#bc her tactic of being silent work

[satorena]

#INTRO2MUNCH101

summ. when suguru “eat it off the bone” geto actually turns out to be suguru “flaps the left lip until she calls it a night” geto, he finds himself questioning everything he thought he knew about his skills. . . talk about a rude awakening.

cw. explicit content. foul language. fem!reader. college!au. eventual smut (but not in the way you think. . .) mild modern lingo. allusions to music artists. cunningulūs. male masturbation. reader has a belly piercing. she’s also depicted mean by the boys. gojo cameos bc i can’t not mention him. tattoo artist!geto. substance consumption. lowkeyyy self-indulgent reader. 10k wc.

rena's note. this is a spin-off to p power, so i’d suggest reading that first to understand the correlation! & shoutout to @yung-notorious for the idea <3

suguru geto is a simple man.

your pleasure is his pleasure. he’s always prided himself on being a pro at the art of cunningulus. honest— he’s always left with swollen lips, a heavily sprayed face and a solid five star ratings at the end of his work. his jaw feels tired out, scalp burning from consistent hair tugs, and his breathing uneven from lack of oxygen. but at the feel of plush thighs squeezing his face and the repetition of his name flowing into the air before getting squirted on, he remembers it’s always worth it.

no pain no gain, right?

wrong.

because here he finds himself, a hefty hour in since he first dove in between your soft legs, and there’s been absolutely no development. sprawled on your back on his sheets, arm slung over your eyes, and your breathing even. you look fucking bored, and his heart is sinking to his ass.

geto will use every trick he has in the book. he’s noticed overtime that girls have different bodies, therefore he needs different tactics to stimulate those bodies. he nips at your puffy bud, sucking on your clit for external pleasure. no use. fine, then he’ll push your thighs up some more for a deeper penetration of his fingers in your cunt— still no use. the only sounds being produced are his mouth slipping against his own saliva at your pussy because he can’t even get you wet enough.

the pit in his stomach grows larger. he wonders if maybe you’re just the silent type? he’s come across those before.

he’s getting nervous out of his mind, so shaky and uncoordinated that his hand slips and meets your lips for the umpteenth time— and only then do you release a guttural groan, the very first sound you’ve made in a long ass time. wait—

“did. . . did you cum?” he pants, pulling his sticky lips away from yours. his face feels moist, blood rushing all in his head and he’s lightheaded. but still, he has to know.

you push yourself up to your elbows, annoyance clear as day. he’s yet to seen this look on a girl after pulling every card known on the table, “yeah. . . to the wrong fucking house.”

oh fuck.

☆ ☆ ☆

he first spotted you chatting it up with your friends on the school’s soccer field, on a random tuesday afternoon, and he’s been hooked on you ever since.

the universe played a funny game, and he realized university truly is a small ass world. amongst your friends, he noticed a familiar face. one he’s been hearing and seeing of one too many times lately, on multiple separate and traumatic occasions— gojo’s girlfriend. suguru found himself bonding with her due to their familiar point of interest— that being gojo— and believes he can now make of her a friend.

geto watches his best friend’s eyes shimmer and he flashes his infamous million dollar smile. he really is obsessed with his girlfriend and she doesn’t even know— and geto finds himself wishing he had somebody he’d be this ecstatic over. must be nice.

“i’m gonna go say hi to my girl real quick,” gojo taps at his shoulder, and geto nods. he’s cool on it, he’ll wait back here until he’s done, or can make his way to his next class depending on whatever gojo and his girlfriend arrange. “you comin’?”

“i’m probably gonna head to our next lecture.” geto voices out, pulling his phone from his pocket to check the time. he feels gojo peeking over his shoulder, in which he assumes to verify if that would be necessary.

over forty-five minutes. damn it.

