggering their evolution into Gorachu.

---

Gorachu

Jackalope Pokémon Type: Electric/Dragon Size: 4'07" | 154.3 lbs Ability: Fluffy or Thunderous Hidden Ability: Electric Surge Evolution Method: Evolves from Berylian Pikachu while using Dragon Dance with an active Electric Terrain

Description: After completing the mysterious ritual, Berylian Pikachu evolve into Gorachu. While Gorachu become more friendly towards other Pokémon, they remain fiercely protective and aggressive when their colony is threatened. They develop belly pouches to carry young Pichu and their food, ensuring safety from any dangers during travels. In the wild, Gorachu collectively care for all the young Pichu, treating others' offspring as their own. Once trained, they become loyal partners, even babysitting their trainers' own children and other baby Pokémon. Using their powerful legs, Gorachu are able to leap great distances; however, their large size and lack of agility make it hard to stop or change direction quickly. When facing an opponent, they can lash by bashing them with their fluffy, electrified tails and jabbing with their horns, which are made of crystallized electric energy. If their horns break, they will grow back larger than before, symbolizing strength and experience. Berylian people craft accessories from these horn fragments, believing they bring luck and happiness. Some researchers speculate that Berylian Pikachu and Gorachu are the original forms of Pikachu and Raichu, with common variants being adaptations to less harsh environments; Kantonian myths and an article in the Scarlet book support this theory.

Berylian Pikachu and Gorachu were commissioned, designed by, and belong to Daraen. Thanks!

- - - - - - - - - -

Follow for more fake Pokemon evolutions!

FAQ | Social Media | Pokemon Index | Commission Information

#pokemon #fakemon #in progress pokemon #pikachu #gorachu #berylian pikachu #regional variant #regional form #dragon type #electric type #commission #Daraen #IPPcommission #long post

475 notes · View notes

reidmarieprentiss · 2 months ago

Text

Too Damn Young: Part One

Summary: You and Spencer meet when you're both 18, you fall in love quickly and everything feels like a dream. Unfortunately, reality reminds you that sometimes even though people don't fall out of love, they don't always stay together.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, angst

Warnings/Includes: suggestive content (16+), loss of virginity (not described) young love, unhappy ending, divorced parents, emotional strain with mom

Word count: 11.5k

a/n: this is not a summer fling!!! they are in loveee and i promise there will be a part two and it will be happier!!!

main masterlist part two

It’s the summer after your senior year of high school, and you’re caught in that strange, in-between space where the world feels wide open but also incredibly small. San Luis Obispo, with its familiar streets and faces, starts to feel more like a cage than the cozy town you grew up in. Everyone around you seems to be moving on, heading off to college, or traveling to far-flung places, leaving you behind to figure out what’s next. You’re not sure what you want to do with your life yet, so for now, you’re staying put, even though it feels like the walls are closing in a little more each day.

“Feet off the coffee table, Y/N,” your mother sighed as she walked into the living room, her voice carrying the usual exhaustion and concern.

You glanced up from your phone, your feet still comfortably propped up on the coffee table. “You never cared before…” you muttered, not really in the mood for another one of these talks.

She sighed again, more deeply this time, as if she was bracing herself for what she was about to say. “Well, before, you were in school and not at home all day.”

You frowned, feeling the sting of her words. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Why don’t you get a job? Or go make some friends?” she suggested, her tone trying to be encouraging but not quite hitting the mark. “Oh! You could go walk on campus, maybe it will inspire you.”

You rolled your eyes, not bothering to hide your frustration. The last thing you wanted to do was wander around a college campus that wasn’t even yours, pretending to be inspired by something you weren’t sure you even cared about. But the way your mother was looking at you, with hope and a touch of worry, made you bite back the sarcastic response that was on the tip of your tongue.

Instead, you just sighed and looked away, feeling the weight of her expectations pressing down on you. “Maybe,” you mumbled, not committing to anything, but not outright refusing either. You could tell she wanted you to do something, anything, to shake off this sense of being stuck. But the truth was, you weren’t sure where to start, or if you even wanted to.

—

Spencer Reid arrived in town carrying the weight of moving his mother into a mental care facility, something that’s left him feeling more vulnerable than ever. Starting his PhD program in a new place where he doesn’t know anyone is daunting, but there’s a flicker of hope that things might be different this time. He’s no longer the child prodigy being scrutinized by older students; now, at least, he’s finally an adult, and maybe—just maybe—people will see him as one.

He opened the door to his new apartment, the hinges creaking slightly as it swung open to reveal the small, yet functional space that would be his home for the foreseeable future. The apartment was modest, furnished with the bare essentials, but it was clean and had a certain charm, or so he tried to convince himself. This place was provided by the program he was a part of, a stroke of pure luck.

Spencer set down his suitcase and took a slow, deliberate breath, trying to ground himself in this new reality. As he began to unpack and organize, the familiar rhythm of settling in started to take over, a ritual he had grown accustomed to over the years. But as he moved from room to room, he quickly realized something unsettling—he lacked a lot of the basic things that had always been provided for him in other housing situations, like the dorms and shared accommodations he had known before.

No dish soap, no paper towels, no trash bags—nothing that could help him actually live in this space comfortably. The realization hit him harder than it should have, maybe because of the long day, or maybe because of everything else weighing on his mind.

Spencer glanced at the clock. It was just past midnight. The last thing he wanted to do was venture out into the world right now, but he knew he had to. He couldn’t just sit here, surrounded by empty shelves and a lingering sense of displacement. With a resigned sigh, he decided it was time to go on a mission—a mission to find a store that was open this late.

He grabbed his jacket, mentally preparing himself for the challenge ahead. “How many people could really be out at 12 a.m. on a Tuesday?” he muttered to himself, trying to inject some optimism into his tone, though it came out more as a question than a statement.

As he stepped outside into the cool night air, the streets of San Luis Obispo were quieter than he expected, almost eerily so. The unfamiliarity of the town, combined with the late hour, made him feel like he was stepping into a different world altogether. But there was a certain solace in the solitude, a small comfort in the fact that he wouldn’t have to navigate crowds or make small talk with strangers.

—

You wandered down the aisles of the 24-hour market, the quiet hum of the overhead lights and the distant sound of a radio playing in the background the only noise in the otherwise silent store. It was strange to see it so empty, almost eerie, but there was a certain comfort in not having to navigate through crowds or make polite small talk with anyone. Tonight was all about one thing: satisfying that sudden, undeniable craving for your favorite ice cream.

As you rounded the corner into the freezer section, your mind focused on the treat you were about to indulge in, a sharp pain shot through your foot. "Ow!" you yelped, instinctively jumping back from the source of the pain—a shopping cart that had just run over your toes.

"Oh my god, I am so, so sorry! I didn’t see you there," came a voice from the other side of the cart, the owner of it looking every bit like a kicked puppy. His face was a mix of genuine concern and a hint of panic, as if this small accident was the last thing he needed tonight.

