#she is simply . ponderable | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

suncoved · 3 months

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RAFE, SCARY? PFFT ! — RAFE CAMERON

pairing; boyfriend!rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary: you had the most loving, sweet, precious boyfriend in the world. so why were your new found friends so scared of him?

prompt: “you let anything happen to her and i’ll fucking kill you, alright?”

you could barely contain your happiness as you applied your 5th layer of glittery lipgloss on your lips, holding the decorated pink tube in your manicured fingers. you batted your eyelids at the clock hung on rafe's wall.

kiara told you to be there at 8:00 and it was currently 7:30.

but you didn't want to be late, so leaving now was a good plan for you.

you had never met kiara's friends before. you had been best friends with her your whole life, but after she and sarah split, they told you you had to pick a side. and you would never tell sarah that the main reason you picked her was because of her psychotic older brother who was always roaming aimlessly around tannyhill.

sarah was your best friend, and you wouldn't trade her for the world.

but you couldn't help but ponder over what would have happened if you picked kiara, what life you would have had.

you missed her, truly. so when faced with the oppurtity to reconnect with her through your mothers exchanging numbers on one random night at the wreck, you took it.

and before you knew it she was inviting you to come down to the boneyard with some of her friends from the cut, to which you accepted gratefully.

you were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard the bathroom door click open, the steam rolling out from underneath it like a tidal wave. you turned your head softly at the noise, placing the lipgloss applicator quickly back in the tube.

beads of water trickled down his v line, escaping into the beige towel wrapped around his waist into a place you didn't even have the time to imagine. he lifted his hand up to his head, running a hand through his now brown hair that had darkened from getting wet under the stream of water.

"quick rafe we have to go!" you whined, trying to avoid eye contact with the 6'2 tall build distraction in front of you. you shuffled around the room, going into his closet and picking out clothes for him to quickly put on since he insisted — well — demanded, on driving you down to the boneyard.

you shoved the clothes into his hands, his hand making contact with yours momentarily, creating a spark between the two of you. your cheeks flushed as you quickly looked away, turning around and taking a seat at the foot of the bed.

you watched as he made no effort to move, a smirk you know all too well gracing his face. "rafe, i mean it. get changed" you groaned as you pushed your palms into the soft covers of his king sized bed.

"if you wanted to see me naked baby, you could just say that."

your cheeks quickly turned into the darkest shade of pink you could imagine, your hands quickly reached up to your face, covering your eyes as you huffed softly.

he scoffed at your movements, reaching over to spread your fingers apart so you could see through them. "im just joking ma, you've seen it all before." he winked, moving back to see the full sight of him while lifting his bicep up and flexing it in your face.

you jokingly rolled your eyes, falling onto the bed so you were now staring at the ceiling. your fingers found their way to each other, nervously intertwining as you thought.

you heard rafe shuffling around near his closet, his fly ziping up and the clink of his belt being melody to your ears. "what if they don't like me?"

your voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. if rafe wasn't listening he definitely would have missed it. but he always listens.. to you.

"impossible" he stated simply, using a tone that left no room for discussion. he didn't use that tone often, but when he did, you stayed quiet.

you chewed on your bottom lip, knitting your brows together.

you were so lucky to have rafe in your life. he was kind, caring and patient and always knew how to calm your anxiety.

honestly, you were surprised he let you go down to the beach with the pogues in the first place. you tried your best to keep out of that whole kook-pouge turf war as best as possible. to you, it was immature, unnecessary and just pointless. but it had been around on the island since before you could remember.

though, it was safe to say that you and rafe didn't see eye to eye on that topic. he didn't like the pogues, not one bit. and he made that very, very clear.

he knew how much you loved kiara, and how your face lit up when your mother's voice echoed through rafe's car speakers when she called you after seeing kiara's mother.

it took him longer to warm up to the idea that you would be seeing her whole friend group, which consists of just pogues, and most importantly, jj maybank.

there was nothing more rafe hated than jj maybank.

yet, he knew how happy this would make you. and he was willing to do this, for you. only for you.

"ready bubs" rafe announces, smoothing his polo down haphazardly and stuffing his feet into his shoes. he hears you pulling yourself up and off his bed, your socked feet padding over to him and resting your head on his chest.

he smiles and he brings his arms around your body. sighing contently as he places a kiss on your head before resting his chin on you. "they are gonna love you, like everyone loves you. don't think for a second that they won't"

you giggle against him, somehow trying to push yourself further into him, which was impossible.

"no im being serious baby, i have some serious competition." rafe huffed, pulling himself back from you and looking at your face peering up at him.

"shut up" you joke, your cheeks burning as you blushed at his words. he leaned down until his lips met yours, bringing his fingers to your chin and lifting your head up.

you two melted into each other, your sweet strawberry lipgloss coating his lips quickly. he didn't care though, he was kissing you. so nothing else mattered.

you were losing yourself in his touch, not noticing he was slowly pushing you back until your calfs hit the back of his dark oak bed frame and your body eventually fell against the soft fabric of his covers.

he slipped his hand up your lacy white cami, dragging his fingers up and down the soft skin of your stomach. he detached his lips from yours as his cold slender fingers slipped under the wire of your bra, kissing his way down your neck and chest.

you bit your now chapped lips as you looked down the the brunette boy making goosebumps appear over your skin. you threw your head back against his pillow closing your eyes and opening them again as your head lulled to the side.

your eyes fixated to the clock resting on his wall, reading 7:54. your mind ticked for a second before realising where you needed to be in exactly six minutes, gasping rather dramaticlly.

rafe's head snaps up to look at you, his eyes hooded with worry and hunger at the same time. it was only when he followed your eyes to his sleek white clock that he realised what had happened.

he rolled his eyes and he pulled your shirt back over your stomach, leaving one last searing kiss before smoothing the material down.

"rafe we have to go, now. now!" you whisper yelled almost slipping and you tried to put on your shoes while you hobbled out of his bedroom.

"baby, baby." he spoke, hopping up and walking quickly after you. he reached out to your waist holding you stable so you didn't slip over and hurt yourself.

"ok, ok. ill be careful. lets just go!" you gasped, trying to wiggle out of his firm grip. he chuckled as he let go, watching as you speed down the stairs of tannyhill and down to his white jeep parked out the front.

it was a fairly uneventful ride down to the boneyard, rafe's hand resting on your bouncing leg the whole time, slightly soothing the nervous feeling arising in your chest.

"c'mon baby, we're here" he voiced, opening his car door before quickly jumping out and circling the car before he opened yours for you. your eyes drifted down to the beach as rafe helped you out of his rather tall car.

a blonde boy with a backward cap resting on his head sat on a log with two other boys around your age, beers resting in their hands as they talked. your eyes followed along the beach where you saw kiara picking up trash along the shore, smiling brightly to yourself.

rafe intertwined his hand with yours, tightly squeezing it as he narrowed his eyes at the people on the beach. "you don't have to drink yeah? just tell them no, ok?" rafe spoke.

you nodded softly, peering up at him through your lashes to see his face stern and menacing.

you began walking first, dragging rafe softly behind you as your shoes hit the soft sand below you. you kept your eyes glued to your feet the whole way until you heard voices now crystal clear echoing through your ears.

"hey, you made it!" kiara exclaimed, bringing her arms around you as you let go of rafes hand. "hi kie" you murmured into her shoulder, embracing her into a soft hug.

"hey, rafe. what're you doing down these parts?" the blonde boy asked, standing up from his spot on the large log he was sitting down on before. you saw rafe tick his jaw to the side as you pulled away from kiara, his tongue sliding through the front of his teeth.

"just dropping her off maybank, not here to stay" rafe remarked, turning his attention to you as he leaned down and placed a kiss on your cheek, ghosting his hands over your sides as he pulled back from you.

"call me when you need me to pick you up yeah?" rafe said, keeping his eyes on you as you nodded hastily. he smiled sweetly at you, watching as kiara grabbed your hand a pulled you down to the shore, showing you the tiny baby turtles rushing into the water in front of you.

"hey jj" rafe said, turning his head to the boy standing a few feet from him, not daring to come any closer. rafe watched as he nodded cautiously, pursing his lips together as to almost prepare himself for what rafe was about to say.

rafe took a few steps before he reached jj, grabbing the fabric of his shirt and hoisting him up until they were face to face.

“you let anything happen to her and i’ll fucking kill you, alright?"

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #outer banks #obx #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks

7K notes · View notes

dancingbirdie · 7 months

Note

Okay so on Astarion, I was reading this fic about him not knowing Tavs true intentions with him and it bothering Astarion a lot, so what if he goes to some mage or magic user and asks them to show Tavs true intentions to him, when he does the vision he sees is just... being snuggled. It's Tav on top of him and the both of you are falling asleep, his hands are under your shirt softly petting your skin as your sleepy self is contently snuggled up to him. I just start crying about him finding out that Tavs DASTARDLY and EVIL plan with him, their greatest desire from him... is to simply be held. 🥺

Hi @goblin-creatcher! Thank you so much for this BEAUTIFUL prompt. I, uhh, kind of took it and went a million miles an hour with it. This is honestly one of my favorite things I've ever written. I hope you enjoy it as well! xoxoxo

Something Imagined / Something Real

Word Count: 3.9K

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Astarion x f!Tav

Warnings/Tags: Brief but detailed description of rough consensual sex, descriptions and references to Astarion's trauma/trauma responses, minor Act 1 and Act 2 spoilers, FLUFF, angst

Suggested Song Pairing: Slow Dancing in A Burning Room (Stripped) - cover by ST LUNA

Summary: Astarion has been suspicious of Tav’s true intentions toward him. He persuades Gale to cast a spell and reveal her motivations. ANGST and FLUFF ensue. A rewriting of Astarion’s confession scene from Act 2.

The sun had just begun to set on the campsite when Astarion decided to put his plan into action. He had waited until Tav departed with some of the other party members before making his way over to the wizard. Gale was too busy reassembling the bookshelf inside his tent to notice Astarion’s approach. It wasn’t until he gave a polite cough that Gale jumped and whirled to face him.

“No, no, no,” he began all at once, hands raised in a sort of shooing motion. Astarion stared at him in confusion. “I can respect Tav’s indulging in your need for blood, but as I’ve said before: I taste terrible.”

Astarion scoffed. “Charming. Actually, wizard, I was coming to request your aid in a different, though somewhat related, matter.”

“Really? Care to elaborate?” Gale responded, still somewhat wary. It wasn’t often he found himself alone with the vampire.

“Testy, I see,” Astarion crooned teasingly. His knee-jerk response to people treating him like a monster, to behave in the most false saccharine sort of way.

But he drew up short, censoring himself before saying anything else he might regret. He knew he needed to get on the wizard’s good side if he had any chance of getting the answers he sought.

“I was hoping you knew a spell to reveal someone’s true intentions. Their… motivations for behaving in a certain way, so to speak,” he finished more seriously.

Gale pondered the question for a moment before answering.

“Hmm… yes, there is magic to determine that sort of thing… Although it’s been some time since I practiced it…” He trailed off, rubbing his chin in thought.

“Why are you asking for such a thing?” he asked suddenly.

Astarion had been prepared for this question, of course. No one did anything for free, no questions asked. He delivered his explanation perfectly, as he’d been rehearsing in his mind.

“One might say our dear sweet Tav and I have been growing a bit… closer these days, but I can sense a master manipulator when I see one. I just simply want to ensure their intentions toward me - toward the party - are true,” he replied with mock innocence.

“Ah, yes,” Gale nodded. “I gathered as much when the two of you slipped away from the tiefling’s party a few nights ago.”

“But,” he continued on,”I needn’t think you should worry when it comes to Tav. She seems about as transparent as they come. I’m sure any intentions she has toward you are true.”

Yes, but the best actors always mask their motivations behind innocence and transparency, Astarion thought to himself. I should know. I’ve been doing it for centuries.

After the party’s unfortunate meeting with that Gur in the Sunlit Wetlands, Astarion realized he would have to take potential threats from Cazador even more seriously. He wasn’t about to lose his freedom, not now that he finally had some small taste of it.

It didn’t hurt to be more suspicious of everyone he encountered, even the sweetling Tav. Anyone could be an operative sent by Cazador, and the best ones would be as skilled as he was in the art of manipulation. It was well-known at this point that the person he’d grown the closest to on their journey was their brave party leader, Tav. Unlikely as it may be that she was scheming for his master, Astarion’s paranoia wouldn’t let him indulge in interactions with her a second longer unless he knew how she truly felt.

Given Gale’s hesitation, Astarion knew he would have to kick his acting up a notch. Press on that wizard’s heartstrings. Touch the one nerve he knew he was sensitive to.

“Gale, darling, from one literally damaged soul to another, indulge me just this once,” Astarion beseeched him.

The wizard glared at him a moment, before finally relenting with a heavy sigh. “Fine. Fine. But I want it known that I don’t agree with this so-called solution one whit,” he grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Yes, yes, noted and formally documented, on my word as a former Baldurian magistrate,” Astarion replied cheerily. “So, let’s hop to it then, shall we?”

“What, right now?” Gale asked, shocked. “Shouldn’t we be, I don’t know, a little less conspicuous?”

“What better time than now?” Astarion responded. “Tav’s out gathering firewood with Wyll and Karlach. They won’t be back for some time. As for Lae’zel and Shadowheart, well…” he paused, gesturing over his shoulder.

Said two were engaged in a heated sparring session on the outskirts of the camp. Snarls and curses could be heard emanating from both warriors as they tried, and failed, to gain the upper hand against their opponent.

“That lovers’ dance could go on until morning,” Astarion finished.

“Fair point,” Gale admitted begrudgingly, grimacing at the sound of swords clashing violently. “Very well. Let’s get started.”

Clearing his throat, Gale began to utter a series of phrases completely foreign to Astarion. He watched as the wizard began moving his hands in a wavelike pattern, forming a circle before them. Suddenly, a mist began to form from seemingly thin air, taking shape according to the boundaries Gale’s hands were creating. The mist grew more and more opaque until it appeared before them like a clouded mirror.

As the fogginess of the ethereal magic began to clear, the “mirror” became a confusing blur of scenes whipping by, too fast for Astarion or Gale to really comprehend. There were flashes of Tav and Astarion, together and separate, but they disappeared too quickly to ascertain their context. It was as though the spell was shuffling through the entirety of Tav’s thoughts, assessing each one at breakneck speed.

Finally, the spell slowed to a halt, stopping on one scene in particular. Astarion was struck speechless by what began playing out in the foggy portal before them. So distracted, he didn’t even notice Gale’s tight cough, or how the wizard suddenly became intensely interested in a copse of trees nearby, rather than the revelation the spell was revealing.

Not that the scene was especially profound, objectively speaking. In fact, to anyone else, it might be viewed as the least revelatory thing possible that the spell could have shown. Boring. Inconsequential, even. But to Astarion, it was almost earth shattering.

He saw himself - he could see his face! - with Tav, lying tangled together in some immaculate four-poster bed.

That was the first shock that coursed through him, nearly causing his knees to buckle. He was seeing himself for the first time in over 200 years. Or at least, he was seeing himself as Tav saw him. And… the person he saw… Well, he was gorgeous. White blonde locks, curled and tousled in a devil-may-care sort of way. A strong, patrician nose that suggested good breeding. High, sharp cheekbones. Full lips, upturned in a thoughtless grin. Red eyes bordered by long, sweeping lashes. Delicately pointed elven ears. Smooth alabaster skin, without blemish or spot.

Astarion could scarcely believe his own eyes.

The second shock to his system was the nature of their activities. He would have been less surprised had the vision shown them fucking. Him taking her roughly from behind perhaps. His name a cry of ecstasy from her lips as he pistoned in and out of her with a feral sort of determination.

Fantasies of lust, of total domination, now those were things he was familiar with inspiring in the minds of the victims he had taken as lovers. It was what he strove for, in all honesty. Desire like that all but ensured he would capture his prey and live to serve another day for his master.

But nothing of the sort was occurring between vision-Tav and himself. Instead, they were just… embracing? What in sweet hells was this?

She lay halfway on top of him. Her hair was mussed, perhaps from sleep or perhaps from previous lovemaking. One hand was drawing absentminded shapes across his chest, her lips trailing behind, leaving kisses in their wake. He watched as vision-Astarion chuckled softly, as his hands slipped beneath her sleepshirt to caress her waist, as he placed an innocent kiss on the top of Tav’s head. Eventually, she reached for his hand. They both watched their fingers intertwine, blissfully content.

It was the purest, unadulterated expression of affection that Astarion had ever seen. Something in his heart quaked at the sight of it. He wanted that moment. He envied, he hated, vision-Astarion for enjoying such apparent happiness.

So absorbed in the vision and its implications, Astarion failed to notice the soft padding of feet that indicated someone’s re-entry into the camp.

“If the two of you are quite finished poking around in my head,” an angry voice suddenly spat from behind them, “I’d appreciate you preserving what little privacy I have left and shutting that damn spell off.”

Mortified, Astarion and Gale turned to see Tav, arms crossed and visibly seething with rage. Gale quickly dispelled the magic with a flick of his wrist. A blush was slowly but surely rising up Tav’s neck to reach her cheeks. Whether from rage or embarrassment, Astarion couldn’t be certain.

“Tav, let us explain-” Astarion started.

“It was his idea-” Gale blurted at the same time, pointing at Astarion.

Both paused, glaring at one another. But Tav would have none of their feeble attempts at backpedaling.

“The explanation doesn’t matter. Whose idea it was doesn’t matter. The fact is that both of you violated the privacy of my mind, which I’ll remind you, has ALREADY been violated by having a bloody tadpole forced inside of it!” Tav shouted. At their words, the camp became enveloped in a heavy silence. Even the crickets ceased their chirping.

Astarion cringed inwardly, knowing the other party members could plainly hear this altercation and had likely stopped whatever it was that they had been doing to listen in. He noted the sounds of swords clanging together had ceased. He was certain Lae’zel and Shadowheart at least were aware of what was happening. Nosy bastards, all of them.

But what disturbed him even more was the realization that Tav’s eyes were welling with tears. She was too proud to acknowledge them or wipe them away. Such was her nature. But they were there nonetheless, and the knowledge that Astarion had brought her to the point of tears was enough to spur a rush of utter self-loathing inside him.

Without another word, Tav turned on her heel and marched stiffly out of camp, toward the direction of a nearby creek they’d identified as a water source earlier in the day.

“I can’t believe I let you convince me to perform that spell,” Gale said as she disappeared between the trees. He dragged his hands down his face.

“How could we have been so doltish, forgetting that all of our privacies have already been violated with this tadpole business?”

Astarion didn’t have an answer to that. At least, not one the wizard could possibly understand.

The thought hadn’t occurred to Astarion, he realized, because violations of privacy had been something so intrinsic to his being for over 200 years. He didn’t even recognize it as something abnormal. Like a fish unaware that the water surrounding it is, in fact, water.

Violations of privacy were a part of life, at least for him. So much so that his request for Gale to perform that magic hadn’t even occurred to him as an overstepping of boundaries. To Astarion, it had simply been a matter of survival. He had needed to know another potentially manipulative person’s true intentions, and so he had found a means to uncover it and maintain the upper hand.

Belatedly, he also realized that Gale’s hesitation to cast the spell had had nothing to do with being inconvenienced for the evening, but because the wizard had known that it was improper to do to another person. If he had misread that, Astarion wondered, then what other truly benevolent behaviors had he mistaken as pragmatic manipulation?

“I need to go find her,” Astarion murmured, clenching and unclenching his fists in an uncharacteristic fit of uncertainty.

“Yes, you do,” Gale asserted. “We both owe her a sincere apology… if she’ll even accept it.”

“I’ll see if I can convince her to come back to camp,” Astarion replied, making to leave in the direction Tav had stormed off.

“Wait,” Gale said, a hand on his shoulder. Astarion turned to meet his gaze.

“Look, well, I’m obviously not an expert in healthy demonstrations of affection. But I do think it’s obvious from what you saw in that spell that Tav well and truly cares about you. In perhaps the purest way possible. Treat that carefully.”

Part of Astarion wanted to laugh aloud in utter hopelessness at the wizard’s advice. Someone cared for him? Truly and purely? No hidden games, no strings attached? Oh certainly, that wouldn’t be a problem for Astarion at all. Obviously, his 200-year existence as a master-manipulator-fetch-hound for a power-hungry vampire lord had perfectly prepared him to respond to this situation in a healthy manner. Obviously.

But all that was too much to reveal to someone he barely knew and too heavy to say aloud. Rather than giving some smarmy retort, Astarion opted instead to give a stiff nod and continue walking toward the edge of camp. He had no idea how he could make things right with Tav, but at the very least he could try.

***

He found Tav sitting on a fallen tree near the edge of the creek bed. Her legs were drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around them as she rested a cheek to her knees. In the waning twilight, she reminded Astarion of some misbegotten gargoyle perched on the roof of a temple, solitary and so very sad.

Her ears twitched as she noted his arrival. Astarion wasn’t trying to be stealthy. On top of everything else, the last thing he needed to do was scare her.

“Can I join you?” he asked softly, wincing to himself at the awkwardness of the question.

The reality was that there was no way to broach this conversation without some stilted beginning, and he hated it. Navigating tricky conversations was normally something he excelled at. But as he was quickly finding, when it related to Tav, nothing in his past life had prepared him to respond to her well.

“If you’d like,” Tav answered tonelessly.

Knowing it was probably the best response he was going to get, Astarion swallowed thickly and moved to sit down on the log next to her.

“I… wanted to… apologize for what you saw, back at camp,” he began.

“Apologize for doing it, or apologize for getting caught?” Tav asked as she turned her head to look at him, resting her other cheek on her knees.

Astarion balked at the question. Her piercing gaze unnerved him. He hadn’t really thought that far.

“Both, I suppose?” he answered honestly, although it sounded more like a question to Tav. She huffed a laugh.

“You know, part of me really wants to yell at you. Scream in your face. Tell you off proper,” she mused.

“So why don’t you?” Astarion asked, perplexed.

Tav didn’t respond at first, just sat there studying him. As if by staring at him long enough, she could project the answer into his mind.

Astarion didn’t interrupt her, much as he would have liked to. Part of him always bristled when people gazed at him for too long. It was unfair that they could study him, when he hadn’t been able to so much as glance at his reflection in over 200 years.

Finally, Tav released a heavy sigh, her body curling further in on itself. She closed her eyes as she spoke.

“Because then I would be just like every other bastard in your life who’s mistreated you.”

Astarion flinched in surprise. Those had not been the sort of words he’d been expecting. The truth of them cut deeper than had she raged at him like she wanted to. It left him feeling even more vulnerable, and that in turn made him want to retreat into the comfort of viciousness.

“I don’t need you to pull any punches,” he scoffed, glaring at her. “Go ahead and say what you will.”

She straightened up at his tone, opening her eyes and returning his glare.

“No. I don’t want to,” she said testily.

“I don’t need your pity,” he hissed. “It’s insulting.”

“Gods damn it all, Astarion!” Tav exclaimed suddenly, causing him to jump in surprise. She threw her hands up in defeat. “I’m not doing anything out of pity! I don’t want to rage at you, because I know that whatever I say right now, I won’t mean it come the morning!��

Astarion blinked. Once again he was left feeling flat footed by the turn of the conversation. Sensing his surprise, Tav continued on with her deluge of words.

“You hurt me tonight, and I’m angry at you - and at Gale, for that matter - for what you did. But you’ve shared enough of your… history… with me, that I realize your behavior is just… just a byproduct of centuries of abuse and manipulation you’ve endured! And I won’t be another abuser in your life. I won’t,” she asserted.

Astarion continued staring at her, as if she were some otherworldly creature that had just wandered across his path. He watched as Tav inhaled a deep breath, releasing it shakily. She turned away from him to peer out into the forest, uncertain. She opened and closed her mouth several times before actually speaking. As if whatever she was about to say was more intimidating to her than anything else she’d said tonight.

“I… care deeply for you, Astarion,” she said quietly. “You obviously saw that in the vision. I’m not playing any games. There’s no hidden motive. I’m not trying to manipulate you.”

She turned to look at him again before continuing, her breathing a bit unsteady.

“I didn’t sleep with you that night of the tiefling party as some sort of maneuver to gain your trust. Although I understand if that was your motivation for doing so.”

Astarion’s expression morphed into one of guilt. But Tav nodded soberly, as if she had already expected it, before continuing on.