“that’s mad pointless, class doesn’t start till more than half an hour,” gojo says, and geto doesn’t see himself waiting around that long for a lecture. no way, “just come— her friends are chill.”

fuck it, he goes. naturally, gojo is all over his girl and her friends expect it. geto does give them a little wave when gojo introduces him. one of the girls mention having heard of him through a friend— something about a failed talking stage. mad federal, and the sheepish chuckle geto offers when you give him an unreadable look makes him want to crawl into a ditch.

so now you think he’s a whore. awesome.

and gojo’s smirk definitely doesn’t help him out. he doesn’t help out at all actually, so enamoured by his girlfriend that he leaves geto to fend for himself against a pack of wolves (read: nosy girls). he replies only when spoken to, nods when necessary and throws in a few “that’s crazy,” to which the girls fail to pick up he’s out of words to say.

well, everyone except you.

you’re quiet. in fact, the whole time, you haven’t said shit to him. you sit back and observe, occasionally typing on your macbook, or reapplying your lip combo. you didn’t have any words to say to him. even when your friends would talk to you, you gave them short answers and went back to listening to whatever was playing in your airpods. he could tell from that small interaction alone, you were the mean one out of your clique.

and fuck if that didn’t make him want you more. there was just something about mean women that made him want to break through their fake ass exteriors and watch them turn all soft and chummy for him.

blame it on his corruption kink.

gojo confirms his thoughts when they’re finally on their way to class. he kissed his girl goodbye and waved off her friends, to which they all (minus you) collectively cooed, “byeee gojooo!” which he found odd, but kept silent. he gave them a small nod before following his best friend.

they’re a few steps in the science building when the words slip before he can help it, ultimately cutting gojo’s rambling off, “yo, who was that girl?”

gojo glances at him before chuckling, “there was like seven of ‘em. which one?”

“the quiet one.”

it throws him off guard when gojo laughs hard. like, really hard. it attracts the attention of bystanders, who give him a crazy look but gojo ignores. as if they’d try to press him about his volume— the two were pretty adored around campus.

geto does find his reaction quite interesting, to which he cocks a brow and offers a chuckle of his own, “what?”

“oh, you definitely mean y/n,” when his laughter dies down, he finally answers. he lifts his shades to his hairline to swipe a tear. “she’s mean as fuck, bro.”

“right?!” geto laughs, tapping at gojo’s shoulder. it only charges gojo’s laughing fit back up, “i could tell from her vibe. she gives off those ‘men ain’t shit’ girlies on twitter. whole time, she’s probably laid up in bed with one.”

“you don’t even knowww,” gojo holds his shoulder and shakes him a bit. geto does in fact know, because he’s dealt with girls like her before. they’re always a good ass time. “she does men dirty. like, absolutely dogs them. heard one phone call too many.”

oh? even better than he expected. she’s probably the type that used to love hard before getting her heart trampled on and decided to seek revenge on all men. like, on some jennifer’s body shit. geto can’t help but smirk, “lemme see for myself. put me on.”

gojo falters in his step. his grip on geto’s shoulders loosen and his expression changes— not by much, but the once lighthearted smile switches to a skeptical one, “you serious?”

geto lets out a soft sigh, shrugging gojo’s hands off his shoulders. “don’t start asking too much. i did a favour for you and your girl, didn’t i?,” well, technically speaking it wasn’t like his comment had been the deciding factor for the two, but it did open gojo’s eyes. “you owe me one.”

“i don’t owe you shit,” gojo laughs, throwing his arm around geto anyways, “buuut you’re my boy and i’m not stingy. i’ll see what i can do, i know you’ve been getting a lil jealous of wifey and i.”

“shut the fuck up.” geto’s chuckles contradict his statement.

from that point on, it’s smooth sailing. gojo texts his girl asking if she’s seeing anybody. they have a little back and forth because his girlfriend assumes he’s asking for himself— which gojo gets all dramatic and throws geto under the bus for free. welp! it all worked out anyway since after he and gojo parted, you’d thought he was fine shyt. judging from your character, he doesn’t exactly take gojo’s words for what they are.

but he’ll take the opening, it’s as good as any.

time to plot.