You bit back the initial irritation, quickly realizing this guy was already on the verge of a meltdown. "It’s fine, man, it’s not like there’s a lot of people around to watch out for anyway," you joked, hoping to ease the tension. The last thing you wanted was for this to turn into some big, awkward thing.

He tried to laugh, though it came out shaky and unsure. “Ye—yeah, it’s pretty late.”

You nodded, sensing his awkwardness and suddenly feeling a bit of it yourself. "Yup, well, try not to run anyone else over," you teased lightly, giving him a small smile before stepping past him to continue your mission.

As you walked away, Spencer shook his head, his expression clouding over with self-reproach. He started mumbling to himself, words of self-criticism spilling out in a low voice, but you didn’t catch any of it. Your mind was already back on your goal, and when you finally spotted your favorite ice cream, all thoughts of the encounter slipped away.

With your prize in hand, you made your way to the checkout and then headed home, unaware of the lingering impact that brief interaction had left on him.

—

Spencer finally felt like he had made his new apartment feel like home. The once-empty shelves were now stocked with cleaning supplies and other basic necessities, and though he wasn’t really one for decorating, the furniture provided by the campus and his own collection of books, awards, and memorabilia gave the space a sense of familiarity. It wasn’t flashy, but it was his.

Yet, after a few days of getting settled, Spencer began to feel something gnawing at him—a sense of being cooped up. He was no stranger to spending long hours alone, buried in his studies or lost in thought, but the endless California sunshine streaming through his windows, and the distant sounds of laughter and life happening outside, started to pull at him. The world outside felt alive in a way his apartment couldn’t match.

Spencer stood by his bookshelf, running a finger along the spines of his well-loved volumes, but the itch to get out and breathe the fresh air was undeniable. Maybe it was time to explore a little, to break up the routine and experience something new. He recalled reading about a bookstore down by the beach, a place that sounded like the perfect combination of quiet and lively—somewhere he could disappear into a sea of books but still feel connected to the world outside.

Grabbing his tote bag, empty and ready to be filled with new reads, Spencer slung it over his shoulder. With one last glance around his apartment, he stepped out, feeling a sense of excitement with a touch of nerves. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was looking for, but he knew he needed to be out there, under that California sun, even if just for a little while. The bookstore by the beach seemed like the perfect place to start.

—

Your mom had really been on your case lately, pushing you to get out of the house and do something with your time. She’d made it clear that your late-night escapades didn’t count, much to your dismay. Each time you’d excitedly recount your quiet midnight walks or the random people you’d encounter, she would just shake her head, unimpressed. She meant during the day—when the sun was shining and the world was alive.

So, in an effort to appease her, you started to drag yourself out of bed each morning and head down to the beach. If you had to be outside, you might as well make the most of it. Lazing around on the sand didn’t seem so bad, especially when you could feel the warmth of the sun on your skin. You convinced yourself that at least you’d get a tan out of this forced outdoor time, right?

After a few days of this new routine, something caught your eye—a "help wanted" sign hanging in the window of a small bookstore that sat right along the sandy sidewalk of the beach. You paused, considering it for a moment. Working in a bookstore couldn’t be all that bad. After all, you loved reading. The idea of spending your days surrounded by books sounded infinitely better than more awkward mother-daughter conversations about your lack of daytime activities.

With that thought, you stepped inside and inquired about the position. The place smelled like old paper and salt air, and the sweet old man behind the counter greeted you with a kind, if tired, smile. He explained that he desperately needed help; his partner had passed recently, and he had been struggling to keep the shop running on his own. They had no children or kin to pass the shop along to, and he had resigned himself to working alone—until you walked in.

You applied on the spot and, to your surprise, heard back immediately. They really needed the help. The next day, you started as their first and only employee, stepping into a quiet world of books and stories just waiting to be discovered.

—

The bell above the door dinged, signaling a customer had entered the bookstore. You bookmarked your place in the novel you’d been reading and set it aside before calling out, “Welcome in.”

At first glance, the customer paid no attention to you, his focus solely on the shelves of books in front of him. But as you looked up from your counter, you froze for a second—it was the guy from the 24-hour market. The one who had run over your toes with his cart. For a brief moment, panic surged through you, the irrational thought crossing your mind that maybe he was stalking you. But that idea quickly faded when you remembered how adorably awkward he had been. And, if you were honest with yourself, even if he was stalking you, you might just be flattered. He was quite attractive—adorable in a geeky way, charming in an awkward way, and just plain handsome.

Curiosity getting the better of you, you slid off your stool behind the counter and walked over to where he was browsing, his nose already buried in the pages of a book. “Can I help you find anything?” you asked, leaning over his shoulder with your hands behind your back, trying to get a glimpse of what he was reading.

Spencer, completely absorbed in the first chapter of the book, didn’t hear you approach. He yelped and dropped the book, spinning around to face you with wide eyes. “Uh—um, no—no thank you, miss,” he stammered, clearly flustered both from the shock of your sudden presence and the quick realization that you were the same person he’d bumped into at the market. And now, seeing you up close in the daylight, he was even more struck by how pretty you were.

You chuckled, reaching down to grab the book he had dropped. “This is a good one,” you said, handing it back to him with a friendly smile. “I read it last week. I’d definitely recommend it.”

Spencer took the book from your hand, his own hands almost shaking. “Th-thank you,” he managed, clearing his throat. “Thank you…”

“Y/N,” you introduced yourself, grinning a little wider. “And you are?”

“Spencer Reid. Uh, Spencer.”

“Well, Spencer Reid,” you teased, “it’s nice to see you again. Are my toes safe this time?”

Spencer blinked, and then recognition lit his eyes as he remembered. His face flushed with embarrassment, but he gave you a small, sheepish smile. “Yes, your toes are perfectly safe this time,” he assured you, still clearly flustered but trying to keep his cool.

“That’s good to hear,” you stifled a laugh, unable to resist teasing him further. “I can’t say the same about yours, though,” you added over your shoulder, turning to walk back toward the counter.

Spencer, intrigued and not quite understanding what you meant, quickly asked, “What? Why not?” He followed after you, just as you had hoped he would.

When you reached the counter, you nodded your head toward him, silently encouraging him to join you. He hesitated, glancing around the quiet, empty store, but when he saw no one else there, he finally gave in and walked over.

“She’s why,” you giggled softly, leaning down to scratch the head of an old tabby cat that had appeared on the counter. She purred loudly, her eyes half-closed in contentment. Spencer’s eyes softened at the sight of the cat.

“Oh, she’s so pretty,” he mused, leaning in next to you to scratch the cat as well.

“Careful,” you began to warn, “she—oh,” you said, surprised as Nala, the cat, nuzzled affectionately into Spencer’s hand. “She usually doesn’t take well to strangers, especially men.”

Spencer blushed a little, his eyes widening slightly in disbelief. “Really?”

You nodded, watching the way Nala practically melted under his touch. “Yeah, I guess you’re special,” you said, smiling at him.

And you weren’t wrong. As Spencer continued to visit the bookstore at least once a week, sometimes just to browse, sometimes to chat, you’d come to realize just how special he really was. Nala certainly knew it first, and as time went on, you couldn’t help but see it too.