“It’s okay. I’m not angry. But I’m putting all my cards on the table now, so to speak. Actually, your decision tonight forced my hand, but I had been planning on telling you soon anyway. So, there you have it. The truth of my intentions. What you do with that information is up to you.”

She turned back to gaze out at their surroundings. Like she was giving him the opportunity to bolt away without her watching him. As if she expected him to flee from her confession.

But Astarion didn’t flee. He remained seated, staring at her in complete wonderment.

“Why?” he asked quietly.

She looked back at him again, confusion evident on her face.

“Why what?”

“Why do you care for me? You’re so… well-adjusted. And I’m well… this,” he finished lamely, placing a hand on his chest.

Tav pursed her lips. “It would be a mistake to misconstrue my empathy for you as me being well-adjusted. Everyone has their own demons, Astarion,” she murmured. “Mine just look different from yours.”

Astarion mulled her words over in his mind, considering them. He leaned forward to brace his forearms on his knees, his head drooping slightly.

“I…,” he started, unsure. “That vision… what it implied… You deserve something real, Tav. You’re incredible… truly.”

Tav closed her eyes, bracing for the fallout. Even though she would accept his decision, whatever it was, she didn’t think she could bear to watch him deny her. It would hurt too much.

“Look. When we met, I had a plan. A nice, simple plan,” he blurted all at once. Rising swiftly to his feet, Tav watched as he began to pace before her, near to bursting with frenetic energy.

“Seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me,” he counted off, laughing half-heartedly. “It was… easy - instinctive. Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it. And all I had to do… was not fall for you… which is where my nice, simple plan fell apart,” he finished, stopping to stand before her.

She held his gaze, speechless.

“I want you,” he whispered fervently. “I want what was in that vision… I want us to be something real.”

Never in a million years had she thought he would respond to her like this. She opened her mouth to speak, but Astarion cut her off with another sudden exclamation.

“I just don’t know what real is,” he confessed, his tone a touch hysterical. Tav knew from his body language that being this transparent was completely out of Astarion’s comfort zone.

“Being… close to someone - any kind of intimacy - was something I performed to lure people back. For him. Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels… tainted. Still brings up those feelings of disgust, and loathing. I… I don’t know how else to be with someone. No matter how much I’d like to,” he finished, staring at her with beseeching eyes, willing her to understand.

Tav rose to her feet, coming to stand before him.

“I don’t want you for your body,” she whispered. “Or to perform any acts of intimacy. We can be together, without sleeping together, for as long as you need.”

“Really,” he asked softly, his voice pitched low, rough with emotion.

“Really,” Tav asserted, giving him a small smile. “Would it be all right if…” she paused, conflicted. He eyed her curiously.

“Could I hug you?” she whispered.

The fact that she asked before doing so caused a well of emotion to spring up inside him. Eyes watering, Astarion nodded.

Slowly, Tav moved forward to wrap her arms around his waist. Her head nestled into the crook of his neck and shoulder. A perfect fit. He felt her exhale a deep sigh.

Tav hugging him was a sensation unlike any he had ever felt. At least, any he could remember feeling. The act of being touched, embraced, without any desire for something more. She just wanted to hold him, feel him close to her. It was incomprehensible to him, but utterly enjoyable, at the same time.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Astarion raised his arms to return Tav’s embrace. Drawing her even closer, he bowed his head to rest his cheek against her hair. It was soft, like the finest silk. He closed his eyes as he inhaled deeply, appreciating her sweet, floral scent.

She made to pull away after a moment, not wishing to overwhelm him. But Astarion gripped her more firmly, a silent urge for them to stay that way a little longer.

“This… this is nice,” he whispered.

He both felt and heard Tav hum contentedly in response.

It wasn’t identical to the vision from Tav’s mind that he had seen, but Astarion reveled in their embrace nonetheless. It felt like the beginning of something new. And for the first time in his very, very long life, Astarion felt excited at the prospects of what would come next.

#astarion #dancingbirdiewrites #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate astarion #baldur’s gate astarion #astarion x f!reader #astarion bg3 #bg3 astarion fic #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic

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evilminji · 3 months

Text

Dani should Kidnap The Clones.

It's basicly protective custody. Preemptive child services, if you will. NONE of these fuckers out here makin adorable clone baby just cause they want kids!

*kicks down the door to your shady lab* Knock Knock! ITS THE POLICE! *Walker's Shock troopers swarm the place as Dani secures the kids*

Look me in the eyes. You KNOW he'd love an excuse to enforce The Rules on people technically outside his jurisdiction. It's for The Children(tm)! Why, he simply had no CHOICE!

Meanwhile? Dani is shoving all these mal-adjusted Murder Clones into her Lair? Which is? Basicly a Door style Lair she hid inside Danny's Lair for safe keeping. It's shoved behind a vending machine just outside the observatory. And the inside? Goes on for DAYS.

Like national parks and every beautiful beach she ever came across. She smashed together the BEST sights and places she's found in her travels, like a collection. Always adding more. New waterfalls, new noodle shops, new fields of wine grapes. It's... beautiful. Snapshots of every wonderous little thing about Earth, stitched together.

They can't hurt anyone. Can't achieve their "objectives". Are just treated like actual individuals and the children they truely are. Are surrounded by other Clones. So it's NORMAL here. Just? All of it.

But also?

Dani and Dan? Teaming up to make History's Scariest Adoption Agency(TM). Dan runs it. Dan wants to know why EXACTLY you want a kid. Explain yourself to Dan. What are your references? Qualifications. He's doing a home visit to inspect the premises. He BETTER not find any suspicious Labs.

And? It just? Appears out of nowhere. It's powered by Zone Bullshit. One second you're thinking "oh woe is me D:> I will never have a child to fill my lovely home, because of all my Superhero Secrets and also because government bureaucracy!" And the next?

.....wasn't that an out of business taco bell? "Zone Adoptions"?

"....Free Clone Baby?"

Okay that is HIGHLY suspicious and as a hero you are basicly legally obligated to investigate. But now it's bigger on the inside? Fancy waiting room? You are being interrogated? Wait, no, you're supposed to be the one doing the-?

Somehow? You leave with your Clone Son from another Dimension. And a pamphlet. You're scheduled for a home visit in three days. You... you never told them where you live.

Somehow that doesn't seem like it will slow them down.

Did the Fae just Suprise Baby you with a clone baby? Can they DO that? W... what's happening? What days is this? Who ARE YOU PEOPLE?! HUH!?!?

Just? Imagine. IMAGINE. I was gonna say Bruce... but?

Damian.

He finds himself... pondering What Could Have Been. Had his Clones not wanted him dead. Wondering if he could have saved them. If, perhaps, he had found them as infants. Raised them. Could he have given them a good life? Been a good father?

He gets emotional. Fatherly. He's about 14.

Dan's been around Ghosts too long to remember how humans age or how age relates to development. This one TALKS like An Adult. Must be one. Probably just short.

And Damian? Never backs down. The second Dan starts challenging him? His character is flawless and his morals divine. He has never done anything wrong, ever, in his LIFE. Fuck you. And on TOP of that? He not only will be the SINGLE GREATEST FATHER TO EVER FATHER, his home is the most loving and beloved ON THE PLANET!

In entirety of EARTH'S history, no less!

....what are they arguing about?

*is handed a baby and kicked out of Dan's adoption agency*

See you in a few days!

(o.o ) *happy gurgling from the baby* *Damian.exe has stopped working*

Smash cut, after Damian speed runs his stages of grief at his own Dumbass Life Choices, to his rocking back up at the Manor like? Congratulations, Father. I have brought you your first grandson! Do Not ask how I obtained him. It was likely dubiously legal but I will not be returning him. We have bonded.

And just? Annihilating the collective Bats on one go. You did what? You have What?! That is a baby! WHY IS THERE A BABY?! How is there a baby!? WHOS BABY!? *sirens going off and everyone panicking*

Will Damian be allowed to KEEP the Baby? Ha! Hell no. Bruce will. Damian is a child. But it will be a Needlessly Dramatic Bat Cold War Of Dramatic Drama to pry that small cherubic baby from his grip long enough for Bruce to fill out the paperwork.

Child thieving bastard that he is. How dare he. That is Damian's SON! D:<

*happy oblivious baby noises as Alfred feeds him in the background, while the Bats do their Dramatic Custody War*

@hdgnj @babbling-babull @hypewinter @nerdpoe @lolottes @mutable-manifestation

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #minji's writing

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ponderingmoonlight · 3 months

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JJK men with a big-chested reader

Pairings: Nanami x reader; Geto x reader (nsfw); Yuji/Sukuna x reader; Gojo x reader

Word Count: 4,4k (she's big)

Warnings: THIS IS A FIC WITH A BIG-CHESTED READER! so if this triggers you, don't read it (especially in Sukuna's part, you might get triggered when having smaller boobs so just do me a favor and don't read it instead of leaving a sassy comment), boob play in Geto's part so nsfw, in general harassment but big old fluff from your faves, not proofread bc I have my final exam tomorrow - hope you enjoy! 🤍

Special thanks to one of my moots for letting me turn her cleavage into a cover for this fic - you look STUNNING + thank you to everyone who sent me their experiences for this!

Since I'm not big-chested myself, I'm calling all my big boobie girlies to leave me a lil review about this fic - it would literally help me so much 😭

Click here to get to the small-chested version

Nanami Kento

You sigh to yourself, too exhausted to even stand up straight anymore. Today was like a trip to hell and back. All those fucking curses, the death, the horror. You rub your tired eyes, the stinging pain in your back reminding you more than urgently that you have been up for way too long.

“You look tired, darling. Go change and get into bed with me.”

Oh, that deep voice behind you, the voice you learned to love to the moon and back. How did it even happen that a man like Nanami Kento was seeking interest in you? What was it that made a man like him even look your way? You’ve known each other for quite some time, seeing each other on missions from time to time. But when you began to work at Jujutsu High, everything changed so fast that you couldn’t keep up. And now you’re sitting here in his bedroom, watching in awe as he crawls into bed with nothing but his boxer shorts on.

You would love to get out of your uniform right now, But most importantly, you urge to take off that soaking wet bra that has been bugging you since afternoon. You have no choice, though. With a large chest like yours, it simply isn’t possible to leave the house for missions without extra support. You glance at him while he reads in his book, your gaze falling to your chest.

This isn’t exclusively about missions and you know it. Even though you’ve been together for a few months now, you were never brave enough to show Kento your breasts. Not without a bra, let alone completely naked. Just the thought of him seeing how your big breasts fall down when they slip out of their bra shells, the look on his face when he realizes that you don’t look like those large-chested models with their boobs standing like mountains. Yours definitely don’t. And you fucking hate it.

“I know that look on your face. You are uncomfortable, aren’t you?”

His soft voice rips you out of your pondering immediately. Fuck, he caught you again.

“No…I mean…Yes, kinda…”

You can’t lie into his gorgeous face, not even when the truth makes you feel so uncomfortable. Oh, how much you wished you look the way he deserves it with delicious female curves that suit his flawless appearance. But as soon as you look down, you just know how awful your boobs will look when set free. So you’ll do what you do every night: wait until Kento is asleep to finally take off your bra only to set an alarm in the morning to get up before him and put it back on.

“I always wondered why you are waiting until I sleep to take off your bra and put it back on before my alarm goes off.”

You can’t help but stare at him, mind racing while your palms start to get sweaty. Fuck, how did he even notice? No, why did you ever think he wouldn’t? Kento cares about you like none other, never pushed you to take off your shirt, never failed to ask you how you’re feeling.

“Listen, darling.”

He gets off the bed and kneels down in front of the chair you are sitting on, gently taking your hand into his.

“I just want to make sure you feel comfortable around me. Am I the reason that you don’t want to take your bra off? I can see clearly how uncomfortable it makes you feel.”

“No!”, you blurt out immediately.

Calm down your tingling nerves, this is ridiculous. You stare blankly at your hands intertwined with his.

“I mean…It has nothing to do with you, it’s me.”

“How is this about you, love? There is no reason for you to feel uncomfort-“

“I’m afraid.”

You swallow hard. Are you oversharing? Will he laugh at you for something so ridiculous? But what if he sees you naked at some point, his gaze dropping to your chest only to be greeted by your large hanging chest? You can imagine the look of disgust on his face, how he turns away from you, how-

“Hey, look at me darling. Look at me and tell me what’s wrong”

He cups your cheek gently, forces your haunted eyes to look at him, to stare into his orbs filled with sincerity. There is no way out of this, you can’t lie into his gorgeous face.

“When I take my bra of my breasts just…hang. It’s even visible through my t-shirt…”, you mumble, cheeks redder than the devil.

Thick silence hangs between both of you, his gaze still as soft as before. What is going on inside his head? Is he secretly laughing at you, does he even care about what you have to say?

“Let me make a few things clear.”

He lifts himself off the ground and pulls you up. You squint your eyes, mind racing over why on earth he made you stand up. Is he going to leave, to laugh?

“First of all: I love you just the way you are. I love your gorgeous smile, the way you walk, the way you talk, the way you carry yourself. And I love your breasts-“

“You didn’t even see them yet.”

“I don’t have to in order to know that”, he continues.

“Nothing makes me sadder than seeing you uncomfortable each and every night before going to bed. Of course, I don’t know for sure, but I imagine it to be really painful after some time. Isn’t it digging into your skin?”

Oh, you think about the countless times the sweat underneath your bra made you almost go insane, the red streaks that visibly show where the wire cut into your skin all day.

“It kinda is…”, you confirm with low voice.

“Don’t do this to yourself. I adore you just the way you are and I am dying to see you laying comfortably in your t-shirt next to me. So please, would you allow me to take it off for you?”

Your eyes widen in pure shock. Is this a bad joke, is he just teasing you? No, this is Nanami Kento. And the way he gazes at you with nothing but affection gleaming in his eyes tells you that he’s telling the true, that this is what he wants right now. But are you ready to expose yourself like this? What if he’s still disgusted after saying all those nice words?

You let your head fall against his chest, breathe in his delicious scent. A voice deep inside you tells you to stop, to just relax inside his arms. This is the man who chose you out of all people, who stood by your side no matter what. Kento proved more than once that he loves you dearly, never made you feel the slightest bit bad about yourself.

“Go ahead…”, you mutter against his chest.

His hands wander up your back gently, make shivers run down your spine until he reaches the clasp of your bra. Your heart simply stops when he unclips it through the fabric of your shirt. You fade into darkness as soon as his hands wander up to your shoulders, slide down the thick straps and pull down your bra until he finally lands on the floor.

Slowly, he takes a step back and picks it off the ground.

“You will never have to wear this again when you are home with me, okay? Not when it makes you feel so uncomfortable”, he gently speaks out.

You stare in awe while he carefully places your big bra over the chair and returns in an instant to pull you close against his chest.

“Come on, let’s go to sleep.”

“Yeah”, you mumble, body slowly but surely getting flooded by warmth.

“Going to bed sounds good…”

Geto Suguru

You feel hot but at the same time cold, turned on but at the same time scared. This is it, the moment you’ve been waiting for. At this very moment, none other than Suguru Geto is laying on top of you, kissing you so passionately that you forget how to breathe.

What an overwhelming feeling it is to call him your boyfriend for a few months now. Such a kind and loving man, always looking out for you, giving you the time you needed for this to finally happen. You couldn’t believe your own ears when whimpering that you want him, that you are ready.

But are you really ready for showing him that part of your body? The part that began too grow way too early in your life, the part you’ve always got picked on by all the other girls.

“Look, there she is! She looks like a cow ready to milk!”

“That cleavage…She’s literally begging for it, what a bitch.”

“Ew, are those pimples on your tits?”

You know you are better than that, that your big breasts just belong to you and that you should love yourself just the way you are. But with none other than Suguru laying on top of you, his hands slowly but surely coming dangerously close to your breasts…

“Wait”, you breathe out, haunted eyes making Suguru stop in his tracks in an instant.

“Did I do something wrong? If you don’t want to, we don’t-“

“No, this is great. I- … I waited so long for this. But I just wanted to let you know that…”

You swallow hard. Are you acting ridiculous, destroying the moment with your behaviour? Suguru’s chocolate brown orbs don’t show a hint of annoyance. Instead, he gently strokes your hair while waiting for you to move on.

He deserves to know it

“I might not have the nicest boobs. They are big, but not well formed like the ones of those models. I tend to sweat a lot underneath them, my skin breaks out from time to time and my nipples might be-“

“Stop that right now, (y/n).”, Suguru gently interrupts you with a grin.

But it doesn’t look like the grin of the girls who picked on you for years. No, this grin is filled with warmth and loves, fills you with what feels like confidence. After all, he said that he loves you just the way you are over and over, right? Still, he didn’t even see your boobs. What if he changes his mind?

“There is absolutely nothing, and I mean NOTHING about you that isn’t ‘nice’. I don’t care about what the chest of random models looks like, to be honest I don’t care about anyone but you. And you are everything I want, you are everything I see, you are everything I love.”

His words make you tear up in an instant, send your whole body into space. As long as you can remember, no one ever said really nice things about your breasts and therefore you. You were either insulted or sexualized. But that force of a man on top of you…He just looks into your eyes that are filled with nothing but warmth. This man means every word he says.

“Well, that’s cool”, you mutter without even thinking about your words, lost in the sheer sight of his sincere eyes.

There is no one in the world you want to show your boobs more. Like in trance, you pull up the hem of your shirt and let it fall to the floor mindlessly.

“Are you okay with me touching them?”, he purrs against your ear.

A silent whimper escapes your lips while you simply nod, whole body on fire where it touches his. Painfully slow, he lets his hands wander down your hair onto your shoulders, trace the line of your collarbones until he reaches…

Your breasts.

What an unknown feeling. But oh, what a sensation as well. You arch your back out of instinct while he massages your breasts, the feeling of his fingertips against your still skin alone simply driving you insane.

God, who would have thought you’d ever hear Geto Suguru moan against your ear by just looking, touching, squeezing your boobs? His eyes are darkened by lust, the way his heart pounds against his ribcage echoes through your very own body.

“You look absolutely gorgeous. I can’t stop looking at you, (y/n).”

You feel like flying, fainting, losing your balance. There is no doubt in the fact that this man adores you the way you are, that your constant fear of him not liking your large chest was more than unfounded.

“So…you don’t mind the way my breasts look?”, you whimper underneath his bittersweet touch.

“More than that, I adore you”, he replies in an instant. “And now, let me see you in your full glory.”

Yuji/Sukuna

You’re back feels like it might break every minute, shirt dripping in sweat in the sheer heat of the summer sun. You just want to get out of here, away from those disgusting people, back into your dorm. How stupid it was to leave Jujutsu High on your own for a little stroll through the city. Without the protection of Maki or Nobara, without any good friend who shields you from all the unwanted looks your large chest attracts. While most people think it must be a blessing, it definitely is a curse to you 80% of the time.

Just like right now.

“Come on, I just asked for one grab!”, a guy shouts after you.

Out of instinct, you pick up your pace, not even daring to turn around. What did you even do to catch his attention? You gaze down at your breasts that uncomfortably bounce up and down in the way too tight bra you are wearing today. No, you did absolutely nothing wrong. It’s just these disgusting people who seem to see nothing but the size of your chest.

“Why would you want to touch her? She looks like a cow”, the girl next to him comments along with an ugly laugh, making your heart sting in an instant.

“What a slut”, another voice mutters.

“Oh, I didn’t know you are out today! How are you, (y/n)?”

Your heart almost stops inside of your chest, hands beginning to tremble in an instant. No, not him. Not right here when these people are chasing you. If there’s someone you don’t want to hear those things about you, it’s Yuji Itadori.

“J-just…l-leave”, you stutter.

“Huh? But I just met you! Would you like to watch a movie with me?”

“Look, the cow brought her friends!”

“Do you think he’ll get in her pants today?”

“What a lucky bastard, I’d love to touch them just once…”

Yuji’s face drops in an instant when realizing their words are directed towards you.

“Hey, there’s no need to be rude”, he begins but gets stopped by uncontrollable laughter immediately.

You want to die right here on the spot, disappear from the surface of earth. As if being treated like this wasn’t enough, why does it have to be Yuji who witnesses it all?

“Step aside, loser. Let me handle that.”

Sukuna leans forward in his throne, thick anger rising inside of his chest. You, the one who caught his eye when he first saw you. You, with the immense powers. You, with a dangerous mind that could end wars. Who are these people to talk to you in this manner?

“Are you crazy? I definitely won’t let you out right now”, Yuji replies in an instant.

“You aren’t able to help her brat, now get lost!”

“I won’t let you-“

Enough.

“Now who exactly do you losers think you are, huh?”

That voice, that aura? Your mouth feels dry like the desert in an instant, eyes widen in pure shock. No, this is impossible, Yuji is in control over his body, this can’t be-

“With tits like yours, I would be jealous of someone gorgeous like her as well”, he spits at one of the girls following you.

“And you.”

With a swift motion, he grabs on of the guy’s wrists roughly. Just a little more pressure and it will snap.

“P-please. Don’t!”, you shout after him.

Urgh, why does your begging voice make his grip loosen in an instant, what is it about you that made him switch with this brat anyway?

“Were you really just trying to touch her chest? Thinking just because she has a big chest, you are allowed to touch her, to sexualize her, huh? You humans disgust me with your simple desires”, Sukuna continues.

“If it wasn’t for her unshakable character, I would kill every single one of you right on the spot. But for now-“

In the matter of seconds, all their arms hang in unhealthy directions, visibly broken by the sheer force of none other than Ryomen Sukuna.

You want to scream at him, want to run away, want to get away from this place. But on the other hand, a warmth fills your chest. Did the king of curses just stand up for you, protect you from their rude comments?

“Get going”, he barks at you.

“This was unnecessary”, you mumble.

“And give Yuji back.”

“You should be thankful, (y/n). They will worship you for the rest of your life.”

“No, they will be scared of you for the rest of their lives”, you clarify, hands still trembling.

“So what? Nobody gets away with insulting you over your perfect body. Especially not over the size of your chest. How ridiculous…”

You can’t believe your ears, eyes darting towards him in an instant while you turn redder than a tomato. Did he just say that you are…perfect?

“You didn’t mean that”, you breathe out.

“Oh god I’m so sorry (y/n). Did he hurt you?”, the familiar voice of Yuji cries out.

Calm down your tingling nerves, your pounding heart. Sukuna’s gone. Sukuna…stood up for you. Sukuna said you have a perfect body.

What?

“N-No”, you stumble.

How are you supposed to get over this?

Gojo Satoru

Finally. You sit in front of the bar, excited by the smell of alcohol and cheap perfume that hangs in the air. After working your ass off for what felt like an eternity, you decided to use your day off right. You put on the dress that fits you best, packed your purse and went into the first bar you’ve seen.

Damn, when was the last time you were out on your own? With all your friends being out of town for vacation, this definitely is new.

“Not bad”, you mutter to yourself, eyes roaming around people making out, heartfelt laughter and a group of women sipping on their cocktails.

A cocktail, exactly what you need today.

“Hey, I’d love to order something”, you speak out when the waiter finally comes cross you.

What a lucky day, they even have your favourite cocktail in store. You’re usually not the type of girl to go out on yourself, but these last months, you truly learnt how enjoyable time can be with yourself as your only company. You smile to yourself. Yeah, this is definitely something you could get used to.

“There you go”, the friendly male announces and places the glass filled with joy in front of your hungry eyes.

You gift him the sweetest smile you have before taking a sip. Oh, this tastes absolutely amazing.

“I’ve never seen a woman like you alone in a place like this.”

Your heart drops to the floor in an instant, hands holding onto your glass tightly. Ew, a man is certainly the last thing you want to hear right now with the bartender being the only exception. Instead of even looking his way, you just take another sip of your well-mixed cocktail, the music blasting out of the boxes might make him think you can’t hear him and leave.

Honestly, there aren’t many things that creep you out more than men approaching you. Since you’ve reached puberty and your breasts starting to grow bigger and bigger, it almost felt as if you weren’t a person anymore. With rare exceptions here and there, most of them only talked to you because of one thing:

Your boobs.

Is the man sitting next to you one of them?

“Hey, I’m talking to you, gorgeous.”

Your whole body tenses up in an instant, eyes darting towards him by the sound of his harsh voice.

“Excuse me, I’m not up for a talk”, you bite back.

While you did meet genuinely nice men and have some male friends, the one sitting next to you certainly is one of the other categories. God, how much you hate it, being looked down at and reduced to the size of your breasts. You can’t even count how many times you’ve got commented on them, how many men and women just shamelessly stared at your bust instead of your face while talking to you. It’s safe to say you have enough of all of this.