☆ ☆ ☆

the second encounter was purely coincidental. and simultaneously embarrassing.

see, geto prides himself on his mysterious act— granted he was anything but. people see all that is gojo and automatically assume that geto has to be the cool one. it creates a perfect balance, no?

haven’t people heard of birds of a feather flock together?

so yes, he’s also a nerd. he typically enjoys spending his wednesday afternoons at dice board cafes because why not. it’s a chill, lowkey joint right off campus and not a lot of people gravitate towards, therefore the perfect spot to camp out before his evening lecture.

besides, his buddy choso works there and it gets him discounts. it isn’t the only reason he shows up, but it does help a lot on his pockets. being a student is awful, financially.

geto sips on his choco latte through a straw, browsing through the board games pamphlet as he decides what he’s going to play today. most of these games are pretty pointless if he doesn’t have an opponent, but he likes to think it helps develop his iq. he hears avenoir playing through the cafe and knows choso’s on aux.

who else could be playing this toxic ass shit?

he’s torn choosing between snakes and ladders or chess when he hears chimes at the front door, signalling somebody’s entered the establishment. he doesn’t think much of it, going on about minding his business when he hears choso say your name.

the latte enters the wrong tube and he chokes.

geto collects himself quickly, wiping any stray liquid past his mouth as his head snaps up. you’re propped up against the counter, and though he can’t see your face, he definitely recognizes your build. . . okay, yeah that sounds fucking pervy but if he stalked your page a few times, who’s business is it but his own? it’s not like you’d know. granted, he had got caught up liking one of your older photos but he took the like right back!

he debates on walking up to you. how would that even work without seeming desperate? you’ve been checking out all of his boxes so far— your face, body and attitude (question mark) are all tens. he does want to get to know you— at least be somebody in your life. but damn, why is he overthinking this? all he has to get up there and sweet talk you. he’s done this shit before.

“yo, suguru!”

shit.

purple orbs shift towards where his name was called, and lo and behold, there stands choso. and naturally, you look back to who was summoned, but god— social media does not do your face justice. he last seen you about a week ago, and had nothing but your instagram and his memory to rely on.

he makes his way to the counter and ignores you. doesn’t spare you a glance once— though he stands right at your side and watches you watching him through his peripheral. he nods at choso, “what’s up?”

choso, ever the genius, flicks his eyes between geto and you, before clearing his throat, “shoko just texted— somethin’ about a new client. how’s the studio looking?”

“booked all week,” geto answers truthfully, and he notices you’ve shifted your gaze, “little to no openings. why though?”

choso hums, jolting down online orders into a little notebook, “not even for a special friend?”

geto squints his eyes at that. there isn’t anybody he’d call a special friend that hasn’t already been booked or wouldn’t have his number to squeeze in an appointment. granted, he is a dnd warrior but even his friends know of that quirk of his, “depends. who’s the special friend?”

“me.” and he feels his heart skip a beat. fuck. he tilts his head over to the side, and good lord, your face card gave every girl on campus runs for their money. seriously, your facial features complimented you in a way that told aphrodite— the textbook definition of beauty— to go fuck herself, and hard.

“oh?” geto cocks a brow, and lets his eyes roam up and down your frame. shameless, yes, but he has a reputation to uphold. your rest in face makes his own look like child’s play, “didn’t realize we were on special friends basis.”

you click your tongue, “didn’t realize we were on lurking spam accounts but pretend we don’t exist the next day basis either,” you quip right back, picking at the white bow glued to your acrylics.

sassy. geto chuckles, now fully turning his body around to face you. you match his movements, and he toys with a ring on his middle finger, “guess you got me all figured out,” he pauses, shifting his gaze to choso, who’s already eyeing him. “sounds like you wanted me to reach out.”