—

“So,” you sighed dramatically, flipping through the newspaper in search of the crossword puzzle, “my mom is making me go out to our lake house in Lake Tahoe all by myself this year to check on it. She doesn’t want to go without her new girlfriend, and the girlfriend doesn’t want to go, period.” You rolled your eyes, clearly exasperated, as you vented to Spencer. He nodded along, his eyes fixed on you, absorbing every word like it was the most important thing in the world.

“I have to drive all the way there, almost seven hours, just to make sure the heat pump still works, the pipes didn’t burst during the winter, and all that other nonsense,” you continued, your frustration spilling out in each sentence.

Spencer seemed to mull over your words for a moment, the gears in his mind turning before he casually shrugged and said, “I’ll go with you.”

Your head snapped up, your voice jumping an octave. “What?”

“Yeah,” he repeated, more cautiously this time. “I mean, if you want me to. I could keep you company. I don’t know how to drive, but… you wouldn’t be alone.”

You blinked at him, momentarily thrown by his offer. “Wait—what? You don’t know how to drive? How old are you again?”

“Y/N…” Spencer’s face flushed with embarrassment, his eyes dropping for a second before he met your gaze again. “You know I’m 18, and you know I was a child prodigy. I didn’t have time to learn how to drive.”

The realization made you laugh, an idea immediately sparking in your mind. “I could teach you!” you said, jumping off your stool in excitement.

“No, no, that’s a bad idea,” Spencer protested quickly, shaking his head as if the thought of being behind the wheel terrified him.

“It’s a great idea!” you argued, grinning at him. “You come to Tahoe with me, and I’ll teach you how to drive. It’s perfect!”

Spencer hesitated, clearly unsure about the whole thing, but your enthusiasm was hard to resist. Even he couldn’t deny that the trip might be a little more interesting with you by his side.

“Fine,” Spencer finally relented, though the nervous edge to his voice lingered. “But on my terms.”

You grinned, raising your hands in surrender. “Deal! Oh my god, this is so exciting. Now I’m actually looking forward to it!”

Spencer smiled shyly, his heart doing an odd little flip at your enthusiasm. Over the past few weeks, he had realized that his crush on you had grown significantly, but he couldn’t quite figure out if you felt the same. Sometimes, he thought you might—there were moments when your smiles lingered a little too long or your teasing became just a little too playful. But then there were the times when you casually mentioned people asking you out, and it made him doubt whether you saw him that way at all.

“When are we going?” he asked, trying to push the uncertainty out of his mind.

“Oh, yeah, hah,” you laughed lightly, “We’d leave Saturday morning.”

“Oh!” Spencer’s eyes widened in surprise. “As in two days from now? Why are you just now telling me?”

“My mom just told me!” you said, shrugging like it wasn’t that big of a deal.

“Fair enough.” Spencer sighed, already mentally preparing himself for the trip. “I’ll go home and start packing. See you Saturday? Should I meet you here?”

You shook your head and handed him your phone, your fingers brushing against his as he took it. “Hmm, no. Here, put in your number and text me your address. I’ll pick you up.”

Spencer blushed, the warmth creeping up his neck and into his cheeks. “Okay…” he mumbled as he carefully entered his number into your phone, hoping his hands weren’t shaking too noticeably.

You took the phone back, flashing him one last grin before heading back to the counter. Spencer, now flustered and nervous about the weekend ahead, could only hope that maybe—just maybe—this trip would give him the chance to figure out where he stood with you.

—

As you drove along the winding roads leading to the lake house, Spencer's knuckles turned white as he clutched the door handle, his life flashing before his eyes with every sharp turn and sudden stop. Your driving might have been a bit... enthusiastic, but he found it hard to complain when he saw how happy you were, with the wind in your hair and a bright smile on your face. The open road seemed to breathe life back into you, away from home and responsibilities.

Spencer found himself utterly captivated. It wasn’t just the excitement of the trip—it was you. The way you belted out lyrics to your favorite songs without a care in the world, or how you launched into endless stories that would zigzag through a million different tangents before somehow snapping back to the original point. It was chaotic, but in the best way. In those moments, he could easily say this was already shaping up to be the best summer of his life.

At one point, you caught him staring, and with a mischievous smile, you asked, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Spencer shook himself out of his daze, heat creeping up his neck. “Oh, uh, you’re really pre—crazy. You’re a crazy driver,” he blurted out, sticking his tongue out playfully.

Your laughter echoed in the car, ignoring his slip-up as you teased, “You love it.”

Eventually, the car rolled to a stop in the driveway of your vacation home, a secluded and stunning house nestled right by the water. The lake stretched out in front of it, reflecting the trees and the sky in the stillness of the water. Spencer took in the sight, his unease fading as he realized just how beautiful and peaceful the place was.

“Wait…” Spencer said, a hint of mock worry creeping into his voice. “You didn’t bring me out here to kill me, did you?”

That startled a huge laugh out of you. “Shit, that was precisely my plan, but now you’ve ruined it!”

You both grabbed your bags and a few supplies from the car before making your way into the cozy lake house. The moment you stepped inside, you were hit with the scent of pine and the comforting warmth of the space. You couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement—it had been a while since you'd been here, and it felt like a retreat from everything back home.

“Okay!” you clapped your hands together. “Why don’t you go and take a look around? I’ll handle the checks really quick so we can just enjoy our time here!”

Spencer nodded, feeling a sense of awe as he wandered off to explore. The house was even more beautiful inside, with large windows showcasing the shimmering lake, tall ceilings, and wooden accents that gave it a rustic charm. It felt like the perfect getaway. He couldn’t help but think how lucky he was to be here, to experience something like this with you.

Despite growing up in Nevada, his family never brought him to places like this. His father had left when Spencer was young, and his mother’s declining health meant that traveling was difficult, even impossible at times. As he wandered through the house, looking at the furniture, the wooden beams, and the peaceful surroundings, Spencer felt a twinge of sadness mixed with gratitude. This was new for him—a taste of something he hadn’t even realized he missed out on.

“Hey, Spence, you good?” you asked, coming up behind him, startling him once again.

He jumped slightly, spinning around to face you with a sheepish grin. “Yup! Just… taking in the view.”

“It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?” you sighed, leaning your head on his shoulder, the gesture so casual yet intimate. The two of you stood in silence for a moment, soaking in the peaceful surroundings through the large windows overlooking the lake.

Spencer felt the warmth of your presence, the soft weight of your head on his shoulder, and for a brief second, the world outside seemed to fade away. He glanced down at you, trying to calm the flutter of his heart, feeling like maybe—just maybe—you were seeing this moment the same way he was.

—

The sky had turned into a blanket of stars, each one twinkling like a small firefly against the deep navy blue. The crisp night air had set in, making the warmth of the blanket you had wrapped around yourself all the more comforting as you sat on the deck, gazing up at the infinite sky.

Spencer was sitting nearby, his eyes occasionally darting from the stars to you, as if he were trying to capture both views. His natural curiosity about the universe seemed to blend with the simple contentment of just being here with you. The soft sound of water lapping against the dock and the quiet chirping of night creatures made everything feel serene.