“A woman who presents what she has like that is up for a talk and far more than that. Why would you come here dressed like a slut if you don’t want me to talk to you?”

Your breath gets stuck in your throat, all thoughts vanish into thick air. This disgusting guy with his beard filled with crumbs and breath stinking like the cheapest beer is definitely up for no good. You, dressed like a slut? You wear a basic black dress, the only one your boobs didn’t fall out when trying it on. What the hell is this creep talking about?

“Just because my boobs are big doesn’t mean I’m a slut. Watch how you talk to me”, you bite back.

“I talk however I want to a bitch like you. Are you up to go somewhere more…private?”

The scene that lays itself out in front of Gojo’s eyes is hard to bear. He doesn’t even know the woman in the black dress sitting in front of the bar, let alone the guy sitting next to her. But just one look into your disgusted face is enough to know that something isn’t right. How you cross your arms in front of your chest, your eyes filled with horror, the way you scoop backwards with every word this man says. Are you okay? He shouldn’t let other people’s business bother him. Fuck, wasn’t he here to get his mind off saving everyone all the time? Nah, he should enjoy his evening, drink that new whiskey they offer, just relax and-

You aren’t even able to comprehend what is happening next to you. He stretches out his hand, ready to touch your breasts without consent when another pair of hands stops him mid-air.

“I think the lady said no. Don’t ya think it’s a little over the top to go into a bar and touch a woman’s boobs?”

His voice might sound playful, but your blood freezes inside of your veins by the power he radiates. Just one glance into his face tells you he is like no men you’ve ever met.

“I…She…She said she wanted it to!”, the crumble beard tries to defend himself.

“I said what? Are you out of your fucking mind!? I told you to leave me alone and you harassed me!”, you clarify in harsh tone.

Oh, how much you’d love to break his nose right now, to give him a taste of his own medicine. But the white-haired man seems to have the same plans.

“A guy like you wouldn’t end up with her anyway. That lady has class. And you, my friend, are just a disgusting pervert. Are you touching other women too without consent? Isn’t your first time, huh?”

With a swift motion, he begins to twist the man’s hand around itself. He whines out in pain in an instant, face twisted just like yours before when he talked you down.

“Let me go!”, he cries out in visible discomfort.

“This is what you get for treating a lady so badly. You can be glad she even looked your way.”

When he gifts you a sly grin, you can’t help but blush. What is it about this man that feels so different, so damn inviting? He seems like no other men you’ve met before. And the fact that he just called you lady…Why do your knees suddenly feel weak?

“Now repeat after me: I.am.sorry.for.disrespecting.you.”

“I will not apologize to a girl who’s dressed like a slut!”

A loud crack makes the already muted room go completely silent, the violent scream coming out of this man’s mouth when his wrist breaks like spaghetti echoing through the room.

“Wrong answer”, the white-haired man purrs.

“Hey, would you mind just taking the trash out?”, the barkeeper questions.

“Did you hear that, dirty boy? Let me show you the way!”

“Are you alright? I didn’t even notice he was harassing you. I’m so sorry”, the bartender speaks out towards you.

“Oh, it’s okay.”

You aren’t even able to give him a real answer, eyes glued on the white-haired man who carries your harasser out like trash.

Like in trance you get back on your feet and follow him out into the cool air of the night.

“Have a nice evening!”, he friendly shouts after the man who sprints down the streets like a coward, as fast away as possible.

“You definitely scared the shit out of him”, you comment.

“He definitely deserved it. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m used to shit like that”, you reply with a huff.

“But normally, they aren’t this disgusting.”

“I hate to hear that. You seem like a genuinely badass and nice person. You didn’t deserve his words.”

“Not as nice as my knight in shining armour who stopped him from touching my boobs.”

He lets out a heartfelt laughter, bright blue orbs set on you.

“Hey, what about me escorting you back home? I’m totally in the mood to beat up any other men who gets in your way.”

“Only if you let me join, though”, you challenge him.

“Definitely a deal. Hey, what’s your name?”

“(y/n)”

“(y/n), huh? Cool name, suits you right? My name’s Gojo Satoru. Nice to meet you.”

He stretches out his hand in front of you, inviting you to take it. You can’t help but smile at his sheer excitement. No, you just have to take his warm hand into yours and shake it.

“Let’s get you home, okay?”

Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @hellkaiserinphoenix @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @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 @kayleegomez @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz@darkstarlight82 @satoreo @luwumii @kentocalls @cheesemachine44 @maya-maya-56 @jinririz @getou0309 @ieathairs

Dividers by @saradika 🤍

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triptuckers · 4 months

Text

the comfort of home - percy jackson

Request: yes! "Hii, I just finished watching both episodes of PJO and I wept as I beheld Sally's maternal love unfold on the screen, knowing it before hand from the books. Thus, I was pondering if you might entertain a request—a tale where a daughter of Hades (angsty) forges a close bond with Percy, and Sally, in her gracious warmth bless her soul, adopts her into their lives because, after all, they're nearly kin, entwined by the delicate threads of almost-cousinhood." Pairing: percy jackson x hades!reader Summary: after a typical day for a demigod, you just need a safe space to go Warnings: mentions of fighting, injuries, blood, throwing up, swearing, angst Word count: 2k A/N: first of all anon are you a writer?????? bro those words..... pls write more !! thanks for your request, enjoy!

you're walking down the streets of new york city, feeling utterly miserable. you're soaked through because of the rain and you're hurt.

everyone knows that demigods don't exactly live a quiet life. especially kids from zeus, poseidon or hades. still, most of the times you're fighting for your life you're on a quest.

not simply on your way home.

but today was different. somehow you brought not one but all three of the furies down on you. you don't even know how, you weren't doing anything.

it was a tough fight, but you stood strong. you couldn't prevent the dozen little cuts that littered your body. you're bruised over and on top of that it started to rain, messing with your sight.

right now you're on your way to your foster home. but it's a slow journey. you're not sure you want to go there. and you're not sure how much the mist hides for them.

sometimes if you got home all bruised you told them you got in a fight. sometimes they didn't spare you a second glance.

you stop in the middle of the street. at this point you've been walking for so long you don't even notice the rain anymore.

you turn around, heading another way. there's one other place you could go. you're lost in thought, and most of the people don't pay you any attention. perks of living in new york, you guess. new yorkers just don't care.

when you get to the familiar building, you feel a sense of calm coming over you. somehow you always found yourself back here. as you walk up to the entrance, someone leaves just as you arrive, so you can slip in the door before it closes.

you walk the stairs slowly because of your injuries. every step hurts and takes tremendous effort.

when you finally get to the right floor and walk to the door, you just stand in front of it. you're fully aware you're dripping rainwater on the floor, but suddenly you can't bring yourself to knock.

why are you even here? you don't want to be a burden.

they've told you that you can always come over, no matter what. but it's late at night, it's raining outside, you're soaked.

you're standing there, debating wether or not to go in, when you hear a voice on the other side of the door.

the person is softly singing along to a song that's playing.

tears well up in your eyes as you recognise the song. you were the one to recommend it.

you raise your hand and knock on the door.

'coming!' says the voice.

moments later the door opens to reveal a woman.

her eyes briefly widen at the sight of you, scanning your body for injuries. then her eyes soften.

'oh, what happened to you, sweetheart?' says sally.

her gentle voice is what pushes you over the edge, breaking down in tears in front of her.

sally pulls you over the doorstep and closes the door. she pulls you into a hug, not caring that you're soaked.

you wrap your arms around her and cry. you let all of the anxiety rush out of you as sally rubs circles on your back and whispers soft words in your ear. you ignore your aching body and allow yourself to just be here in the moment.

after a while, sally pulls back and holds you at an arms length.

'I'm so sorry for dropping in like this, miss jackson.' you say softly.

'y/n, you know you're always welcome here. and I've told you to call me sally.' she says kindly.

you nod. 'is percy home?'

'he's out to the movies with grover. do you want me to ask him to come home?'

'no, he's out having fun. it's alright. could I just..'

'why don't you take a shower first, hm? I bet you're freezing.'

you sigh softly. that does sound good.

'yeah, alright.'

'you go take a shower, then I'll make tea and see if I can do something about that.'

she pointedly looks at the cut above your brow. you totally forgot that was there.

'I don't have any clothes.' you say softly.

'that's alright, just borrow some from percy. he won't mind.' says sally.

'thank you.'

you walk towards percy's room to get some clothes when sally calls your name, making you turn around again.

'you're not a burden, you know that right. we love having you over.' says sally.

you swallow back the new tears that threaten to fall. sometimes you forget she knows you so well.

'thanks.' you say, entering percy's room to get some clothes.

you pick a shirt, sweater and sweatpants form percy's closet before going into the bathroom.

you peel your soaked clothes from your body, hissing when you pull the fabric from your wounds.

turning on the water, you get in the shower, letting the water calm you down. you wash off all of the dried blood, dirt and sweat.

after drying off you put on percy's clothes, his scent surrounding you and comforting you.

you head back to the living room to find sally putting two steaming mugs on the table.

'we still got your favorite.' she says, sliding your mug towards you.

'thanks.'

'drink up, and tell me about today if you want. I'll see if we have some medical stuff left in the kitchen.'

you sigh, thinking back to today.

'I didn't even do anything.' you say. 'I was just walking down the road and I got this feeling I was being watched. I thought it wasn't a big deal but hey, demigod instinct, so I took a turn and went into an alley. sure enough, someone followed me.'

'someone or something?' says sally, returning with the first aid kit.

'someone at first. then the mist cleared and it was one of the furies.' you say. 'at that point I was just so done. I wasn't even on a quest so what the hell was she doing there?'

'how did you get away? you've fought a fury before, percy told me.' says sally, scooting her chair closer to you so she can clean the cut on your forehead.

'I have. it's okay if it's one. but then the other two showed up.' you sigh. 'at that point I was really annoyed. I think it was just annoyance that drove me at that point. they were clearly there because they were bored. they thought "hey smells like demigod, oh look it's the hades kid, let's mess with her."

'well, you're here now. you made it out.' says sally, finishing with the cut on your forehead.

'yeah. thanks again.' you say, sipping your tea.

'you don't have to keep thanking me.' says sally. 'you know you're always welcome here, you're practically family. I know you don't like your foster home. now, do you have any other wounds?'

you chuckle. 'only about two dozen little cuts and even more bruises. I've had worse, it's okay.' you say.

'it's never okay.' says sally. 'you and percy are way too young for this.'

you shrug. 'and yet we have to deal with it.' you say, rolling up your sleeves so sally can clean and bandage the cuts on your arms.

the next hour is spent by sally cleaning your wounds and bandaging you up as she tells you stories. you liked hearing her stories. ever since you first met her, it was one of your favorite things about her. she could tell stories in a way that felt like you were actually there, experiencing them.

just as she secures the last bandage in place, you briefly close your eyes, exhaustion getting to you.

'you can get some sleep, I'll tell percy when he gets home.' says sally.

'it's okay, I want to see him before I go to bed.' you say.

'alright, want to watch a movie of something?'

'movie sounds great.'

sally picks a movie while you sit down on the couch. it doesn't take long for you to doze off, even though you fight to stay awake. the fight with the furies was intense, so sally lets you sleep while she waits for percy to home home.

about halfway through the movie, the door to the apartment opens and percy enters.

'hey mom.' he says, taking off his shoes and jacket and dumping his bag near the door.

as he walks into the room, he notices a familiar sword leaning against the back of the couch. he frowns, he didn't know you were coming.

'is y/n here?' he says, walking over to his mom.

she nods, pointing to the couch.

percy looks over the back of the couch to find you fast asleep, wearing his clothes and your body littered in bandages and bruises.

'what happened?' says percy, walking around the couch.

'the three furies.' says sally. 'she didn't feel like going to her foster home.'

percy kneels before the couch, studying your face. he reaches out and traces one of the bruises on your cheek.

you stir awake from the movement, your eyes meeting percy's.

'hi.' you say softly.

'hey. you alright?' he says.

you nod. 'how was the movie?'

percy chuckles. 'it was good. you would have loved it. heard you got in a fight?'

'yeah. those damned furies.' you say. 'luckily your mom patched me up though.'

'you know my bed is more comfortable than the couch, right?' says percy.

you slowly sit up. 'I know. I wanted to stay awake til you got home.'

'and you did a great job at that.' says percy with a familiar twinkle in his eyes.

you hit him on the shoulder. 'you would have fallen asleep as well!'

sally watches the exchange with a smile on her face. moments like these make her especially happy you met percy.

'come on.' says percy, standing up and holding out his hand for you to take.

you take it and allow percy to gently pull you to your feet.

'thanks again sally.' you say as percy beings leading you to his bedroom to sleep in an actual bed.

'no need to thank me y/n. it's always good to have you around, even if it's like this.'

you and percy both say goodnight to her before entering percy's room.

'so, did you sugarcoat the story for my mom?' he says as you sit down on this bed.

'not really, I just didn't tell her all of the details.' you say.

percy raises an eyebrow at you. 'details like?'

'like how one of them punched me in the gut and I nearly threw up because of it.' you say.

'ew.' says percy, face scrunching up in disgust.

'you would have thrown up as well.' you say.

'but you managed to fend off all three furies on your own?' he says.

you nod, laying down. 'I think I bruised a rib, though. the rest is all small cuts and bruises. no broken bones this time. they looked like they were really fucking annoyed they could be bested by just one kid.' you say.

percy smiles, walking over to kiss your cheek, careful not to touch the wounds on your face. 'that's my girl.' he says.

'you got anything to do tomorrow?' you say, stifling a yawn.

'nope. we can spend the day here.' he says, walking over to the bed an laying down next to you.

'good.' you say. 'I just need to wash my clothes and clean my sword, and I should probably-' 'y/n.'

you look at percy.

'let's just relax tomorrow, okay? come on, you need sleep.'

you nod, moving closer to him.

as you're laying next to percy, feeling sleep get to you once more, you can't help but to feel a deep sense of gratitude.

sally didn't question why you showed up at her doorstep, but pulled you in her arms and sat with you to bandage your wounds and listen to your story.

percy listened to you as well and provided you familiar comfort you needed, telling you to relax.

you just know if something ever goes wrong, you're always welcome at the jackson household.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rulesHere’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit/Max

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seattlesellie · 4 months

Note

i’m sorry but can we PLEASE talk about thigh riding🙏 it’s so underrated

mhmmmm :(( especially if it goes from sloppy makeout sesh to desperately rutting on ellie’s thigh & especially if she hasn’t even seen you go that desperate for her yet, because let’s say it’s only been a week of you dating or messing around.

an: i don’t know why this came out longish i swear its pure horny. btw it’s gamer!ellie 🎮🎀💗

can see this whole thing starting from a stare at her practiced fingers twitching and toying with her ps controller. safe to say it’d usually be a bit tedious to simply be an observer of someone playing a video game… not with ellie though, definitely not with ellie. definitely not with the way she cusses sharply under her breath, the way her palm goes to rest against your bare thigh as she switches up her in game gear, the way that cheeky tongue pokes out of her lips in concentration… you’d be distracted to say the least, nodding dumbly as she notes “y’see how i just did that babe?”

and just because you find it hard to concentrate and ignore the thick tension, filling the room with its obnoxious buzz — doesn’t mean she has it any easier, by no means, she can just mask it better… ish. your doe eyed stares, the way you whine silently as she loses, rest your head on her firm shoulder with a cheerful “yay ellie” as she wins… keep staring at her fingers (for some reason she might or might not pick up on, you do it a lot) — you render her a blushing taut mess, render her palms sweaty and slippery on the round plasticky ball of her controller.

however she masks it, and you don’t — and now you’re staring with those sparkly eyes, and the figures on the screen begin to mush together into one giant, pixelated orb. the corner of ellie’s mouth rises up to an involuntary smirk (that asshole), and she loosens her grip on the red controller. “need something? jheez, you’re staring” murmurs ellie, still teasing you like she did before you got together — except, now she no longer needs to hide her blush with a tilting of her face, because she knows you caught her already. plus, it makes her stomach stir with butterflies. “jus’ looking at your pretty face” says you — silently, sheepishly smiling and arching your brows. it’s so much fun to be able to actually tell her that, cause y’know — that’s your girlfriend now.

ellie chuckles, throwing the controller to the side, adjusting her body from a manspreading position to sitting criss crossed on the couch. she wipes her forehead with her forearm — a sign of nervousness? you lick your glossy lip, she’s so cute.

“you’re the pretty one” ellie notes.

you cock your head to the side, fake pondering. “if i’m the pretty one, what are you then?”

truthfully you’re so cute in your pj shorts, she doesn’t think she knows who she is anymore or if her name’s actually ellie. she sighs, huffing some air out of her cinnamon freckled cheeks. “the cool one”

okay… maybe, but she’s also just awfully gorgeous. you roll your eyes, “well,” — you throw your hands and smack them on your thighs, “i think you’re just pretty” — and she thinks you’re just stubborn.

“don’t think i’m cool?” she snorts, completely ignoring the compliment once again (as it makes her cheeks grow plum red and she’s hating that right now). she signals at the flat screen with her pointer finger, “you’re gonna pretend you didn’t just see me fucking that team up? i mean…” she keeps on yapping, your smack your lips and stare at hers. you’re not pretending to do anything, it’s not your fault you’ve been ignoring the game when she’s been toying with that plastic ball like you dream she’d toy with your—

“can you kiss me?”

you’ve interrupted her completely, but it pretty much seals the deal.

the back of your neck is being pulled by her right hand, and the string of your tank top is being pulled by her left one — not to undress, simply just to bring you closer. her lips on yours feel like heaven, a small gasp released by your mouth. she hums into the kiss, then pulls away. “knew you weren’t paying attention to me” ellie murmurs and it sends shivers down your spine. her voice is husky and cocky and ugh! you almost feel the need to let her swallow you whole. “was paying attention,” you insist, blinking like you’re in panic (or letting your lashes flutter to turn her on), “just not to the game”

“yeah?” she chuckles, caressing your half covered back with slow, up and down strokes. “what were you looking at then?” she questions with a cocky grin. you so want to kiss her again. “dunno”, you shrug innocently, slightly letting your bottom lip fall down into a pout. she so wants to kiss you again — so she does, murmuring a broken sentence of “ohmmmmph — you dunno?” into the kiss.

this time, the kiss is different. she slides her tongue inside of your begging mouth, letting it swirl and twirls over yours, pull it — goddamn, suckle on it with a horny grunt. you whimper, hiccup, cry almost, desperately seeking something more… a relief, to that dull ache that’s sitting or stomping between your legs — all because of a kiss and her grunt and that controllers ball you’re so damn jealous of…

“c’mere” she huffs, but instead of letting you come there, she forcefully grabs you by your waist, making you sit atop her lap. you’re both gasping, you wanna say something, but she kisses the corner of your mouth and… “ellie” is all you can whine, she responds with a squeeze to your waist. she kisses more, planting plenty of pecks to your scorching cheek, letting out shaky breaths to each and every one of your half whimpers half moans. she reaches your neck, and her tongues out again. she licks a long stripe, a confident one, but breaks it in order to look into your eyes and ask for your consent — it’s the farthest you’ve went so far.

“babe?”, she asks, your half lidded eyes and dazed look kind of tell her all she needs to know but she’s chivalrous.

“please” you whisper, nodding then burying your face in the crook of her neck. she grunts to that — jesus how pretty you sound when you beg, you have no fucking idea. another suckle on your neck comes, this time right at your pulse point, making the hairs rise and a clit thump. you let go of a choked gasp, holding on to ellie’s shoulders as she splatters open mouthed kisses on the flesh of your neck. you grab the back of her neck, pull on her bun. “fuuhuck” she exasperates, as if she’s the one getting marked and sucked on. quickly enough, because ellie misses your lips, she kisses you again with a whole lotta tongue.

you don’t even notice when or how you started grinding and rocking on her grey sweat’s covered thigh. in too much of a daze to notice anything at this point — you searched for friction.

she notices quickly enough though (obviously).

“whatcha doing, huh?” she lets her forehead kiss yours. your eyes are fully shut — to be honest, her question sounded like gibberish and the cotton material of your shorts was so thin. you don’t respond, you just… rut. she pulls slightly away, back straightening and leaning backwards, almost as if she was watching a play at the theater. she heavily breathes, scrunches her scarred brows and takes a look — takes a stare — at the way you seem so… concentrated, and horny, pouty and needy and it’s all for her or because of her. she almost places her hands on her head and leans back to keep watching.

her muscular thigh feels good — too good, you wanna bounce on it till you cum and leave a stain on her pants, you want her to bounce you on it — her, with her hands… where are her hands?!

you break right out of your trance, embarrassingly open your eyes and search for ellie… who’s leaning back, mouth agape and eyes coal black as she flexes her thigh. there’s a mixture of pure need and humiliation inside of your gut, but the latter evaporates as she mutters the following words;

“do that again”

#𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 anon 🎀#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie x reader #ellie williams fanfiction #hehe hot

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littledovesnow · 4 months

Text

a growing family pt. 2

a/n: yay for part 2!! read part one here

word count: 1.8k

warnings: pregnancy, pretty canon-level violence and stuff i think. also i'm sorry in advance about this part <3

-----

"Now, Mr. Snow, you and your wife leave tomorrow for your District Tour." Lucky Flickerman spoke into microphone, eyes bouncing between Coriolanus and you.

Coriolanus nodded, not quite sure where this was going. He was briefed on the. main topics that Flickerman would go over during the interview and this was not one of them.

"Is there any worry about the twins? Congratulations, by the way! Twins! How lucky are you!"

You smiled, patting your husband's hand to signal that you would answer this question.

"Thank you, Lucky," you started, sweet smile on your face. "I've been in conversation with my medical team, and we've all come to an agreement that it's quite safe for me to travel with Coriolanus and the rest of his cabinet. I'm not due for another couple of months, anyway."

Coriolanus smiled at you, voicing his answer, as well. "We've also spoken to the OB/GYN, and she will be joining us on the latter half of the tour. We hope she can just enjoy the travel, not needed for any medical emergencies."

Lucky nodded, satisfied with that answer. "Now, Coriolanus, you've mentioned in some changes to the Hunger Games in the coming years. We've had questions coming in from watchers, but first, a few words from our generous sponsors."

The red light went off on top of the cameras, and you let the superficial smile fall from your face, hand going to rub your lower back.

"Your back still hurt, love?" Coriolanus asked, noticing your discomfort.

"I think our kids are going to be soccer professional, Coryo." You grumbled, one of the twins had been kicking mercilessly for a few weeks.

Coriolanus chuckled, removing your hand, using his palm to massage the area. "Well, you can tell them off when they're out here."

Lucky, who had been observing the couple from his spot on the seat across from them, wore a smile. "One thing that my wife asked I do when she was pregnant with Caesar was massage her back every night. Sometimes she still makes me do it."

You smiled at the TV host, humming. "Not a bad idea. Coryo, I think I know what your next job will be."

Coriolanus snorted, hand still massaging your back. "Anything for the mother of my children."

-----

The train car you were currently seated in was more luxurious than you remembered, seats having been upholstered from your last trip out of the Capitol.

You looked away from the mountain ranges decorating the horizon when the door opened, Coriolanus entering.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, coming to sit in the seat across from you, moving your feet from the seat to his lap.

Humming, you leant your head back as he began massaging them. "Better now. What was that meeting for? I thought you had travel days free."

Coriolanus pondered over how to answer, not wanting to tell you he had just had some rebels executed for a potential threat in Six. "Nothing you need to concern yourself with."

Opening an eye to look at him, you could read the man like an open book. "How many were there?"

There was a beat of silence before Coriolanus spoke up.

"Four. Would have been three but some things you can't avoid."

You didn't reply, simply wiggling your foot when Coriolanus' hands stopped massaging the arch of your foot.

He laughed, resuming the action as you two watched the mountain ranges and nature outside of the train.

-----

You yawned, staring at the ceiling of the Crane's hotel in District Three. It was nearing one in the morning, and you had gotten a sum total of about two and a half hours since you and Coriolanus crawled into the bed.

Moving as quietly as you could, you rose from the bed, waiting a beat to see if Coriolanus woke up.

His rather loud snore told you he was still off dreaming, something you were thankful for. He had a lot on his shoulders, and you didn't want to add onto the never-ending pile of worry and stress with the upcoming election.

