#I'm low key obsessed with him

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

At 25:00 in Akasaka Episode 2

[hermit-frog]

i know that we’re all speculating that it’s Louis who’ll attack Daniel, but hear me out... it’s always the butler (as an ex customer service worker this was very satisfying to make)

[batsplat]

Thank you so much for ur work for this community 😭

thank you!! so, listen, I need to get some casey, jorge and valentino images out into the world

this is from the 2007 qatar post-qualifying press conference. obviously it's not just the three of them given colin edwards is like. right in the middle. (and *checks notes* gábor talmácsi is also there.) but still a photo of historical significance... casey's first ever race with the ducati (which he very much wins), plus valentino with his then-current teammate edwards and then-future teammate jorge... it's a bit unclear when jorge was actually signed - lin jarvis implies it was in 2006 but if that's the case, edwards seemed to be under the impression for a little too long that he wasn't going to lose that seat. anyways! look at wee nineteen year old jorge lorenzo, look at his utter absence of anything approaching a smile... look at him

misano 2007 post-qualifying press conference and a very powerful photo imo... some nicely contrasting vibes here, good composition... jorge had already been announced as valentino's teammate, and the title is already more or less in casey's pocket (even more so after casey won here and valentino had a mechanical dnf lol - they'd basically brought the race back to the calendar for valentino so this was. not ideal! incidentally still the last race with an entirely non-european podium.)

not much from 2008 tbh. casey and vale took turns to flop in the first bit of the season and then jorge started crashing his brains out. anyway these are from indianapolis, at a time when jorge was just about in the process of getting his act together while casey had crashed in his last three races (including laguna where he picks up the bike to finish p2). quite fond of this race actually, bit of a mess due to the weather and ends up getting red-flagged

first race of 2009.... casey's scheduled annual qatar win. decent shout for his most boring one of the lot, sorry king

pre-event presser before mugello, where valentino had won seven consecutive times headed into the 2009 race. if I'm valentino I low-key never show my face again after the le mans catastrophe but whatever it's fine

the le mans fiasco in question

anyway mugello is another wet-ish race that valentino ended up playing too conservatively because of the le mans horror show. so casey wins! also jorge beats valentino! old man's washed! just about scams his way onto the podium

italian press weren't particularly kind to valentino for having the audacity to lose mugello. they said it was over... he was finished... imagine only winning a race seven times in a row. was he even trying any more? loser

valentino bounced back at catalunya 2009 in highly dramatic fashion (y'know, it's the one with the last corner overtake). moment of deep historical significance in which jorge pulls valentino down from the podium to give him a hug

first race where casey was really struggling with his mystery illness... idk if I were valentino or jorge I'd maybe check if the third guy on the podium isn't about to drop dead but. well. professional athletes, never really been known for their empathy. they did clap along with the journalists in the post-race press conference when the moderator thanked casey for actually making it to the presser, so that's something?

we all have our struggles

the very next race. immaculate vibes imo. the 2009 title fight going into assen had all three of them tied on 106 points... #heritage

anyway the race itself is pretty boring (as unfortunately are many of the races that year), but it's valentino's 100th win so good on him ig. he got out a special banner with photos of all his wins, which would've been an absolute pain to lug around if he'd not immediately won the next race after his 99th

cute. unfortunately, this is now very much mystery illness period for casey... heroic effort to get himself to the podium but not much more was possible at the time

laguna 2009 post-quali presser. jorge is sitting for the photo, because even though he'd bagged pole, he had a massive highside right at the end of qualifying... hurt both his ankles and his shoulder. he'd also had a horrendous highside right at the start of laguna '08, did a good job to banish his gremlins in order to win at the circuit in 2010

qatar 2010... can't have been after the race because casey crashed :/ valentino grabbed the win, before immediately injuring his shoulder in a motocross accident. all went downhill from there, really. damn the eruption of eyjafjallajökull we were robbed

laguna 2010 podium, most memorable as 'that time when they accidentally played the italian anthem rather than the spanish one and valentino thinks it's extremely funny' (clip here). extremely poor quality photo shows casey found it funny too. very #them thing to happen to them. valentino buddy the cap's supposed to remain off for the duration of the anthem

this is very much post-leg break btw, still pretty cordial with each other given some of the stuff they'd been saying about each other to the press during that period lol (not casey/jorge, they were basically fine by this point)

presser right after jorge and valentino's little motegi misadventure... gifs from the presser. valentino's smirk vs casey's grin while jorge is being interrogated, I think about you often...

this was casey's fourth consecutive phillip island win (of six total)... isn't that just like. an incredibly cool circuit to be goated at. does mean the fight for the victory was generally quite boring - though the battles behind casey weren't always exactly thrilling either, so you can blame that on the era too. 2008 and 2010 has decent action behind casey, 2009 is the closest casey was pushed for the win and 2011 at least has a bit of weather-related jeopardy

valencia 2010, photos taken before unfortunate events

last shared podium!! le mans 2012, a fun wet race that featured the final proper casey/vale duel at the race after casey's retirement announcement so has real sentimental value... congrats to valentino for not collecting casey this time. presser clip where he shows he's also pretty glad about how he (just about) managed this

[silverwhittlingknife]

I noticed something in a lot of your Dick and Tim fics. It's probably so obvious, but you always write that Tim is watching Dick. In your newest one, Tim's watching Dick, in The Return Tim's watching Dick, and you even write that Tim is always watching him. Is Tim trying to read Dick? Trying to understand? Or does he understand him by watching? What is he trying to figure out by watching Dick? What does that say about Tim? I really hope this is intentional lmao because I would be embarrassed. Maybe this is just something so obvious that I'm just getting now.

YES IT’S ON PURPOSE <333 Anon. Anon. I'm so sorry this answer took forever, but listen, this was a really delightful ask <333 I think about this a lot.  I really love origin stories—I like stories that resonate through a character’s history. 

And for me, a whole lot of what interests me about Dick and Tim is that theme of watching and being watched. Seeing and being seen.

"Watch me on the trapeze, Tim. I'm going to do my act...'specially for you." | "Timmy, don't look." | "I turned away... I couldn't watch. Then I heard you crying and I turned back... I'm sorry, Dick. I didn't want to hurt you by telling you all this." Dick's watching me. Gauging my reactions. (Tim watching Dick watching Tim!) | "I'm taking off the blindfold." "No!" | "I can't see him. You can't see him. But I know Robin. And Robin's always there when you need him." | I love that kid. Too much to let him see me like this. (But Tim spots him anyway.)

Spotlights and lighthouses and cameras and photographs. Blindness and vision and masks and detective work and trust.

I'm going to try to be coherent about this but it's gonna be incoherent sdfsf BUT I'M GOING TO TRY so. Below the cut, a really long grab-bag of my rambling on vision and watchers and watching.

Tim + watching / Dick + being watched / different dynamics

Tim's origin story

Being watched goes with vulnerability/exposure

Incomplete list of moments with Dick and Tim and vision

Tim + watching

The first time we see Tim's face in LPoD: a close-up on his eyes looking for Dick, a close-up on his eyes at the moment that he sees Dick, a pullback to his face at the moment of recognition, a pullback to his face + his camera (you could maybe even argue that Tim comes into existence at the moment that he sees Dick, like, conceptually. the act of seeing is his defining characteristic. it is the thing that makes his character happen. he is the kid who's watching.)

Tim's a very vision-centric character: he's first introduced as a camera, then as a pair of binoculars, then as a pair of eyes. His whole backstory is about watching: watching Dick's parents die, watching Dick on TV, watching Batman and Robin. I've grabbed a few panels above with Tim watching Dick but there are so many more. His major deductions are all vision-based: he sees Dick-the-acrobat and later recognizes Dick-as-Robin; he sees Bruce-in-the-past and recognizes him as Bruce-of-our-time; the climactic moment in Red Robin is about going into a dark cave with a torch so he can see what's there.

And he's a detective. He pries into secrets. He analyzes people. He's a worrywart and a fusser who always wants to understand what's going on with other people. In a lot of those panels where Tim's watching Dick, his inner monologue is busy deducing Dick's emotions and trying to psychoanalyze him. Tim's caring and watchful and intuitive... but all those qualities also make him very very intrusive.

Dick + being watched

Dick performing acrobatics for Bruce, Donna, and Tim in Detective Comics 38 (his first appearance), New Teen Titans 16, Batman 441, and Nightwing 88 (where he reflects he's glad to be back in the hot glare of the spotlight)

Dick's a detective too, of course - Tim deliberately mirrors Dick, both in-universe and out-of-universe. But also Dick's a performer who loves being watched and also wants to control how he's seen. He gets a kick out of showing off, making puns, kicking ass, taking names, and he gets a kick out of having an appreciative audience. And he's got a kind of yearning for recognition - it hurts, when Bruce won't look at him, and in fights with Bruce, Babs, Roy, he'll often bring up the past, trying to get them to acknowledge a shared history.

At the same time, he's a very private person who withdraws and hides and pushes people away when he's upset. Right before Tim shows up, Dick's just ghosted the Titans because he's having emotional turmoil and doesn't want to have it in front of them, and they're trying to respect his wishes... but that solitude doesn't last long, because then Tim tracks him down. Tim will do this again when Dick's having an emotional crisis and trying to avoid everybody in Nightwing 110.

Possible dynamics

Tim watches Dick in Robin 11, while silently analyzing Dick's anxieties about Two-Face

"The watcher and the person being watched" is a dynamic that really interests me, partly because it can be so complicated?

You can see in Dick and Tim their very first roles: enthusiastic performer and the enthusiastic audience member. Dick likes to perform and show off and entertain; Tim likes to watch; those are roles they both easily slide into and they have a lot of fun together! But also you can look at the harsher side: the crime victim and the voyeur, the amateur photographer and the guy who hates being photographed. Dick's intensely private about his vulnerabilities; Tim's intrusive and watchful and constantly trying to figure out how other people tick. Sometimes Tim's the caring friend who watches Dick closely, reads him well, understands him; sometimes he's the nosy mini-detective who pries into Dick's secrets. And that's just two different ways of describing the same thing!

One of the things that kinda fascinates me about Dick and Tim's relationship is that in a lot of ways it's built on a bunch of low-key boundary violations. A lot of their early relationship is driven by Tim's desire to know more about Dick vs. Dick's reluctance to get close to anyone from Gotham; Tim's often out-of-line, but without his pushiness, it's hard to see how they would've developed a relationship at all. Later on, their friendlier relationship is marked by Dick teasing and low-key bullying Tim; it's pretty obvious that Tim isn't actually bothered by this, but it does involve Dick ignoring whatever Tim's claiming he doesn't like ("Quit it!" "Shh").

And one of the aspects of those boundary-violations is that Tim has a habit of witnessing things that Dick would prefer that nobody see. Tim's a witness to Dick's first and most miserable tragedy; he sees the aftermath of some of Dick's fights with Bruce; he's there when Donna dies. And he's sharp and observant and analytical, and I like to imagine this as being something Dick's not entirely comfortable with.

When Dick first meets Tim, it's before he's learned to wear a mask. And Tim spends a lot of time trying to see through Dick's masks, and he's pretty good at it, and a lot of that prying comes from love and care, because one of the ways that Tim shows love and respect and admiration is by trying to absorb absolutely everything about you, like a little sponge. But there's also something unsparing and even threatening about the search for the truth of someone else. It can be comforting or threatening, to know someone's watching you.

And I love how all that complexity is wrapped up in Tim's origin story? Both the giddy childish "Watch me on the trapeze" and then the awful grim reality of what Tim actually sees as a result and then the difficult connection when Dick and Alfred finally get Tim to explain how he knows their secret identities.

Tim's origin story

Tim (recounting his origin story in LPoD): My parents held me back as the thing moved to you. I cried out to warn you. (Two panels where we see just Tim's eyes, as he watches a crying Dick. He sees Batman approach and start trying to comfort Dick.)

I think fiction sometimes presents "being understood / seen / known" as an uncomplicatedly good thing, and there's nothing wrong with that! But I like complications, and I like the way Tim's origin story frames that moment of witnessing as difficult and fraught. Tim doesn't want to tell Dick how he knows their secret identities because he thinks it'll hurt Dick to know it: I don't want to hurt you, Dick, and I'm really afraid I might. And he's not wrong. It is painful; it does hurt; it's not something Dick's happy to know.

Dick's a very private person, and there's a painful intimacy to Tim's origin story - it's not Tim's fault he was there, but at the same time, it's not like Dick chose to have the most traumatic moment of his life on stage in front of an audience of strangers, you know? It's kind of a violation. In NTT/NT/Nightwing, Dick's pretty violently hostile to photographers, and he's intensely private about trauma in general, and I like to imagine this as partly a reaction to that foundational trauma of losing the most important people in his life and also doing it publicly.

And Tim's part of that audience. And he sees the worst part, the part that Dick can't talk about. He sees the bodies and the blood. He has nightmares about it for years. He hears Dick crying and sees him holding onto his parents' bodies. Not at all the kind of first impression Dick would want to make. Not at all the kind of person he wants to be seen as. And that understanding can be painful, because it's so close to the bone, and when Tim's just a stranger, it's upsetting, because Tim knows things that Dick would never have chosen for him to know. Their few conversations about it are awkward partly because Tim's thirteen and awkward... but at the same time, it's not Tim's fault so much as the situation! There's no way for Tim to talk about what he saw that wouldn't be uncomfortable for Dick.