You noticed him shiver slightly from the cool breeze that had picked up, and without thinking twice, you lifted the corner of the blanket and turned toward him. “Hey, come join me under here. It’s freezing out.”

Spencer hesitated for a moment, his eyes widening as he processed the invitation, but after only a beat, he scooted closer, accepting your offer. He slid under the blanket beside you, his arm brushing against yours as he tried to get comfortable.

“Better?” you teased, a soft smile playing on your lips as you looked at him from the corner of your eye.

He nodded, the warmth from the blanket and your closeness making him feel more at ease. “Much better,” he replied, a shy but pleased smile tugging at his lips.

You chuckled softly and leaned in just a little closer. “You know, Spence, I never pegged you for a stargazer.”

He glanced up at the sky again, his eyes shining with the reflection of the stars above. “I guess I’ve just never really had the opportunity to appreciate it. But this…” He gestured slightly to the sky and then to you, his voice soft. “It’s kind of perfect.”

You felt a warm flush at his words, your smile deepening as you nudged him playfully. “I’ll take the credit for the blanket and the company, but I can’t do much about the stars.”

Spencer chuckled, his laughter quiet and warm. “Well, you’re definitely making it better,” he said, his tone flirtatious but still unsure, like he was testing the waters. He shifted just slightly under the blanket, your shoulders now pressed against each other, the warmth between you a comforting contrast to the cool night air.

You turned your head toward him, catching his gaze in the soft glow of the moonlight. “I think you’re the one making it better, actually,” you teased lightly, the flirty edge in your voice impossible to miss.

Spencer’s breath caught for just a second, and he smiled—a real, genuine, and slightly bashful smile that made your heart skip. Neither of you said anything more for a moment, just sitting there, cozy under the shared blanket, watching the stars as the night wrapped itself around you.

—

The next morning, Spencer woke up feeling something he hadn’t felt in a long time—excitement. He jumped out of bed, an unusual spring in his step as he followed the delicious smell of pancakes drifting through the house. His heart was still fluttering from the night before, but the cozy warmth he felt with you had turned into something more eager and alive.

As he stepped into the kitchen, the sight before him stopped him dead in his tracks. You were standing at the stove, wearing the tiniest pair of shorts Spencer had ever seen, paired with a tight tank top that hugged your curves and rolls in ways that made his pulse race. His mouth went dry—well, until the smell of the pancakes reached him again, and he couldn’t tell if his hunger was for the food or… well, you.

You turned at the sound of his footsteps, flashing him a playful smile. “Good morning, sleepyhead! I know you’ve got a sweet tooth, so don’t even think about telling me you don’t like pancakes,” you teased, pointing a spatula at him in mock accusation.

For a moment, Spencer was utterly starstruck. You looked radiant, the soft morning light streaming in through the windows making you glow. But what really sent him reeling was how the thin material of your tank top clung to you, especially how your breasts pressed against it as you moved. He quickly looked up, his face already heating, but his brain seemed to short-circuit for a second.

“Uh, um, yeah, I love pancakes,” he stammered, trying his best to sound normal. “Thank you.”

You smiled sweetly, seemingly unaware of the internal chaos you’d stirred in him. “Good, because I made way too many,” you said with a wink, plating up a stack of pancakes and setting it on the counter. “Come on, grab a seat. They’re best when they’re hot.”

Spencer nodded, his movements slightly robotic as he took a seat, forcing himself to focus on the food and not how close you were as you set the plate in front of him. The morning air was warm, but the atmosphere between you two felt even warmer. As you sat down across from him, he couldn’t help but feel like something was shifting between you—something exciting, and possibly dangerous for his already fragile composure.

—

That afternoon, you and Spencer strolled through the charming town center of Lake Tahoe, taking in the relaxed vibe and the quaint shops lining the streets. The day had been filled with lighthearted fun—nothing too serious, just the two of you enjoying each other’s company. You couldn’t help but smile as you pointed out little details of the town, laughing at Spencer’s commentary and feeling a sense of ease that came so naturally with him.

But then, as you browsed one of the boutique shops, a mischievous thought crossed your mind. You turned to Spencer, feigning an innocent realization. “Oh, I totally forgot to pack a swimsuit!”

He blinked, caught off guard by your sudden announcement. “You… you forgot to pack a swimsuit?”

You shrugged casually, glancing toward the back of the shop where the swimwear section was. “Yeah, I mean, I’m gonna need one if we want to hit the water, right?”

Spencer nodded slowly, looking a little confused but following along. You weren’t entirely sure, but you were starting to feel like maybe he saw you as more than just a friend. There had been glances, small moments—like when you caught him staring or how he’d shyly brush against you. And truth be told, you felt a spark with him too, something that made you want to push the boundaries just a little, to see how far they would stretch.

“Do you… uh, want my help choosing one?” Spencer asked, his voice a little shaky as he tried to keep his cool.

You smiled sweetly, barely able to contain your amusement. “Well, yeah, Spence,” you giggled. “I need a second opinion! I can’t buy something that makes me look bad, right?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but before his brain could stop him, the words slipped out. “I don’t think you could look bad in anything.”

The second the sentence left his lips, Spencer’s face turned a shade of red you’d only seen once before when he’d been particularly flustered. His eyes widened in panic, as though he couldn’t believe he’d said that out loud.

You couldn’t help but giggle, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the sunshine outside. “Aw, Spence,” you teased gently, reaching out to touch his arm. “That’s sweet.”

Spencer looked away, clearly embarrassed, but you could see the tiniest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. It was adorable how easily he could be thrown off balance around you, and you secretly loved that you had that effect on him.

“Okay, so I personally think I look good in red…” you mused aloud, casually flipping through the racks of swimsuits that, if Spencer had a weak heart, would definitely send him into cardiac arrest. You picked up a bold red bikini and glanced over at him with a raised brow. “But your favorite color is purple, right?”

“Huh?” Spencer was caught off guard, blinking rapidly as he processed your question. “Yeah, it is.” He was surprised, and admittedly touched, that you remembered something so seemingly small.

“Well then, let’s try this on!” you declared with a bright smile, grabbing a deep purple swimsuit off the rack in one hand and reaching for Spencer’s hand with the other. Before he could protest, you were dragging him toward the fitting rooms.

“Y/N, I can’t come back there with you,” he said, his voice rising in a panic as the realization of what was happening hit him.

You sent him a playful glare over your shoulder, the kind that made his heart race even faster. “You can and you will, unless you think I should walk out here and let the whole store see me?”

“Nope!” Spencer yelped immediately, his face turning an impressive shade of red. He hated that idea. The thought of other people seeing you in something as revealing as a swimsuit made his stomach churn, and the words left his mouth before he could think twice. “I’ll come back…”

The fitting room was more casual than expected—just one room with a curtain separating the changing area from a small sitting spot. Spencer sat down on a cushioned bench, his heart pounding in his chest as you slipped behind the curtain, out of sight.