“boy please,” you scoff, pausing your nail inspection. you let your hand hang, “you choked earlier because you heard my name. that corny nonchalant act isn’t the flex you’re thinking it is,” a huff escapes your lips, and geto feels blood rushing to his face. “your lurking ass was months deep into my page just a week ago— did you find any men ain’t shit vibes from the photo dump?”

choso stifles a laugh, and when geto looks at him, it dies into a cough. well damn, you really didn’t hold anything back. read him like a book actually— and it doesn’t help that gojo can’t keep his mouth shut for shit. it widens the grin on his face. he thinks he likes you.

“well,” geto smirks, “can’t say i have— means there’s still an opening.”

you furrow your brows, “oh? an opening to what exactly?”

“an appointment, of course,” he shrugs, running a hand through his hair. his locks are getting in his face, but the messy look always gets him compliments. might as well shoot his shot, “you know. . .” leaning his chin into the palm of his hand, “for a special friend.”

his double entendre definitely doesn’t go unnoticed by you. he watches how, despite the mean mugging, there’s a glint of mischief in your eyes. you’re squinting just slightly, almost as if you were weighing out the pros and cons. geto won’t break the eye contact first— he’s on a mission. he hopes the tired eyes look will be on his side this time.

tattoo or dick appointment— he would one hundred percent make an opening for you. anything to get his hands on your body.

“are we still talking about the tattoo parlour or . . .”

both you and he turn to choso, who’s watching the situation unfold. just count on him to ruin the mood, whether the obliviousness was feigned or not. choso tightens his brows at the look geto shoots him, “what?”

“i’m gonna head out,” you grab at your handbag, hopping of the seat. nicely played choso. you gather your items and slip them in your purse, sliding a few bucks across the counter. choso grabs the bills and stick them in the tip jar, nodding at her. “catch you in poly sci?”

“if you don’t skip again.” choso snorts and you flip him off, slinging your bag over your shoulder. you turn on your heel and make your way towards the exit, ultimately dismissing geto. that doesn’t feel too nice, he should probably stop that bad habit.

he rises to his feet before he can help it. his hand grabs at your wrist and notices how much smaller it seems in comparaison to his, and he hates the next words that leave his mouth, “what about me?”

you glance down at his hold on you, before looking back up at him, “what about you?” your face says everything your lips haven’t— you’re getting the ick.

he wants to wince. okay, yeah that was corny, “when do i get to see you?”

you drag out a mini hum, your gaze dancing over his silver chain around his collarbone, “dunno. you have my socials so i assume in the next hour.”

he tilts his head to the side, and the pad of his thumb grazes over your smooth skin. he doesn’t fail to notice the way your hand stiffens under his touch, “so if i slide in your dms in the next hour, i can expect an answer?”

a snort leaves your chest, and he can’t tell if it’s a condescending one or an amused one. what he does know, however, is that he’s going to be seeing you sometime soon. you take your hand back into your possession before laying it in the dead centre of his chest, pushing him back just slightly, “i’ll see you around, geto.”

his eyes trail over your figure, every step you take out of the establishment, slightly starstruck by the entirety of you— your boldness. the thrill he was beginning to feel felt like a high. he hasn’t met anybody this entertaining in a while.

“you’re so fucking corny.” he thinks he hears choso insult him from behind. he doesn’t pay him any mind, despite the middle finger that tips towards the ceiling. partynextdoor blasts in the cafe, specifically freak in you, and he hates how he finds himself relating to the lyrics,

room full of beautiful women but he only wants one.

☆ ☆ ☆

“you stalking me, pretty?”

“sure,” you nod your head, raking through the items on the clothing rack. you don’t spare him a single glance, picking a top off the rack and inspecting it, “if stalking means visiting the busiest thrift store on the busiest hour in the busiest city.”

geto lets out a small laugh, shoving his hands in the pockets of his cargos. you make him feel like a nuisance, like he’s a pest wasting your time. ironic, seeing as he wasn’t that much of a bother just last night, when you’d been indulging him in your inbox, “of course you’re the thrifting type.”

you pause your actions, price tag in your fingers as you side eye him through locks of your hair, “and you’re not?”