... And yet, and yet. Tim's also one of the last people to see the Graysons alive. He sees Dick and his parents together; he even takes a picture with them. He remembers the whole thing so vividly he'll recognize Dick's somersault years later. He sees the grief. And so I think of that connection as kind of a metaphor for witnessing. Tim sees these things and they become real; Dick can't hide from them; in the act of being seen he's caught, he's in a spotlight, all the grief made real. You can't hide, that way. And Tim's got this unforgiving memory; he won't ever forget; he won't ever stop knowing.

But then, too: Dick's seen, he's known. Even at the very beginning, when Tim doesn't know enough to understand what he knows, he knows the important things.

So that shared memory is a barrier and a bond between them. It can be a source of discomfort or a source of comfort. And that's how I think about Tim watching Dick in general - it's complicated, and sometimes Dick's glad of it, and sometimes he resents it, and also it just is, it's a fact of Tim, that Tim watches. It's notable when he's not watching, when he's turned away.

Being watched goes with vulnerability/exposure

So I'm going to talk about the fraught feeling of being watched more in a little bit, but first: I think it's fascinating that Dick likes screwing around with games where Tim can't see!

Here's Nightwing 25 - Dick's come up with the idea of trainsurfing while blindfolded:

Tim: Are you sure this is such a good idea? Dick: Shh! Listen. Tune into the changing sounds and - Tim: I'm not so - Dick: JUMP!

Here's Robin 49 - clambering through a tunnel into No Man's Land:

Dick: Hard not to think about the river. All the water above us. And bugs. This tunnels' probably full of 'em. And rats. Big ones. Big blind rats with teeth as long as -

Here's Gotham Knights 9 - ambushing Tim in a sorta game of hide-and-seek:

Dick: Gotcha! Tim: Augh!

I feel like mmm I don't want to emphasize power dynamics too much because it's easy to overplay it BUT when I think about headcanons it's interesting to me to think about how maybe when Tim can't see, Dick's more in charge / in control, and so he feels more comfortable and less vulnerable, and that's often when he's most relaxed and playing around the most?

Whereas the moments when Tim's looking at him are often a bit more fraught, as here in Lonely Place of Dying:

Tim: I'm sorry, Dick. I really am. I didn't want to hurt you by telling you all this. Dick... Dick: It's all right, Tim. No matter how old you are, there are some things you never forget. Or get over. (Silent panel: Tim's watching Dick as Dick turns away and stares into the window.)

Or here in Nightwing 6, when Tim wakes him up from a nightmare:

Dick (internally, imagining a kid falling): He shouts to me. He always shouts to me. I never hear what he says. Tim: Nightwing! Wake up!

Or here in Gotham Knights 26, when Bruce is accused of murder:

(Silent panel where Tim's watching Dick.) Tim: I'm sorry. This must be hard for you. Dick: Me? Why? Tim: Well, I mean, it'd be one thing if we really knew he was innocent, but as it is - Dick: Wait, what? Stop right there. What are you saying, Tim?

Here's Tim spotting him before he can get away in Nightwing 110:

Dick (watching Tim from a distance, internally): Still, Timmy played it through nice and clean. Disarmed the perps, protected and avoided the cops. Kept any civilians from getting shot. God, I love that kid. Too much to let him see me like this. Tim: Hey! (appearing on the roof above him, fake-cheerful) You weren't gonna leave without saying hi, were you? Dick (looking away, very quietly): Hey, Timmy. Tim: Look at you, man! Back on both feet! Think you're done stopping bullets with your body for a while? Dick: Hope springs eternal. (Silent panel with Tim watching Dick, who's turned away.) Tim: You okay, Dick? Dick: I'm fine. Tim: Well, where're you staying these days? Dick: With some people.

Of course, sometimes Tim's watchfulness is frustrating but also a comfort, as in Detective Comics 874:

Tim (watching Dick, who's looking away): Are you listening to me, Batman? I'm saying the gas the Dealer used on you was powerful stuff. Dick: I'm fine, Red Robin. Besides...you're here now. Tim: You're not fine. And with or without me, you shouldn't be out on patrol ye - Dick: Sshhh. Here they come.

(Later in the comic, Dick mentally concedes that Tim's right that he hasn't really recovered from the gas, and Tim saves him from drowning when he's hallucinating. So Dick feels kind of exposed by the scrutiny, but also... he invited Tim along, so there's trust there, too - Tim's perceptiveness can be a good thing, too, when things are serious.)

Incomplete summary of moments with Dick and Tim and vision

I think I already mentioned a lot of these but here is my LIST

almost the first thing that Dick says to Tim is "watch me on the trapeze, Tim" and then Tim does and he basically never stops watching;

Tim watches Dick's parents die and watches Dick sobbing on-stage and watches him on TV and recognizes him by seeing a particular trick because he's dreamed about Dick doing the trick in his recurring nightmares about that night;

in New Titans 65 which is their very first team-up comic after Tim's origin, Dick's training pre-Robin Tim and gives him a test about watching for details and later Tim's takeaway is "I saw how [the Titans] listened to you";

there's a moment in Showcase '93 12 which is just Tim watching Dick and analyzing what's going on with him and there's another moment in Prodigal which is the same thing;

in Nightwing 6 Tim sneaks into Dick's apartment and hides in the dark and Dick spots him and tackles him; one of their most important bonding comics is Nightwing 25, where Dick insists on blindfolding him to get him to rely less on vision; when they sneak into No Man's Land they're in the dark and Tim can't see again and Dick's teasing him;

there are multiple moments when Tim can't see Dick for a bit and panics about his safety, in Nightwing 25, in No Man's Land, in Transference, in Bruce Wayne: Murderer;

Tim's there watching when Dick's wedding to Kory falls apart and he's there watching when Bruce and Dick fight and he's there watching when Donna dies and he's watching when Dick and Bruce swing together on the night before Infinite Crisis, and when Dick goes down and almost dies in Infinite Crisis we cut to Tim watching and seeing it happen and screaming;

there are multiple moments which are just silent panels of them staring at each other trying to figure out what's going on with each other or having a stand-off - in Bruce Wayne: Murderer, in Resurrection, in Red Robin;

in the aftermath of Donna's death there's a panel where Dick's watching Tim from a distance and not approaching;

in the aftermath of Blockbuster Dick spends half the comic just staring at Tim from a distance and hiding himself because "I love that kid - too much to let him see me like this," but Tim sees him anyway and chases him down and then they lie to each other and *ranting* LISTEN TO ME the whole comic is about Dick trying to AVOID being SEEN both literally but also METAPHORICALLY AND --!!!

(the only thing i'm even as halfway obsessive about for them is the heights thing because also there are a bunch of moments involving falling or Tim being anxious about heights and worried that he'll fall or Dick will fall)

In conclusion

Consider the progression in all these moments where Tim's watching an upset Dick and worrying about him!! From reaching out instinctively-but-pointlessly when he's too far away in the LPoD flashback, to almost reaching out in LPoD but hesitating, to putting a hand on Dick's back to walk him back to the Cave in Gotham Knights 10, to physically dragging him clear of the water in Batman: Black Mirror!

In conclusion I don't have a conclusion but basically YES, "watching Dick" is a core Tim characteristic as far as I'm concerned, and Tim watches Dick a lot and that can mean all kinds of things from admiration to nosy intrusiveness to worry to care to gratitude to trying-to-figure-out-what's-going-on-with-him, and sometimes Dick's resentful and sometimes he's relieved and sometimes he's playful and sometimes it's a mix of all those feelings.

And at first it's always Tim watching Dick, but later you've got Dick watching Tim too, and there's that moment where Dick's secretly watching him fight but Tim spots him in Nightwing 110 and there's a silent panel where Dick's watching him in Resurrection and at the very end of Robin there's a scene where Dick's secretly watching him fight but Tim spots him and in the very last issue of Red Robin Dick's watching the end of the confrontation with Boomerang and in Prodigal Dick's the one who notices his face is bruised and aaaaaaah

Anyway I think they're neat <3

[hangmanssunnies]

Maybe 8 and 14?🥺👉🏻👈🏻

8. mumbling unintelligibly into the embrace & 14. cuddles after being touch-starved

Hangman could only remember three things while Marlee drove him home from the bar. She peeled them off the ground and bet Coyote a whole piece of chocolate fudge that he couldn't get in the car by himself. Hangman only giggled a little bit when Coyote jumped up so fast he nearly fell face-first into Marlee's lap through her open window to kiss her. Coyote would have kept trying to kiss his wife, too, if Jake hadn't helped pull him from half hanging out of the car. Then, Marlee made Javy sit in the back so he wouldn't get handsy with Seresin in the vehicle. A statement that made Hangman roar with laughter, and he almost forgot his list. Loosening his watch band a notch, Jake repeats his list.

Lock the doors.

Three doors, six locks. The front: one deadbolt that turns to the left, but a handle walk that locks to the right. Hangman shakes the reminder he needs to switch the locks to match away from his head. He knows if he doesn't finish the list, he will lose it in the wild and random whims of his brain. The garage door had a handle lock that locked to the left and a chain that slides into place but has to be pushed down to notch into place. Then finally, the back door, it was easy a deadbolt that locked towards the right and a bar behind the door.

2. Drink one bottle; take a bottle.

His tired and true hangover prevention method. When Hangman layered in water and then did a DOTO routine, he would wake up feeling better than ever. A hack that had gifted him the last six years hangover free. (Paired with generally drinking less) The nights he would remember to take his lemon mint-infused water, Jake would sometimes wake up the next morning and actually run an extra mile. There was something about the high a good night out and social interaction would fill his battery to 100%. It was an easy high to chase, one Seresin would often find himself chasing before he understood how to balance out. Too many nights of people, fun, and drinks were bad for his health; On the flip staying at home and not doing anything but reading the Stormlight Archives and work burned Jake out too. With age, Jake had gotten better at finding and living in the middle ground, doing his best to moderate the highs and lows. Nowadays, it was easier than ever, hardly more than the occasional consideration because Jake had you. And you had changed everything for him.

3. do NOT kiss Sugar goodnight.

Jake repeated that one six times more than the others. He was the most worried about forgetting it. It was his personal mantra for the night. Jake had even accidentally blurted it out to Javy and Marlee instead of actually saying goodnight. Coyote removed his lips from Marlee's neck and stared at Jake for 30 straight seconds before doubling over with laughter, disappearing in the back seat once more out of eyesight. Marlee had smiled wolfishly before wishing him "good luck with his sugar." Jake didn't know why he could possibly need good luck to complete his list.

The first two tasks were simple. Once Jake was in the dim light of the house, he locked the doors in left, right, left, slide, down, notch, right, kick. Then Jake got his water and made it all the way up the stairs. Unfortunately, the stairs are where his plan falls apart. Jake wryly thinks it seems that they often are for him. Maybe he should be more conscious of the puzzle curses he lets in his home.

You left your door open, and he could see you half awake, half asleep. You have something playing, and Jake is drawn to your doorway. All you have to give him is a half smile and a wave. It's always easy for you to activate the homing signal in his chest, then pull on the magnet there right to your side. Right where Jake knows he belongs.

'Do NOT kiss her goodnight,' Jake reminds himself again. However, his mouth does sometimes seem to have a mind of its own. His lips graze your pulse point of the hand you stretched out for him. Just that small touch is enough to set him on fire. If he ever allows himself more, Jake isn't confident he would be able to stop himself from not trying to fuse himself to you. He was content to be some barnacle to your life. Jake somehow finds the strength to pull away, but then you shock him by pulling him close.

There is no option but to melt into your embrace as you hold him. You are half-mumbling questions about how his night went. None of them really make sense, but Jake doesn't mind. The longer he is there, the more Jake's own eyes start to drift closed. Before he is too consumed, Jake nudges you into a more comfortable position.

He runs through his list again, checking them off in his head. Then he gets to the last one, and half whispers it to himself.

"Kiss goodnight," Jake says, nodding his head slowly.

Then he hears you hum in acknowledgment. You tilt your face from where you've pressed it into his shoulder, and Jake does the same to get a better look at you. Your lips brush his, once, then twice. It's a movement that's more sleep thanconscious. It's not even a thought to follow your mouth for one more small lingering touch.

Jake doesn't process what's happened until he is already past the precipice of sleep. And at that point, he can't tell if it was a dream. Or if that third item on his to-do list really was to get some sugar from his sugar.

[suitablysarcasstic998]

Hey so, y’all ever wonder if Luz and Hunter went to the same place when they died? Cause I do.

[aussied]

What's up heckers, I'm in my Voltron: Legendary Defender era, and that comes with me being a Klance shipper, so if you don't want to see that stuff on your dash, block the tag now haha

(I don't actually have anything regarding it queued right now because I'm lazy, but it'll get queued eventually, so this is just your fair warning)

[cosmererambles]

Imagine Kale dressed in this shit. Wrathion would die laughing.

[chaosthatsmellsgreen]

so here's the thing.