For a moment, he could only stare at the fabric of the curtain, feeling like he was in some surreal daydream. The small sounds of you moving around behind the curtain sent his imagination spiraling in ways he really didn’t want it to go, but he couldn’t help it.

“How’s it going back there?” Spencer asked awkwardly, fidgeting with his hands as he tried to distract himself from the situation.

You giggled softly from behind the curtain, and he could hear the light rustling of fabric as you adjusted the swimsuit. “Almost ready. Just… a sec.”

Spencer swallowed hard, unsure if he was ready for whatever was coming next. His heart beat faster with every passing second, and he wasn’t sure whether to brace himself for a disaster or… something else entirely.

And then you stepped out from behind the curtain, more confident than Spencer could ever hope to be. The swimsuit you had chosen—a soft purple that hugged your curves and contrasted beautifully with your skin—made Spencer’s heart stop. For a moment, all he could do was stare, frozen in place, his mind short-circuiting at the sight of you standing there in all your stunning glory.

You did a small, playful spin, the movement so effortless and carefree, and Spencer choked on his spit at the sight of your ass as you turned. His face went from pale to a deep, crimson red in less than a second.

“Well…?” you asked, your voice playful, a little teasing as you caught his stunned expression. “What do you think?”

Spencer blinked rapidly, trying to regain his composure, but the words seemed to be stuck in his throat. He opened his mouth to respond but all that came out was a strangled noise that sounded somewhere between awe and panic.

You smiled, clearly amused by his flustered reaction. “Come on, Spence,” you pressed gently, stepping closer to him, “I need to know if it’s a keeper or not.”

He finally managed to stammer something that resembled coherence. “I-I think… it’s perfect.” He gulped. “You look… incredible.”

You grinned, pleased by his approval. “You sure? I mean, I don’t want to walk around looking bad.”

Spencer shook his head quickly. “No, no, not at all. You… you couldn’t look bad if you tried.”

Your smile softened, and for a moment, the teasing air between you two shifted into something warmer, something real. Spencer was still blushing furiously, but there was a flicker of something deeper in his eyes, something more than just admiration.

“Thanks, Spence,” you said quietly, the playful edge fading as you felt the weight of his gaze on you. It wasn’t just about the swimsuit anymore—it was about the way he looked at you, like you were the most beautiful thing in the room. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough to make you feel it too.

The air between you shifted, the teasing moment turning into something heavier, more charged. You suddenly felt shy, your confidence wavering as you caught the intensity of Spencer’s gaze, still lingering on you.

“Um… Spence?” you asked, your voice softer now.

“Yeah?” he responded, his voice quiet, his eyes still fixed on you like he was in a haze.

You bit your lip, your heart racing as you glanced at the mirror. “Can you, uh… help me adjust the straps? I can’t reach,” you said, the words tumbling out. It was a lie, and you both knew it, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You wanted to feel his hands on you, to see if the tension in the air was something more than just a moment.

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly, but without a word, he stood up, his movements slow and deliberate, almost as if he was on autopilot. He walked toward you, his steps careful, the space between you closing with every second.

You turned to face the mirror inside the changing room, stepping just a little closer to the glass, forcing Spencer to enter the small space with you. The two of you were now standing so close, his breath warm against the back of your neck. You could feel the heat radiating off him as his fingers lightly brushed against your skin, adjusting the strap of the swimsuit with a tenderness that made your pulse quicken.

The moment stretched, neither of you speaking, both of you hyper-aware of the other’s presence. His hands lingered on your shoulders, and when you glanced at his reflection in the mirror, you saw the way his eyes had darkened, his gaze flicking between your face and the curve of your neck.

You swallowed, feeling the tension thick between you. “Spence…” you whispered, turning your head slightly to look up at him over your shoulder.

His gaze locked with yours, and for a moment, it felt like time had stopped. The small space, the mirror, the soft rustling of clothes in the distance—it all faded into the background, leaving just the two of you in this intimate moment.

Without thinking, you turned fully, facing him now. Your heart was beating so fast you were sure he could hear it. His hands were still on your shoulders, his fingers trembling slightly. And then, before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned in, closing the distance between you and pressing your lips softly against his.

Spencer froze for a split second, his mind trying to catch up with what was happening, but then he melted into the kiss, his hands sliding down to your waist, pulling you closer. It was soft at first, shy, tentative, like both of you were testing the waters. But then, as you deepened the kiss, the shyness started to fade, replaced by something warmer, something real.

You pulled back slowly, not wanting to push things too far in such a public place, but you couldn’t resist the tender moment. Your thumb dragged lightly across Spencer’s bottom lip, his mouth curving into a soft smile under your touch.

“I hope that was okay,” you whispered, suddenly afraid to break the delicate bubble the two of you had created. The world outside seemed distant, as though it didn’t exist beyond this tiny, intimate space.

Spencer let out a soft laugh, his voice still filled with a mix of awe and shyness. “Considering that was my first kiss, it was amazing.”

You blinked, looking at him in shock. “That was your first kiss? Oh, Spencer, I’m so sorry! I didn’t even ask if you—” But before you could finish your frantic apology, Spencer leaned down and kissed you again, his hands resting on your waist, pulling you closer.

The kiss was slower this time, more confident. He wasn’t holding back, and neither were you. When he pulled back, his lips barely an inch from yours, he whispered against your skin, “I could not have asked for a better person.”

Your heart swelled at his words, the sincerity in his voice making the moment feel even more special. You couldn’t help but smile, feeling like this was a turning point—something that was destined to happen, like you were meant to share this with him.

—

That night, everything felt light and easy between you and Spencer. The kitchen was filled with laughter and warmth as you both cooked dinner together. Every so often, you’d lean over to steal a playful kiss, the steam from the boiling noodles creating a cozy, almost magical atmosphere around you. Spencer’s awkwardness had melted away by then, replaced with a soft confidence that showed in the way he kissed you back, teasing you as he pretended to stir the sauce.

After dinner, you found yourselves sitting on the floor, playing a few rounds of Mancala, each of you laughing as you tried to out-strategize the other. But eventually, the pull of the hot tub outside became too tempting to resist.

You changed into your new swimsuit and waited outside, the night air cool against your skin but the anticipation of the hot water—and of Spencer—keeping you warm. When he finally stepped outside, you couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your lips.

There he was, standing in the doorway in blue banana-print swim trunks, his lanky frame looking more adorable than you could have imagined. You felt a rush of excitement at seeing him like this, so much of him exposed, his vulnerability on full display in the cutest way possible.

“Don’t laugh,” Spencer whined, clearly embarrassed, his cheeks flushing pink.

“Spence, they’re cute!” you reassured him, still grinning as you tried to hold back more laughter. You walked over and tugged lightly at the waistband of his trunks, giving him a playful smile. “I love them.”

He looked at you, his shyness melting away under your warmth, and after a moment, he finally smiled. “You’re just saying that.”

“No, I mean it,” you said, stepping closer, your hands resting on his chest. “They’re very you.”

Spencer rolled his eyes but his smile remained, his hand coming up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear before taking your hand and leading you toward the hot tub. The playful teasing was replaced by a quiet excitement, the warmth of the tub waiting for you both.