Moving to the bathroom, you softly closed the door and looked at yourself in the mirror. The twins had been keeping you up at night more frequently, and your OB/GYN said it was just because while they were starting to get a regular sleep pattern, they couldn't tell day from night and often slept during the day.

When you opened the door, you frowned when you saw your husband sitting up in the bed, cheek still indented from the creases in the pillow.

"What are you doing up?" He asked, voice hoarse from sleep.

Rubbing one hand across your ever-growing bump, sleepily blinking at the man across from you. "Your children are wide awake, it seems."

Coriolanus smiled, patting the spot you had previously occupied. "Come here, I'll rub your back."

With the promise of that, you made your way back into the bed, stuffing one of the many pillows on the bed between your knees.

"Oh, well hello, little one."

You looked at where Coriolanus was staring at your bump, tiny foot barely visible. "Oh that's the most disturbing thing I think I've ever seen."

"Don't say that!" Coriolanus chided, though there was a smile on his face. "That's your child in there!"

"Coryo, you shouldn't be able to see their hands from outside!" You laughed, even though your OB/GYN said it was very possible to start to see little hands and feet as there became less and less free space.

Coriolanus pressed a kiss to your hairline, rubbing the place where the foot was. "Hi, babies. Please let your mother sleep, she needs to help me win over the hearts of Panem."

Rolling your eyes, you moved Coriolanus' hand to your back, letting your head fall back against a pillow. "Rub my back."

"Yes dear."

-----

Hand clasped tightly in Coriolanus' you two followed the Peacekeepers to the barracks to meet with the district's mayor and Commanding Peacekeeper.

You two had won the hearts over a majority of each District you've visited, but as you two traveled farther from the Capitol, you knew it would be more difficult and the chance of threats and rebels increased.

The number of Peacekeepers surrounding you two had grown within each stop, Coriolanus wanting to make sure nothing happened to his wife and mother of his children, his heirs.

"Mr. and Mrs. Snow, we're very pleased you two could be here!" The mayor smiled, shaking both of your hands.

You returned the sentiment, eyes locked on the plush-looking chair behind him. "Is it alright if I sit? My feet are killing me."

The mayor, who seemed to have just realized how large your bump had grown, nodded quickly, gesturing to the chair you had pointed to.

Coriolanus stood behind you, one hand smoothing your hair as he and the mayor discussed the afternoon's speeches and tour around the main hub.

"Will you be joining us, Mrs. Snow?"

"No, she's been feeling a little more tired." Coriolanus replied before you could speak up.

The mayor frowned, seemingly disappointed.

"Is there a problem?" You asked, feeling Coriolanus' hand still at the nape of your neck.

"Well, the children here have been so excited to meet you, but I'm sure seeing Mr. Snow will be just as fine."

Coriolanus knew you had a soft spot for children, how they still saw the best in everything. "Love, you barely slept last night. It's safer if you rest."

"Coryo, it won't be too long. And besides, we have a couple travel days I can catch up on sleep."

You ignored your husband's deep frown, instead smiling at the mayor. "We can't possibly let the kids down, can we?"

The mayor clapped happily, rising from his seat. "Well then, shall we go?"

You stood from the chair with some help from your husband, who placed a hand on your lower back, unable to keep his hands off of you.

"You're a spoiled brat, you know that?" He whispered, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

"And you love me for it." You replied, sharp smile on your face.

-----

Coriolanus watched as you followed a few of the schoolchildren around the classroom, letting them explain the backgrounds of their various posters and projects.

"She's going to be a wonderful mother." The mayor spoke, standing next to Coriolanus.

He nodded, watching you kneel down to listen more to a rather small girl, your eyes focused on her entirely. "She already is."

"Mr. Snow, Mayor, we're going to be late if we don't head for the town square now."

Nodding, Coriolanus walked over to your side, kneeling down next to you and the young girl. "Hi, love. Mind introducing me to your friend?"

You looked at your husband, and then at the young girl. "Coryo, meet Clementine. Her friends call her Clemmie."

Coriolanus saw the twinkle in your eye as you looked back at the girl. "It's lovely to meet you, Clemmie. You know, Mrs. Snow and I have a friend named Clemmie."

"Really?" Little Clementine asked, eyes wide.

Nodding, Coriolanus helped you stand up straight. "We do, but don't worry, we can have two Clemmies. Now, I do have to steal Mrs. Snow now, we have to go to town square."

Clementine pouted, but nodded. "It was nice to meet you!"

"You, too, Clemmie! Good luck with your new brother!" You smiled, squeezing Coriolanus' hand as the two of you followed some Peacekeepers out of the school and down to the town square and stage.

You've only seen the stage on television for the Reaping Ceremonies, it looked larger on screen. "She was so sweet, Coryo. She was telling me how her mother looked like me and now she has a little brother."

Coriolanus smiled, thumb rubbing your hand. "That's very sweet. I'm sure you made her ent-"

A loud explosion cut Coriolanus off, Peacekeepers immediately springing into action, separating the two of you to get you both to safety.

There were a few more explosions around the stage, sending debris and dirt in the air.

"Coryo!" You called, trying to wriggle out of the Peacekeepers' grip and find your husband.

You coughed as you inhaled smoke, eyes wide to spot Coriolanus. "Let me go! I need to find Coriolanus!"

"Ma'am, you need to come with us! We have orders to bring both you and Mr. Snow to a safe room, please cooperate."

You had a disdain for the Peacekeeper who spoke to you rather harshly, feeling his hands tighten their grip on your bicep.

Stumbling a few times, you had finally made it to the small bunker, heart hammering when you saw Coriolanus and the mayor already in there, dirt on both of their faces and clothing.

"Love," Coriolanus sighed in relief, though it was short-lived as he ran his eyes over your body. "Love, you're bleeding."

-----

a/n: oh how i love a good cliff-hanger

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x reader #hunger games imagine #coriolanus x you #hunger games x reader #hunger games tbosas #coriolanus snow

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sytoran · 5 months

Text

ARSONIST'S LULLABYE

kinktober day 011 | cheerleader!natasha x player!reader

"don't you ever tame your demons but always keep them on a leash" — arsonist’s lullabye, hozier

summary. natasha gets more attached than expected after a one-night-stand with the college's infamous player, both on the field and with the ladies. however, she's always been good at getting what she wants.

rating 18+ | word count 7438 (shittt)

note. natasha is 18 and y/n is 19, y/n is described to be masc-representing (eg. cropped hair, compression tee + grey sweats, tattoos, piercings)

note ii. please please please please take your time to read it, you don't understand how long i've spent pondering over every intricacy in this fic.

note iii. drinking game: take a shot every time i say 'don't fall for the player'

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

Don’t fall for the player.

This was a warning, circulating within the hallways of Avengers Institution, whispered under hushed breaths and divine lips.

Students in this renowned college came from all walks of life — from children of billionaires to self-made achievers, from prodigal minds to brilliant brains. One thing stood for certain, though, and that was the infamous Y/N L/N.

It was a rumour, tried and true, that every single girl — regardless of their sexuality, physical appearance, or social status — would all eventually fall under the spell of the school’s “player”. Try as they might, victim after victim fell helplessly for an effortless charisma and unstoppable magnetism.

The chase never lasted long, a one-sided apex predator hunt. Once you had your eyes set on someone, there was simply no escaping the undeniable fact that the following morning, that girl would wake up in bed next to you.

Problem was, you had this rule, written in stone: Never sleep with a girl more than once.

Alas came the cruel and vicious cycle of girls falling under your spell within milliseconds, only to have their heart shattered within the next twenty-four hours. Sometimes even less.

Boys looked on in jealousy, girls looked on in intrigue. (Or maybe jealousy, too.) The wiser ones kept a distance, but either way, one fact stood true, the moment one stepped into Avengers Institution.

Don’t fall for the player.

Little did you know, soon would arrive a thorn in your plans, an unwanted distraction, your ultimate downfall.

All due to an equally irresistible girl by the name of Natasha Romanoff.

***

“You’re fuckin’ impressive for a freshman, Natasha,” Pepper whistles, clapping her on the back. “Consider yourself a member of the Avengers Institution’s cheerleading squad.”

Natasha nods breathlessly, dropping the pom-poms onto the ground. She had just completed a complicated routine for the cheerleading tryouts, a rigorous one with flips and twirls that required pristine balance.

“I guess that’s expected from a girl who was with the Red Room,” Sharon adds, somewhat snidely. She was another freshman trying out for the cheerleading squad, with a snake-like smile that was coated with too much venom to convey any sort of genuineness.

Natasha returns the smile blankly, false emotions overtaking her face like second nature — propriety, expectations, rectitude. She knew what those words meant, when they put emphasis on the Red Room.

The Red Room, in question, was one of the highest-class organisations internationally that trained talented young female cheerleaders. With a near overly-daunting curriculum, payment fees so impossibly high, and only the most renowned instructors, the Red Room was essentially associated with filthy rich wealth and spoiled privileged kids.

And such comes the tragedy of warped views on capitalism and the unfairness of the world. Sharon leans next to Natasha’s ear in the false pretence of picking something up, but her lips move dangerously swiftly and whisper, “Daddy’s money lets you get everything you want, hm?”

It only takes a second, and then the faux-innocent perpetrator briskly moves away as if nothing had occurred. Natasha stands still, the gripe washing over her back like a cold shower. She steels her shoulders, refusing to be provoked. It wasn’t her fault she’d been born with a silver-studded spoon in her mouth.

Shrugging off the strange looks some of the other girls give her, Natasha hides her annoyance by fiddling with her short skirt. Alongside college came the novelty of less-strict clothing etiquette, and that resulted in the most miniscule cheerleading skirts Natasha had ever worn in her life.

“Ready on the count of three,” Carol announces, tapping her clipboard with a ballpoint pen, surveying the expanse of the wide field.

It wasn’t Natasha’s fault she simply got everything she wanted.

“One.”

An invisible force of magnetism pulls Natasha’s gaze to the bleachers above the field, unyielding and unstoppable. There stands a tall and dark figure in a relaxed position, looking directly at her with piercing eyes. A shiver of anticipation sweeps through the air, and Natasha feels goosebumps rise on her skin.

“Two.”

Aloof charisma exudes from the person’s very presence, so compelling and captivating that it takes Natasha a moment to realise that there’s another girl standing next to the enigmatic soul. She’s chatting animatedly, under a false belief that she’s got your attention, but Natasha knows better.

Her eyes travel over the person’s sculpted figure clad in a leather jacket, tacit confidence written in your lazy smirk and composed posture. Electricity erupts in Natasha’s bloodstream, sending shockwaves coursing through her mindwires, forcing her to look back up to your alluring, forsaken eyes.

“Three.”

Natasha’s body moves mechanically, practised and poised. The rhythm thrumming from the portable speaker seeps into her practised muscles without her brain actually registering it, still reeling from the sheer impact of you.

If there was a fracture in her composure, if her routine was ever-so-slightly off, if her legs trembled more than it normally would’ve, Natasha would blame you.

Natasha would blame you and your stupid smirk, your silly leather jacket, your sickeningly magnetic allure. How you made her feel unstoppable with that come-hither gaze, then left her so low when your eyes inevitably left her.

And suddenly, like a golden key slotting into place, the words Natasha had heard whispered in the hallways finally made sense. The coveted prayer that could only be spoken under hushed tones and divine lips.

Don’t fall for the player.

When Natasha finishes the series of tumbles that ignites impressed cheers from the senior cheerleaders, she lifts her lowered eyes back to the bleachers.

Only to find your lips locked with the blonde girl from before, your hands creeping dangerously low on her back. You move like a predator python, the silver piercings in your ears glinting in the light with every of your calculated moves.

A burning feeling courses through Natasha’s veins, like an ugly green monster unfurling gradually, indescribable anger making her jaw tick.

Don’t fall for the player? Well, now that just sounded like a challenge.

***

Natasha makes her way through the crowd of students filing out from the lecture hall. The chatter fades to a background buzz in her ears as she beelines towards a group of more bearable folks.

“No, they’re a sophomore,” Wanda explained, leaning against the locker door.

“Who’re we talking about?” Natasha intercepts with a curious gaze, slinging an arm around Clint lackadaisically. Professor Banner’s lectures were highly educational, but he tended to drone on a little, and she could feel the rising boredom making its slow crescendo into the back of her mind.

Clint raises his eyebrows amusedly, then lowers his voice in humorous dramatisation. “The player.”

Natasha’s face flashes in recognition at your title. Several things flit across her mind in rapid succession — a fetching character, a lofty smirk, and a pretty girl hanging off a forearm.

“So, this uh… What’s her name?” Natasha tries to ask subtly, faking an expression of indifference. Clint, as always, side-eyes her with a playfully accusatory glance. Natasha shrugs with an odd feeling of guilt.

“Well, I’m a sophomore too, so I do have the guilty pleasure of knowing Y/N L/N,” Wanda said with a bit of a grin.

“Knows her in more ways than one!” Sam cackles, ducking as Wanda swipes at him.

Natasha feels that burning feeling rising in her chest again, and perhaps it was due to the knowledge that someone else had experienced being in bed with you — which was arguably silly, because of course you slept with plenty of women, but that didn’t quell her growing unease.

“Was the sex really that good?” Clint asks bluntly, folding his arms as he leans against the locker next to Darcy. Natasha chokes on air.

Wanda only raises an eyebrow, as if to question the poor boy of his doubts of your sexual prowess. Her knowing smirk told a thousand tales, of your sentient being seemingly reincarnated from a Goddess of Sex, of your mighty skillset of lust, the ultimate sapphic enigma.

“You tryna pull a lesbian, birdboy?” Natasha asks dryly, nudging Clint in the rib. The jibe doesn’t even give her that satisfaction. Thinking about you again had unnerved her very skin, causing clammy hands and a dry mouth.

“She leaves all the girls the morning after, though, so don’t get your hopes up,” Wanda sighs wistfully, waving her hand in the air as if she prophesied of a legend. “It’s a one-night-wonder. Kind of like an eclipse. Only happens once, but when it does, it’s really astronomical.”

Natasha flexes her fingers to get her blood flowing. All this talk about your specialised skillset in bed was making her heart flutter, in the best way possible, but maybe that per se was the worst thing possible.

Because she might acknowledge that you were attractive, but that didn’t necessarily mean she wanted to sleep with you, right?

“And that’s why it's a common tongue around here,” Wanda concludes. “Don’t fall for the player. Simple as that.”

On cue, the noise in the hallway comically fades to silence. The gathered crowds of students make way for a quickly striding figure, clad in the same dark clothing Natasha thought about day and night.

Crossing the hallway with an easy purpose and confident composure, you walk past girls who could be seen swooning. Your gaze slides over them casually, sending small smiles here and there but never really quite focusing.

Until your eyes meet Natasha’s, of course. Like a love scene straight out of a drama, your composure cracks fractionally, and your loose confidence is subverted. It only takes a second before your persona snaps back into place.

“Hey, Natasha,” A smooth voice spills out from your angel-crafted lips. Your voice runs over her weak-willed skin, suddenly so vulnerable in your presence, and then you’re gone.

Natasha stills in place, staring after your disappearing figure. Your two words had left such a searing imprint into the front of her mind that it was honestly concerning. The chatter rises again, as if you were never there.

“Looks like you’re Y/N’s next conquest,” Wanda comments, mildly impressed. “Good luck, my friend. Just remember, don’t fall for the player.”

***

Why on earth there was a dorm party on the second day of school was a question that would forever remain unanswered.

Perhaps the adolescent spirit was the root cause of it, free and tameless and reckless, or maybe it was the temptation of alcohol and attractive folks, intoxicating and thrilling.

Either way, Natasha was here for a good time, not a long time.

Her short midnight dress flounces as she makes her way over to the partially occupied couch, the rather risky slit making its way up her thigh to reveal awfully beddable skin.

“Hey, babe!” Wanda calls enthusiastically, waving her over. There’s a Matrix movie playing on the screen, Natasha isn’t clear of which one, and there are students sprawled over the couch, the floor, and on each other.

She ends up playing a game of truth or dare with strangers, driven by warm bodies and the repetitive encouragement to indulge in a little bit of ‘fun’.

“Truth!” Darcy yells drunkenly, almost crushing her red solo cup of cheap alcohol.

“Jeez, woman,” Carol mutters, sighing at the tipsy girl’s antics. “So, truth— ever had a threesome?”

A bunch of ‘ooh’s wave like a ripple through the huddle of students, but Darcy answers with surprisingly quick coherence for a woman on her sixth cup of beer. “Hell yeah,” she drawls. “Y/N and Jane. Best night of my fuckin’ life.”

Natasha feels that wildly uncomfortable feeling of butterflies fluttering — no, thrashing, around in her stomach. It’s absolutely ridiculous that she’s so easily unsettled by you.

Said Jane Foster flushes in her seat, clearly embarrassed at having her sex life exposed. She waves a hand, trying to quiet down the growing hoots and whistles. “I mean, is it really that surprising, guys? I’m definitely not the only one! Okay, jerks, who else has laid with the famed Y/N L/N?”

Immediately, all eleven women in the dorm room have their hands raised. Well, all except Natasha, that is.

“Oh, she’s a free woman!” Valkyrie yells out, pumping her fist, and the crowd of women let out victorious cheers. “Our last standing soldier!”

Natasha smiles awkwardly in the limelight of all these older students, the strangling sensation in her gut growing stronger.

Seriously? ‘The Player’ has already slept with all these pretty girls in her second year? I would never sleep with someone who treats sex so meaninglessly…

Natasha refocuses on the game, dispelling all her thoughts that seemed to constantly circulate around you. In the bleachers, in the hallway, and now in a dorm party…

So why is Y/N L/N a muse in my mind? Why is she so inescapable?

After about six rounds of revealing shameful truths and accepting rather pointless dares, Natasha’s ready to ditch the scene altogether.

She’s barely touched any alcohol, but it was honestly a shame that her imagination was still so lucid. Getting some of that cheap beer into her system would probably help her to relax quicker, and to stop thinking about you.

“Hey, uh,” she whispers to Wanda. The older girl pulls her gaze away from the current life of the party to regard Natasha with a drunken smile.

“What’s up, Nat?” Wanda drawls, sprawling forward a little too close for comfort. Natasha cringes at her beer-tinted breath. Wanda murmurs softly, “Hey, you got a lil somethin’ in your eye. Looks like a little cloud… Oh, that’s just the light. Silly me, silly–”

“Wanda, I’m gonna head back now. Don’t worry about me,” Natasha says, slightly impatiently but affectionate nonetheless, patting Wanda’s head.

“Awh, okay,” Wanda responds drunkenly, breaking off into a little giggle as Natasha gets up. “Hey, Nat?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t fall for the player, yeah?” Wanda asks with an innocent smile, but her eyes are reminiscent of a ghost doing its last haunting. Then Wanda’s gone, gone with the wind, her attention lost to the exhilarating game of truth and dare.

There’s a moment of quiet in Natasha’s mind, save for the explicit Nicki Minaj song playing in the background with lyrics that would make a stripper blush.

She had heard that simple statement all too many times. Almost like she was meant to hear it. Like it was a premonition, a foreshadowing.

With the odd feeling of being defenceless, Natasha makes a beeline for the door. She’s had enough of silly conservations and awful thoughts; conversations that encircled around the subject of The Player, and awful thoughts of hers that always ended up being about you.

However, a shining bottle of cheap alcohol catches Natasha’s attention from the makeshift bartending station, essentially a kitchen counter. “Wouldn’t hurt, I guess,” she mutters under her breath, reaching out to grab a bottle for herself.

“Ah, that beer’s shite. The good one’s in the cupboard.”

Embarrassingly startled by the familiar smooth voice that greets her, Natasha jumps in her own skin. You again, she thinks with such indignation. What kind of sheer audacity did you have to approach her, after you were making out with another girl just the other day–

All coherent thoughts left Natasha’s mind when her eyes rake over your short-sleeve compression shirt that clung to your abdomen and arms like a vacuum-sealed package. Paired with grey sweats, it was such a beguiling mixture of taut muscles and casual wear that had Natasha growing hotter under her skin.

“I guess it’s alright for me to assume I’ve chosen the right attire for today,” you say, folding your arms in a little bit of satisfaction. That has Natasha staring at the black tattoos that decorate your thick forearms, and she’s half-crazed by the alluring sight.

Perhaps you’re showing off a little more than you normally would, but the girl standing before you was one that had invaded your mind for days on end, which was entirely uncharacteristic of your constantly horny brain.

“Can I ask you a question?” Natasha asks snarkily, returning your confidence with her very own crossed arms. Your eyes don’t miss the way her awfully kissable lips form the words on her tongue, and you certainly don’t miss the way her crossed arms push up her cleavage.

You lick your lips imperceptibly, and you notice the way Natasha’s eyes follow the movement with a hawk-like gaze. “Go ahead, sweetheart,” you respond easily, taking a single step closer to the object of your desires.

Natasha scoffs at the pet name, but you can see your close proximity subverts her composure in the slightest. Unable to keep your hands to yourself, you reach out to place your hands on her altar-like hips. She bristles under your touch, but she doesn’t move.

“Why’re you so fucking arrogant?” Natasha finally asks, hating how breathless she sounds, struggling to keep cool as your ring-adorned hands thumb the material of her short dress. You’ve got her entrapped between the kitchen counter and your sinfully sculpted body, with no way of escape. (Not like Natasha was looking for one.)

“Brat.” The dry laugh that sounds from your throat has Natasha’s heart pounding, a choked sound of pleasure caught in the back of her throat. Your big hands have moved to her sides, cradling her waist tenderly but withholding power, as if you’re ready to dig your fingertips into her soft skin at any given moment.

She thinks it’s unfair, the way your eyes are damn near psychedelic. They’re screens of mercury, smouldering and smoking with the way it trails over her body. If you’re a spark of fire, Natasha is a pool of gasoline that feeds your will.

Hot lips slant against Natasha’s ear lobe, taking it between your teeth as she shudders. Natasha’s breathy release of air as she fights to keep silent has you tugging on her earlobe with pure want.

“Can I ask you a question?” you ask, your voice a touch lower than it had been before, your hands tightening its grip on her deadly hips, the metal of your rings cool against her hot skin.

The overwhelming sensation of your big hands, hot lips and sharp teeth is enough to have Natasha’s eyes fluttering shut. She almost loses control of herself, almost lets herself fall victim to your hypnotic touch — But then you pull away, and a desperate little whine nearly falls from Natasha’s lips.

The cheerleader swallows as she stares at your crafted face, your eyes darkened with something far deeper than want, your lips tugged upwards into a devilish smirk.

“My room or yours?”

Natasha would like to say that the rest was a blur, and her alcohol-tainted memories got lost in translation — but it was a shameful and unequivocal statement that she had been entirely sober, and yet recalled every single detail of that night to vivid precision.

***

Natasha remembers you pressing her up against your door, a fervent urgency of lust unlocked within the confines of your dorm.

“So fucking desperate,” you grunt, hips knocking into Natasha’s front as you pin her against the door, lithe legs wrapped around your muscled torso.

“Shut the fuck up,” she spits, throwing her head back as your sharp teeth sink into the softness of her porcelain neck. The edge of your canines are hard and unforgiving, just how Natasha likes it, just how you scatter dark hickeys across her pale skin.

You smirk at her brattiness, finding it an exceptionally arousing trait of hers. “Pretty girl, you’re not the one in charge,” you tease, with your words and with your hands, dragging your fingertips up and under her short dress.

Natasha remembers her fingers twisting into your hair as you play her like a fiddle, teasing and edging and so blatantly talented like a prodigal concertmaster.

She whines as the cool metal of your rings nudges her nipples, her sensitivity skyrocketing with the shock. “More,” she tries to demand, but it ends up sounding like a helpless whimper and your hands move with such purpose.

You don’t help her cause by taking a hardened bud between two fingers and tugging, cries and whimpers following your fingers. Heaven is the way her breasts look all marked up by your mouth, hardened nipples and raw skin dancing in your vision.

Natasha’s nails dig into your hardened abdomen, scraping at your every muscle for all it was worth. It was something about you, something about the look in your eye, something about the way you commandeered her body with such precision and control like it was meant to be.

Natasha remembers her complete relinquishment of power, giving herself up for you, with a sick urge to be fucked within an inch of her life and then some.

Your right hand slides across her damp inner thigh to brush at her demesnes, and the sheer wetness that awaits your fingers makes you growl against her skin. “So fucking wet,” you grunt, peeling apart the thin material of her panties that cling to her sodden pussy with strings of slick.