Swan Song is the perfect ending.

it's not a happy ending, it's not necessarily the ending i'd want for either Sam or Dean, but that's not what a good ending to a story is. not all stories have a happy ending. and Supernatural? it's a tragic story. it's a story of perservering in the face of insurmountable evil. it's a story about holding on for dear life, as long as you can. it's a story about making the right choice, even if it seems impossible - even it if doesn't make you happy.

i wouldn't want Sam to be locked up with Lucifer for the rest of eternity. i wouldn't want Dean to fail the one goal he'd had in life, to protect his little brother. but by looking at the narrative of the whole five seasons, it's the ending that makes sense, and while bittersweet, it completes both of their stories perfectly.

Sam had been infected by evil before he was even born. he'd made unforgivable mistakes, he'd been struggling to stay on the path of good his whole life. in the end, the one thing he had to do was to be able to do the right thing. as heart-breaking as that is, the right thing, for Sam, is to sacrifice himself to save the world. the tragedy of it, that all he wanted was an out of this life he'd grown up in, to be normal, to be safe. to get away from the monsters and the darkness inside him. throughout the five seasons, he'd been struggling to make the right choices, he's been trying to deny who and what he is. in season four, he makes the ultimate mistake - and season five, from start to finish is his redemption arc. he knows what he's done, and he genuinely doesn't try to excuse it. even in the last second, he considers himself less than the people he looks up to, less than Dean and Bobby, but he knows what the next right thing is. the only thing left to do. and in the end, he doesn't get to enjoy the normal life he'd wanted in the world he saved, because that's just not his story. what he does get to do is to do right by the world - and more importantly, right by his brother.

Dean on the other hand, had always been fast to sacrifice himself. he was happy with his life as a hunter - keep in mind, even though he starts questioning that through the seasons (same as Sam is questioning whether he could ever be normal), that's where Dean comes from, originally. he's a hunter, it's his job to save people, it's his job to take care of his family, his little brother. that's what he is, that's all he is. and you can see how much of a toll it takes on him. he gives up his life so that Sam can live, but he resents the universe for it. he resents Sam for making the wrong choices, but it's because he feels like it's his responsibility to fix them - but Sam has grown up. he has his own mind and Dean needs to understand, as he does in the very end, that he needs to let Sam be who he is. that this obsession with cleaning up his messes is ruining him, it's pushing him to do things he never would've done for anyone else. and in my opinion, he does the right thing, too. he lets Sam make his own call. he's there, he goes with him to see Lucifer, he goes to where the battle is going to go down, even if there is nothing he can do, just so he's there for Sam ("Well then I ain't gonna let him die alone."). he's not there to change anything. he's there to support his brother. and the thing is, Dean never even dared to want the apple pie life. he was a good little soldier for his dad, he looked after his little brother, he saved people and killed monsters - between all that, anything he might've wanted for himself was just... buried by all the noise.

but Sam knows what it's like to want that. and he wants it for Dean. Dean never let Sam do anything for him, because it wasn't Sam's job to look after Dean. and Sam, whose last act was going to be self-sacrifice, who knew he wasn't going to make it out, he made the last thing he'd ever do be, for once, to look after his big brother. to prevent him from going down a path that would lead to loneliness and madness and the end of the world, again

and after five seasons, after giving up on Sam, on family, on life, on happiness, on the world, Dean finally gives in and lets him. he chooses to honor Sam's wishes, and do the one thing his brother always wanted, the one thing he could never have, the one thing Dean has always been too selfless to even want for himself; he goes and lives a normal life.

i know the series goes on. despite not watching to the end, i know Dean ends up dying and Sam ends up living to an old age. i know they go back to not trusting each other, to recycling their five season long character arcs over and over until narrative cohesion is gone completely. i know there are traces of the Sam and Dean of what i consider to be peak Supernatural in the later series (S8 Sam is very on theme for his character, which is why it's my favourite season from late-Supernatural). but the thing is, Swan Song is the perfect ending. it ends a complete arc, it closes a cohesive story with complex characters, a strong thematic core about love and family and free will, and an - albeit tragic - ending.

there are a lot of posts and conversation around how rare it is to have shows and movie series with a planned story, a story that ends not when it is no longer profitable but when it's supposed to. and Supernatural was clearly supposed to end here. this is my example every time i have a conversation about shows that you shouldn't watch every season of. and like i said, there is a lot of good stuff after this. there is a lot to explore in the world of Supernatural. i personally enjoyed a lot of later episodes, loved season eight and absolutely. fucking. ADORED Fan Fiction (10x05). but i look at all of that as spin off. an alternative way for things to go after the real ending. i often have a loose relationship with canon, and such is the case here. i have my own headcanon about how i'd like to imagine things go after season 5, but that's irrelevant.

Swan Song is a wonderful episode. it rounds out the story, brings it to a bittersweet but complete point. our heroes have made their choices, and Chuck's ending narration says it all.

"So, what's it all add up to? It's hard to say. But me, I'd say this was a test... for Sam and Dean. And I think they did all right. Up against good, evil, angels, devils, destiny, and God himself, they made their own choice. They chose family. And, well... isn't that kinda the whole point?"

THE END

[rusalkarusa]

In other news, I keep being obsessed with the hot guy from the gym. I'll kms if he changes the gym lol

[blkkizzat]

ღ 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞!𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 ღ

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏 𝐨𝐟 𝟐

18+ONLY MDNI

kizzatober series: Smooth Criminals

Kinktober Prompts: Clothed Male/Naked Female, Thigh Riding, Knife Play Synopsis: The university campus is being terrorized by a copycat Ghostface killer. As a popular sorority girl with a dumb jock bf, you are a prime choice to be his next victim especially given how he can't stop thinking about you. But you're no ordinary Sorority Girl bimbo, now are you? CW: AU college fic. blood obsession/hematolagnia, bimbo reader, murder, slight DV (from your npc jerk ass bf), unprotected sex, masturbation, slight age gap (roughly 21 vs 28) and dark content. NOTE: If death/killer romanticization related shit triggers you this is probably a fic to avoid because that is happening all through this bitch. I literally wrote a murder fluff smut fic lmfao. WC: 6.5k of 15.4k Lightly black fem coded (reader is an AKA lmfao) but no descriptors.

A/N: This is my first kinktober fic! I'm sorry this took so long y'all but last week been low key hell and I was sick for a lot of it. Also I did struggle with this a bit since this one I decided to do as an whole fic instead of PWP and now its gotten to be so long its definitely going to be in two parts. Sorry there's no smut in the first part, but there is some fluff and some juicy build up. I've never written for Choso before but he's so baby girl omg I'm obsessed with him now but still I'm a bit nervous posting this. sorry if its dog.

Enjoy!

“Ever felt a knife rip through human flesh and scrape the bone beneath?”

Those were the last words a nameless student heard before Ghostface's hunting knife shined menacingly in the air and came down to claim its newest victim.

Shluk! Shluk! Shluk!

Metal slashed through flesh with razor precision.

Gurgled death cries are silenced as the lifeless body collapses to the ground. 

A thick pool of blood began gathering around them to fan out and travel around their body down the slanted titled floor to drain. 

Choso breathed in deeply. 

A wave of calm washed over him. 

Peace. 

Almost in an enlightened state, he felt the most serene after a kill. 

It was beautiful. 

Blood was beautiful.

The surging stream of blood that would eventually slow to a trickle, the abstract designs of its splatter and the way it swirled around the body splayed across the ground like paint on a canvas.

Like a painting. 

A death painting… and the knife, his paintbrush. 

This was his art.

Choso can recall the first time he actually saw blood beyond a minor scrape. 

He couldn’t have been more than 6 years old. No doubt trying to impress his younger brother Yuji by balancing on top of the monkey bars. After all this time Choso isn’t certain as to how, but he lost his footing and fell flat on his face onto the unforgiving concrete below.

Screams of children filled the area once Choso pushed himself up onto his feet. He immediately felt wetness rush down his face. However, rather than cry or panic a young Choso cocked his head curiously when he noticed his reflection on the metal jungle gym. A warped view of his face mirrored back at him but he could still make out the bright red fluid cascading down his features staining him in red. 

Choso didn’t know how long he stood transfixed, mesmerized by the sight of rouge river that flowed from him until Yuji ran back crying with their parents in tow. 

It was how he had the scar across the bridge of his nose till this day, which became unsightly enough he had decided to get a black bar tattooed over it as soon as he turned 18. 

From then on he couldn’t deny his growing obsession with blood and seeing it leave the human body. All of which had led him here to this university to attain a PHD in Forensics. 

He picked this university, not only for their program but it was the perfect small town playground for Ghostface, a local urban legend from years ago he decided to revive once he felt as he had attained enough knowledge not to get caught.  

Choso was meticulous in his process. 

Ironclad alibis, no distinctive patterns and no victims with any connections to each other, nor him. Additionally, he had memorized all the angles of the university’s security system (thanks to a security guard he had bribed then promptly killed). 

His victims' lives were just his means to an end for his art and most students on this campus wouldn’t amount to much anyway outside of that was how he justified it. Choso did like toying with them on occasion though, fear made the blood pump faster and spray harder once he finally did catch them. 

Sadly, he could never admire his creations for too long though before needing to make his own exit. 

Almost midnight. 

Ten more minutes before campus security makes another round.

He took one last glance at the scene of carnage he had created before disappearing into the night. 

☠

In just a mere 2 hours, the news of another Ghostface murder spread across campus. 

The university’s students were either scared, scattering back to barricade themselves in their dorms. Or curious, lingering around the crime scene near the safety of the news crews and reporters who had gathered to see who the unlucky victim was this time.

No one however, is likely more curious than you: A third year forensics undergrad, who was just itching to get a real glimpse of your first real crime scene, a Ghostface copycat killer crime scene at that! 

You had even left a huge frat party (to be fair it was about to get broken up soon anyway) to trek across campus in the bitter cold of late fall. 

“Y/N, let’s go back–,” one of your pledges whined, “–it’s cold and my feet hurt in these heels!”

“Shh, Stassi, shut up! What if this is an initiation test?” another pledge whispered. 

Your sorority pledges chatter on behind you and you almost forgot you brought them along. It’s not like you wanted to but, like it or not, they were attached to you at the hip like little ducklings until rush was over.

With a clap you turn on your heel to address them.

“Ladies–” 

However you abruptly stop once you see your Forensics TA, Choso Kamo, taking what appeared to be a night jog across the campus quad. 

Was he going to the crime scene too? Your face instantly lights up and your pledges look around confused.

“Wait here girlies! I’ll be 5 minutes max…. No, I mean it. Wait right here!”    

Your pledges huff quietly, but agree. 

They had no choice really as you were already skipping as fast as your not-so-sober legs would carry you in 5-inch pumps over the quad lawn. Truthfully, that was not something they were trying to do too, especially not to chase down what looked like some creepy emo nerd.

“Choso!”

You call out to him and wave, but he doesn’t look like he sees you as you hurry towards him.

“Hey Choooo! Wait up!”  You puffed out, trying to maneuver over the grass in your heels. 

Choso sighed recognizing your voice, reluctantly slowing his pace. He would have kept on jogging but he knew you would keep calling out to him and draw even more attention that he really didn’t need right now.

Finally catching up to him, you grab Choso’s arm and loop yours through. He flinched slightly at your touch but you knew he always seemed a bit jumpy when it came to physical contact, so this didn’t phase you. 

If anything you thought his reactions were kinda cute.

“Where are you going weirdo? All the action is back that way!” You teased with a big grin and pointed in the direction of the crime scene.

Choso tries to ignore how his adrenaline was pumping even faster from you holding on to him than when he was running, especially dressed as you were. 

You looked sexy as hell utterly ridiculous.

You were decked out in a sailor costume, which was pretty much just a poor excuse for lingerie at this point. Your white sailor flap collar attached to nothing more than a sparkly navy bra with shiney white and red trims, leaving your midsection exposed showing your cute little belly ring in the shape of an anchor. 

This was complemented by a dangerously short yet matching sparkling navy pleated skirt which sat low on your thick hips. Your shapely legs were the most covered part of your body yet still looked overwhelmingly tempting in red glittery garters, attached to white opaque stockings in glittery red heels.

“I’m the weirdo… but you’re dressed like that in 40 degree weather.” Choso retorted, brow raised.

“Duh Choso–” 

You released his arm to give him a twirl in your outfit, not noticing the way he nervously wet his lips watching your skirt rise with your little spin.

“–The ‘Get Nauti’ party was tonight silly, where have you been!?”

Oh you know, just casually killing someone. Choso resisted the urge to roll his eyes. 

Of course he knew about the party. 

The campus had been littered with fliers for ‘Get Nauti’ for the past two weeks. Nothing Choso would ever be interested in as he would rather stab himself in the face than attend a mind-numbing party with a bunch of bro-for-brain frat guys. 

However, he did take advantage of the opportunity to create another death painting as Ghostface with the rest of campus preoccupied. 

He couldn’t tell you that though obviously.

“Gym,” Choso said flatly and shrugged, “Heading back to the dorms n-”

“–You mean you aren't going to the Social Sciences building!? Don’t you remember?!” You cut him off in your excitement. 

“The police said they would let us forensic students look at the next crime scene!”

Your face had a warm glow and your movements slightly swayed. You were clearly drunk.

“No Y/N, they said they might let the PhD students, like me, look at the crime scene… and that was only a slim ‘maybe’. You’re still just an undergrad”, he reminded you, much to your dismay as you puffed your cheeks.