“didn’t mean it in a bad way, sweetheart.” geto shrugs, pulling off a cropped baby tee and bringing towards you. it has sequins sewn in the material, the gems writing out juicy couture. “this would suit you— belly piercing and whatnot.”

the top is cute, there was no denying so. a pretty shade of pink that suited your complexion, but letting his ego inflate bigger than it already was out of the question. he could tell your thought process from the judgmental look you offered, “oh god—you’re one of those fake ass, streetwearing fashionistas, aren’t you?”

geto blinks a few times, before letting out a sincere laugh. he’s been called a multitude of things before, but that one was new, “you got all that from me suggesting you buy this juicy couture tee? don’t all girls fiend over this vintage shit?”

“it’s that corny ass personality of yours,” you grab the shirt, throwing it in your cart. he wants to make a comment on that, but you beat him to the chase, “the phoney nonchalant act, the streetwear, your insta aesthetic— you’re so scripted.”

“my insta aesthetic?” he repeats, and doesn’t miss a step to catch up to you. your hands are back on the handle of your shopping cart, and if the way his elbows bump into your shoulders bothers you, you don’t make point in commenting on it. “who’s the lurker now, hm?”

you roll your eyes, pushing the strolley ahead, “don’t let it get to your big ass head. your feed screams you’re those toxic ass brent faiyaz wannabes,” he watches your fingertips rake through more clothings that pass your way, before you shoot him a glance, “let me guess— he showed on your spotify wrapped.”

his silence speaks volumes, and you click your tongue, “see? scripted.”

“and what about you?” geto counters when you make a pit stop. you pull away from your cart when a denim skirt catches your eye. you lift the skirt up to your eyes, before looking over your shoulder, cocking a brow.

“what about me?”

“the tweet reposts, the song choices for your highlights, the whole spiritual baddie persona,” he presses behind you, his chest meeting your back. he rests his chin atop your head, purple eyes landing on the clothing article that’s lowering in your hold, “if my page gives brent then yours definitely gives jhene.”

you’re mute for a second, and you chuck the skirt into the cart. you pull away from beneath him, spinning on your feet to face him, and you’ve got a scowl on your lips, “what’s wrong with jhene?”

“and you call me the toxic one.” geto pokes at your cheek. you swipe his hand away, and he laughs, “don’t get me wrong though— she makes good music. but let’s not act like she’s all innocent either,” his gaze lowers to your glossy lips, the fullness of the pair hypnotic, “a real freak. should i call you my pussy fairy?”

“do not,” you reply, weaving around him to make your way back to your cart. geto laughs, snatching a few things of the racks before dumping them in your stuff. you give him a deadpanned look and he whistles it off, feigning ignorance. “jhene’s a lovergirl. thought i was part of the men ain’t shit community.”

“you’re not gonna let that go, are you?” geto sighs. he owes gojo another thump in the head.

you roll your eyes, “thank your homeboy for that.”

“two things can be true at once,” geto fiddles with the hem of his jacket. he’s back at walking step by step with you, and you haven’t told him to fuck off yet, so he’s going to milk the opportunity out. “you’re mean but a lovergirl. you hate men but a real freak with them. right or wrong?”

you halter in your steps, and geto’s now a few steps ahead of you, so he looks over his shoulder to meet your bored expression, “i know you’re not trying to read me in the middle of value village.”