You and Spencer settled into the hot tub, the warmth of the water enveloping both of you as you leaned back, the night sky above dotted with stars. The steam curled around your bodies, making everything feel soft and dreamlike. You let out a contented sigh, closing your eyes for a moment.

“This is perfect,” you murmured, glancing over at Spencer, who was sitting stiffly on the opposite side, his hands gripping the edge of the tub.

“It’s… nice,” he replied, though his face was scrunched up in thought, like something was bothering him.

You raised an eyebrow at him, amused by his hesitance. “You okay, Spence?”

He hesitated for a moment, then blurted, “Do you know how many germs are in a hot tub?”

You burst out laughing, completely caught off guard. “What? No! Spencer, don’t ruin this for me!” you teased, splashing a little water in his direction.

“I’m serious!” he insisted, his voice rising slightly as he adjusted his glasses, which were already fogging up from the steam. “Hot tubs are like… breeding grounds for bacteria. The warm water creates the perfect environment for microorganisms to thrive, and if the pH or chlorine levels aren’t properly maintained, it can lead to a whole range of infections—skin, respiratory, you name it.”

You giggled, shaking your head in disbelief. “Only you would bring up bacteria in a hot tub. Come on, relax for once!”

Spencer’s face was a mix of genuine concern and embarrassment as he continued, clearly unable to stop himself now that he’d gotten started. “No, really, the CDC recommends monitoring hot tub water regularly because—"

You cut him off by playfully splashing him again, this time a bit more, laughing as you watched him sputter, pushing his glasses up as they slid down his nose.

“Okay, okay, I get it!” you said between fits of giggles. “But you’re in here now, so unless you want to hop out and start running tests, you’re just going to have to deal with it.”

Spencer looked at you for a moment, as if considering the possibility of actually running tests, but then he laughed softly, shaking his head. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, though there was a fondness in his voice that made you smile.

“Look, the hot tub may be full of germs, but at least I’m not,” you teased, leaning a little closer to him. “So how about you just focus on me instead of all the invisible bacteria?”

He blinked, his eyes darting between yours and the water for a moment before he finally let out a breath and relaxed, a small smile playing on his lips. “You make a good argument,” he admitted.

“See?” you said, inching even closer to him, your shoulders almost touching. “Now, doesn’t this feel better than worrying about germs?”

Spencer chuckled, his arm sliding across the back of the tub as he allowed himself to relax a bit more. “Yeah,” he admitted softly. “Much better.”

The playful conversation in the hot tub eventually faded into a comfortable silence, the only sound being the soft bubbling of the water. You noticed Spencer had gone quiet, and when you glanced over at him, you realized why. His eyes kept darting down to your chest, unable to hide his fascination.

You tried to hold back a giggle but couldn’t. “Spence… my eyes are up here,” you teased, raising an eyebrow at him.

He immediately flushed red, looking away in embarrassment. “I-I’m sorry! It’s just… I didn’t know that…” He trailed off, unsure how to finish his sentence without digging himself deeper into the hole of awkwardness he had created.

“Didn’t know what?” you asked, amused by how flustered he was becoming. “That they could float?”

Spencer hesitated before nodding, clearly mortified. “Well… yeah,” he admitted quietly. “I guess I didn’t think about it before, but, uh, it’s interesting. Scientifically, I mean.”

You couldn’t help but burst out laughing, causing Spencer’s blush to deepen even further. “Oh, Spence, you’re adorable,” you said, still giggling. “They’re just balls of fat, you know?”

He blinked at you, his curiosity piqued now that you’d made it sound so simple. “I guess that makes sense,” he murmured, still staring despite his best efforts to focus on something else.

A playful, daring thought popped into your head then. You leaned in closer, biting your lip slightly before whispering, “You know… if you want, you can touch them.”

Spencer’s eyes went wide, his face turning an even deeper shade of red. “W-What?” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. He looked at you in disbelief, as if he wasn’t sure whether he’d heard you correctly.

You smiled, your expression soft but teasing. “I’m serious,” you said, your voice gentle but laced with curiosity. “It’s okay if you want to. I mean… it’s not like I mind.”

For a moment, Spencer seemed frozen, his mind likely racing through a million thoughts all at once. You could see the internal battle on his face—his logical brain warring with his curiosity and the undeniable attraction between the two of you. Finally, he swallowed hard and nodded, still unsure but willing to trust you.

Slowly, almost cautiously, his hand reached out, fingers trembling slightly as they hovered near your chest. When his hand finally made contact, his touch was soft and hesitant, like he was afraid to hurt you. His wide eyes stayed fixed on you the entire time, clearly amazed by the experience but also checking to make sure you were okay with it.

“Wow,” he breathed out, his voice barely audible, his fingers gently tracing the curve of your breast as if he were studying it in awe. You could see the genuine fascination on his face, his scientific curiosity mixing with something much more intimate.

You smiled softly at him, letting him take his time, feeling the weight of the moment between you two. This wasn’t just a playful interaction anymore—it had shifted into something more vulnerable, more personal. And in that moment, you both felt it.

"Spencer?" you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He looked up, his wide eyes meeting yours, his hands still gently fondling your breasts as if he were afraid to break the delicate moment between you. "Yeah?" he responded, his voice just as soft, the world around you both feeling smaller, quieter.

"Kiss me," you breathed out, the words slipping from your lips like a secret you’d been holding in, waiting for just the right moment to share.

For a second, Spencer just stared at you, his mind seemingly struggling to catch up with what you had said. Then, slowly, as if in a trance, he leaned in, his breath warm against your lips. His hands, still resting on your chest, slid down to your waist, pulling you closer as he closed the distance between you.

The kiss was soft, tender at first, like he was still testing the waters, but the heat between you was undeniable. His lips pressed against yours with more confidence as the moment deepened, his touch growing bolder. You could feel the tremble in his hands, the nervousness and excitement coursing through him, mirroring your own feelings.

You leaned into him, your arms sliding around his neck as the kiss deepened. The steam from the hot tub swirled around you both, but the warmth between you was far more intense than the water. When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathing heavily, your foreheads resting against each other.

"Spence…" you whispered, your voice filled with a mixture of affection and awe. You could feel the shift between you two, the unspoken understanding that this moment had changed everything.

He smiled shyly, his hands still resting gently on your skin. "That… was amazing," he whispered back, his voice filled with wonder, as if he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.

You grinned, pressing a soft kiss to his lips again, a silent promise of more to come.

That night, under the soft glow of the moon and the warmth of the water still clinging to your skin, you and Spencer shared something deeper than either of you had anticipated. What started as tender kisses turned into a night of exploration, vulnerability, and intimacy. You took each other’s virginity, not in a rushed or hurried way, but slowly, carefully, cherishing each touch, each whispered word of affection.

It wasn’t just physical; it felt like you were sharing more than just your bodies. You both made quiet promises, unspoken at first, then whispered into the darkness—promises of staying together, of not letting this be a fleeting summer memory. You could feel the weight of it, the significance of this moment between you two, and you knew Spencer felt it too.