But seriously, Choso thought, even the incompetent local police would have enough sense not to let you on the crime scene dressed as you are now, even if you were a PhD student. 

“Awe no fair,” you whine dejectedly. “But you should go, Cho! Then you can tell me all about it! Pleaseeee, I’m dying to know what a Ghostface crime scene looks like. I hear it’s kinda gruesome!”

You gazed up at Choso through fluttering long lashes as you poked out your cherry glossed lips. It was a pout that could famously leave any frat boy at your mercy, but it never seemed to stir Choso much (that you could tell at least).

Choso swallowed. 

On the contrary, your charms worked rather well on him. His mouth was dry and he unconsciously clenched and unclenched a sweat ridden palm behind his back. 

The hell were you doing being this excited over a crime scene? One of his crime scenes for that matter? 

Choso really didn’t know what to make of that.

“Y/N it’s late. I still have papers to grade. I’m going back to my dorm now and you should get home too,” Choso said flatly, trying to keep his cool although fatigue was etched into his voice.

He was in peak physical form but still feeling the strain given he just chased his last victim all over the Social Sciences building. Not to mention still having assignments to grade. All which would be fine if he also wasn’t on edge from you right now as well.

“Booooo…Choso yo– ahchoo!” You sneezed from the cold. 

The effects of alcohol could only do so much to keep you warm in these low temperatures while you were standing still. 

With another sigh Choso unzipped his black track jacket, taking it off and putting it around your shoulders. 

He was doing so as much for your sake as his own. Choso couldn’t help but notice your boobs looking like they were going to pop out of your flimsy sailor bra at any moment when you folded your arms underneath them for warmth.

He was really doing his best to maintain eye contact with you.

“Awe thanks Cho, you’re so chivalrous!” You giggled, blushing as you snuggled into his jacket. 

You could still feel his body heat lingering on the material but the heady scent of oak and sandwood from his cologne warmed you even more.

You also couldn’t help but stare as the black compression turtleneck he wore underneath clung to his body like a second skin. You had suspicions he was fit but you never saw him wear anything beyond his dark colored button ups and shaggy sweaters when in class. 

“Now go home, Y/N. You shouldn’t even be out here alone this late.” 

Choso’s stern voice snapped you out of your ogling.

“But I’m not alone silly!” 

You pointed to the group of scared and shivering freshmen girls also in various states of sparkly undress all for the sake of ‘getting nauti’ standing on a paved path not too far off. 

They looked absolutely miserable. 

“I have my pledges!” 

Choso gave you an incredulous look. You were too clueless. 

“So let me get this straight… You are drunk. You have drunk freshmen with you, who shouldn’t even be drinking in the first place…and you plan on taking them to a murder scene? Where the cops are?” You made an “OH” face and absentmindedly laughed as you came to the realization it probably wasn’t the best look for Chapter VP of the AKAs to take a bunch of drunk and terrified freshmen pledges straight into a recent crime scene. Even if you could put an academic spin on it as it was relevant to your major classes.

Yikes, and on second thought, your house mom would flip her entire shit if she found out.

“Go home Y/N,” Choso said again, shaking his head.

“Besides, you should be more focused on the Chemistry lab midterm on Monday. You know you can’t afford to fail.”

You sulked but relented, he was right. On both accounts.

As your T.A. for that class Choso knew better than anyone just how much your grade depended on passing that lab and you hadn’t even so much as glanced at your notes yet this week.

“Aye Aye, Capitan Choso, sir!” you teased giving him a salute with a wink and lifted knee, your sailor skirt lifting a bit higher.

It was a cute move, or it would have been at least if it hadn't caused your weight to shift all on to one foot. The heel of the sparkly red glitter pump baring your weight sunk into the patch of soft soil beneath you causing your foot to pop out of the shoe as you tumble forward. 

You would have definitely ate shit and embarrassed yourself in front of Choso, your pledges and whoever else was walking across the quad at this time of night if Choso’s quick reflexes didn’t catch you. 

You let out a squeak and waved your arms as you fell tits first onto Choso’s hard chest. 

Shit. 

Choso could feel your hardened nipples pressing against him through the flimsyass costume you wore. He tried hard to focus on how cold it was outside. Anything rather than how warm your body felt up against him or how his biceps tensed from the tight grip of your delicate fingers that sought stability from him.

You grinned sheepishly. You thanked him for catching you not realizing the position you were in nor the torment you were putting this man through.

Setting you upright quickly, Choso crouched down to retrieve your shoe. 

His plan was to simply place it near your foot but he felt your hand land on his shoulder and you raised your dainty foot up expectantly.

Any attempts to avert his gaze proved futile as Choso couldn’t stop his eyes from traveling up the length of your leg. 

Your opaque white stockings practically glowed in the darkness illuminating the shapely calves it covered and thick thighs the tight material cut into. Your hips strained against your garters up until your –he caught himself and his eyes snapped up immediately.

He was a killer, not a perv at least he was trying not to be.

Gingerly making sure to only touch your ankle, you were giggling again as he put your shoe on your foot and placed it on the grass again.

“Thanks Choso! You really are a lifesaver, ya know! I can’t bend down in this skirt.”

“Don’t mention it.” Choso quickly replied, pushing his bangs out of his face in exasperation. 

Really don’t. 

Choso was trying to forget the flash of red lace he saw that barely covered your plump pu– No he had to stop, you were technically his student even if he was just a T.A.

He would surely have to kill you if he popped a boner right now. He was trying to keep a low profile already and did not need to add ‘sexual deviant' to his name from a student harassment claim.

“For real now, go home Y/N.” Choso silently pleaded you would just listen this time. 

He always felt more compulsive right after a kill and didn’t know what he would do if you stayed around him like this much longer.

You finally relented to his relief, nodding and mumbling a sad little goodnight pulling his jacket around your shoulders tighter as you turned to leave back to your pledges. 

Choso started to leave as well but your voice stopped him as you looked at him over your shoulder.

“You know Choso…” You smoothed your skirt down behind you and flashed him a pageant winning smile, “I don’t mind that you saw them.”

Before Choso’s short-circuiting brain could even process what you said you were bouncing off back to your pledges. “Okay ladies, now make like Bey and get in formation! Back to the Soro house!” 

Your pledges erupted with various replies from– 

‘Thank God!’’ 

‘Did you just go over there to steal that nerd’s jacket? Boss!’’

‘Was that your boyfriend, Y/N?’

‘Y/N’s bf is a starter on the football team, she doesn’t want that weird emo dork.’

‘No, sis did you see his muscles– That emo look is still kinda hot right now, huh Y/N?’ 

‘Awe, but I want to go back to the frat!’ 

–all fluttered from the group of chattering girls as you cheerily led them back to the Sorority house. 

You laughed at their comments hoping Choso couldn’t hear them though, as they were a bit embarrassing. 

Unfortunately for the both of you, there was no way for Choso not to hear your rowdy group of drunk giggling girls, he’s sure the whole quad did. 

Choso rolled his eyes as a chill took over him as he started the jog back to his dorms. 

He was glad he had given you his jacket though. The way his body had started to respond to you just now the frigid jog back to the dorms would do him good. 

He just wanted to shower, grade a few papers then go to bed, he didn’t want to end up fisting his cock to you again tonight. 

You had plagued his peace for too long. It wouldn’t do him any good to think of you, it’s not like he could ever have you. 

Sure you went to the same university but you might as well have been from two different worlds. 

You were a popular sorority undergrad with the attention of virtually the entire male population on campus. 

Choso was a PhD student who was used to fading in the background, most avoided him due his looks and academic focus anyway. 

He only had an affiliation with you because his scholarships were tied to being a T.A. for undergrad forensics classes. 

Also you did have a boyfriend. 

An asshole neanderthal football-wide-receiver boyfriend who he would have been tempted to kill already had he not served his own purpose as a reality check and barrier for Choso.

Oh and had an eccentric obsession with blood going for him and was also the Ghostface copycat killer, that too. 

He was sure that would go over well with you, Choso mused sarcastically.

☠

Upon returning to his dorm Choso took a shower, graded papers and tried to fall asleep but inevitably jerked his cock off to you.

Twice. 

The sounds and images of your ditzy little laugh and skippy little panties consumed him as soon as he closed his eyes. The phantom feeling of the way your nipples felt pressed against his chest and how you clung to him desperately had him feeling near insatiable. 

Choso admittedly thinks of killing you often. Just to get some peace of mind.

It wouldn’t be difficult at all to pull off. It’s not like you could put up much of a fight against him.

He didn’t want to break his rule of killing anyone with a connection to him but Choso had also never had anyone stir him the way you did. 

You were a distraction and liability to him. If he killed you he could finally stop thinking about you…right?

You would make a beautiful death painting too.

Choso imagines thick red blood splattered across your curves. 

The fatal gash from the femoral artery in your thigh oozing out a continuous stream of blood. The cut would have to be considerably deep too considering how meaty your thighs were. 

Would the blood streak down your long leg as you desperately tried to hobble away from him in your slutty red heels?

Or would you collapse in fear and surrender to him fully? Landing in such a way that allowed the blood to redirect backwards and soil the flimsy red panties poorly concealing the fat of your cunt as you cried out in fear.

Fuck. 

He was hard again. 

He reached over to his night stand for his lotion bottle– practically empty thanks to his nonstop fantasies of you.

God, he was pathetic.

☠

The school week that followed was relatively uneventful. 

You passed your lab midterms much to Choso’s surprise. Although you always seemed to pass with a relatively decent grade despite how you struggled to get there. Holding firm to your B average in the class and 3.3 GPA in your major overall.

He had to admit you were a better student than he originally gave you credit for. It makes him recall when he first saw you last spring. 

You were a late enroll to Forensic Biology 101. Not only that, you burst into the third class of the semester nearly 15 minutes late.

Oblivious to all the eyes your disruption earned, you leaned on your knees as your chest heaved from exertion giving the entire class an amazing view of your tits spilling from your pink crop top adorned with the prestigious “AKA” sorority. 

You definitely would have given the class an additional show from bending over in your tight green jean skirt had your ass not been facing the door. Choso eyes couldn't help but travel down the length of your legs, your glossy white painted toes peeking out strappy pink pumps. 

You smiled brightly once you caught your breath and apologized for your late entrance but you were newly voted chapter vice president and had just come from your first meeting. 

Surely you had the wrong classroom.

“Er– this class is Forensic Biology 101 young lady.” The older male professor had given you a once over also thinking you must be lost.

“Mhm, yup! I’m Y/N! I just changed my major!” you beamed and handed the professor your schedule.

He looked at it and back at you twice.

“Hm, well so it is…but you are already behind, little lady. Go and take a seat next to the T.A. in the back, Choso Kamo, he will catch you up.”

Just his luck. Choso didn’t want to babysit some sorority bimbo who would probably drop this class in two weeks once the labs started. 

Your university was famous for the forensics program. If you graduated you were all but guaranteed a job at a prominent lab in a major city but more than two thirds of undergrad students dropped it once the rigorous labs began. 

You didn’t look like you would last.

Especially when you told him your interest in forensics came from watching Dexter. You told him how you thought the actor was hott and how his kill rooms were ‘so cool.’ Choso definitely rolled his eyes at that and wrote you off as a soon-to-be drop out.

You proved him wrong though. 

You were a bit of a ditz and a huge clutz but Choso came to understand t's more because you had about a billion different things going on in your head at once rather than you just being dumb or careless. 

You were also a hard worker. 

It was admirable how many activities you were involved in yet still tried as hard as you did in your classes. You always came to his T.A. review sessions and even sought him out at times while he was in the research library to ask him questions. 

You were a good student and he was a horrible T.A. for even thinking of you in this way. 

The campus bell tower struck noon in the distance and Choso looked down to see that he had only read a single paragraph since he sat down to study thirty minutes ago.

Fuck, he had lost himself in thinking about you again. 

Choso put a hand over his face. 

He was sitting alone at a picnic table on the outer, less populated edges of the quad trying to read a textbook but every time he heard a high pitched giggle he snapped his head up thinking it was you.

Class schedules were a bit different due to midterms and he hadn’t seen you the entire week other than to administer the lab but that didn’t mean you didn’t still plague his thoughts more increasingly as of late.

It was making Choso a bit reckless. 

Needing to relieve stress he had created 2 more death paintings. A mistake as it was rumored the local police would soon reach out to bigger towns for more help and perhaps even the FBI would send an agent soon to campus if this kept up. 

He had to move more carefully. 

Maybe make it look like there were multiple Ghostface killers for starters.

“3 Victims, One Week: The Copycat Ghostface Reign of Terror Continues!” 

You read aloud adding a bit of dramatic flair to your voice as you recite the front headline of the campus paper and jar Choso from his thoughts of you. 

Speak of the devil.

You approached Choso at his table and he immediately noticed you were wearing his jacket again, well more like swimming in it as it was clearly too big for you.

This time though you were bundled up in a scarf, leggings and heeled booties. He was glad his face was already a bit red from sitting out in the cold because he couldn’t stop the intrusive thoughts from forming that you looked even sexier cozied up and comfortable in his jacket than in the slutty sailor costume.

“I don’t know why you even bother reading that shit Y/N. They never have any interesting details anyway.” Choso tried to feign disinterest in your arrival but his leg was already slightly bouncing under the table, nervous energy returning.