Natasha wails, face completely flushed and so utterly gorgeous, and you can’t help but meet her lips with clashing tongue and teeth. She moans as your pierced tongue explores her mouth, and you drink up her cries of pleasure.

“Wanna fuck you silly,” you pant against her ear, fingers tracing the outline of her pretty pussy, dragging arousal along with it. Your knee keeps her legs spread nicely apart for the taking, and the vulnerability you bring out of Natasha is perhaps also the hottest thing.

Humiliation is the way Natasha agrees so quickly, nodding dumbly in acquiescence, thinking it would be nice to feel her brain melt to mush with your thick fingers and prodding tongue.

Natasha remembers the earth-shattering pleasure that wracks her body, as you divulge in providing, by leaps and bounds, the best sex she’s ever had.

Three fingers slide in and out of her dripping cunt at a phenomenal pace, and Natasha’s panting like a dog, tight velvet walls clenching around the thickness of your fingers for all it’s worth.

Finger-fucking her against the door like a heaven-descent, you bask in Natasha’s cries of pleasure. It’s never been like this, never been this heated. With Natasha, you felt like you were ascending.

“You’re gonna make a mess on the fucking floor,” you bite, a low gasp caught in the back of your throat. Natasha’s head lolls to the side, high-pitched whimpers making themselves known as she drips down your wrist and her thighs.

Natasha remembers the unravelling, the way her body seizes up out of its own accord, electricity erupting behind her half-lidded eyes.

Your hands dig into the plush of her thighs as you bring Natasha to a stupendous climax. Your fingers curl harshly, hitting her sweet spot and drawing out obscene noises from her.

“Fuck–” Natasha chokes out, high-pitched and breathy and absolutely delightful. Her hips jerk in your hands as your fingers move inside her.

“Another,” you grunt, not a request, and before Natasha can get ahold of her senses your fingers are thrusting again. She wails as your wrist jackhammers into her wet cunt, slick sounds echoing around the four walls of your room.

The second orgasm arrives even more harshly than the first, and Natasha clings onto the broad muscles of your back as you pin her against the door, toes curling and eyes squeezing shut.

She thinks she could find solace in the way your arms entrap her in a certain type of warmth, almost as if you don’t want to let her go.

But that would just be a hopeless fantasy, wouldn’t it?

Natasha remembers waking up the next morning to an empty bed.

The morning air is too cold on her bare skin. Your side of the bed isn’t even warm anymore. You must’ve left ages ago, in the dark of the night, and that thought in itself has Natasha choking on emotions she’d rather not feel.

Her clothes are still strewn on the floor and the furniture is a mess, a mockery of how far she’d let you go last night, driven by an inescapable high.

This is the game you play. Toying with girls' hearts like it was child’s play, making them feel like they were one in a million for one night only. All that alluring charisma was ugly and falsified, viewed through rose-tinted glasses.

This is the game you play, and Natasha Romanoff had fallen victim to it.

Don’t fall for the player.

Now, it was just another warning sign that she’d overlooked, and she was just like those other girls, stumbling into your open arms and cocky smirk.

Vehement fury slugs inside the cheerleader, as she forcefully picks up her strewn clothes.

Then she looks around the dorm room, your room, and time stills for a moment.

She’d expected it to be somewhat furnished, like all other dorm rooms were, maybe a cactus in the corner or a poster of a rockstar. Instead, your walls are blank and there isn’t a trophy or an award in sight.

You’re the captain of the football team, above average in academics, yet there isn’t a trace of the mark you’ve left as a student at Avengers Institution. There isn’t a trace that you’re a living, breathing human, with emotions that craft your very humanity.

Scarily enough, she feels like she’s laid in the bed of a complete stranger.

And suddenly, Natasha understands.

Don’t fall for the player.

Suddenly, everything feels a little too real, and Natasha comprehends that the statement holds far more depth than what your reputation suggested.

You were just fucking scared.

Scared of commitment, scared of growing attached, scared of being abandoned. You feared getting your heart broken, and thus you feared the longevity of relationships that involved love and romance.

As Natasha picks up her strewn clothes from the floor, with aching limbs and dishevelled hair, only one statement rings in her mind.

Don’t fall for the player.

“Maybe I will,” Natasha whispers to the ghost of your handsome, misunderstood self in the room. “But haven’t you heard I always get what I want?”

***

You couldn’t fall asleep.

You watch the empty sky as you sit on the empty rooftop of the school at four in the morning, a cigarette hanging limp between your lips. There’s an underlying anger bubbling beneath your skin, an itch that you can’t find, simply stewing there to your frustration.

Romance was bullshit.

It was plainly obvious from the way girls approached you. Flirty eyes and feather-light touches meant only one thing. And they were all so pretty, so who were you to complain, right?

All those girls always ended up in your dorm bed, sweaty and short of breath. Your heart would pound, and your mind would go wild with endless possibilities of what could happen if they just stayed.

“You can stay if you want,” you muttered off-handedly to one of your first few hookups in college. The look that the girl returned was so unimpressed that you never asked that question again.

But it was okay, because sex was something that you were good at, and those girls had their fun. It was okay, even if there was something missing. It was okay that your reputation preceded your identity. Even if those expectations spiralled far beyond your control.

With every passing girl you brought to bed, the gnawing hole in your chest only grew bigger. You craved something that you couldn’t obtain. Even if your heart was crawling out of its ribcage every time a girl breathed your name, every time she laid a hand on your chest.

Last night, Natasha Romanoff took that gaping hole in your chest and ripped it right open.

“Please, Y/N,” Natasha had whined, and there was reverent devotion in the way you held her hips, in the way you pulled her close.

“Stay,” you had wanted to whisper, so badly, so many times, but her hands were streaking red marks down your back and her body was shuddering under yours.

So you kept your forbidden mouth shut and continued to do what you did best. All the ‘what-ifs’ were just hopeless dreams. You couldn’t stay, you couldn’t commit. You weren’t allowed to, not after the expectations that had been set for you.

Romance was bullshit, after all.

“You seem troubled,” a female voice announces from behind you, but you don’t bother to turn back. Taking your silence as consent, the girl sits next to you.

“Give me a light,” the girl says, leaning closer to you, and only then do you turn to look her over. Blonde girl, 5’8, blue eyes. Freshman.

“Sharon Carter, right?” you ask indifferently, and the girl lets out a bemused huff as she makes her comfortable next to you.

“Wow, so you do know every girl in this school,” Sharon comments, and there’s a teasing lilt in her voice that hints at how this is going to end up.

You pull out a cigarette, passing it over to the blonde girl, noting how her fingertips brush over yours for a second too long. “Maybe I do,” you respond with false cockiness, the smirk overtaking your face almost unconsciously.

This is the right thing to do, you convince yourself, as Sharon’s hand creeps to your thigh. One girl after the other. You couldn’t get attached.

“Impressive. Put away your light. It’s healthier to destress in another way,” Sharon whispers, tossing her cigarette to the rough concrete.

What a waste, you think, but then the same could be said about a lot of other things in your life.

For a fraction of a second, you contemplate your existence. You wonder why you’ve ended up this way. What you’ve done to deserve girls throwing themselves at you when you began to despise all of them.

When Sharon brings her lips closer to yours, and you find yourself meeting her halfway, because you’ve done it so many times.

There’s this tugging of your heart that almost feels like guilt, but you shove it down and drag your tongue between a set of lips. All too easily, your hands draw patterns across her chest and her thighs, a mastered craft that came mechanically.

Even if it is the right thing to do, it doesn’t feel right.

Your head is swimming with unbearable thoughts of Natasha Romanoff, and you try to erase her on the tongue of another girl who could never compare.

It doesn’t feel right, but it’s the easy way out, and it’s what’s expected of you.

Always has been.

***

“Fuck, Y/N—” is the first thing Natasha hears when she meanders into the bathroom the morning after.

She had wanted to get an early start on the new morning, but alas, fate had it out for her.

For a while, Natasha is surprised that she isn’t surprised. You’ve got a pretty blonde girl on the bathroom counter, one hand up her skirt and the other twisted in her hair.

The girl throws her head back in a bout of pleasure, and Natasha’s thinking that maybe she looks a little familiar. It’s her cheekbones, strung high like a haughty prick. “Daddy’s money always gets what you want, hm?” rings in her head.

A spark of fire burns any ounce of indifference Natasha has to ashes. Sharon Fucking Carter.

Sharon’s painted nails were digging into the expanse of your shoulder blades, and it looked downright painful. Your dexterous fingers were plunging into her sodden cunt, rendering her barely coherent.

It all looks so wrong, and Natasha wants to crawl out of her skin before the jealousy eats her alive.

“Fucking hypocrite, aren’t you?” Natasha spits venomously, hands clenched into fists of fury, making her presence known.

When Sharon jumps away from you like she’s been burned, Natasha can’t help but let evil glee surge through her stomach. Serves you right, she thinks, staring at your dishevelled hair that somehow only made you look more handsome.

It’s different, this time, with your eyes darting as if you were unsure of yourself. (Astonishing, considering your mean streak of being cold as ice.) There’s resentment in the way your face sets, and a type of hurt that causes Natasha to falter.

“Daddy’s little bitch,” Sharon scoffs, fixing her skirt with no attempt to hide her disdain. “Why don’t you fuck off, huh?”

Natasha scoffs, eyes widening in fractional aggression. “I-”

“You should go, Carter,” you say monotonously, almost defeated but wavering on the edge of frustration.

The blonde girl whips her head around to stare at you with incredulousness written in her wide eyes. She lets out a dry laugh of betrayal. “Fuck, look at the two of you. Match made in hell.”

The bathroom door slams shut with a piercing thud. Both you and Natasha don’t flinch.

“You didn’t have to call Sharon a hypocrite,” you mumble, flicking your head back to look in the mirror.

There’s something off about you that no one else has ever had the privilege of seeing. It makes Natasha’s heart soar and her blood boil simultaneously.

“She wasn’t the one I was calling a hypocrite.”

A moment passes between the two of you where you flick an invisible switch.

“I’m the hypocrite, Romanoff?” you ask, evidently provoked. A crazed look in your eyes draws Natasha’s attention, because you’re putting on a false facade all over again.

“Am I the hypocrite for fucking another girl? It’s all I do, isn’t it? That’s what I’m known for. You don’t get to be so butthurt because you were just a one-night.”

A sickly sourness lines your mouth as you spew words that aren’t true, because your heart was fighting every battle to get to Natasha Romanoff.

“What you’re failing to realise,” Natasha begins stately. “Is that this isn’t about me. Fuck it if I’m just another girl on your ever-growing fuck list. Because maybe I am. But you’re lying to yourself if you think you’re happy.”

“Oh, so now you’re determining my emotions for me,” you retort with as much snark as you can muster. “You weren’t acting this high and mighty last night in my bed.”

“Quit the act,” Natasha scoffs, then letting a bittersweet smile cross her face. “You’re hiding behind weak retorts because you’re scared. Scared of being alone. But you don’t have to be anymore.”

Lost, your hands twitch, and you allow yourself to believe that maybe Natasha is your salvation. Defense mechanisms kick in, but you know you’re fighting a losing battle.

“Sorry to disappoint, Romanoff, but don’t try to play therapist. I’m not some kind of victim you’re going to diagnose,” you sneer. “I’m free to do whatever the fuck I want without your judgment.”

“Free?” Natasha asks, an incredulous look in her eyes. She laughs in mockery with an unwavering gaze. “You’re not free. You can’t go a day without fucking a girl. You’re a prisoner, and you’re shackled by your own desires and wants. Except this time, that luxury has become an addictive coping mechanism.”

Dark eyes flash with a glimmer of danger, and you’re so much like a trapped animal gone hostile that Natasha’s heart breaks a little.

“You’re wrong,” you answer, but your hands are shaking so violently that you hardly seem like the person she once thought you were.

Where complete equilibrium once was, a desperate frenzy of unease is what exudes from you now. Natasha feels a twinge in her heart when you whisper “You’re wrong,” again, this time substantially more quiet and resigned.

“Prove it, then,” Natasha challenges, bringing a hand up to cup the side of your face. Her eyes search yours so desperately, and you’ve stripped naked in front of a hundred girls, but you’ve never felt more vulnerable. “Prove that you’re more than whatever they say about you.”

With the strange urge of tears pricking at your eyes, you stare at Natasha with all the hopelessness any broken heart could muster, and for a moment you can see the doubt in her eyes. Like you’ve disappointed her, just like all the girls who’s hearts you’ve broken.

But when you first kissed Natasha Romanoff, it was never going to be just another one-night, was it?

With the final semblance of humanity in your burden-stricken mortality, you drag a shaky thumb along Natasha’s cheekbones like it’s the most delicate thing in the world, and the deeply-rooted self-loathing inside you fades away, just a little bit.

Your parted lips meet Natasha’s in a prologue to an unfinished symphony. You delve in like she’s your last lifeline, and maybe Natasha is, from the way she rests her fingers on your hips with a gentleness you’ve never experienced.

A carnal urge washes over you, because this time you’re not afraid to admit that you want Natasha Romanoff. You spread your hands, feeling up as much of her as you can, running it down her back then squeezing at her rounded ass—

And then Natasha’s pulling away, and only then do you hear the cluster of footsteps approaching the washroom.

“Tonight,” she whispers with a hint of smirk. Natasha goes on her tippy-toes to press a kiss on the tip of your nose, and then she’s gone.

You stand there with wide eyes, in the washroom where students filter in, lingering with the ghost of Natasha Romanoff’s lips and a piece of your heart melted onto the floor.

***

You were positive you were going to start ripping off your skin if you didn’t start fucking Natasha Romanoff in this exact moment.

But that would be a bad idea, because you were in the middle of a psychology lecture, and Professor Harkness probably wouldn’t appreciate that.

After a torturous hour of you shifting in your seat, you sprint out the lecture hall. Thanking the heavens that it was your last lesson of the day, you dodge and weave through the crowd of students in the hallway.

“Hey, Y/N,” A small group of sophomore girls call out, checking you out like a piece of meat. Normally, their flirtatious winks and little skirts would have you folded in an instant, but you couldn’t wait a moment longer.

You send them a polite smile and continue on your hasteful journey, missing the comical way their faces fall.

Upon your dutiful research, you knew where Natasha’s dorm was located, but you planned to stop by your own dorm to pick up a little something. (Okay, maybe the something wasn’t that little.) You yank open your door with purpose—

Only to find Natasha already sprawled out on your dorm bed, dressed in one of your shirts and nothing else. You almost pass out. Almost.

“Nat,” you groan, locking the door behind you. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“Not before I come, I’m afraid,” Natasha sighs with a pleased smile. She beckons you over with a come-hither motion, spreading her legs in invitation.

You bite back an affected noise in the back of your throat, pushing Natasha back down on to the bed with fervour. With a crushing sense of urgency, you slide your hand between her pretty thighs, not waiting a single moment.

“Slow down,” Natasha instructs, tilting your head up to stare at her blown pupils. “Take your time. Don’t just fuck me. Do it like you mean it.”

Upon hearing those words, a rush of pride washes over you and then you’re so eager to please, desperate to somehow prove yourself.

Your fingers find the hem of her shirt and tug it over her head, revealing the bare mounds that are Natasha’s tits. A shaky exhale leaves your lips as your fingertips experimentally brush over her hardened buds.

“God, you’re built,” Natasha moans, running her hands over the edges and curves of your muscle. It’s tight and taut under her touch, so defined and carved.

You shudder under her explorative touch, returning your attention back to the beautiful girl in front of you.

You were so used to hot, fast, explosive sex that turning back time was such a jarring awakening of everything that you were missing out on.

It put things into perspective, that you had never actually made love. And since this was your first time, you were determined to do it right, especially for Natasha.

You trail open-mouthed kisses down her sternum and stomach, savouring the taste of her skin. Your hands grasp at her tits, enjoying the feel of it in your hands.

You’re experiencing things you never got to experience, like the rise and fall of Natasha’s pale chest, the way her eyelids flutter gently.

Temporarily avoiding where she needed you most, you hear Natasha let out a whine. You tease her hole with your tongue, smearing her slick messily.

“Fuck,” Natasha curses, winding her fingers into your hair. “Please, I need it,” she whines, as you lick at her clit.

“M’kay, baby,” you mumble against her wet folds, because you could never deny Natasha of anything, could you?

You slide your tongue in her twitching pussy, and begin one of the most passionate love-making sessions

You listen out for when Natasha hitches her breath, when her hips stutter, when she mewls out. You learn the instrument of her body, understand and test out the different reactions you can draw out.

After minutes of what seem like pure bliss with erratic breaths and pleading keening, you speed up and the reaction is immaculate.

“Y/N,” Natasha cries, as your tongue goes in and out of her dripping cunt. Her slick goes down her thighs and your chin, making the most obscene noises.

It’s wet and squelching, and you proceed to devour Natasha’s pussy for everything it’s worth.

For a millisecond, Natasha wonders if anyone has ever died from being eaten out too passionately. Erotic Oral Overdrive, maybe.

Her first orgasm comes in a gradual crescendo, her hips rocking in waves as you dutifully match her unwinding.

Natasha lets her eyes flutter shut as the moment overwhelms her senses. Until the silence is finally broken by you.

“Got a little something for you,” you say with a quirked brow, sliding your hand into the bedside cabinet to retrieve that little something.

“Oh, fuck,” Natasha whines, upon seeing the biggest strap-on toy she’s ever had her eyes upon in her life.

You ease in the cock with no amount of trouble, through Natasha’s already slick cunt. You start with a gentle pace, because you’re trying to be slow.

Apparently, Natasha has different plans this time around.

“Harder,” Natasha growls, digging her nails into your muscled back. You let out a low gasp, because you’re already so deep inside her divine pussy, and you didn’t think you could go any deeper.

Gripping her thighs and spreading it as far apart as you can, you thrust impossibly deeper and your hips slap against Natasha’s.

Her eyes roll back, and she arches off the bed as you continue to thrust and make a nest for yourself inside her.

“Y/N, ungh– please, fuck—” Curled toes wrap around your back as she writhes against the bed.

With the way your cock bulges against her skin, you’re quite sure you could actually split Natasha in half. She’s clawing at your back, calling out your name to the ceiling.

When you pull out, Natasha whines, velvet walls clenching tighter around to keep you deep inside. But then you thrust all the way in again and a scream rings around your dorm room.

You don’t give a flying fuck about the noise level as you pound into Natasha, splitting open her pretty little pussy. “So fucking tight and wet,” you moan into her ear. “All for me, baby?”

It’s fucking possesive, the way you manhandle her to look at her rolled-back eyes and slack jaw.

“Mhm– yes! Oh God, yes, please, Y/N!” Natasha shrieks, clenching so tight you swear you can feel her wet pulse through the huge strap-on.

But it isn’t just any strap-on, and Natasha realises this with a breathy gasp, because it’s a squirting strap-on, and then you’re unloading into her ruined cunt with a deep growl.

Natasha wails, legs in the air, as you pump your seed into her pussy. It’s thick and flows out in pumps, and she milks your cock dry.

“Good girl, Nat,” you breathe, rocking in slow motions so she can recover from her high.

Finally, you collapse on top of Natasha as she lets out a breathy laugh. “What happened to not fucking the same girl twice?”

“You’re infuriating,” you grunt, rolling your hips once in retaliation. You delight the small victory of Natasha whimpering under you.

Natasha rolls her eyes at your impertinence, leaning up to press a small kiss on your forehead. “Infuriating? More like irresistible.”

It’s your turn to laugh, grasping her hips and pulling her impossibly closer. “You’re right,” you whisper truthfully. You think you could stay like this forever.

“Stay if you dare,” Natasha whispers, letting her hand trace over the curvature of your angled face. As you lay above her, you turn your head so that your lips brush against her palm.

Your warm lips are so delicate that Natasha could almost weep, and that’s all the response she needs before breathing a gentle sigh, hence letting sleep drift her consciousness away.

For the first night amongst many, a quiet calm settles in your dorm room ‘til the sun rises again.

***

Don’t fall for the player.

Once upon a time, that used to be a warning, circulating within the hallways of Avengers Institution, whispered under hushed breaths and divine lips.

Tried and true, was the rumour that every single girl in this school would eventually fall victim to The Player’s effortless charisma and unstoppable magnetism.

And this might be true, because whenever you strolled the hallways or scored a touchdown, you were bound to have admirers cheering your name or flirty winks thrown in your way — However, there was a catalyst. A change, if you would.

Boys looked on in jealousy, girls looked on in intrigue. (Or maybe jealousy, too.) What used to be a smooth mouth and wandering hands became a delicate kind of control, saved for only one particular student.

Gone was your blatant charisma and swagger in treating other girls, because now there was only one on your mind — Natasha Romanoff. Be it in on the bleachers, in the hallways, or during dorm parties, never were you seen without the girl who always got what she wanted.

And that included the very subject of the mantra that defined Avengers Institution:

Don’t fall for the player.

so... this was one full month of work. i've never been this dedicated to a singular project. wow. uh, please reblog. it's the only true way of supporting your little creators on this app, so help me out here. thanks for reading. out of curiosity, which part did you like the most?

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

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unseededtoast · 3 months

Text

I'd Wait For You | Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Summary: In which you find that a broken engagement leads you to the love of your life. (Friends to lovers)

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted

wc: 6.9k

"You have no idea how long I've waited for you."

-----

There is something weird in the air this morning, Spencer feels it the second he wakes up, but is unable to put his finger on what it is. As he goes about his morning routine he continues to ponder what this feeling could be from. He hadn't forgotten to turn in any papers, there is no rush to get to work, there is simply nothing going on that would cause this unsettling feeling that takes residence in his chest. But it persists nonetheless.

His commute to work is no better either, the sense of dread looms over him for no particular reason, and the anxiety causes him to pick at the skin around his nails, a bad habit he had stopped long ago. Spencer doesn't consider himself to be superstitious, but this is all beginning to feel a little foreboding to him. But he tries his best to mask the feeling as he walks through the familiar BAU doors, ready to distract himself with whatever tasks get assigned to him today.

The rest of the team shows up a few minutes later than he did, everyone taking their time to get settled at their desks. They had just returned from a case yesterday, so a day in the office is much appreciated.

The minutes slowly tick by and everyone but Spencer begins working on something, he just can't seem to focus today. Instead of trying to force himself to do work, he decides a cup of coffee might bring some sense of normalcy to the morning.

He picks his favorite mug and makes his coffee just as he usually does, but he takes his time stirring in the sugar, becoming entranced in the swirl within the cup as he stirs and stirs. Emily and JJ's voice outside the break room break his trance and he tosses the stir stick away as they walk in, happily talking about something.

"Did you hear?" Emily asks Spencer with a smile on her face. Spencer's eyebrows crease and he recalls the past few days, trying to remember if she is expecting good news. But he comes up short. With a shake of his head, he glances between the two.

"Hear what?" With his question, JJ turns her phone around to show Spencer a picture. As he realizes what is on her screen, he swears he feels his heart stop beating.

"She got engaged!" JJ exclaims, as if it's the best news she will hear all year. And while it might be the best news for her, it couldn't be worse for Spencer.

"About time too." Emily says, looking at Spencer expectantly. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he nods shortly.

"Yeah." He tears his eyes away from JJ's screen and brushes by the two of them to get out of the room as quickly as possible, forgetting his coffee on the counter.

Spencer swiftly walks through some of the quieter halls in the office until he finds a secluded conference room. With unsteady hands, he closes the door behind him and lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. His mind races with a hundred different thoughts at once, all of them revolving around the photo of you with a shiny ring on your finger.

Spencer should be happy for you, he should be over the moon that you had found happiness. But instead all he feels is sick to his stomach and like he had been kicked in the chest. He closes his eyes tightly, trying to keep tears at bay as he vividly remembers the moment he knew he was head over heels for you. It's a bittersweet memory for him, and one he thinks of quite often.

You had been on the team for a few months when Hotch assigned you and Spencer to put together the geographic profile together. You jumped at the opportunity, eager to learn something new, and he was excited to get to know you better. While the two of you worked together, Spencer couldn't help but notice the sweet smell of your perfume and how you nibbled on your lips as you concentrated. He found himself getting sidetracked by you more and more often, and couldn't help the pink flush of his cheeks whenever you glanced his way. It was on the third morning of working together when he realized that he had started to fall for you; the shiver that ran down his spine confirmed it as your hands brushed when you handed him a cup of coffee.