By the time the night faded into dawn, you were no longer just friends. You had come to the lake house as two people testing the waters of something deeper, but you were leaving as partners, bound by the connection you had built together over these few days. It felt like the start of something real, something lasting. And in your heart, you knew it was.

—

A year later, everything had fallen into place in ways you couldn’t have imagined. You and Spencer were stronger than ever, navigating your lives together as you both pursued your dreams. Spencer was deep into his PhD program, doing incredible work that often left you in awe of just how brilliant he was. You, on the other hand, had officially taken ownership of the bookstore after Mr. Jannell, the original owner, retired, and though it was a huge responsibility, it felt like you were carving out a life you were proud of. At just 19, both of you were on paths that felt meaningful and fulfilling.

Spencer had taken you to meet his mom, Diana, and you two had bonded almost instantly. Diana adored you, and before long, the two of you were “thick as thieves,” as Spencer liked to put it—sometimes much to his own chagrin. He’d always joke about how he couldn’t keep up with the way you and his mother teamed up against him during conversations, but deep down, you knew how much it meant to him that you got along so well.

When it came time for you to introduce Spencer to your family, it was a bit more complex. Your mom and her girlfriend liked Spencer well enough, and while he was perfectly polite, the truth was, you didn’t care much about their approval. The meeting you were really excited for was the one with your dad. He lived in Oregon, and though you had once planned to move there to be closer to him, meeting Spencer had changed your plans.

The trip to Oregon was everything you had hoped it would be. Your dad and Spencer hit it off immediately, bonding over literature, fine arts, sports statistics, and even chess. You could see the relief on Spencer’s face when he realized that your dad was a kind-hearted, free spirit—someone who truly understood and appreciated you. It meant the world to Spencer to have a father figure he could trust, and your dad made sure to let him know that he was always welcome to reach out, even giving him his personal number.

It was during that trip that both you and Spencer felt the confirmation that you were absolutely perfect for each other. The shared dreams, the easy companionship, the way your lives fit together—it all seemed to point to something greater.

So, when Spencer finished his PhD program at the age of 20, it felt like the most natural next step when he proposed. The way he looked at you, the ring in his hand, and the soft words he spoke made your heart swell. You had come so far together, and now, the future stretched out before you, full of possibilities you were ready to explore as partners for life.

"Oh my god, Spencer, yes!" you screamed, your heart racing with excitement. "Of course I'll marry you!"

And just like that, everything changed. You and Spencer were married, two best friends who had found each other in your small hometown and realized there was no one else in the world you’d rather spend your life with. It felt surreal at times—how lucky you were to have met and married someone who knew you better than anyone, someone who adored every part of you.

Spencer, for his part, was over the moon. He couldn’t believe that he’d found the perfect woman who not only supported him but loved him in ways he never thought possible. You were his best friend, his confidant, and now, his wife. It was a dream come true, and there wasn’t a day that passed where he didn’t marvel at the life you were building together.

Diana was beyond thrilled for the two of you, offering nothing but love and encouragement. Your father had been equally supportive, loving Spencer like a son from the moment they met. As for your mom and her girlfriend, they had expressed concern about how young you both were, warning you about the challenges of getting married so early in life. But, as always, their warnings fell on deaf ears—you had never really taken their advice to heart, especially when it came to matters of the heart.

You and Spencer knew, deep down, that what you had was real and lasting. You had both seen the future stretched out before you, and it was full of promise—promises you were ready to make good on, together.

—

It wasn’t until two years into your marriage that the cracks started to show, subtle at first but growing more obvious as time passed. Spencer had been on the lookout for new work, eager to challenge himself in ways his current job couldn’t. So when the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI reached out to him, it felt like a sign—an opportunity to use his big, brilliant mind in ways that could really make a difference. You couldn’t have been more proud of him when he told you, beaming as he shared the news. Your heart swelled with pride.

But the excitement quickly turned into a complicated issue. You had worked so hard over the past few years, growing your business until you owned not just one but two popular storefronts. Both were thriving, and while you had employees, your presence was necessary almost daily to keep things running smoothly. There was always something that needed your attention, always a fire to put out. The idea of uprooting everything and moving to Virginia for Spencer’s new role felt impossible—laughable even.

The moment Spencer saw how you reacted, the light in his eyes dimmed. He didn’t argue, didn’t push the idea. Instead, he swallowed his feelings and forced a smile, telling you that it was okay, that he didn’t need to move, that his job at Caltech was enough. He could stay. How could he tell the love of his life that he did want more? That he wanted to move, grow, and do something that felt more important than the work he was doing here?

So, he stayed silent. He resolved to push the opportunity aside and stay in California, continuing his work in the engineering department. But you noticed. Over the next few months, Spencer changed. He wasn’t the same bright-eyed, enthusiastic man who used to come home excited to tell you about his day. Instead, he was coming home fatigued, emotionally drained, going to bed earlier than usual and struggling to get up in the mornings. There was a heaviness about him, a weariness that worried you more with each passing day.

You could see the signs, but you didn’t know what was causing them. Your heart ached with the thought that Spencer might be struggling with something deeper, something like depression. You didn’t know how to help him, and that uncertainty weighed on you both.

“Hey, baby,” you greeted softly as Spencer walked through the door. He dropped his bag and jacket in the hall closet before slumping onto the couch next to you, immediately curling into your side, his head finding its usual spot against your chest.

“Hi,” he mumbled, his voice muffled as he pressed his face into you, seeking comfort.

You instinctively began stroking his hair, knowing it always soothed him. “How was your day?” you asked, trying to keep your tone light, even though you could already sense that something was wrong.

“Boring,” he muttered. “Long.”

You hummed softly, continuing to run your fingers through his hair. “I was thinking,” you began hesitantly, “maybe this weekend we could go visit your mom?”

Spencer’s head lifted slightly, his eyes suddenly alert with concern. “Why? Is she okay?”

You quickly shook your head, reaching for his hands. “Yes, love, she’s fine,” you assured him. “It’s just… I can tell you’ve been feeling down recently, and I thought seeing your mom might help. Maybe it would lift your spirits.”

Spencer huffed a breath through his nose, his gaze shifting to the side as he pulled away slightly. “It won’t.”

Your concern deepened, and you searched his face, wondering what was really going on. “What do you mean?” you asked softly, your voice laced with worry.

Spencer sighed heavily, the weight of whatever he had been holding back finally too much to bear. “I got fired today,” he admitted, his voice flat, like he was trying to keep the emotion out of it.

Your heart dropped. “What? Baby, why?” you asked, your tone frantic, already running through every possible reason in your mind.

“I told my boss about the offer from the FBI,” he explained, his hands fidgeting as he spoke. “They said if they fired me, then I could collect unemployment until I start my new job and I would get a severance package.”

Your heart stopped. The words hung in the air, heavy and sharp. “...Start your new job?” you repeated slowly, barely able to get the words out.

Spencer nodded, his gaze still averted. “I accepted the job in Virginia,” he said, his voice quiet, almost as if he were afraid to say it out loud.