“Well I have to! You wouldn’t go to the crime scene for me last Saturday, remember?”

How could he forget?  

However a part of him did want you to view it though, his masterpieces, his kills. 

See how glorious their blood looked sprayed on the walls, the ground, and the general surroundings of his victims. 

But he knew you’d never appreciate them the way he did even if you were a forensics student.

“Oh and sorry!” 

You interrupted his thoughts once again.

“I meant to give you back your jacket, I’ve been carrying it with me hoping I’d run into you but I ran out today and forgot mine…whoops! I hope you don’t mind me wearing yours a bit longer?”

Your saccharine smile has Choso sucking in a hard breath. 

At this point he would prefer you to just keep it, he couldn’t trust himself if he had it back with your scent all over it knowing you had been carrying it around all week.

He would never know any peace.

“Keep it as long as you need.”

“Kay!”

You smile at him as you haphazardly plop your overstuffed tote bag down next to him, which of course spilled all its colorful contents all over the table. 

“Oh Crap!” 

You lean over to reach for your bag but almost spill the tray of hot coffees in your hand.

“Y/N, Watch out!” 

Choso grabbed the tray before it could spill all over his and your belongings and sat it down on the table with a small exhale.

“Oh! Thank you!” You flash him a big grin. “I got this one for you!” 

You handed him a grande cup with ‘pumpkin spice dirty chai’ scribbled on it.

Choso preferred his coffee black and he has definitely told you that before but you always just brought him whatever sugary drink you ordered saying he needed to ‘try new things’. 

He wasn’t about to turn you down though, caffeine was caffeine and as a PhD student he needed all he could get. Choso also knew it was your way of thanking him for helping you so much in forensics.  

“Thanks...” Choso mumbled taking a sip. Shit this is actually good.

You sat down next to him, a little too close for comfort with your spandex clad thigh brushing up against his leg.

“Whatcha reading? Is it for your thesis?” You were perilously close leaning on him as you looked over his broad shoulder onto his textbook.

“Yeah, some forensics texts I need to review for citations. This section focuses on serology and bloodstain pattern analysis,” Choso stated knowledgably. 

“Oh! Like in Dexter!” 

“Yeah, Y/N, like in Dexter.” 

Maybe Choso is growing a bit soft as he can’t resist but to crack a small smile at your kid-like-enthusiasm for the subject, you were incorrigible. 

Choso also doesn’t miss the way your eyes sparkle when you ask him to tell you more about his research. 

And so he does.

Sometimes Choso forgets how easy you are to talk on the subject. To be frank no one outside his own PHD program ever asks him about his thesis so before he realizes it he’s letting his guard down to indulge you.

You both get so lost in the conversation to the point it hasn’t even phased Choso yet that you are now actually leaning on him. 

Your soft cheek rests near his shoulder and your body angles deeper into his as you point to ask him about a passage on the page which he begins to break down.  

You try to focus on his words but in the midst of Choso’s explanation your eyes stray from the text up to his face. 

You feel your body start to warm.You always thought he was attractive. His dark looks never deterred you if anything they were refreshing from the crew cut preppy jocks around you. Even more so with his piercings in.

Choso never wore any of his piercings during classes or while in the research library. You counted six facial piercings in total from the three on his brows to the septum, labret and finally the black bar piercing through his tongue that darted out exposed with the movements of his mouth. 

Studying him further you discover for the first time his tattoo across the bridge of his nose was actually covering a scar. It looked old but like it had been deep. 

You couldn’t help but wonder if it had hurt him and why he chose to cover it. 

You didn’t even realize you had reached out to touch it until you felt his gaze snap to you. 

Stunned and a bit embarrassed, you withdraw your hand.

“Ah, sorry I just noticed your tattoo was covering a scar…” you trailed off hoping he wouldn’t be annoyed with you.

Annoyance was the last thing on Choso’s mind as finally registered how you had melded yourself into his side body. 

Although his usual reaction would be to withdraw back, you might as well have him chained down to the table now as he was practically immobilized by you not even being able to look away. 

“Uh, yeah it happened years ago when I was a kid...I fell off the monkey bars, there was a lot of blood.” 

No one had even recognized it since Choso had it covered years ago. You were the first.

“Oh no! I loved the monkey bars, we used to climb up on them all the time when I was little. I guess those things are kinda dangerous huh? Actually, I’m kinda shocked I never fell, a miracle right?” 

You laughed and Choso found himself smiling at you again. 

You were too accident prone so it really was a miracle. 

“Yeah, good thing you never fell Y/N… It would be a shame to have to get a big ugly tattoo on that cute face.” 

Choso swore on his life those last words only were said in his head but from the way your eyes widened he knew he fucked up.

“I- that is.. I meant-”

Choso smacked a hand over his face. He can’t believe he just said that out loud to you. He was really losing it. 

“So you think I’m cute?” you teased giggling. You angled your head so you could look up at him from underneath his hand.

“Yeah, about as cute as the blood splatter diagram on this page.” he teased you back. A small smirk on his features as he peeked at you through his fingers.

“Hey!” 

Choso chuckled. Little did you know he actually paid you a huge compliment comparing you to something he thought so alluring as blood.

You grab the hand covering his face as your smile widens and you playfully struggle with Choso. 

You don’t become aware of your close proximity until you almost bump noses.

Choso locks eyes with you and you feel your tummy tighten as you bite your lip. 

You’re still holding his hand and after a while you work up the courage as your other hand comes up to touch his face. 

“Your tattoo isn’t ugly Choso,” you breathe out softly.

Choso closes his eyes as you trace the scar beneath his tattoo. 

You weren’t sure what you were doing but your hand involuntarily begins to travel across his face and his piercings until they graze over his lips and he opens his eyes again.  

Startled by the sudden hungry look in his eyes you pull back your hand but he captures it in his own, him being the one to trap you this time.

If either one of you just moved even an inch forward your lips would touch. You see Choso’s lips part when–

“Yo! Hands off my girl, freakshow!” 

“Dean!?” You pulled back out of Choso’s embrace, floored to see your boyfriend and some more of his football buddies heading towards you as you knew they still should have been at practice around this time.

“Oooh he’s in for it now messin’ with Dean’s girl.” Dean’s football friends snickered.

Choso audibly breathes out in exasperation. The moment was ruined and he really didn’t have the patience to deal with your neanderthal boyfriend and his football lackeys who all shared a singular brain cell. 

Didn’t they have a ball or something to chase?

“Uh hey, Dean I..” 

You stop yourself when it’s clear Dean is ignoring you entirely as he approaches the table. Not even looking your way to greet you. 

His aura oozes faux tough guy bully and walks straight up to Choso to size him up leaning on the table to tower over him.

“I’m talking to you, freak. You think you can put your hands on what belongs to me?”

Choso doesn’t look up at him but his grip instinctively tightens on the pen in his hand under the table as if it was Ghostface’s hunting knife. 

Dean’s show of bravado going ignored by Choso pisses him off even more that his teammates are with him and the tough guy act is failing to have any real effect. 

Tch. 

With a swift movement Dean knocks Choso’s coffee over on the table, its half drunken contents falling on both you, Choso and his books. 

This has Choso rising out of his seat as he thinks your boyfriend must have an unknown death wish.

Choso’s pen is still in his grasp but by his side now. It would be too easy to drive it into Dean’s neck before the dolt even knew what hit him. A bit extreme, but it could be considered an unfortunate accident of self defense if Dean struck first.

Fortunately, you stepped in between the two in order to diffuse the situation without picking up on Choso’s murderous intent. 

You chewed your lip. This was low key, your fault. You technically were dating Dean. Although Dean was always the furthest thing from your mind when you were around Choso. 

You didn’t even feel guilty for being caught as you’ve had your own suspicions for a while Dean had been cheating on you anyway, you just couldn’t prove it. You were still dating him more out of convenience than anything else, other jocks and frat boys left you alone knowing you were with him.

The only guilt you actually did feel was for Choso. This wasn’t his problem or relationship but of course Dean was a big enough asshole to make this into an actual issue with Choso since it was becoming clearer how little respect he had for you.

“Dean, what the hell is your problem!? You got coffee everywhere, this isn’t even my jacket.” 

“Don’t what the hell me Y/N, you're so fucking dumb you’re going to let this freak get in your pants when– wait you’re wearing fucking his jacket!?” 

Dean was yelling now and a small crowd was forming and starting to take out their phones to record. 

You could not let this turn into an incident.

“Dean chill the entire fuck out, would you?! It was cold, so he let me borrow it– He’s just my T.A.”

A wave of harsh realization washed over Choso. 

Just her T.A.

Right.

Choso is no one important to you, especially with your football boyfriend and social standing on the line.

He’d let whatever the fuck almost happened between the two you just now make him forget that. 

Not anymore.

“That’s right. I’m just her T.A. So if you’ll excuse me.” 

Choso turned from you both to salvage what he could of his books and leave.

You couldn’t place the emotions in Choso’s words and it made your chest tighten up. But you weren’t trying to write him or your almost-kiss off. 

You didn’t mean for it to come out that way but you really lacked the proper words in these kinds of situations.

“Where do you think you’re going, loser?”

Dean grabbed Choso’s shoulder but the intense murderous look in his eyes made Dean release him just as quickly as if he had been burned. 

Even his football goon friends unconsciously took a few steps back feeling the very real threat in Choso’s eyes. 

Choso smirked as he left. Thought so. 

“W-wait Cho–”  

You want to stop him but feel Dean’s rough grip on your wrists.

“Whatever, let’s fucking go Y/N. We have an important party to throw later.” 

Dean grabs your wrist and jerks you away with you barely being able to grab your bag. 

Your stomach twists and you are at a complete loss for words but manage to flash an apologetic look at Choso while you are dragged off. 

However when your eyes meet he looks right through you.

The expression on his face is stone cold and it sends a chill up your spine.

© ʙʟᴋᴋɪᴢᴢᴀᴛ 2023. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ, ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ ꜰɪᴄꜱ, ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇꜱ, & ɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄꜱ. ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʙʏ ᴍᴇ ᴜɴʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀᴡɪꜱᴇ ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇᴅ. ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ

A/N: I promise it won't take as long for the second part to come out. I'm half way done with it already! I was just going to wait and post it all together but a like 12k+ word post all at once would be insane lmfao. After I am finished with this prompt the next 3 stories I will do will be from Thrilling Ghouls as they are all much shorter PWPs in the 3-5k range and I won't have to stress so much since I'm realizing all my Smooth Criminal prompts are longer fics and it takes me like a week or more to write them.

ღTaglistღ: @callm3senpaii @arxliana @jujutsualy @luxiethefairy @akaza-simp01 @fredswh0re @missphanosaur18 @moon-esque @samicamy-13

comment on m.list to be tagged in future Kinktober '23 stories

please stop to take a look at this wonderful art of the last scene that @laikatsuki created, tysm again pookie bears!!!

Reblog for Ghostface!Choso to come steal your panties although comments and likes are appreciated all the same!

PART 2

[reiderwriter]

Unhappy Holidays

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're unlucky enough to run into Spencer Reid at holiday celebrations four years in a row. In the New Year, you're resolving to rid him from your mind forever, but you never were one to stick to resolutions 👻🦃🎄🎆

Warnings: SMUT 18+ minors dni, enemies to lovers, low-key work rivals, semi-public sex, car sex, hate sex, fingering, thigh riding, creampie, unprotected sex (no condoms but contraceptive mentioned), slight spoilers for s4 of Criminal Minds (but not really).

Prompt Request: #50"You're so fucking obsessed with me.” #82"Really? Because your pussy is saying something different, sweetheart.” #93"Use my thigh. You've been staring at it all night anyway.”

A/N: This is my first submission for @imagining-in-the-margins November/December Office Party writing challenge! I'm sorry I've been so busy recently, but the holiday season really does take a lot of effort to get through at work lmao. Hopefully, I'll be able to post more over my vacation! For now, enjoy some very unserious smut~♡ (as if I write any other kind).

Here's a link to my masterlist, where you can find all my work!~☆

Working with the FBI was no walk in the park, which, from your desk at the opposite corner of the bullpen, Spencer Reid sure made it look like.

Working on adjacent teams for the last three years had become gradually infuriating. You were forever in the man's orbit, stuck dealing with the other women on your team sat giggling about him and his many stupid haircuts, and wondering just how far you'd fallen to have to stare at his stupid face 5 days a week.

If you were unlucky. His team did happen to be out on cases a lot more, whereas yours handled correspondence and consulting cases, a cushy and safe job.

It annoyed you to no end that you had multiple field-based qualifications, extensive fire arms training and were top of your class at the academy only to be relegated yo desk duty whilst boy wonder with his doctorates was allowed to trip over his own feet catching actual killers.

Other people wondered where your dislike of the man sprang from, and you could only let out a disgruntled squeak and tell them your horror stories.

A few months into your job, your been fresh faced and bushy tailed or however that saying goes, and overly eager to take any assignment that came your way. Even if the assignment was baby-sitting an injured Doctor Spencer Reid. He'd been shot whilst out on a case whilst trying to talk down an unsub, and you'd jumped at the chance to get to know him.

He was an office legend, of course, though those days it was more for his characteristic lack of social graces rather than the beauty he'd grown into. You'd been so eager to get to pick his brains, find out how he'd managed to score the position on the BAU at such an early age.