But that was four years ago, and nothing is the same.

As the memory fades, Spencer tries to pull himself together by straightening his tie and taking a few deep breaths. He's sure that Emily and JJ will have questions, but he's hoping they won't pry into the matter. Although he's sure that they've told everyone else how he ran off.

Once he feels like he's not going to cry at the mention of your name, he leaves the empty conference room and goes back to his desk where he has reports waiting for him. It's wishful thinking, but he hopes they offer some distraction from you. His foot taps with each pen stroke across the page, and he does his best to ignore Morgan's eyes staring at him a few feet away.

"You okay?" Morgan doesn't let Spencer ignore him any longer. With a sigh, Spencer puts the pen down and looks to Morgan, who appears to be studying every microexpression on Spencer's face.

"I'm fine." Spencer tries his best to keep his tone even and nonchalant.

"You don't seem fine." Spencer knows that Derek is just trying to be a good friend, and he appreciates that, but he knows he can't talk about what's bothering him here. Not in front of the team, and not in front of curious eavesdroppers. So to deflect the conversation away from what's really bothering him, Spencer gives a halfhearted answer just to be done with it.

"I guess I'm just ready for the weekend." Spencer quickly averts his gaze away from Derek's, his eyes catching the only photograph that resides on his desk.

It was a picture taken four years ago with the whole team, you had asked for a group photo before you left, and Spencer had printed one for himself as well. You were in the middle of the group, one arm wrapped around Spencer while the other wrapped around Emily. A wide, bright smile was on your face, but he knew if he looked hard enough he could see the tears you fought away, the same ones that broke loose immediately after the camera's flash.

Before you left you had admitted to Spencer that you didn't really want to leave, but your boyfriend had received a job offer he couldn't refuse, one that was across the country. Every bit of Spencer wanted to beg you to stay, but he knew how happy your boyfriend made you, and he couldn't bear to see you unhappy. So he swallowed his pride and encouraged you to go, to embrace new opportunities; but he made a point to let you know that you would always be welcomed back with open arms.

The night you left Spencer remembers how he cried for hours, looking at the photo and knowing that he would likely never see you again. He knew he would never be able to forget your smile, your kindness, and all of your quirks that he had fallen in love with over the years. His heart constricted with the thought of another man's hands on you, but he could only blame himself, for he had never found the courage to tell you how he really felt.

-----

Rain splatters on the windshield as you speed down the highway, the wipers trying their hardest to keep your view clear. Your mind had become numb to the inclement weather at this point, having already traveled eighteen hours of the twenty five hour journey; a journey you never thought you'd make. But here you are, driving on an empty highway in the middle of the night, alone.

Mile after mile flies by, your thoughts replaying yesterday's events over and over again like an unhealthy obsession. It had come as a shock, walking into your home to see your fiancé with another woman on his lap. You weren't expected back home for a few more hours, but your boss had let you go early.

You remember vividly how excited you were to come home early for once, to spend time with your fiancé because work had been keeping you busy. But that excitement turned to nausea within a second. She had her arms around his neck, he had his hands on her waist, both of their faces flushed. Of course he tried to tell you it was a misunderstanding.

"It's not what it looked like." He begged you as you zipped up your last suitcase. Without sparing him a glance, you wheeled the luggage to the front door, unusually calm despite the circumstances. Your hand rested on the cold handle and you cleared your throat.

"Don't call me, don't text me. If I left something here I will have my attorney contact you." Is all you said before you left your home of four years. Maintaining composure, you placed the bag in the back of your car and got inside.

As soon as your home disappeared from view in your rearview mirrors, the dam broke. Tears fell quickly down your cheeks, harsh breaths wracked your chest, your hands tightly gripped the steering wheel. You must've cried for hours before the tears dried, your breathing had leveled, and your aching hands eased up on the wheel. Within the blink of an eye, your life had been turned upside down and you had no idea how to pick up the pieces.

You decided to go back to Washington D.C., the one place you really ever considered home, after a few hours of driving East. Truthfully, you have no idea what you're going to do or where you're going to go once you get there, and you only have a few hours to figure it out. But you have blind faith that you'll figure something out, even if it does take a few days.

-----

The next day, you wake in a hotel room, enveloped in pristine white covers. The sun peeks through the heavy curtains, and you rub the sleep from your eyes. Checking your phone, you see dozens of missed calls and unanswered text messages from your now ex-fiancé. It seems he can't follow instructions very well. You ignore his messages and delete his voicemails without listening to them, you have no desire to waste your time listening to his lies.

You scroll through your contact list and block his number, eager to be rid of the man as fast as possible. While scrolling, your thumb lands on a distantly familiar name, and an idea blooms in your mind. Your eyes read over his contact card for a second, Aaron Hotchner, your old boss. You could always call and see if there's any chance the team would take you back. Though it would be humiliating to explain why you had come back, you'd be lying if you said you didn't miss the team who became your family.

The thought of being reunited with them is enough to send Aaron a text before you can talk yourself out of it. It's a simple message, and right to the point. If there's one thing you remember about Hotch, it's how he appreciated conciseness.

Your phone finds its way to the side table as you get out of bed and get ready for the day. You had no plans in particular, and you had the hotel room booked for another week, so there was no immediate rush to get out. Today you would allow yourself to meander aimlessly and tomorrow you would get serious about finding a place to rent.

Halfway through your unplanned day, your phone buzzes in your pocket and your heart drops. There's only one person it could be. Not having the patience or restraint to wait, you pull your phone out immediately and read the text from Aaron.

"Come by the office tomorrow." The message is simple, in true Aaron fashion and a smile breaks out on your face, happy that something is finally starting to look up.

-----

Familiar glass doors are feet away from you, the FBI logo engraved into the glass, they look exactly like you remembered. Your heart thumps in your chest with each footstep towards the door. You hadn't told anyone but Hotch about wanting to come back, but you know when you walk through these doors that all hell is going to break loose. With a deep, calming breath, you open the doors and start towards Hotch's office casually.

But of course, as fate would have it, you don't make it there without being noticed. To your right, you hear a gasp, then another, and then suddenly your name is being called out by your old friends. Turning to face them, it's like everything is starting to click and fall into place. Emily and JJ rush over to you, smiles on their faces, and you can't help but smile as well. You've missed your team dearly.

"I didn't know you were coming!" Emily says as she wraps you in a warm hug, to which you return.

"Yeah, it was kind of unplanned actually." You say, stepping back from her arms. JJ and Emily look at you expectantly, but instead of giving them the answer they're wanting to hear, you take another step back and look to Hotch's office.

"We'll catch up later." JJ smiles, noticing your eagerness to get to Hotch. You nod before turning away. With a light knock, you knuckles make contact with the wooden office door.

"Come in." Hotch's deep voice calls out.

When you enter, he stands with a ghost of a smirk on his face and extends his hand. You return his handshake and take a seat in front of his desk.

"It's good to see you again." He says as he sits back down and you sigh, looking around at the office. Hotch really hasn't changed anything since you've been gone.

"Yeah, it feels good to be here again." You answer truthfully, meeting his eyes.

"I assume this isn't just a visit?" He questions, interlocking his fingers together in front of him.

"Perceptive as always. But you're right. Listen, I haven't told anyone but I am no longer with my fiancé and I was wondering if the team had a vacancy you're looking to fill." You get right to the point and your stomach turns with anxiety. Hotch's eyebrows lift at your words and you can tell he hadn't been expecting those words to come out of your mouth. But after a few moments of contemplation, he finally answers.

"We would be glad to have you back. When can you start?" You blink a few times, trying to process that he had actually welcomed you back and hadn't let you down gently, like you had half been expecting.

"I um, I can start whenever." You say, stumbling over your words with excitement. This time, a noticeable smile adorns Hotch's face.

"How about you get settled back here first, then we can talk about coming back." He says and you agree, knowing that having a stable place to live first is probably the right thing to take care of before diving headfirst into work again.

After catching up with Hotch, he allows you to mingle around the bullpen, where your old friends have been anxiously waiting. You can tell from the look on their faces that they're expecting some sort of explanation, and you can't help yourself but share the news.

"I'm back!" You say with a wide smile. JJ and Emily cheer, Morgan comes and claps you on the back, and even Penelope comes out and talks a million miles a minute about how you need to tell them everything. And while you love being back with your team, you can't help but notice how Spencer lingers in the background.

Spencer and you had grown very close over your years together, and once you had moved away you hadn't really heard from him. It hurt, but you understood and didn't want to pressure him to keep contact. But you really had missed him. You catch his eye from across the room and you smile, knowing that once you're back full time that you will have a lot of time to catch up with him, and you hope that you're able to pick up right where you left off.

----- "Well it looks like you're getting quite the welcome back. Four women went missing in Athens, Tennessee. All four of them were found on the same day in the same manner. They had their arms tied behind their backs and their heads were submerged under water. But the medical examiner does not believe they died by drowning." Penelope briefs the team on the newest case and as she speaks you study the images in front of you.

It's been years since you've worked a case, or really in any law enforcement capacity at all. Once you had moved out west with your ex-fiancé you had decided to take a job as a daycare teacher. It was a nice change of pace for a while, but it makes getting back into the BAU lifestyle that much more difficult. After being surrounded by innocent children for years, you're now being re-immersed in a world full of psychopaths and it feels overwhelming.

You sit back as the team discusses early theories. Once upon a time you would have jumped in with your own thoughts, but you suddenly feel under qualified to be here. It has you second guessing whether this was the right decision or not. But before you can dwell on that for very long, the team is loading the jet and speeding off to Tennessee.

While on the jet, Hotch assigns everyone their duties, and you find yourself being paired with Spencer, just like you usually were. Being paired with him ignites a feeling of excitement within you. You still hadn't been able to catch up with him properly, but you're hoping this could change that.

Everyone keeps to themselves for the majority of the ride, busying themselves with reviewing the case and resting up. Once upon a time, you usually tried to sneak in a nap on the way to a new case, but the nerves creeping around in your veins keep you unable to do so, instead you worry about performing well for the sake of your reputation.

When the plane lands, the team hits the ground running. Some members go to the medical examiner's office, others go to interview the families, while you and Spencer are left to piece together the geographical profile. He's spread a map out on a table and marked where the bodies were found.

You pitch in when you feel comfortable with your findings, such as where the victims were last seen. The beginning of the process is fairly straight forward, it isn't until the deduction part until you start feeling dread and nervousness. Spencer hadn't said a single word directly to you, he's only spoken into the open air and you've responded.

"Well, what if they were all going to the doctor for the same condition?" You pitched in and Spencer hummed in response. And for the first time, he finally acknowledges you directly.

"You might actually be onto something. Let me call Garcia." His words are rushed and he leaves the room as the phone dials. Your heart sinks as he leaves. This isn't like how it used to be at all. No, you and Spencer were always a dynamic duo, but this feels very static and compartmentalized.

Perhaps it's because he's unsure if your abilities are still up to par. Or maybe he's still upset that you left in the first place. You couldn't be sure, but you hoped that this phase would pass soon so that you could have your dear friend back.

-----

You look at the clock with burning eyes, seeing that it's already one in the morning. The rest of the team had left for the motel hours ago, but you and Spencer had stayed at the station, having struck gold with Garcia. Apparently, all of the victims had contracted a very unique disease and so you and Spencer had researched that disease extensively to locate where they could've contracted it from.

So far, there was a very limited list of possibilities. With your mind becoming more fuzzy with exhaustion you know you're not being a very good teammate. Yawning, you break the long-standing silence and stand from your seat.

"I think I'm going to go to the motel, I'm exhausted and I can't comprehend anything I'm reading anymore." You announce, throwing away your empty coffee cup from hours earlier. Spencer caps the marker he's using and straightens his posture.

"Yeah, I'll go with you." He rubs his eyes as he stands, and the two of you walk out of the station together.

The night is warm and you appreciate the night sky as the two of you walk back to the motel. Your brain feels like it's been put through a meat grinder, and the unrelenting nerves double down on your exhaustion. It feels like your feet weigh twenty pounds each and so when you finally reach the motel, it's like seeing an oasis in the desert. Spencer goes in for the keys to your room and to his room and you notice the teams' cars parked in the lot.

"Bad news." Spencer says as he walks back from the lobby.

"What?" Dread fills you and you're not sure how much more you can take before you mentally break and physically collapse.

"They had to rent out one of our rooms, I guess they made a deal with Hotch for a partial refund. So, the two of us are going to be in room B12." He says, swinging the keys from his finger.

"You're kidding." Your voice is monotone. All you had wanted was some space alone, but you can't even be afforded that luxury. Instead of arguing or complaining further though, you just sigh and head towards room B12, where you trust the others have relocated your items.

You hear Spencer follow closely behind you and he unlocks the door once you reach it. Inside, there's one bed and one small armchair. The two of you just stand in the doorway, staring at the inadequate accommodations.

"I can go see if I can get the keys to one of the cars." Exhaustion is thick in your voice and you feel beat down and defeated from the day.

"No, you don't have to do that. I can take one of the cars." Spencer speaks up as you turn to leave and you meet his eyes, tiredness obvious.

"Spencer you're too tall. No, just let me it's okay." You take a step forward, but he catches your upper arm.

"Listen, Hotch needs the sleep, he hasn't been resting well lately. So why don't we just try to figure something out here." He lets go of your arm and closes the door behind him. At this point, you just want to sleep and so you agree.

"Yeah, sure. I'm going to get changed." You say and rub your eyes as you go to rummage around your bag for something comfortable. As you go to the bathroom, you hear Spencer messing with the blankets.

Once the door is closed behind you, you grip the edge of the counter and look in the mirror. Your bloodshot eyes stare back and the anxiety of the day catches up to you with full force. Feelings of inadequacy and disappointment fill you and you worry that you're letting the team down by not being able to solve things faster. Once again you find yourself wondering if coming back was the right decision.

You let go of the counter and change, ready to pass out for a few hours and be dead to the world, hoping that your anxieties don't also infiltrate your dreams. When you exit you see that Spencer has changed as well, and has also constructed a sort of pillow wall in the middle of the bed. You can't help but smile at his efforts.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" You ask, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. After all your years of knowing Spencer, you knew he valued his personal space. He nervously nods and clears his throat as you approach the bed.

"Yeah, it's fine. Are you sure your fiancé isn't going to care?" His words are calculated and from the look on his face you can tell he had been stressing over this for a little while.

Looking down at your finger, you see the glistening ring and you spin it around a few times, remembering what it used to symbolize. You hadn't wanted to tell anyone about the break up just yet, but you know you have to tell Spencer now, or he'll be up all night worrying about the fiancé he thinks you have.

"I um, I don't have a fiancé anymore." Your voice is soft and you hear the vulnerability in it. Unable to meet Spencer's eyes, you just keep staring at the ring.

"But I thought, you're wearing the ring, and JJ said that-" He stumbles over his words and you finally look up to him, seeing him in an almost panicked state.

"We broke up. I left him, actually. I came home and saw another woman on top of him." You admit, fingers leaving the ring as you mention the infidelity. His eyes glance down to the ring before he meets your eyes again.

"I'm sorry I didn't know." He says with exasperation and you shrug but beneath your calm demeanor you feel the repressed sadness and anger within you.

"I wasn't going to tell anyone yet but I didn't want you to worry. But yeah, I left that same night and haven't looked back." You sit on the edge of the bed and Spencer follows suit, the two of you almost shoulder to shoulder and it feels like your friend is coming back to you.

"You didn't deserve that." His voice is kind and soft.

"I know. I just wish I hadn't wasted all that time on him. I wish I hadn't moved away from everyone. I missed you all every single day and for all of it to have been for nothing is just, it's a hard pill to swallow." You tell him, unable to keep your thoughts to yourself for any longer. You feel tears burning the rims of your eyes and for the first time since that day, you allow yourself to feel the emotions you've worked hard to ignore.

"Come here. I've missed you too. We all have. But we're so happy to have you back." Spencer wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you into him. He rubs small circles on your back as you sniffle, and you're thankful for him. This feels like the Spencer you know and a familiar comfort overcomes you.

You remember all the cases where he would help you deal with the trauma. After particularly hard cases, he would always remind you that you were welcome to call or drop by anytime, that he would be there any hour. In the mornings he would bring you coffee and he'd ask about your night or weekend. Everything with Spencer was always effortless.

And after a few minutes had passed, you and Spencer get into bed, pillow wall be damned as you link your pinky with his, just to know that he's here with you. That night your fears and anxieties did not follow you into your dreams.

-----

Spencer knows he shouldn't be happy to hear that you left you fiancé. As your friend, he should be upset with you and sympathetic. But instead all he feels is a deep sense of relief.

Since working side by side with you, the shiny ring on your finger had become quite the annoying distraction. Every time it caught the light it served as a reminder that he could never have you. But now, it no longer holds any power over him.

And when you link your pinky with his, an unfamiliar feeling blooms within him. One of hope, one that had long died inside of him when you moved away.

He's happy that you came back and before he falls asleep with you by his side, he promises himself that he will not lose this opportunity. This is his second chance and he will take it when he finds the right time.

-----

Three days later and the case is coming to a close, you can feel it in your bones. You and Spencer had begun working as a duo once again and successfully put together a full geographic profile.

Now, all that's left is to locate the suspect and bring him in for questioning. You and Spencer sit around a table waiting for the others to come back from their field investigations, and you can't help but notice how his hair is curlier than you remember.

Not only is his hair curlier, but you notice how the sun brings out the honey tones in his eyes. His long fingers lock together as he looks over a map, which is what you should be doing as well, but instead find yourself admiring Spencer.

He had grown in the last five years, blossomed into the bright man you knew him to be and he seems more comfortable in his own skin. You're happy he's finding his stride. And you can't deny the newfound confidence looks good on him.

With the realization that your thoughts had taken a turn, you snap yourself back to focus on the task at hand. There's no way you were just checking out Spencer of all people. No way. As quick as they manifested themselves, you repressed them deep within your mind.

Thankfully the others arrive back with good news, they've found the suspect; he was almost exactly in the center of the projected safe zone you and Spencer had established. They don't stay long as they gather the sheriff and some deputies before they go and arrest the man. You're sure that the team has found the right man, and you believe he's going to crack as soon as they put some pressure on him. You and Spencer stay behind to lend technical support if they need it.

Turns out, you were right again. It took all of ten minutes before the suspect confessed. The man who wanted to be seen as confident crumbled into a sobbing mess under Hotch's questions. He was taken to the county jail in cuffs and the team was left to pack up and head back to Quantico. You had forgotten what it felt like, what it really felt like, to solve a case. The feeling sinks in and you remember just how much you've missed this job.

The jet ride back to Quantico is fairly silent. Everyone has found their own thing to do and while they decompressed you looked out the window. The view from the jet never really got old, you always found some beauty staring out into the clouds. But eventually, your eyes drift from the wispy clouds to Spencer, who has opted to take a nap on the journey home. And once again, you come to appreciate him more so than you ever have for his continued friendship.

You're happy that you came back, and you look forward to what the future may hold.

-----

The night is chilly but the sky is clear. You and Spencer walk side by side down a path alongside a river, the two of you stressed about work and thankful to finally have a Friday night to yourselves. Of course, the others all had plans, except for you and Spencer, so you both decided to take a late night walk.

You look up to the sky and admire the stars, seeing some shining brighter than others. You're sure Spencer has a fun fact as to why that is, but you're perfectly happy to just walk beside him in quiet content. It's been a month now since you've been back and you feel like you and Spencer had grown closer than ever before in that short amount of time.

Your gaze shifts from the stars to him, admiring his side profile and how defined his features are. There's no denying that he's grown into his features nicely, and you can't help but to appreciate his beauty, inside and out.

Eventually the path leads you to a small stone bridge that arches over the river. Crickets chirp in the distance and the moonlight reflects beautifully off the calm water. Leaning forward on the stones, you take a deep breath of crisp air and close your eyes to appreciate the moment of peace.

"You're still wearing your ring." Spencer's voice breaks the silence between you. Looking down, you see how the diamond is reflecting the moonlight. It's a beautiful ring, yet you had never been so disgusted with a piece of jewelry.

"Yeah." You twist the ring around and around on your finger before you take it off.

"Are you going to tell the others? I know they've been asking." He says and you nod slowly.

"Yeah, I'm going to tell them, I just don't know how to I guess. They're all so happy that I've 'found the one' but, he was the furthest thing from my soulmate. I just don't want them to pity me." You say, meeting his eyes. Spencer leans on the bridge's railing as well, his eyes trained on the ring in front of you.

"You know you don't owe them anything, right? They'll understand." He encourages, and you know he's right but you can't help but feel anxious about it.

"I know they will." You say, looking back down to the ring.

What once used to symbolize loyalty and undying love is now nothing more than a reminder of the time you had wasted and the time you'll never be able to get back. It reminds you of how you bent over backwards to please that man, one who used and took advantage of you. Anger rises within you and in a split second decision, you toss the ring into the river below.

It sinks to the bottom, out of your sight forevermore. And as it sinks it feels like a weight has been lifted off of your shoulders. You feel free, untethered.

"I didn't mean for you to throw it away you probably could've sold it for a good amount of money." Spencer rattles off, obviously flustered that you just threw a thousand dollar ring into the river. But you just shrug, at peace with your decision.

"It was worthless." You say with conviction. Spencer's lips fall apart and your heart beats faster when you meet his eyes.

"Come on, it's getting cold out here." You break yourself out of your own thoughts and Spencer nods, offering you his arm.

You link your arm with his as the two of you walk back to the parking lot and it feels right. Being around Spencer feels effortless and you feel like you can be your true, most authentic self around him without worrying about judgment. His presence makes you feel safe and secure, and as you walk you rest your head on his arm lightly, grateful to have him.

-----

"No I think you put it on backwards." Spencer says, reading the instruction manual again. You take a step back and look at the chair you're trying to assemble and see that he's most definitely correct.

"I think you're right. Why is building a chair this complicated?" You ask as you sit back down and begin disassembling the part you had just put on.

It's now been four months since you've been back. In that time you've found an apartment and have decided to finally furnish it. And thanks to Spencer, you don't have to assemble the furniture alone. The two of you had put together a credenza, a bookshelf, a side table, and now are tackling the chairs, which are proving to be more of a challenge than anticipated.

After another hour, the chairs are finally assembled. Spencer collapses on your couch dramatically as you push the last one in to complete the dining set. Feeling like he deserves some thanks for helping you today, you go to the kitchen and pour him a glass of wine.

You return to your couch and sit next to him, putting the glass in his hand. He hums in appreciation and takes a sip. Before you partake in your own glass, you go and turn on the fireplace, feeling like it would complete the atmosphere. The amber glow from the flames envelope the two of you in warmth, and you take a long sip of your wine.

It's not unusual for Spencer to be over at your apartment anymore, he had been coming over pretty consistently since the night you two had taken a walk over the river. It's like something changed that night between the two of you; like throwing the ring was symbolic of more than just unloading past baggage. It's like it allowed you to move on and start anew.

Lately, you found yourself thinking about Spencer more and more often. When he wasn't around you find yourself missing him. You miss his humor, his comfort, just everything about him. Every time he knocks on your door butterflies erupt in your tummy and you're unable to keep the smile off your face.

You had denied the feelings for a while, explaining them away as just sentiments of friendship. But eventually, you had come to realize that you had slowly fell in love with your best friend. He makes your days brighter and brings peace to your soul.

As you sip on your wine, you move closer to him and rest your head on his shoulder. There's just something about Spencer that draws you in, almost as if he has his own gravitational pull. Like he's the sun and you're just a planet in his orbit. But you wouldn't have it any other way. Spencer puts an arm around your shoulders and hugs you closer, sending a warm feeling down your spine. If only you could stay like this forever.

The two of you finish off the wine in a comfortable silence, and it's not too long after that you find your eyelids growing heavy. You burrow yourself closer to Spencer, who adjusts so that you two can comfortably lay on the couch together. The crackling of the fire and Spencer's warmth lulls you close to sleep, and you might have fallen asleep, had it not been for feeling Spencer pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

The kiss was quick, gentle, but you know he had meant it. As you lay on him, head on his chest, his arms wrap you up and hug you tight, like he's afraid you'd float away if he let you go. You feel warmness creep up into your cheeks as his hands start rubbing slow circles on your back. It's almost like he wants you to fall asleep on him.

Before you're pulled into sleep, you look up at him through your lashes, only to be met with his warm, tender gaze already on you. Your lips fall apart as you feel the butterflies take flight in your tummy. Up close and under the soft glow of the fire, you're sure Spencer was actually an angel in human form. You had never seen such delicate beauty before.