“Without telling me? Or asking me?” Your voice trembled slightly as you tried to keep your emotions in check.

Spencer, exhausted and clearly fed up, scoffed, “I didn’t think I needed your permission.”

His tone carried a sharpness that stung, a sass that only came out when he was truly drained. It wasn’t like him to be dismissive, but this felt different. You took a breath, trying to steady yourself.

“No, you don’t,” you said flatly, your voice colder than you intended. “But I am your wife, and I’m pretty sure that decision is going to impact us both. I would have liked to have a say.”

Spencer let out a frustrated breath, his posture stiffening. “So you could say no again?” he snapped, his exhaustion now seeping into anger.

You stared at him, bewildered. “When did I ever say no?” you asked, your voice rising with disbelief.

“When I brought it up the first time, you laughed!” Spencer shot back, his voice louder now, frustration overtaking the sadness that had been weighing him down. “You didn’t take me seriously.”

Your heart raced, and you could feel the tension building. Fighting like this wasn’t something you were used to, especially with him. You hated this feeling of everything slipping through your fingers. “Baby, I didn’t know you were seriously considering it. You never brought it up again.”

“I didn’t want you to tell me we couldn’t make it work,” he said, his voice cracking with sadness now. The frustration in his eyes dimmed, replaced by a deep hurt that made your chest ache.

You stared at him, the weight of his words settling in. This wasn’t just a fight about a job. It was about more—about unspoken fears, miscommunication, and the silent distance that had crept in between the two of you. You had both been living in your own worlds, not realizing how far apart you were drifting.

The silence between you was heavy, and for the first time, the possibility that maybe—just maybe—you were heading in different directions hung in the air.

“I didn’t say we couldn’t make it work,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, your own sadness mixing with the confusion. “But you made the decision without me… and that’s what hurts.”

Spencer looked at you, his eyes softening, but there was something there—an understanding, maybe—that this was bigger than either of you had anticipated. He hadn’t thought you’d react like this. You hadn’t expected him to push forward without you.

And in that moment, the future you both had built together seemed fragile, hanging in the balance of a choice neither of you had prepared for.

“What are you saying?” Spencer asked carefully, his voice softening, though there was still a thread of hope lingering in his words. “We can make it work? You’ll move with me?”

You hesitated, the weight of his question sinking in. You had both avoided the depth of this conversation for so long, but now it was staring you in the face. “Spencer… I have my stores,” you began, trying to make him understand the complexity of the situation, the commitment you had to your work.

“Can’t you sell them? Or… run them from Virginia?” he suggested, his tone almost casual, as if the solution were that simple.

You blinked, staring at him in disbelief. “It’s not that easy, Spence,” you replied, your voice tight with frustration. “If something goes wrong, I need to be there. I need to be in person to fix it. It’s my business. I can’t just run it from across the country.”

Spencer ran a hand through his hair, clearly agitated, his frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “I just… my work is important too. Don’t you see that? I’m talking about saving lives, helping people in ways that can make a real difference.”

You felt the sting of his words, the implication behind them cutting deeper than you expected. “What are you saying, Spencer?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly, a mixture of disbelief and hurt. “That what I do doesn’t matter?”

Spencer shook his head quickly. “No, that’s not what I meant—”

“But that’s exactly what it sounds like,” you interrupted, your voice louder now, the hurt rising to the surface. “You think because I’m not saving lives, because I’m not doing what you’re doing, that it’s less important? These stores… they mean everything to me. Just because it’s not life or death doesn’t mean it’s not important.”

“I guess I thought I meant everything to you,” Spencer whispered, tears spilling down his cheeks, his voice trembling with heartbreak.

Your own tears began to fall, your chest tightening as you watched the love of your life in such pain. “I thought so too,” you replied, your voice cracking. “But… would you leave everything behind and move across the country for me?” It was a question that hung heavy between you, one that neither of you had ever truly confronted before.

Spencer stared at you, his eyes red and glassy. “What is this?” he asked, his voice shaky. “Are we… are we breaking up?”

Your heart shattered at the thought, and you sobbed softly. “I don’t… I don’t know, Spence. But if you’re moving, I don’t see how we can make this work.” The weight of that reality crushed you both, the finality of it sinking in.

“You won’t even think about coming with me?” Spencer asked, his voice laced with desperation. He wanted to believe there was a chance, a way to bridge the gap.

You shook your head slowly, wiping at your tear-streaked face. “Not right now, not when I’m just getting started. I can’t walk away from it.”

Spencer stood then, his movements sharp, final. “Well, I’m just getting started too,” he said, his voice breaking as he tried to hold back his emotions. “Maybe… maybe we were too young.”

You looked up at him, crying harder now. “You don’t mean that,” you choked out, shaking your head. The idea that he could regret the life you’d built together was too much to bear.

But Spencer looked down at you, his face full of sadness and regret. “I think I do,” he said softly, the words hanging between you like a dark cloud. “What were we thinking? We didn’t know what we were going to do with our lives. We should have waited, or… or talked about the future more.”

His words cut deep, each one a painful reminder of how far apart you had grown. The love was still there, strong and undeniable, but the reality of your different paths, your conflicting dreams, was threatening to tear you apart. And neither of you had any idea how to stop it.

—

At the airport, you walked Spencer as far as security would allow, neither of you ready to let go just yet. The reality of the moment weighed heavily on both of you, and as you pulled him into a tight hug, the tears flowed freely, unbidden.

“Spencer,” you whispered as you pulled back slightly, holding his face in your hands so you could look into his eyes. “I am so proud of you. You’re an amazing, wonderful, brilliant person, and you’re going to do great things. Please, don’t be a stranger.”

Spencer smiled through his tears, his expression soft but filled with pain. “Thank you, Y/N. That means so much coming from you. I know you’re going to do great things too. Keep me updated—I still want to be involved in your life.”

You nodded, your heart breaking as you tried to smile through the sadness. “I love you so much, Spence.”

“I love you too, Y/N,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion. “More than I can handle.”

The two of you stood there, holding each other, neither wanting to let go. It felt like an eternity and no time at all before the final call for his flight came over the loudspeaker. Reluctantly, Spencer pulled away, wiping his eyes as he looked at you one last time.

And then, just like that, he was gone.

You stood there for a moment, watching him disappear through security, the reality of it all hitting you like a wave. Alone, 22 years old, divorced, and still in your hometown, the life you’d imagined for the two of you now felt like a distant dream.

To be continued…

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

tag list <333 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @khxna @noelliece @dreamsarebig @sleepey-looney @cocobean16 @placidus @criminalmindssworld @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @charismatic-writer @fxoxo @hearts4spensco @furrybouquettrash @kathrynlakestone @chaneladdicted @time-himself @mentallyunwellsposts @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @gilwm @reggieswriter @loumouse @spencerreidsreads @i-live-in-spite @fanfic-viewer @bootylovers44 @atheniandrinkscoffee @niktwazny303 @dead-universe @hbwrelic @kniselle @cynbx @danielle143

389 notes · View notes