Reality had hit you square in the face when he'd spent a week ignoring you, making you run around like a headless chicken searching for hard copies of documents the FBI had digitised a millennia ago, and hadn't so much as spared you a glance.

The straw that broke the camel's back came as you were running back to him triumphant with a document he'd requested eight hours before and had let yourself into Penelope Garcia’s office quietly, only to hear him bad mouthing you.

“She makes me uncomfortable. I've had her out searching for useless files all day because I don't know what to do with her.”

“She's trying to help, Spencer, it's her job right now, cut her some slack.”

“Her job is currently getting in the way of mine. I even tried writing my own doctor's note so I could get rid of her, but Hotch wouldn't allow it.”

You'd dropped the file loudly on the table, watched the two spin around with horrified looks and turned silently and left the room.

He hadn't once tried to find you after that, and you let your apprenticeship under Doctor Reid quietly fizzle out as you got back to your regular work.

Your resentment still burned though.

Each time you'd been caught in the same elevator with him, you'd ignored him to an almost insane degree, enjoying the way he squirmed and tried to make small talk.

You'd been in contact with JJ and his Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner as well, through cases you'd recommended, but always maintained your cold shoulder.

The one place you could not ignore him, however, was a Penelope Garcia party.

After you'd slammed the file down on her desk, Penelope had guiltily sent you a gift basket filled with sweet treats and books, and had hounded you for a week to make sure your feelings weren't too damaged by her friend's stupidity.

You actually liked her, and found at least one silver lining to the storm that was Spencer Reid ripping through your life.

In the three years since the “incident,” you'd found yourself at three parties where Penelope in all of her heartwarming ways had tried her best to force a reconciliation between the two of you, to disastrous results.

The first was a Halloween party, and you'd been incredibly proud of your Princess Laia costume when you'd arrived. Only until you'd gone to the kitchen to top up your drink to hear Spencer Reid boring some guest or the other about how Star Trek was more advanced, and had a richer plot line.

Penelope had stepped into the kitchen just as he'd caught a glimpse of your (rather skimpy) outfit - yes, you'd chosen swimsuit Laia, yes, you were going to own it - and had immediately jumped into introductions, as if you weren't already intimately acquainted.

“Spencer! This is Y/N! She loves Halloween, too, she makes all of her costumes. You guys should talk.” She'd led the other guest away and left you there with Spencer as you'd awkwardly looked upon his own costume.

“Are you the Tenth Doctor?” You asked begrudgingly, noting his pin-striped suit and the shorter hairstyle he'd chosen.

“Are you a fan? I prefer the original show run more than the current stuff, but David Tennant has really been doing a wonderful-”

“I'm sorry, let me stop you there. I don't watch Doctor Who. I guess I prefer something with a… How should I say, richer plot?”

He'd snapped his mouth shut and didn't have chance to open it again before you turned dramatically and walked away from him.

The second party you'd been cornered into was just over a year later.

Having been stuck in the office over Halloween, Penelope was determined to get in one last celebration before Christmas steam-rolled every other holiday, and thus you'd been invited to her single-people-only-friendsgiving-potluck, and you'd found yourself having to navigate knocking on her door with a casserole dish in your hands.

Luckily a large hand had appeared from behind you and knocked on the door for you. Unfortunately, the sudden shock from the silent appearance of a man right behind you startled you so much that the dish fell straight from your hands anyway.

Penelope opened her door upon hearing the crash and you whirled on your would-be attacker.

It was Spencer again, eyes round in shock, hand still curled into a fist.

You took a calming breath as you gathered yourself, trying not to bite his head off. You wanted to scream and shout and rip his head out but you didn't, instead letting the fury drip into your voice as you finally opened your eyes again.

“That dish took me four fucking hours to make.” You huffed in anger once more as Penelope guided you into the apartment and poured you a glass of wine before you moved back to the entry hall to clean it up again.

Needless to say he didn't care to converse with you after that.

A few small parties in between had been blissfully Spencer-less and you'd lulled yourself into a false sense of security. That's when you accepted the Christmas party invitation.

As one of the unlucky few members of the FBI who had to stay out over christmas in case of some emergency or the other, you'd been grounded in Virginia, unable to travel home for the holidays. So Penelope Garcia's singles-only-Christmas-fun-time-Party was your last ditch effort to spend the holidays actually resting and eating good food.

Learning from last time, Penelope reassured you that there was no potluck, that she had prepared all the food herself, and all you'd need were a bottle of wine and a willingness to party.

You'd taken those recommendations as law and had immediately let yourself into a glass of mulled wine as you arrived, and - noticing that the party was Reid-free - had allowed it to raise your Christmas spirits slightly more than you usually would.

By hour two of the event, you were full of yuletide joy and swaying freely along to the tune of Silent Night.

Spencer’s late entrance really would have gone unnoticed by you had you not bumped face first into his chest as you spun yourself around in your dance, his hands quickly falling to your hips to steady you.

The few moments it took you to gather yourself were about as long as you needed to realised that he'd caught you in his arms underneath the mistletoe. And with your mind fogged by mulled-whatever-it-was-Penelope-mixed-into-that-punch, the part of your brain that objected to the very existence of Spencer Reid went silent, and the incredibly tiny and somewhat damaged part of your brain that instead saw him as attractive started shouting loud instructions.

Before your common sense could return, you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes to kiss the very warm, very close man holding you upright.

“Mistletoe,” you muttered as you clawed his arms off of you and took yourself straight to Penelope's bathroom to throw up.

So yes, your acquaintance with Spencer Reid had never been good, and you were perfectly fine with resenting him from afar, privately.

With three years of bad experiences under your belt, you weren't excited at completing your yearly tradition of horrendous interaction. Which is perhaps why you immediately and loudly protested Penelope’s New Years Eve party invitation.

“Y/N, it's a party. What's the worst that can happen?” She pleaded as she followed you down the corridors of the office building.

“I could see Spencer Reid. I could be forced to converse with Spencer Reid. I could get absolutely wasted and kiss Spencer Reid. There, three options, please accept my resignation from partying.”

“Y/N we both know you don't drink anymore, so at least one of those is unlikely to happen. And Spencer might not even come, he has tickets for an indie theatre from 6pm onwards, they're playing some Russian movie from the 60s that's like 4 hours long or something. So u retire yourself and tell me you'll come?” She had to take three or four steps for each of your own, not that you were so different in height but because you were practically marching in order to avoid the topic.

But you finally stopped and let out a sigh as you turned back to Penelope who stopped just before she ran into you.

“You're sure he won't be there?”

“I'm sure he RSVP’d no.”

“Fine. But I'm not drinking and I will still be expecting the Penelope Garcia virgin punch experience.”

“Bring the party poppers and you have a deal.”

“Done.”

–X–

Over the week since you'd accepted the invitation, you'd made peace with it. For the most part, you did love a Penelope Garcia production. There was something wonderful about your friend and her ability to brighten anyone's mood, an ability that was only heightened at holidays. She was like a glittered goddess gaining power when worshippers used her altar, except the altar was her house and the worship was a range of hallmark-induced holidays.

You arrived at the party at 10pm, and though that was the start time you'd been given, you weren't surprised to see a full house of Penelope’s team mates already in attendance. Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jareau and Emily Prentiss sat spread across the sofa in the living room area, and you noticed a few techie friends also grabbing drinks and chatting.

“Y/N, I'm so glad you're here! You remember everyone on the team, right?” She pulled you into a hug and then sat you down in the middle of the group, waiting for you to mingle and become comfortable before she ran off to more hostess duties.

“Of course, nice to see you guys.” You grabbed your promised punch and sat back comfortably, striking up a conversation with Emily about how bleak the dating scene had been recently.

“It seems like all the men around me are jackasses,” Emily muttered and you giggled along.

“I'm wounded,” Morgan shot back, a hand pressed to his chest in faux pain.

“Good. You're like a lion out there in the clubs stalking gazelles, it's like watching a nature documentary when you're out there.”

You almost snorted your entire drink up your nose as Emily finished, needing to compose yourself for a second.

“I guess the men on our team aren't great with romance,” JJ laughed and took a swing. “Hotch and Rossi have four divorces between them, and Derek here is a lost cause.”

“Our only hope is young Spencer. May he grow into a respectful young gentleman and break out curse,” Emily toasted.

“Oh that ship has sailed,” your laugh this time was bitter, your mood immediately growing sour with even the smallest mention of Spencer Reid.

“Ah, Penelope mentioned you had a problem with our boy wonder. Care to share?”

You opened your mouth to give your standard non-answer and move the conversation along, but you were interrupted.

“Yes, Y/N, care to share? I am slightly curious about that as well.” You turned around and there he was, and your stomach turned in disgust.

Just one time, just one party. You'd been having fun, and here he was to ruin it.

“What are you doing here?” you gaped up at him, unsurprised to see him still decked out in sweater vest and slacks even in his down time.

“I was invited.”

“You declined, Penelope said you had movie tickets.”

“Ticket, singular. And it was cancelled so here I am. What's your problem with me, Y/N?” His jaw clenched and he grabbed the back of your chair and leaned down. It was supposed to be intimidating, but you rolled your eyes. When he looked that attractive, veins in his arms popping out of the sleeves he'd pulled up, you couldn't see him as intimidating. His arms were distracting yes, but God that was nothing compared to his thighs. His pants were tight, and you thanked whatever Clueless tailor had sewn them, because you now allowed yourself a momentary lapse to enjoy the appearance of his lower body.

You tried to shake the thought of his attractiveness from your mind, reminding yourself where you were and in what company.

“I don't think I need to answer that. I think I'll enjoy holding it over your head instead,” you said, standing up and beginning to gather your things.

“Wait, Y/N, where are you going? New Year isn't for another 30 minutes.” Penelope scrambled over and grabbed your hand, pleading with you to stay.

“I'm sorry Pen, but there's just this very annoying bug buzzing around me, and I think I need to get away from it.” You said your goodbyes and excused yourself from the party, happy to have walked away relatively undamaged.

Fate had other plans, and as you stepped out of the apartment building ready to walk yourself home, a hand caught yours from behind as a voice chased you.

“Y/N, wait. I'll go. You go back inside.”

“And return with my tail tucked between my legs after making a grand exit? I'll pass, thanks boy genius.” You shook yourself from his grasp and made to walk away again, but he quickly matched your pace and stepped into your path, cutting you off.

“I can't let you walk home. It's like 40° out here, and your coat is more style than substance.”

“Get into a car with a stranger? I'm sure you of all people know how stupid that sounds.” You stuck a finger out and poked his chest, but he grabbed your hand and held it in place as he spat out his next words.

“I'm not a stranger, I'm the man you're obsessed with, Y/N. Big difference.” You laughed, mostly in shock at his indignance, but he stared at your face as serious as could be.

“Me? Obsessed with you? I'm not the one who followed a woman they're barely acquainted with out of a party filled with all of my friends. Sounds like you're projecting, Spencer.”

“Am I?” He questioned, stepping closer and grabbing your hip as he continued his questioning. “I wasn't the one who was sat there talking about me with all of my colleagues.”

“Well, I wasn't the one who turned up to a party I'd declined an invitation to.”

He was imperceptibly close now, hand gripping your hip so tight you wondered if it'd leave you with a mark.

“I certainly was not the one who initiated a kiss last year, Y/N. You need to face the facts, you're so fucking obsessed with me.” If his hands had you feeling dizzy, his words were completely knocking the sense out of you. Suddenly you returned to the person you'd been under that Mistletoe, and everything from his closeness to the rough edge to his voice begged you to do it once again.

“Go fuck yourself,” was about all the words you could manage as he finally let his lips fall down and crush into your own.

You should've pushed him away, but instead your traitorous body wanted to prove his point, opening up for him faster than you'd opened up to anyone else before.

His tongue flicked against your lips and you gladly let him explore your mouth, opening up to tangle your tongue with his.

He tasted sweet, like the punch Penelope had handed you earlier, only now you wondered if someone had accidentally laced it with how free you were being with your affections.

He resurfaced for air, but you didn't care if there was nothing in your lungs at all if it meant that his lips would engage your own in battle once again.

“Look how much you want me,” he smirked. “Look how needy you are after a single kiss, chasing my lips like that.”

“You and your big fucking mouth. I wish you'd shut up once in a while.”

“I'll make it my new year’s resolution.” His lips joined your own again, and you clashed hard, exploring as much as you could muster as he pulled you in the direction of his car.

“I'm not driving… home… with you,” you growled between kisses, trying not to put your teeth to his neck and bite down hard. You're not sure if that impulse was a murderous one or a kinky one.

“I'm not putting you in the front seat, Y/N, I'm putting you in the back. You should be familiar with the idea.”

Heat sparked between your legs, and you allowed yourself to be manhandled into the beat-up trash heap of a car.

He'd not taken his hands off you as he got you in, pushing himself in first and then pulling you by the hand that you'd unconsciously gripped hard. You immediately straddled his hips, skirt naturally riding up in the process. He noticed and looked curiously down at you, growling as you pressed your lips against his neck and grabbed you instead by the hair gathered in a ponytail at the back of your head.

“See, you're obsessed with me. Just admit it.” Without breaking eye contact, he dug his fingers into the material of your tights and pulled in opposite directions, leaving your underwear exposed to his wandering eyes.