Unable to stop yourself, your hand travels up his torso before it rests on his cheek. Your thumb gently strokes over his cheekbone as the two of you explore each other's eyes. It's unspoken, but you feel as if there's an agreement between the two of you, an acknowledgement of sorts.

Feeling a surge of confidence, you lean up and press your lips to his. He's warm and soft, and his hands cradle your face as if you were made of glass. Your lips move in perfect tandem, as if you had done this a million times before.

When your lungs begin to burn, it's only then that you pull away with a heated face and swollen lips. You blink a few times as you gaze into his eyes, seeing his pupils dilated and his lips pinker than they were just a moment earlier. His hands hold your face delicately and he looks at you as if you had personally put all the stars in the sky.

"You have no idea how long I've waited for you." He whispers before leaning in for another kiss. His words are deliberate and genuine, and you know he's not lying.

As you break away again, a smile finds its way to your face. Spencer smiles back and it feels like things are falling perfectly into place. You wish you had the ability to bottle this moment up and preserve it. Your heart and soul had never felt such peace than when you're in Spencer's loving arms.

You lean your forehead against his and close your eyes, knowing with every fiber of your being that Spencer Reid is the man you're going to spend the rest of your days with.

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #dr spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid fanfiction #mgg #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #Spotify

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i-cant-sing · 21 days

Note

To that one thought about the different monarchs YES TO ALL

Ahahaha im so glad so many people liked that idea (OG post here), so ive decided to work on it. So, lets set the story okay? (also btw do not @ me with historical inaccuracies and dates because i simply dont care about all of this that deeply). This AU will have multiple parts, where reader gets to travel through different time periods (and some of them will be real historic figures, others would be created by me).

Reader is a scientist, was working on her time machine (which is just a small box with time/year slots on it), and decides to travel to the past to solve some mysteries, or perhaps simply for the love of history.

So, where does reader travel to first?

1180. Landing right in the kingdom of Jerusalem. And who does she meet?

King Baldwin IV- the leper king.

Reader wanted to see how leprosy, a deadly disease at the time, had affected the king, who despite his conditions, still managed to possess great military strategies and IQ. And how even though his people knew about his outcome, still pledged their loyalty and unwavering support.

You, a scientist of the modern time ofc brought along futuristic gadgets with you. Knowing how youd look in your present era clothes, you wore a watch that allowed you to change into clothes of old times, to blend in easily. All of your gadgets were concealed easily because of their "invisibility cloak" feature.

You made your way towards the castle, making sure to not let awe be apparent in your face as you took in your surroundings, thinking of all the questions youd like to ask the wise king. Of course, you had to make sure you dont do anything to disturb the historic timeline, because then it just might lead to disastrous results.

Getting into the castle was easy, after all you had equipment to sneak you in undetected. You looked around as the servants rushed around, talking about making the arrangements perfect for the feast. You figured out that the feast was probably for another victory the king had gotten, which meant that everyone would be too busy to notice you snooping around.

With everyone engaged downstairs, you had your way up to the king's study, where you opened the door only to be met with a tall burly man standing there, looking surprised to see you.

"Who are you?" He barked, and you got the worst vibes from this man.

"Uh- Im a servant!" You said,backing up a little, just in case you needed to make a run. The man narrowed his eyes as he looked you up and down. "A servant? No servants are allowed in the king's study!"

"The king sent me here." You lied. "And why are you here if servants are not allowed?"

The man's eyes widened in rage before grabbing you by the neck. "Because Im not a servant, fool! I'm his brother in law!" He shook you hard. "And I dont think youre a servant, if you couldnt recognise me! I will have your head, spy!"

"GUY!" Someone yelled from behind you, making Guy look up as his grip around your neck loosened. "Let her go!"

"Your majesty, she's a spy-"

"She's a servant. I sent her up to retrieve my papers." Guy let you go, as you quickly turned around to see him- King Baldwin. You bowed to him as you gave him a glance, noticing his piercing gaze through his iron mask. His gaze shifted from you to Guy. "And what were you doing here, Guy?"

"I was looking for Sibylia, your majesty." He said.

"In my study? My sister is waiting for you downstairs. Go." Guy scrambled away with his tail tucked between his legs, while you watched as the king made his way into his study, leaving you outside.

You took a step back, about to leave-

"Well, come on in." He called you. You ponder over it for a second before walking in. Look, how many times can you meet a historical figure like him?

Baldwin was sitting in his chair, his eyes looking at you through his mask. "So, who are you and what were you doing here? And dont bother lying, unless you want to be tortured for attempted assassination on the king."

You bit your lip before sighing. "Im Y/n L/n." Clasping your hands together, you took a deep breath. "I came here because... I wanted to know about you."

He rested his chin on his palm. "Why? Do you not know about the king of Jerusalem? Where are you from?" He's not vain, but he knows that his numerous victories have made him popular over the years. So why do you not know of him? Or his brother in law, Guy, who is very vain.

"Im from nowhere. For as long as I can remember, Ive been travelling from place to another. Of course, Ive heard about you, but... I crave to know more." You said, partly telling the truth because you do want to know more about him.

His eyes remained on you, the same intense gaze. "And why should I allow you to know more? Do you mistake yourself to be worthy enough to even be in the presence of a king?"

Shit. He was trying to put you in the corner. You had to play this smart.

You smiled softly. "Of course not. Then again, none of us are worthy of anything God blesses us with." You paused, letting the words settle. "Your majesty, I only wish to know more about you because I like to write. I like to write about history, and when one day, God forbid, you succumb to your illness, wouldn't you like to be known for more than just your victories?" You'd read about how Baldwin IV was a fan of history and stories.

His eyes stared at you- no, through you. Unmoving, he replied. "Man shouldnt be so narcissistic to have someone write about his deeds."

You gave a nod. "Jesus wasnt a narcissist. Neither was Mary, nor Abraham. Muhammad wasnt a narcissist either, yet theyre mentioned in books- holy books, nonetheless."

The room fell silent for a few seconds, before he spoke. "True. But why should I have you write it, instead of using one of my scribes?"

"Precisely for the reason you just said." You raised your head a bit. "They'd write never ending praises for you, portray you as this omnipotent ruler, make you look like a narcissit even. I have a keen eye, your majesty. I like to look at what there is beyond the surface. If you let me be your scribe, I could write about details you dont even know. Id write about your strengths as well as weaknesses, for the generations to read and learn from you."

Baldwin remained still for a few moments before finally standing up, walking directly towards you until he was face to face. His blue eyes shining bright under his iron mask.

"I will let you write, under two conditions. First- I approve what gets to be in the book. And second... you spy for me."

"Wait, spy?"

He hummed. "Well, not a conventional spy. You wont have to leave this castle and penetrate enemy territories to eavesdrop. I still dont trust you enough. No- you- you will spy on my court. I want to know what is happening, when, where, and who says what." Under his mask, he raised a brow. "Do you accept?"

You pretended to hesitate, when in reality this was the exact situation you wanted to be in. "Hmm... yes. I accept."

"Good." He walks back towards his desk. "I expect that it goes without saying- complete discretion." You smiled. "Of course, your majesty."

Months passed by as you worked for the king. He let you in on details, allowed you to ask personal questions, and in return you kept an eye on everything that happened in court. Listening on to what the servants whispered to eavesdropping on "secret meetings" of the nobles- of course, headed by Guy. Oh how you loathed that vermin's guts. No- he had no guts. A spineless creature, who blatantly talked of the king's eventual demise and all the ways he'd make the kingdom flourish again, how he'd show "no mercy to Salauddin and his muslims". You have no idea how Sibylla was attracted to him- a man who plans her brother's demise openly.

As for the king, working with him- or for him, wasnt all bad. In fact, it was quite fun. The amount of stories, the secrets youve been able to discover- none of it could ever be found in any history book. Most of all, you respect Baldwin on a whole new level now.

His struggles, ever since he was kid- not being a legitmate ruler, his parents being forced to separate, then being diagnosed with leprosy but forced to keep it a secret, the competition with his other sibling to be the heir, and of course, even when he did become the king, he still had to prove his mettle- his worth that he's worthy of ruling even with his disease.

With his life expectancy being uncertain and a huge amount of responsibility being shovelled onto him, he had to learn a lot and master various skills in very short time.

Heavy is the head that wears the crown.

Y/n could only imagine how isolated he must feel. Not being able to touch anyone, to have a significant other, to constantly win battles and do everything in your power to help the kingdom flourish, just for him to not even be alive to enjoy the fruits of his efforts. And worse, he's forced to give it away to his brother in law, that useless piece of shit.

Its one thing that confuses you about Baldwin. You know how persistent he is, how when he sets his eyes on something, he does everything in power and BEYOND to achieve it. For example, when he was only a child and had started to lose the ability to use his hands, he quickly learned to use his thighs to steer his horse. He did not let his disease hold him back, so how does a person as motivated as him simply allow his kingdom to be left in the hands of someone as incapable as Guy?

Then again, you suppose he's doing it for the sake of his sister. Baldwin adores Sibylla, and you could see why. Sibylla was his older sister, she took care of him, and she was forced to marry early because the court would only allow Baldwin to be king IF she were married, so that when Baldwin dies of leprosy, her husband could take care of the kingdom. Baldwin views it as the ultimate sacrifice, so even though he has tried to separate his sister from Guy, she has refused because she's in love with him.

God knows how. You wondered. Guy does not have any redeeming qualities, then again youre thinking like a 21st century woman. Woman of this time had the bar for men set below the deepest level in hell.

"So, what do you have for me today?" Baldwin asked you, snapping you out of your thoughts. You sighed, shaking your head. "Nothing new, really. Your brother in law, pardon my language your majesty, has been spewing shit about how he'll make the kingdom great again when you die. But when those nobles ask him how, he either has no answer and tries to cover it up by saying its a secret, or he'd say something so ridiculous- his ideas are bound to not only fail, but actually destroy the kingdom even more. I am surprised he doesnt give himself a headache by his own voice. God knows i get one whenever he opens his mouth." You complained, rubbing your temples making the king chuckle. Baldwin seemed to enjoy how informally you spoke.

"Guy is... something else. I apologise on his behalf." You could sense him smiling under his mask. You gave a small smile, but truthfully, your head was actually hurting a lot. You could only hope this was not a migraine developing.

"Would you like tea? Or wine?" He asked as he called in a servant. "Just water for me, thank you." You said, closing your eyes for a few moments as the sharp ache in your head increased.

Baldwin's eyes remained on you, a calculated gaze. "Are you alright? Should I call in the physician?" You shook your head. As if you could trust physicians of this time. "No, I'll be fine after I sleep." You have some medical potions with you that could heal your basic diseases and pains. A gift of modern medicine. But you'll have to use it discreetly, lest someone from this era discovers it and calls you a witch.

The servant soon brought in a chalice filled with water for you and you immediately took a sip of the cool water. Baldwin stood up as he walked over to the window, looking out into the dark night.

"Can I ask you something personal?" You asked. He hummed. You stared at his back, the white cloak he was dressed in. "Do you think if you never had this disease, would you still be a great king? A king who is so motivated to make his kingdom as successful as he can before his time is up?"

He looked back at you, and for a second you wondered if you had slighted him. But these past few months, you've learned to read his body language, despite how hard he conceals both himself and his thoughts.

"No." He said, turning back to the window. "I probably would've been a spoiled brat, I don't think I would've even been chosen to be king. I would've lost it to my half brothers." He tilted his head as he looked at a particular star in the sky. "I suppose my disease is a blessing. God blessed me with it to humble me. Had He not, I probably wouldn't be religious."

"And is that how you see your suffering? A blessing from God?" You asked as you pulled out the medical vial from your cloak and poured it in your chalice. Your headache had started to pulsate now and you needed this.

"I do. I have to serve my people, and my suffering has brought me closer to them and to God. And even with my disease, I was made a king. Isn't that divine intervention? My purpose on earth?" He said almost monotonously, as if he's had this conversation a thousand times.

You took sip of your medicated water, headache immeadiately reducing in intensity. "So... if you had the chance, would you still be the leper king? Or would you be healthy but... not a king? Just a man who gets to experience life like the rest of us, eat normal food, play with others, walk without having to wear a mask, or even fall in love?"

He remained silent, but his shoulders dropped ever so slightly. Tired? Or defeated?

"I prefer not to think about things I have no control over, Y/n." He finally turned around and his blue eyes looked at yours, though this time, there was something else swirling in them. "Finish your water and head to bed. I don't think you're well enough to tell me a story tonight." You smiled gratefully. Over these past few months, the king had enjoyed the modern world stories you told him. Some were literature classics, like Romeo and Juliet, others were straight up fanfic plots with details missing because he wouldn't have understood them anyways.

You were about to pick up your chalice when suddenly Baldwin fell to the ground.

"Your Majesty!" You rushed over to him, watching him tremble on the ground as he struggled to breathe. You dropped to your knees and attempted to remove his mask, only for him swat your hand away.

"No! You'll get it too!" He said, his eyes screwing shut in pain. He was worried about you contracting leprosy.

"Just- trust me." You pursed your lips as you moved his hand away and removed his mask, before removing the white veil underneath it, which was there to prevent his peeling skin and sores from sticking to the iron mask.

You didn't gasp when you saw his disfigured face. No, you'd seen it already when they constructed his face using modern technology. You touched his forehead with your palm, noticing how warm it was. This was one of his leprosy fevers, it was serious and quiet painful. But you already know he doesn't die until 1185 and it's still 1180.

"I'll go fetch the physician-"

"No!" Baldwin yelled, struggling to breathe. "No- just-" He suddenly whimpered as pain shot through every fiber of his body, making him dig his heels into the ground. Your heart wrenched at the sight.

"Its- too- hot- i-" you looked around before grabbing your chalice and bringing it to his lips, holding his head in your lap, you helped him drink the water. He drank it all, his forehead now covered in sweat and his face still contorted in pain. You held his hand and squeezed it.

"Its okay, Baldwin. I'm here. I'm right here." You whispered, his head resting in your lap as you gently wiped his forehead with your sleeve.

Baldwin stared up into your worried eyes, and that was the last thing he saw before he passed out.

Baldwin woke upto screaming. Opening his eyes, his blurred vision slowly cleared upto watch you and Guy screaming at each other, the latter had his hand clawed into your hair.

"WHO DO YOU THINK YOURE TALKING TO, YOU WENCH?!" Guy yelled as he shook you harshly.

"A SPINLESS BEING NOT WORTHY OF BEING CALLED A MAN!" You spat back, eyes red with rage.

Guy's eyes widened at the insult before he raised his hand to strike you, but was stopped by Baldwin.

"Guy! Let her go!" Both of your heads snapped towards the king.

"Y-your Majesty?" Guy couldn't believe his eyes. He survived?

"I said- let. Her. Go!" Baldwin commanded as he stood up and walked over to them, making Guy immeadiately let you go and bow to him. Baldwin's eyes landed on you, and you gave him a small bow.

"Leave." Baldwin commanded, eyes fixed on you.

Guy looked up from his his bowing position. "Your Majesty, I'm so glad you're well-"

"I said, LEAVE!" Baldwin's voice boomed, his eyes never leaving yours. Guy scrambled put of the room quickly, and you started to leave as well, but Baldwin grabbed your wrist.

"Not you." He said, those blue eyes piercing into you. "I- how long was I out?"

"2 weeks." You replied.

Baldwin let out small gasp as he let go of your hand and slowly walked towards the mirror in his room. It was quiet for a minute.

"What... happened?" He asked, looking at his reflection.

"Well, after you fainted, I called in the physicians and they took you to your chambers. They had prepared some medication but were hesitant to apply it on you, fearing they'd contract your disease. So, I convinced them to let me do it since I had already touched you. When I was done, your sister, princess Sibylla and Guy came. Guy asked the physicians when you would be dying, and the physicians said a few days and that this time- you may not wake up from your fever. While your sister broke down, and honestly I'm not trying to create problems for you guys, but you could ask anyone and they'd tell you just how much Guy beamed at the news. Anyways, they both left soon after that. Things were quite for a week, with the physicians coming in to give me the medication to apply on you. Then-" you paused trying not to show your frustration in your voice. "In the second week, Guy started fussing around and throwing tantrums since you didn't die yet. I mean, I was in your room but I could still hear him yelling at the physicians outside about how his coronation was being delayed because you were still here. It pissed me off, but you know me- I'm not one to get into family matters. So I didn't do anything. Then today-! Ugh, he came in while I was in your bathroom and I saw him grabbing a pillow and bringing it near your face. He stopped when I chucked your bible at him- so sorry about that but it was nearest thing next to me- and I just asked what he was doing. And do you know what he said? He had the nerve- THE NERVE to say 'I'm just trying to end his suffering, in fact you should do it. I can't risk contracting leprosy, I'm the future king!' And then I chucked your golden cross at him- again very sorry for that. And then we got into an argument and well- that's what you woke up to."

It was quiet again. You looked at Baldwin staring at his reflection, and for a moment, you thought he wasn't listening to you.

Baldwin nodded. "Okay. Thank you, Y/n. You may go to your room now. I will send in some physicians to check if you've contracted leprosy."

You frowned. "I havent-" but you stopped. How were you supposed to explain to him that you're "vaccinated".

In the mirror, his eyes shifted to you. "I know, but I'd like to know for sure. For my peace of mind."

You nodded. "Look, I'll go apologise to Guy right now-"

"No. There's no need. I'll talk to him myself. You've done enough. Please go to your room and wait for me." Baldwin gave you a small smile and watched you leave.

Moments later, he had a guard fetch the head physician in, who confirmed your story.

"Its true, your Majesty. Y/n risked her life to be with you for the past 2 weeks. She didn't leave the room and would apply medication on you herself, changed your clothes, wiped your sweat and even fed you some soup herself. She seemed very determined- almost as if she knew you'd recover. I'm ashamed to admit that I... I did not think you would." The physician even confirmed all the shit Guy had been doing, but Baldwin didn't need anyone's testimony to know that Guy was planning his downfall- and celebrating it. He wasn't surprised by that.

He was surprised by 2 things:

1. You hadn't contracted leprosy.

2. He was recovering from his disease.

"Its true. As you'd asked, I had done a check up on Y/n and I did not find any signs of leprosy... or any disease. She's as fit as can be!" The physician said in awe.

Baldwin smiled at that, looking at the mirror again. His own skin had begun healing. Many of his sores had already disappeared, and his complexion was returning to normal. And physical appearance was one thing, but Baldwin could even feel himself healthy on the inside. That constant ache in his bones was gone, the fatigue was gone, the suffering was gone.

But how? How could it just go away like that?

It's been 2 days since he woke up, and his health only seems to be improving at an exponential rate. And he's still trying to figure out how he got well out of nowhere. Closing his eyes, he tried to recall the events of that night.

All he remembers is falling down, fever enveloping his body so quickly, he felt like he was burning up, and then you were there and you helped him drink-

Baldwin eyes snapped open. It made sense.

He called in the guard and had him fetch his senior council members in his court room.

"I have 2 surprises for you." Baldwin said as he sat on his throne, looking over the members (Sibylla and Guy were also present), all staring and perhaps gawking at how well he looked now. "My disease is cured. I no longer suffer from leprosy." The court immeadiately fell into whispers and mutterings before going silent when he raised a hand. "I know it sounds impossible, but as you can all see, my health has not only improved but in fact I have become stronger. My body is no longer ridden with sores and boils. I no longer wear a mask, neither do I require assistance in walking. In fact, I am even able to use both of my hands to not only use a sword but also-" He pulled out a dagger and aimed it an apple he threw in the air, piercing right through it. "- I am no longer blind in one eye."

The court erupted in cheer, congratulating the king and praising God for saving Baldwin and the kingdom. From his throne, he could see Sibylla clapping in joy and wiping tears from her eyes as she smiled at him, while Guy looked at him in shock.

"Your majesty! What's the other surprise?" One of the members asked.

Baldwin smiled as he stood up.

"I have found a wife. She's the one who healed me."

He looked at the court that had once again erupted into cheer.

"Jerusalem has a new Queen."

"What do you mean I can't leave?" You asked the guard who was stationed outside your door.

"Ma'am, as I said before, the king has asked you to wait for him and ordered us to not let you leave until he comes." He said before closing the door again.

You scoffed. Can't leave? Why the hell not?

It's probably because I insulted Guy. He wants to punish me because of that. Will he throw me in the dungeons? Or will he just have my head chopped off?

You pulled out your time machine, the small box in your hands.

Well, I'm not sticking around to find out. Time to leave-

Just then, you heard the door open, making you hide the machine again. Is he finally here?

"Princess Sibylla." You bowed.

She chuckled, grabbing your shoulders. "Now, now. There's no need for that. In fact, I have to be the one bowing to you now." She said before kissing your cheeks. She's always been very humble and kind, and over the past few months, you've developed a good friendship with her.

You gave her a quizzical look. "What do you mean?" She laughed again. "Oh come on. You don't have to hide it anymore. Tell me, how did you persuade Baldwin to marry?"

"The king is getting married? To who?"

Sibylla raised a brow at you. "To-"

"Sibylla." A voice cut her off.

Baldwin was standing at your door. You bowed quickly, he looked at you before shaking his head at his sister.

"Will you leave? I have to talk to Y/n."

Sibylla nodded as she walked towards the door, but not before giving him a hug and congratulating him.

You two were alone now.

Baldwin had his hands clasped behind him as he walked closer to you.

"How are you feeling?" You asked him, eyes shifting to his hands. Is he holding a knife? To punish you for insulting Guy?

"I'm well, all thanks to you." He replied.

"Huh?" You looked at him confused, but your mind was still occupied with his hands. What is he hiding?

I need to delay this and find an escape route to use my time machine. You thought.

"Um- I uh- I heard you're getting married." You gulped, eyes still fixed on his hands, trying to anticipate any sudden movements.

"I am."

"Oh um, congratulations."

"Thank you." Baldwin said, tilting his head slightly at your wide eyes fixed on his hidden hands.

Cute.

"Y/n." He called out to you.

"Look, if you- if you're still mad at me about what I said to Guy, I apologise. But- but just so you know, I- I DONT THINKS ITS GOOD OMEN TO MURDER ME BEFORE YOU GET MARRIED!"

"Y/n."

"I WILL HAUNT YOU-! IM SORRY BUT I WILL AND I WILL HAUNT YOUR WIFE AND YOUR KIDS-"

"Y/n!" You looked at him as he stared at you with amusement. "You're being ridiculous."

"Huh?"

With one hand, he cupped your cheek as he brought himself closer.

"Why would I kill my soon-to-be wife?"

What? Wait-

"What?!" You shrieked backing away. "What kind of joke is that?!"

Baldwin looked insulted. "I wouldn't joke about this. You're very important to me."

"No- I- what?!"

He sighed as he sat on your bed. "Well, it makes sense, doesn't it? You saved me from an incurable disease, clearly you're the Chosen One, sent to me by God, and now I'll marry you."

You looked at him perplexed. "What are you talking about?! Saved you? All I did was help you drink water, apply your medication and-" you paused.

Helped him drink water... from my chalice... the one with... the medicinal vial.

"No." You covered your mouth in shock. What have I done?! This would change history completely! Shit. Shit. shit shit shit-

"Yes. You dont have to be so worried. The council is actually quiet happy that Im marrying someone, and they agree that there is no better match than the woman who saved my life-"

"I did not save your life!"

"Of course, you did. You gave your chalice-" "How is that even possible?! It only had water!" "Water that touched your lips first. Of course, it mustve been your essence, your saliva that healed me-" "Ew, no. Do you even yourself?! This is all unbelievable!"

Baldwin furrowed his brows slightly. "Its... not. I mean, look at you. You spent weeks taking care of me, you touched me, and yet did not even show signs of any illness, let alone leprosy! Of course, youre the chosen one!"

"I am not the chosen one!" You yelled as you pulled at your hair frustratedly. How could you fuck up so bad? If Baldwin really is cured, then history will be changed- and it will have disastrous impacts on future-

Baldwin pulled your hands away from your hair, tutting at you. "Dont do that. Youre the Queen, you cant hurt yourself."

"I am not the Queen."

He nodded. "Yet. But you are a princess now." Baldwin said as he pulled out the box hed been hiding behind his back all this time. Before you could even react, he'd already pulled out the big gold ring with a sapphire that had tiny diamonds around it and he slipped the ring onto your finger. You gawked at the ring making him chuckle.