“I'm not obsessed with you,” your voice needed conviction to land, but it came out as a lusty whisper, especially as he slipped his fingers inside your underwear and finally touched your aching cunt.

“Really? Because your pussy is saying something else, Princess.” He found your clit faster than you'd ever expected, rubbing slow circles into your skin as you began rocking your hips back and forth.

It was becoming hard to disagree with him, with each flick of wrist growing the heat between your legs. You attacked his neck again, hands practically ripping at his top buttons so you could muffle the sounds of your arousal against his neck, collarbone, chest, any stretch of that pale skin available to you.

He forced your hips to a stop with one hand as he slipped a single digit inside of your hole, gathering your arousal as he set a steady pace, thumb keeping your bundle of nerves occupied.

“Listen, Y/N, can you hear that?”

“I can't h-hear anything.” You had to grind your teeth together to get the words out with minimal interruptions of moans bursting from the pit of your stomach.

He leaned in close to your ear, nuzzling your neck and placing chaste kisses up towards your ear, finally pulling away just enough to whisper a single word in your ear.

“Liar.”

His hand stilled and pulled off you quickly and your eyes broke open, hands unconsciously fitting into his shirt as if you were worried he was going to leave you there like this, on the edge of pleasure but still so far away.

“Use my thigh. You've been staring at it all night anyway.”

“Jackass. You've only been here for like 20 minutes.”

“You can climb right out of this car if you want to, Y/N.” He tried to keep his tone light, but the death grip he had on your thighs, the very obvious tent pitched in his pants and the way his eyes couldn't go five seconds without undressing you told you you had more power in this interaction than he wanted to give you.

There was no way either of you were letting the other go unused tonight.

You relaxed your grip on his shirt and shifted your weight to one of his thighs. Lithe he may be, but lowering yourself down there was an unexpected strength there. He watched on curiously as you rocked experimentally against him. Back and forth you rocked, trying desperately to keep up his momentum or tempt him to help you out again.

It was time to let your voice back out, and you did, moaning without a care as you hummed his leg like a bitch in heat.

“You're enjoying this lot, huh, Y/N,” he muttered, and you watched as his hand worked his pants zip open, removing one of the barriers in the way between the two of you, as he began palming himself.

“What's that saying? Anything you can do, I can do better?” He growled at that response but didn't stop you. Instead he bought a hand down on your ass as you moved, so hard you jolted at the sudden pain. Your eyes shot open as your hips stilled, but you felt warmth grow between your legs.

“Yes, you definitely enjoyed that. Should I do that again, or do you think we should hurry this up and go back up for the countdown?”

You hesitated only a second before you pushed his hand off his lap, shifting your hips further towards his knees before letting your hand reach for where his had just been.

You didn't let yourself think about how big he was as you pulled his cock free, didn't let yourself wonder how he measured up against anyone you'd been with before. You didn't let yourself waste time thinking about how various office rumours were true, and definitely not a second was wasted feeling jealous about how those rumours were spread in the first place.

Instead you simply slammed your lips back against his, mouth opening to let your tongue engage his as you lifted your hips with his help and lowered yourself down on him.

You didn't have to rid yourself of sinful thoughts after that as he purged every single brain cell from your head, filling you so contently that there was simply no space for anything but him.

You locked up on top of him, clawing at his shoulders as you whimpered at the stretched, falling so he was balls deep inside you. You wanted to move, to use him for your pleasure, but your walls tightened every time you even thought about it as he stroked your hair through it all.

It had been some time since you'd last had a sexual partner, and you needed the few minutes to overcome the first uncomfortable bliss of it all.

“That good?” he whispered, but the harsh tone of earlier was gone, replaced only by unsure humour to break the silence.

“Been a while.” He nodded, kissing you again to distraction as he shifted your positions.

Cradling your neck and securing your legs comfortably around him, he lowered you against the backseat, pulling out slightly as you adjusted to the new angle.

“Better?” You nodded quickly, because it was. There was no more pressure on your legs, and despite the cramped space in the car, you had enough space to lie almost flat.

“Yes… thank you.” Just as his cutting tone had escaped him, you also heard your own tone softening, the sigh of contentment slipping past your lips almost sweet. Almost.

“Are you going to fuck me now, or what?”

He let out a shocked laugh, but lent down to shut you up with a kiss nonetheless. Bracing himself against the car door, his hips softly rocked into you, pace increasing until you were back to the edge of cumming, nails pressed hard into his skin until you were sure he was going to complain.

He didn't though, but kept up his thrusts, until your vision suddenly darkened and stars exploded in them, rolled back in your head as they were.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, where should I…?” He panicked, but you wrapped your legs around him, grabbing him by the tie and pulling him down to swallow his moan as he shot his load inside of you.

“Birth control.” You whispered when you finally let him go, gasping for air. “Contraceptive pill. No need to get the car dirty.”

He collapsed on top of you then, forehead resting against your own as you both caught your breaths.

The moment was silent, and you found the synchronicity of your breaths almost calming. Eventually you had to break apart, and he helped you up to a sitting position, but didn't break eye contact as fell back into his lap.

His hands stroked your back, dipping to your ass at times, but he didn't talk. Neither of you did.

The eye contact between the two of you was possibly the most pleasant conversation you'd ever had.

“I'm sorry.” He blurted, just as fireworks erupted into the night sky. Your heart shook, and you weren't sure of it was the shock of the sound, or the way the rainbow of lights illuminated his sincere expression.

“You don't have to apologise for cumming in me, Spencer.”

“Not that. Before. The casserole and the mistletoe, and the Halloween costume.”

“Wow. Um, okay. Apology accepted, I guess, though I'm not entirely sure why you're apologising now.”

He took a deep breath just as another set of fireworks went up.

“I pulled you under the mistletoe. It was Penelope’s idea, she knew how stupid I was being around you and sent me over. I saw it and took the chance.”

“Fuck. Why?”

“Because I was pretty useless at being chivalrous the year before.”

You climbed off his lap in a scramble and sat on the seat beside him, mind racing, trying to figure out where the hell he was going with this.

He turned to you, trying to keep your attention as he stumbled over the words.

“You couldn't knock on the door, so I wanted to help you, but I didn't think I'd scare you so much you'd drop it.”

“You didn't scare me it was a momentary lapse in my observational skills.”

“You shrieked,” a smile threatened to pull his lips up, they twitched as you flushed red.

“And Halloween?” You looked at him again now, trying to figure out what the hell was going on between the two of you.

“You refused to look at me for a year after we stopped working together,” he shrugged quickly running a hand through his hair and expelling a breath. “I don’t really know how to talk to women.”

“You just know how to piss them off?”

“Morgan says it comes naturally.”

“Yeah, well, Morgan is very wise.”

A brief silence stretched between you, or as silent as a night full of cracks, pops, whizzes and bangs could be.

“I don't get it. You tried your best to get rid of me when I was there to help you. I wanted to impress you, and you kept sending me on meaningless errands, and now you're saying what? You wanted my attention?” There was a quiet anger to your voice, but you were surprised to find it diminished and tired.

“I wanted you gone because you were distracting me, Y/N, not because I hated you.”

“Well, what's the difference, Doctor Reid? Please indulge me.” You huffed a little but kept your eyes on him, trying not to seem too desperate for his answer.

“I have an IQ of 187. Emily says when I'm around a pretty girl it's more like 52,” he fidgeted with his pants, forcing the words out.

“You're a pretty girl. We had a case to work and all I could think about was how to get you to like me. Hotch chewed me out like three separate times for being absent minded.”

He was looking anywhere but you, trying his best not to appear like a fool but you were locked onto him.

“Oh my god you're an idiot.”

“When you're around, yes.”

“And that means I'm equally stupid.”

“No, you just jump to conclusions and hold grudges. There wasn't anything really that stupid about your actions, though it could be suggested that not thoroughly thinking through the wording of the conversation you overheard-”

You cut him off with a kiss, pulling him down again mlby his tie.

“Oh my god, shut up,” you whispered as you broke apart.

“Does that mean we can do this again? Because I'd like to do this again?”

“Stop talking, start kissing jackass.”

He finally didn't argue with that, pulling you back into him as you sat under the stars in his car welcoming the new year.

[dystopyx-blog]

Stuck in twst without meds pt 2

electric boo-hoo-galoo

featuring: CATER, SEBEK, SILVER, LILIA and special guest star ✨️BONUS✨️

Idk I just imagine Cater not giving any fucks. He treats you like normal. This obviously endears Cater to you, as everyone else is low-key very annoying when it comes to your diagnoses. So now you're the closest to Cater, of all people, and he does not hesitate to post a million pictures of you two hanging out to Magicam, reminding everyone else that he's your favorite and missing everyone the fuck off.

Sebek is the fucking worst when it comes to this omfg. You know how he is in game, the annoying little crocodile, obsessing over Malleus and being low-key racist??? towards all humans? Uh YUH he is one of the most ableist by far. And yet he's always helping you, like why??? Bro he acts like he hates you, yet he follows you around like you're Malleus??? He will not leave you alone, insisting you need his help.

Hey you n Silver are kinda similar when you think about it. Like you may not be falling asleep, but you're definitely not awake whenever your attention decides to deficit. He often finds himself wishing he could use his UM to see what you're daydreaming about. I'd only it'd work that way. You do also feel empathetic towards his lights. You even introduce him to the rubber band trick, where you wear a rubber band and snap it whenever your brain wanders or you start to feel sleepy. Sometimes when he sees you snap it, he finds himself fiddling with his own... not because he's feeling drowsy, but because he feels connected to you.

Liliaaaaaa. Silver and Malleus are the only ones who really realize this, but you make Lilia go full dad mode. No joke. He employs all the same tricks he used on those two on you. But neither Silver nor Malleus would ever tell you this, not on purpose. Mostly because Lilia is always watching/listening to ensure they don't. Because he knows you'll get upset if you learn he is quite literally babying you. But it's so hard not to!!! You remind him so so much of them... of Malleus with your mood swings, of Silver with your nodding off. Plus, as a human, you are a baby to him, so in a way, you should let him treat you like one. I think that's Lilia's favorite part, you make him feel so young.

BONUS

Sam has your meds. They're available in his shop, and they have been the entire time. You're just in the shop when you see them, and Sam's just like, "why didn't you ask sooner, of fucking course I have your meds in stock, why wouldn't I, I'm SAM."

So this raises a new problem, because he's, yknlw, SAM, so you won't be getting your meds without paying up.

And with your measly earnings, there's no way you'll be able to consistently pay for your meds.

So this raises a new challenge for the yanderes: who's gonna be your supplier? Your sugar pill daddy, if you will.

[xeeljii]

I need joost whimpering into my neck so bad its not even funny anymore IM GNAWING AT THE BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE (touching grass rn thanks)

can i write a little something .... ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)

WARNING! Explicit RPF! 

CW: 18+, f! reader, dry humping sorry im in my dry humping era, drunk! Joost, established relationship, needy so needy Joost.

Late at night the window to your shared apartment is still open letting a little breeze in, it is the middle of summer and you are just laying on the living room couch watching TV ready for bed when you finally hear the ring of the doorbell. Joost had been gone since the midday with his friends and now so late you guessed he must have had a good day if he wasn't even able to use his keys.

You get up, turn the TV off and open the door with a soft smile on your lips, he is hanging between Appie and Stunje, red to the tip of his ears and so obviously drunk. His eyes are closed, his face is hanging low, he looks like a rag doll as both his friends hold him trying to keep him from falling, you laugh slightly at the sight.

"Thanks for bringing him home." You say voice low to not wake him but as soon as the words leave your mouth he raises like coming back to life at the sweet familiar sound of you.

He opens his eyes quickly, pupils unfocused and hair all tousled on his forehead. He smiles brightly his whole face lighting up and the so beloved dimples appearing.

"Liefde!" He all but screams as he lets go of the shoulders of his friends and throws himself all over you.

He is never mindful of his size even less so when he is drunk, he rests all his weight on you and you do everything to hold him and not fall backwards. You place a hand securely on his back as he rubs his face against your neck, he bends down in an awkward position to sniff at your perfume. You feel yourself blush quickly when he starts placing kisses on the exposed skin still very aware of the presence of his friends who break in laughter when they realize what he is doing.

But he doesn't care, he can't care when you smell so nice and feel so good and soft under his hands.

"I'm so sorry." You say mortified, they just continue laughing before Appie speaks.

"This one kept whining about missing you at the bar then when we got in the taxi he kept trying to call you but couldn't figure out how to unlock his phone so he threw a fit." You can see the image so clear in your mind it is so embarrassing and so adorable all at the same time.

"You are his screensaver you knew that right?" You blush deeply, you didn't know, but it is not surprising Joost is practically bordering on obsessed with you.

Joost is holding you tightly and shamelessly planting kisses on your warm skin completely ignoring the conversation happening right in front of him, then he gets bolder and starts sneaking his hand right under your sleeping camisole. You wince.

"Okay we are leaving." Stunje says saving you any further embarrassment you throw him an apologetic smile and a thank you before everyone says their goodbyes and leaves.

When the door is finally closed you can breath a little easier, you pull hard at Joost's shirt trying to peel him off you.

"You are such a handful." You say, so much love dripping from your tone it comes out with no bite.

"I missed you~" He whines into you stretching the last syllable.

"I can see." You start pulling him towards the bed room, he stays pressed close to you not allowing you to leave his embrace even by an inch.

When you get to the bed he finally releases you a bit but only to push you down onto the mattress, you fall with a soft thud in the middle.

"Hey!" You chide.

"I missed my baby." He says with furrowed eyebrows standing over you, he is so whiny when he is drunk, he is so clingy and so needy.

"Just take your clothes off and come to bed." You say rolling your eyes, you do have work early and whatever he is trying to get at can't happen.

He quickly does as he is told and starts crawling on top of you only on his boxers.

"I have work in the morning." You remind him softly before he gets ahead of himself.

"I know." He mumbles, cute little pout adorning his puffy lips. But knowing doesn't stop him from much and he makes himself a little place between your legs wrapping the muscle around his hips before he lets himself fall right on top of you.

"You can't sleep like that, you are crushing me." You pull lightly at his hair to get him to move but he doesn't and you already know that he won't.

"I really missed you." He says in that airy breathy tone that has you dampening in your panties.

He reaches a hand over your camisole stopping over your breast, his head is pressed right against the crook of your neck. He starts softly massaging at the mound of fat over the fabric and you can't help but sigh at his touch. He is kissing at the sensitive skin over your pulse and licking intently to pull more sounds from you.

"Joost." You whine unsure if you are asking for more or chiding him again, but he just likes the way you say his name so it only spurs him on.

He feels the nipple harden against the soft fabric and wants to touch directly so bad, he pulls his hand away before moving it to the hem of your shirt and pulling it up all over your breasts. At that he finally pulls slightly away from you just so he can admire at your beautiful forms, without even touching him he is already twitching in his boxers and a dark wet spot forms at the fabric of his underwear.

"So pretty." He says before he bends down chasing back after your warmth again.

He goes straight for your nipple wraps his lips around the sensitive skin and starts sucking as much of you into his mouth as he can, his other hand massages at your chest. His hips start moving against yours, he is grinding hard against your pelvis, moaning agains your tit on his mouth and groping hard at the other one with his big warm palm. You involuntarily start grinding back, back slowly rising from the mattress to match his pace.

You feel him so hard against your core, his length pushing right against the fabric of your shorts, he is breathing so heavy against your chest nose buried against your skin moaning as he sucks on you. He keeps rubbing himself on you, harder, faster, he is going to crush you, you really feel his whole weight on you as he wildly uses your smaller frame to get off. You feel him twitching even between the layers of fabric still separating you, you already know his body so well.

He pulls away from your nipple, grabs with both hands at your waist moving you harder against his body, you feel his hips start to stutter, he bends down again and searches for your neck, he is panting and leaving wild kisses and love bites everywhere he can reach, he can't help himself he needs to mark you so bad right now, alcohol high on his bloodstream he forgets any reservation.

"Let me come." He says in a whisper accentuated by a hard thrust.

"Can I come baby?" He asks sweetly as he licks under your ear.

"Please" He whines against the sensitive skin of your neck, you feel his deep voice sending waves directly to your cunt, you are so wet, your clit is so hard and throbbing at his words alone.

"Please touch me." He whimpers right against your hair.

"Please touch my dick." He is begging now, so close, just needs a little help, just needs the smallest touch from his sweet kind girlfriend to get off.

And who are you to deny him?

So you move a hand low between the two of you, reach inside his boxers, you don't even bother pulling them down and just stroke him hard and fast, your hand clenching around him tightly just how he likes it and twisting around the tip. Just within a few movements he is coming, on your hand, on his underwear, on your pajamas. Long white stripes dirtying everything with delicious heat.

"I love you, I love you, I love you." He continues mewling against your throat as he weakly thrust against your palm with the last waves of his climax.

He pulls enough strength to kiss your lips messily before he finally collapses onto you with a deep content sigh.

You still feel yourself throbbing inside your shorts but before you realize it he is already fallen deep asleep holding softly at your tit with a big warm hand. Sleeping so peacefully like an angel, like he didn't just use you to get off. You roll your eyes with so much fondness.

"You really are a handful." You say almost in disbelief kissing at his cheek as his face rests pressed on your neck breathing softly.

You pull your hand away and wipe it on the duvet. He is going to have to wash that tomorrow, and your pajamas and his boxers, it is his fault it all got dirty. And he will probably wake you up with head as an apology for leaving you high and dry and you will most likely not make it to work on time because he won't be happy with making you come just one time, no, for the grieve offense of not making you finish he will want to pull as many orgasms from you as he can before you are begging for him to let go, all overstimulated and pretty on his mouth. But all of those are problems for tomorrow you, so you just wrap your arms around him and pull him closer before his comforting weight over your body on you drags you to sleep.

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

A/N: idk where this came from idk lol not proof read etc

ps. this is not THE DRY HUMPING fic this is just me being insane

[dimeadozencows]

Sooo I've been obsessed with this au for a few days now and I thought.. why not use my abilities for evil

These are the designs from the tf2 x Steven Universe au by @lenny-link drawn in Steven Universe's art style! Or my best attempt at it lol.

I think the best looking ones are spy, heavy and soldier :]

Close ups↓

Also here's just the background; it's the bg from the tf2 lineup as a SU background, I'm really proud of how it looks hsjdjd

I also HAD to draw Andalusite by @gracefireheart cus good god he has taken over my entire heart. He's truly everything. The myth the legend the icon the moment. Happy pride month.

I like giving him a receding hairline cus. medic(has hair) + heavy(bald) = less hair. mathematics. The first drawing is my puny amateurish attempt at Rebecca Sugar's beautiful doodle art style. (I think I nailed the face and hair tho hehe)

(Your drawings are what introduced me to this au, I love them sm- I really hope you'll like this!!) (p.s; sorry for giving him a boob window. I wasn't strong enough.)

Aaaand my own design for a medic and scout fusion, Tourmaline! They only really form him when they both feel like wreaking havoc. he's impulsive, inattentive, hyperactive, he has no self preservation, and he's low-key dumb. When his senses kick in is usually when they unfuse. He can't see for shit and has to constantly remind himself to put on his glasses

(scout and medic shitty lil bratty kid + uncle who enables them dynamic truthers rise up)

(I had so many ideas for things I wanted to post so I thought I'd just put it all in one place gsjdjd, I hope people won't mind :'] )

[noe-pri08]

Miguel O'Hara

Heat

Summary: Miguel is in heat

I'm sorry if there are any mistakes, English isn't my first language

You've been without seeing Miguel nearly one week, you are worried so you decide to do something. He gave a key to his house some time ago so you take it and go see him.

When you get there you look for him but don't find, you go to his room and an odd smell fills your nostrils. It's like vanilla or something similar

"Miguel?" you ask, but the only thing you hear are muffled sounds. You open the door and see his room

It is all messy, there are clothes everywhere and the smell of arousal hanging on the air. It was so strange, he has always had his room annoyingly cleaned up, he was obsessed with tidiness

"Go away" you heard him say. His under the blankets of his bed, curled up in himself

"Why? What happens?" you start walking towards him to get a better look of him

"Don't you see? I'm in heat, leave me alone please" he groans

You forrow your brows, confused "Heat? Like...animals? What do you mean?"

He lets a frustrated sigh "Kind of. Is like a biological urge, a primal instinct. You can think of this like an amplified version of lust"

Your eyes widened in realization as you finally understood. Miguel was in a sexual heat, a heightened state of desire that he couldn't resist. Suddenly, the scent in the room made sense. You couldn't help but feel a mixture of concern and curiosity.

"Umm, okay...is there anything I can help with?" you say doubtly, not knowing what to do

Miguel's gaze locked onto yours, a mixture of desperation and longing in his eyes. His voice came out in a husky tone, filled with desire. "Yes, please. I... I need relief. The heat is unbearable."

You swallowed hard, feeling a mix of hesitance and a growing heat of your own. You had a deep bond with Miguel, you were just friends but the thought of helping him in this vulnerable state sparked a primal desire within you.

Cautiously, you approached him, your heart pounding in your chest. "Okay, Miguel. I'll help you," you whispered, your voice laced with a mix of care and uncertainty. "But we have to establish some ground rules. This is only to help you through your heat, and once it's over, we'll go back to being friends, alright?"

He nodded, an intense longing evident on his face. "I understand. Anything, anything you want, but help me."

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your own nerves. "Alright, let's start by getting you more comfortable," you said, moving towards the tangled blankets covering him. Miguel eagerly helped you remove the layers, exposing his clothed body.

Then you started to take his clothes off, slowly and carefully. His muscular chest, defined abs amd strong arms at your sight. The sight of his muscular body sent a jolt of desire through you, fueling your own arousal. But in this moment, all that mattered was providing him the relief he desperately needed.

Miguel watched you intently, his red eyes burning with desire. His breathing grew heavier, and a low growl escaped his lips as his body responded to the touch of air on his bare skin.

Once his clothes were fully discarded, his naked body lay before you, his arousal evident and throbbing. You couldn't help but feel a mixture of curiosity and arousal yourself, your gaze lingering on his well-endowed form.

He shifted on the bed, his movements filled with a primal restlessness. "Please... touch me," he pleaded, his voice raw with need.

Temptation coursed through your veins as heard his request "Wait just a moment" you say while you take your own clothes off, first your shirt and bra, then your trousers and panties, your naked body in front of him to admire.

Miguel's eyes wandered over your form, his gaze filled with hunger and appreciation. His red eyes gleamed with a mix of lust and relief, knowing that his needs would finally be met. The sight of you undressing only fueled his desire further, making his need for contact more urgent.

Reaching out to trace your fingertips along his sculpted abdomen, following the trail of soft hairs leading to his lower regions. You felt a surge of desire welling up within you as you continued to explore his body, teasingly tracing circles on his sensitive skin.

Miguel's breath hitched, a low moan escaping his lips as he arched his back, craving more. The room filled with the scent of desire and the sound of your shared breaths, intensifying the electric atmosphere between you.

You walk to the bed and climb up, ending up on him. You kiss while your hands roam over his abs and arms. You get up feeling excited, your core throbbing in anticipation.

You take Miguel's cock on your hands, touching him, you align with your center and sink down, your pussy getting filled.

Miguel's hands found their way to your waist, holding you tightly against him. His touch sent shivers down your spine, and you could feel his heated breath against your skin. The intimacy between you intensified, as your bodies connected in a primal dance of raw desire.

It was in this moment that you both lost yourselves in the fire of your shared attraction, succumbing to the overwhelming need for release. The room echoed with the passionate sounds of your entangled bodies as you found solace and relief in each other's embrace, giving in to the primal instinct that drove you both in this heated encounter.

As the intensity of your connection grew, your desire for Miguel became undeniable. You straddled him, allowing yourself to take control, as the heat in the room reached its peak. Miguel's eyes widened with a mix of surprise and anticipation, his breathing becoming ragged. The moans and sticky sounds of both bodies crashing together making the room become more intimate

You began to move faster, your hips grinding against him and made your body tremble with every thrust while he puts your tits in his mouth sucking your nipples. Miguel's hands grasped your hips tightly, urging you to go faster. The pleasure intensified, and the air brimmed with the scent of sweat and arousal.

Miguel's grip on you tightened as he met your movements with his own, the intensity building between you

With the momentum building between you and Miguel, your desire and hunger for each other only grew more fervent. You increased the pace of your movements even more, riding him with a desperate need for release. The room was filled with the sounds of your bodies colliding, the wet, rhythmic slaps ringing out in the air.

Miguel's hands gripped your waist, his fingers digging into your skin as he met your every thrust with his own. The intensity of your connection pushed you both to the brink, pleasure coursing through your veins like a wildfire.

Your moans mingled with the sound of his growls, creating a symphony of passion and urgency. As you rode him faster and harder, the sensations became overwhelming. Waves of pleasure washed over you, coiling tighter and tighter in the pit of your stomach, ready to explode into blissful release.

Driven by your shared desire, you and Miguel found solace in each other's bodies, lost in the rhythm and intensity of your union. The room became a haze of pleasure, heat, and pure ecstasy as you both raced towards that elusive moment of climax.

With one final thrust, your body tensed, a surge of pleasure coursing through you like an electric shock. You let out a moan of ecstasy as your walls clenched around Miguel, drawing out his own climax. The room seemed to blur as you both reached the peak of pleasure, your bodies trembling in unison.

Intense waves of pleasure washed over you, making your toes curl and your body shudder. You clung to Miguel, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as you rode out the waves of your orgasms together.

As the aftershocks of pleasure began to subside, you collapsed into each other's arms, your bodies still entwined. Both of you were soaked in sweat, gasping for breath, and yet a sense of relief washed over you, mingled with a lingering connection and contentment.

Panting heavily, you lay tangled in each other's arms, basking in the euphoria of your shared experience. The room was filled with a comfortable silence, punctuated only by the soft sounds of your breaths and the gentle rising and falling of your chests.

Miguel's fingers lovingly traced patterns along your back as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. His voice was filled with a mix of sincerity and gratitude as he whispered, "Thank you... for helping me through this, for being here for me."

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you shifted to meet his gaze. "I'm glad I could be here for you, Miguel," you replied, your voice filled with a warm tenderness. "We'll get through this together."

Wrapped in each other's arms, you both drifted into a peaceful slumber, finding solace and comfort in each other's embrace.