Baldwin bent down to kiss your forehead sweetly before tapping your cheek admonishingly.

"Now, no hurting yourself princess. I want my queen in perfect health." Your cheeks reddened at how close he was, making him laugh even more as he pecked your forehead again and turned to leave.

You couldn't even say anything, he'd left you speechless. He looked back once, a lazy smile on his face.

"I should leave you to rest now, before Sibylla returns and starts pestering you with wedding preparations. She told me that shed been looking forward to this day for a very long time."

so this is part 1. thoughts????

PART 2 here!

#yandere baldwin #yandere king baldwin #yandere leper king #yandere baldwin iv #male yandere #bnha headcanon #yandere male #tw yandere #yandere #yandere x darling #male yandere x reader #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios

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ipegchangbin · 7 months

Text

— it takes two

sub!jisung x dom!reader x sub!jeongin

You wonder if Jeongin regrets staying on the extra bed of your hotel room with Jisung. Maybe he feels like your getaway is more of a honeymoon he butt himself into. But it isn’t really third wheeling when he gets to join in on the fun too, right?

🗒️ 4.6k

🏷️ fem!reader (she/her pronouns, afab) smut. fluff. porn, no plot.

🏷️ threesome. petnames “baby boy” and “noona” (reader’s age is never mentioned). tipsy sex (everyone is conscious enough to consent), unprotected sex, perversion, voyeurism, dacryphilia, jeongin is inexperienced, slight member x member, poly/open relationship themes.

📝 this is especially for the one and only @meivida !!! theyre my ride-or-die till the end, this is all for them ! to my proofreader, my twinnie, my bestest friend, the jisung to my changbin, the jeongin to my bang chan—who said that?? otherwise, enjoy!

18+ only. minors do not interact.

In his hotel room — and yours, and Jisung’s — there were two beds.

The main king-sized glory belonged to you and Jisung, the inseparable couple, and Jeongin claimed his place on the smaller extra bed. There was no reason to fret over anything.

But for some reason, Jeongin did.

He couldn’t seem to shut his mind off. Jeongin unpacked his things slowly and strategically, claiming his spaces in the cozy cabana-style room. It was supposed to be a simple vacation for the eight boys and their plus ones at the five-star resort, all for your well-deserved rest.

For some reason, he couldn’t relax.

Staring at the ceiling fan above him, he pondered the thought. It wasn’t that he had no plus one, nor that he didn’t have his own room. Those were childish things to complain about, and the cabana was too cozy to whine over.

His roommates, you and Jisung, weren’t exactly the source of his worries either. Sometimes you two would bicker and play around, sure, but it wasn’t annoying enough for Jeongin to feel as bothered as he was.

“Y/N, you know how I sleep. I’m taking this end of the bed!” Jisung whined, plopping a stack of his belongings onto the right side of the mattress.

You simply looked at him, astonished.

Again, Jeongin thought as he placed his train of thought back on its tracks; neither of you was exactly the problem. Jisung was his ride-or-die, his best friend for life. They showered butt-naked together multiple times. You weren’t the problem either; you had grown incredibly close with Jeongin to the point where you oftentimes stayed up to drink and plot against common enemies. Closeness wasn’t an issue with either of you; as a couple, he would willingly third-wheel anytime.

What if I’m intruding? What if I’m in the middle of something? What if they had their plans, he thought. He tried his best to wrap his head around the reasons behind feeling this uncomfortable, but nothing seemed to work. He cocked his head to the side, facing you and Jisung’s bed. It’s entertaining to watch you guys argue, but maybe sleeping is too awkward to interfere with. Was it too intimate of an activity? He had no idea, and, frankly, he didn’t think that was the issue.

“Oh, so you can’t even say please?”

You crossed your arms at Jisung, your gaze piercing through the poor boy. He shivered, and his eyes started darting everywhere but your face. You squinted at him, causing your boyfriend to finally freeze and respond.

“P-please? May I please take this side?” Jisung begged. “I-I’ll do…anything…”

The beats of silence that followed were nothing short of intense. Jeongin expected the awkward air to amplify, but it didn’t — instead, he caught himself zoning in on the scene, paying close attention to the both of you.

Your commanding glare softened a little. You almost chuckled at how pathetic Jisung looked, breaking into a nervous sweat, and it didn’t help that you smirked sweetly. Your hand trailed up from his tensed bicep up to his shoulder, his neck, and then his full and soft cheek. Caressing his skin with your thumb, you soothed your nervous wreck of a boyfriend, feeling his skin vibrate from your touch alone.

Jeongin couldn’t peel his eyes away from your movements. The both of you acted as if he wasn’t there; maybe you both thought that he had fallen asleep. Instead of counting sheep, he was counting the beats of the sequence, fully allured by you, and he didn’t understand why. It was as if he would have missed something if he blinked once.

He almost forgot to breathe.

“You’ll do anything for me?”

Jisung’s breath hitched, reminding Jeongin to exhale. “Yes, anything.”

He murmured something after. In a hush under his breath, Jeongin caught what he whispered.

“Anything for you, noona.”

Before Jeongin could even process the thought, you whispered something that he couldn’t quite make out, especially from his skewed, sideways view from the other end of the room. You both smiled, though: you smiled slyly as if you won the lottery, and Jisung smiled like he was obsessed.

Although he was more intrigued to know what you exchanged, you both walked away with your hands held together, making him shut his eyes and curl his head into the pillow to appear asleep.

“Yo, Innie, we’re just gonna grab a few drinks,” Jisung announced. “We’ll be—oh, look, he’s asleep.”

You both turned your heels and opened the door, leaving Jeongin alone and in awe.

Once he knew that you both walked far away enough, he attempted to sit up, only to feel an ache between his legs.

Well, fuck, he got hard, and he didn’t realize how long he had this hard-on.

Naturally, he ran to the bathroom and tried to take care of it himself. Unnaturally, though, nothing seemed to work.

Minutes ago, Jeongin desperately pulled his shorts down and took his aching cock in his hand. Pumping it slowly, he attempted to relieve himself, humming lowly at the sensations it gave him. He knew that he had to get off before you and Jisung came back.

But he couldn’t.

His cock stayed hard, almost as if it didn’t want to release. He picked up his pace, his long and pretty fingers making their way up to the aching red tip, palming it sometimes, only to slam down to his sturdy and thick base. Jeongin even teased his balls, cupping them slightly before stroking his above-average length. His panting turned into moaning, and when he realized that he wasn’t even close to leaking, he started whining.

“Fuck, why can’t I…” Jeongin started to desperately thrust his hips into his hand, leaning his back against the cool tiles of the bathroom wall. He met eyes with his reflection in the big mirror in front of him.

Embarrassed at the look of his desperation, he tried to cum with the thought of it. Jeongin hated the thought of being watched right now or being walked right into. You and Jisung could come home drunk, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t be embarrassed. You could come home anytime. He had every reason to worry, and he did, and it made him hornier — but he couldn’t quite cum yet.

He’s insanely comfortable with both of you, but to be caught masturbating by his best friend and his best friend’s girlfriend feels leagues worse.

But maybe they both noticed how hard he had been since earlier. He was able to notice the tent under the comforter earlier, so what more is there with either of you? Jeongin started blushing in embarrassment, his ears turning red and the apples of his cheeks flushing shades of warm pink. He sniffled his nose at the warmth of the blood rushing through his veins.

The thoughts couldn’t stop running. Maybe you didn’t notice, though, since you and Jisung were so zoned in on each other earlier. He couldn’t forget the sultry look in your eyes, sending Jisung into a state of panic that Jeongin’s rarely seen before. He never saw his best friend seem so…small. He faltered under your touch so easily, the silly and tough guy persona leaving him for just a single moment. Jeongin remembered how he couldn’t breathe while watching you, his eyes eagerly following your pretty fingers as they danced their way across Jisung’s skin. You put your boyfriend in a trance, but Jeongin was caught in it too.

He wondered if you knew it. He wondered if he missed the way you both glanced at him and smiled.

This is wrong, Jeongin thought. This is wrong, he repeated in his head. “This is fucking wrong!” Jeongin said aloud, panicking yet still pumping his cock at an even faster pace.

He shut his eyes at the overwhelming sensations. It felt like he was being overstimulated despite not cumming yet — except he was; he was finally close to releasing, even leaking solid amounts of precum on the shower tile. He whimpered a string of curses under his breath, letting pathetic whines echo through the shower and the entire bathroom. He was beyond desperate, not caring for how he looked. He pulled his shirt up and bit the bunched fabric, drowning out his noises as the cold air hit his nipples. Jeongin could only focus on the rushes of ecstasy, the pleasure in the pain, the growing release, reaching the point of cumming, until he finally—

“Bro? Innie? You in there?”

Upon hearing the hurried knocks on the door, he pulled his shorts up and fixed himself. He didn’t cum. Instead, he took two breaths to compose himself and respond.

“Yeah! In the bathroom!”

“Oh okay. We’re gonna head to bed. Good night, Yennie!” You greeted, pushing your slightly off-balanced Jisung onto the right side of the bed.

Jeongin slid his shorts down, not to continue but to stare at his red cock.

He tried to tap the side of it just to let it spill the pent-up cum that he failed to release.

Nothing happened. It remained hard and aching, but he couldn’t cum as if he’d gone back to square one.

Jeongin whispered through clenched teeth, “How am I supposed to sleep now?”

His walk back was fast yet laughable. He was glad that neither of you saw it since he awkwardly shuffled in his steps, practically jumping into his bed when he reached it.

Trying to hide his erection was one thing he could do, but sleeping with an angry dick felt like hell on earth for him.

He shut his eyes and tried to sleep. Unfortunately for him, the more he dozed off, the worse the pain got.

Jeongin tried to breathe deeply just to ease the ache in his cock, shifting positions so that he could feel more free under the covers. As it happened earlier, nothing worked, and he only felt more stuffy.

He hummed a lullaby in his head. He furrowed his eyebrows, looking like a troubled fox that hadn’t known sleep. He sniffled like one too; his nose still flushed a reddish pink.

Giving up slightly, he carefully and slowly slid his hand down his shorts. His fingers reached his cock, and he had to bite a hiss back. It felt swollen even if it grew to its maximum size, and every single touch felt like fire coursing through his skin. Jeongin took his time to touch himself.

Just like you took your time to touch Jisung.

For some reason, his brain seemed to always want to circle back to the scene. You two had already dozed off, the alcohol in your systems wearing away in your sleep; Jeongin was the restless one about it. He was fixated on your deliberate movements, thinking about how your fingertips must’ve felt warm and ticklish for Jisung. He also couldn’t believe how easily compliant his best friend became. It was a side to him that was new yet interesting, one that Jeongin never knew he wanted to both see and feel for himself.

And why did he enjoy seeing that side of him?

He didn’t know if he wanted to be you or if he wanted to be Jisung, but fuck, he couldn’t help but replay the scene in his mind. It was everything he wanted: the intimate yet powerful touches, the gazes, the closeness, and the shamelessness.

All of it was so wrong.

Jeongin dug his head further into the plush fabric of his pillow. He was under stress yet pleasure, pain yet delectation. He teased his cock and the inner points of his thighs, strolling his fingers down to tease his ass and sliding back up to the overly sensitive tip.

And then he heard a kiss.

His ears perked up at the noise, prompting him to pause. He didn’t fully stop, hoping that his mind was playing tricks on him. He couldn’t look back at your end of the room, instead facing the closed curtains in front of him.

See? You’re already hallucinating and hearing things, he thought to himself.

And then he heard another kiss. And then another.

The smooching was slow and steady; it wasn’t obnoxious in sound, it wasn’t too wet, it didn’t sound forced. They weren’t too calculated but they sounded as warm as love would’ve felt. Passion burned through Jeongin’s nerves with each kiss of the lips. It was so quiet yet it thumped so loud in his ears, ringing throughout his system and echoing through his brain with the strongest reverb. His cock twitched from under the sheets, moving on its own.

Jeongin took the remaining courage he had and turned his head to face you. The ruffling and shuffling of the fabric made the kissing pause for a few solid seconds.

He opened his eyes slightly and, as expected, saw your body sprawled over Jisung’s, angled in such a way that it looked like natural sleep — except that your lips were attached to his.

The moment you both thought that Jeongin had fallen back to sleep, you picked up the pace. Soon enough, Jisung swiped his tongue across your mouth. His neediness was apparent with the way he persistently dug his face closer to yours, but you had the reigns. You took control with your slight bites and nibbles. At that point, you were straddling his hips, grinding ever so slightly on Jisung.

Jeongin could barely see anything but he could hear it.

Soon enough, Jisung pulled your body up and closer to his. He quietly insisted on making you drop your full weight on him. You kissed him passionately until you didn’t, your mouth left with his drool all over it. Licking it up, you started kissing outside his mouth, the perimeters of his lips, the outline of his jaw, the peaks of his cheeks, all the way up to his temples, and down to his neck.

He instinctively jutted his hips upwards, grinding on you from underneath. An apology nearly rolled off his tongue when you caught it, pecking the tip of his tongue and lightly sucking on his bottom lip after. That was when you did the same, fully rolling your hips onto his, making you moan into each other’s mouths.

At this point, Jeongin had shifted his body to the other side to watch. Neither of you seemed to notice — nor care, or so it seemed — which was his go signal to watch with half-opened eyes.

Like earlier, his eyes followed everything. From your hands making their way down to Jisung’s tiny waist, to Jisung himself cupping your breasts ever so softly: the boy watched it all in awe.

Nothing was helping Jeongin’s erection at all.

He started tearing up at the nearly unbearable ache. He needed release but he couldn’t have it even in embarrassing ways. Even then, he simply couldn’t stop watching as you pulled Jisung up. He pulled your shirt over your head as you threw his shirt aside as well. He helped you out of your shorts as you did on him, every single action needy and desperate yet equally as full of love. They seemed to only burn with the risk, whispering things Jeongin couldn’t understand onto each other’s skin. Maybe you were telling him to go slower, maybe he was telling you to be quieter. Maybe you both didn’t care and were teasing each other for it.

Maybe you were plotting. Nevertheless, the poor boy found himself subconsciously rutting on the pillow between his legs.

You positioned yourself between Jisung’s legs, his bare and firm length awaiting your warmth from beneath — finally being met with the plush walls of your pussy. You kissed him hungrily this time and Jisung responded with a shamelessly loud kiss back.

Like a fox, Jeongin could be prey. He salivated at the sight, something he saw in real life for the first time even if he shouldn’t have seen anything.

He straddled the pillow more harshly, wrapping his legs around it underneath the sheets. His lips twitched as he tried his absolute hardest not to moan. He wanted to match your pace with Jisung, but he couldn’t, he shouldn’t.

You could notice him anytime.

And you did.

“Innie,” Jisung spoke up, pulling away from the kiss with a dumb smile. He turned his head to face Jeongin. “Noona’s asking if you wanna come and join.”

You ruffled Jisung’s hair and kissed his head. “Good boy, told your friend as I asked you to.”

Jeongin couldn’t believe anything. A few silent breaths escaped his system.

He was caught. You laughed at his face in the middle of your kisses. You knew, Jisung knew, and Jeongin was the last to realize.

He simply fell silent and the dead air thickened as milliseconds turned into seconds. A minute almost ticked by, causing everything to break. Suddenly, this probably wasn’t a good idea for anybody. You and Jisung grew slightly nervous.

If only you knew how much Jeongin wanted to say yes.

“If you don’t…I-I’m sorry. We don’t…we didn’t mean to invade. Promise. Just forget it if you don’t want to, we’ll take care of ourselves privately…”

Jisung started holding you tighter. You calmed him with soothing circles on the nape of his neck, assuring him to wait for Jeongin. His best friend couldn’t reply. He was too stunned, making you feel guilty for suggesting the sudden invitation in your tipsy thoughts.

“I know we drank, but I promise we’re fine. We’re so sorry it’s so sudden. If you’re uncomfortable—”

“Yes, i-if it’s okay, may I join?”

You and Jisung widened your eyes at Jeongin. The boy was probably also only half-aware of what he was saying but you knew that he meant it.

“I should…be the one saying sorry.” Jeongin sat up from his bed, not minding his erection in full view. he did not need to be embarrassed at this point. “Not gonna lie, I-I’ve been watching you two since earlier.”

It wasn’t jealousy. He didn’t feel jealous that his best friend was getting it on, nor did he envy that you were fucking his best friend right in front of him. It was longing; longing for whether he wanted to be either of you or to be the prey caught right in between.

“I just…w-wanted to be a part…of it…” Jeongin could feel a lump in his throat. His eyes got watery from half-shameless embarrassment and the pain in his cock.

“Well then, what are you waiting for?” You smiled gently and tapped the small space left on the bed. “Come join us, baby.”

Jeongin practically threw his comforter away to stand up. You giggled and the sensation of your body moving against Jisung made him whimper.

While waiting for Jeongin to settle, you turned to face Jisung, your wonderful boyfriend. You cupped his face with gentle hands and watched him smile, soft cheeks filling your palms.

He was excited. He’d been craving a threesome for a long while and he knew that you liked Jeongin enough for it.

You pecked his lips and rolled your hips back, allowing him to fill more of your cunt until he bottomed out. “You’re my good boy. This is your treat.”

“Mhmm, always gonna be noona’s good boy.” Jisung bit his lower lip with a shy smile. “Noona’s baby w-will be good all the time so we can always have this.”

You had to laugh. “Did you hear that, Innie? He wants to have this all the time.”

As you turned, though, you were greeted with the sight of a salivating boy, eyes trained on your pussy as his hand sat still at the base of his cock.

“Need help there?” you suggested, placing your hand around his.

With gentle tugs and feathery touches, you guided his hand up to the tip of his aching dick. You slotted your fingers between his and played with his smooth flesh. He had never had anything like this before and he was too shocked to move without you.

Too dumb to know how to use what’s his.

“A-ah, fuck, n-noona…” Jeongin’s hips jutted forward by instinct. Jisung mirrored the action, pressing his cock deep into your walls.

It wasn’t intentional but it was expected; you’re dealing with two needy guys after all.

“Good boy, you know what to call me already.” Your hand slid down his cock in the same way you moved your hips along your boyfriend’s cock. “You’ve been listening intently, huh?”

You squeezed Jeongin’s cock at his shaft. “Like a pervert?”

“N-no—” you squeezed harder. “Fuck! Yes, yes, I’ve been a pervert!”

You laughed and let go of him, only to slap him right where you left his touch. You clenched your cunt tightly around Jisung at the same time — the two boys moaned and writhed at the same time.

“I’ve been watching since earlier! I’m sorry, noona! M—fuck!” He was on the brink of tears. Precum leaked out of him again but he still couldn’t bring himself to release.

Smack. Smack. Smack. With each hit, he would cry harder. His chest heaved and the tears finally spilled at the fifth turn. Your boyfriend wasn’t suffering any less, though: his hands clung to your hips and tightened with every slap. He flinched even if he wasn’t at the receiving end of pain — or maybe he was since you couldn’t stop clenching and thrusting abruptly too. He started shaking, moaning in higher and higher pitches, the flinches turning into full-body writhing as he mumbled random things that only you understood.

He was close. You pressed down on Jisung’s chest as your thumb covered the hole in Jeongin’s cock, teasing him. Your boyfriend immediately came inside you and allowed all his cum to gush out in the smallest, prettiest series of thrusts.

Jeongin wished to cum that way, but you were literally blocking him.

He didn’t dare let go of you, though, and his shaky hands never left your hips and back. Instead, Jisung opted to stay still inside you. He brought his upper body closer to yours, whispering into the crook of your neck. Jeongin couldn’t hear it through his sniffling but was glad to hear you parrot it back.

“My good baby here said that you should treat noona well. Only then can you cum.”

Jisung hid his face in your skin but only popped his eyes out to watch his best friend. “Sorry, Innie. Please fuck noona well.”

Jeongin couldn’t believe that he had to fuck his best friend’s girlfriend with his cum inside her. Moreover, he couldn’t believe how much it turned him on even more.

“Think you can do it?” You asked with a smirk.

“Y-yes, noona.”

Not even one beat passed and Jisung propped you off of him, guiding you down on the bed. He gave Jeongin a pat on the back of his shoulder, a gesture he’d always done before.

Jisung kissed his cheek too before latching his lips onto your bare nipples for comfort.

Jisung sucked at your supple and plump skin while Jeongin positioned himself in between your pussy’s reddening lips. Even its exterior felt all sorts of soft to him, far from the quality of a silicone fleshlight. Despite this, he still knew that you would treat him like a stupid little fucktoy.

And you did.

You simply pushed Jeongin by his waist down onto your body. Suddenly his tip made its way inside, forced in with an overwhelming amount of ecstasy that Jeongin couldn’t take anymore. He still held back from cumming, breathing deeply and rapidly in a failed attempt to calm himself. He continued to cry as he sank himself further inside you, feeling the mixture of your smooth wetness and Jisung’s thick and creamy cum. It didn’t help that you were moaning so deliciously, roaming your hands around his waist, and Jisung was giggling and smiling contently while playing with your boobs.

It was all too much for Jeongin but he kept going. Your hand squeezes earlier were nothing compared to the grip of your cunt. Nevertheless, he did his best to pull back and push down to fill you up to your limit. He made sure to make you moan as soon as he found your sweet spot — he’s glad that Jisung pressed down on your skin.

“Noona, noona, fuck, god fuck…”

“She’s amazing right?” Your boyfriend smiled until his gums showed and his eyes crinkled.

“I better be,” you teased back.

He laughed in response, licking a heart shape on your nipple with his tongue. “Mhmm. I love my noona.”

“And I love my baby boy.” You signaled him with a finger to turn him around. Jisung showed you his ass and you tapped his round cheek, hitting the mole that cutely reflected his face mole. Before he knew it, you sank two fingers inside his ass.

“I’ll make you cum again, pretty boy. Show me how much you can cum with that pathetic little cunt of yours.” The words echoed through Jisung’s emptying head as he grew more and more in need. You knew that it wouldn’t be long before he was close anyway since his legs were closing and his ass seemed to clench nonstop.

“And Innie baby, please, show me how good you can make me cum.”

At this point, Jeongin truly only felt like he was good for cumming and making you cum. He mindlessly picked up his pace on your cunt, shocking you with how mind-numbingly fast he went. He grew completely desperate the more that he went, pressing every inch of your skin and moaning your name over and over. He was pathetic yet focused.

Jisung came, ass clenching around your fingers, but he couldn’t peel his gaze off the action.

He needed to cum as much as you did. He could feel your walls fluttering around him and your voice seemed to falter slightly as his thrusts became deeper and harder. You didn’t even need to command him. Your boyfriend seemed to help the both of you too, playing with your clit with one hand whilst he praised his best friend endlessly.

“Innie,” you huffed, “Inside. please.”

Jeongin blinked hard, not holding back on his whines, screaming when he finally released inside you.

His cum gushed out with load after load after load. It seemed as if he couldn’t stop, and he never could bring himself to pull out. He simply collapsed on your side, his thick cock still sunken deep inside you. You came at the same time, moaning his sweet little nickname while you felt yourself gush your essence along with his release. Jisung watched the white, creamy cum leak out of you before bringing a finger to it just to taste it.

You all tasted fucking good.

“Oh shit. I’m dizzy.” Jisung plopped his head next to yours and clung to your other side.

Your boyfriend mumbled something about the soju being rough on him before he sleepily told you that he loved you. Jeongin thought that he would be knocked out solidly after, but felt whiplash as soon as Jisung kissed his cheek again and told him the same.

“Love you both. Thank you so, so, so…”

He instantly fell asleep, his face squished next to your cheek.

You laughed lowly and turned slightly toward Jeongin. You held his face with your free hand and stroked his chin. His eyes smiled along with his dimpled cheeks in pure contentment.

“Smile more, baby. Your dimples are cute.”

He blushed hard in response. “Thank you, noona. R-really. Thank you for tonight.”

“Anytime.” You kissed his forehead and then his nose. “I love you, Innie.”

The boy melted at your words with a pretty, full-toothed grin. “I love you too, noona.”

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this was done for mei’s day, i’m glad you enjoyed again twinnie <3 i owe it to them for being my number one, and for getting me into skz and this horny ass fandom ^^ check my bff meivida out! WISH THEM A HAPPY 20TH!!!

thank you for reading ! consider reblogging and leaving feedback if you loved my work 💗 artwork and writing © ipegchangbin. no reposts and translations.

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