“no better time than the present,” he smiles, one that creases a dimple in his cheeks. “come on up— what are you waiting for?”

you stare at him some more, inhaling sharply, “mind you, i never invited you to join me,” you shake your head but comply regardless. cute, looks like you’re enjoying his company more than you’re letting on.

so he graces you his presence some more. he shops along with you, sneaks clothes into your cart when you’re distracted and asks you stupid questions. it’s a good time— to him at least, being able to get to know you some more without interruptions. naturally, you feign that his company is the bane of your existence, but he doesn’t miss the twitch of your lips when he taps his card into the reader at the check out.

hell yeah he’s got money to spend and is willing to show off if it means getting on your good side.

it’s only after he helps you bag your shit into your car, that he realizes this is where the both of you part ways. it annoys him slightly, but he doesn’t need to overstep his boundaries. he closes your trunk and makes his way to the driver’s side, where you’re already buckled up.

he taps at your window and the glass rolls down all the way, to which he leans forward. he’s in your line of sight now and you sigh, tilting your head sideways, “what?”

“do i get a goodbye kiss?” geto teases, honest, the boyish smirk he offers accentuating the playful undertone. the last thing he expects is you shifting in your seat, pushing yourself up and peaking your head out the window.

his smirk drops, brows jumping to his hairline. you’re really fucking close now, and for a split second he thinks you’re actually going to do it. he can see the flecks of colours swimming in your orbs, the tip of your nose bumps into his and your breath fans his cupid’s bow.

fuck, you smell really good. he bets you taste even better. his mouth is running dry, mindlessly darting his tongue out to wet his own lips. he doesn’t realize he’s let himself lean into your space, eyes narrowing on your mouth parting over his.

he’s pulled out of his trance when two fingers press at his forehead and push. he blinks his lashes, snapping back to reality as you sit back into your seat. you look amused— as if you’d played the funniest game right in his face and he’d been the star player.

“i’ll see you around, geto.”

and you drive off.

☆ ☆ ☆

“come back in a few weeks for a checkup. we’ll make sure the healing process is running smoothly. i’ll catch you soon.”

he lets out a tired sigh when the door finally closes, slumping into his seat and shuts his eyes. he’s exhausted— having woken up early for lectures and labs to back to back appointments with clients. this time around, the parlour is always booked and busy. students find it the perfect timing to get tatted to let it heal before showing it off in the summer.

it’s smart for them but idiotic for him. midterms are up, and the only time he has to study is in between appointments. he slides off his gloves and drags his seat towards his desk, redirecting his attention focus towards the blinding screen.

he feels a headache building at his temple, sipping at his iced coffee to keep him energized. contradicting, sure, but you didn’t have the luxury to be a beggar and a chooser when you were a full time student. the parlour he ran resided in his loft apartment, on the second floor. he enjoyed the comfort of his own home, spacious room and wide windows compared to outside stores.

his cat, nanako, purrs at his feet and he feels his heart swell. if there was one weakness he had in this world, it’d be her. he picks her up from the floor, presses her at his rib cage and nuzzles his nose in her fur.

“hi baby,” geto coos, and nanako lets out a sound. he continues to coddle her, fluffing her fur and rubbing at her ears, “it’s been pretty lively in here, hasn’t it? i knowww,” he coos, and as if nanako understands his words, she makes a pitiful sound that slightly shatters his heart.

geto decides to place her on his lap, her company serving plenty of motivation as he rolls back to his desk. he grabs the remote to his built-in speakers, turning the volume higher, before locking back in. exams are full of crap, and words are starting to jumble on his screen— he’s beginning to contemplate if this education shit is even worth the stress.

he’s an hour deep in jolting notes down on his ipad when he hears a knock at his front door. he scrunches his brows and glances at his agenda— he isn’t due for an appointment until another few hours. he sits it out, starting to believe he’d maybe imagined the sound. he knows it isn’t gojo since he’s celebrating an anniversary with his girl, and any other friend would’ve called to let him know they’re outside.

probably some jehovah witness shit, he thinks to himself, fingers hovering over his speaker remote to crank the volume back up. he turns back to his laptop screen, petting nanako mindlessly when his ipad flashes an instagram notification.

yourstruly.yn: open up

he jumps to his feet, chair rolling back. nanako flies to his desk, landing on all fours as she hisses at him for his suddenness. geto grabs her and kisses her ear, “sorry baby,” before sitting her on the floor. she walks off to her mini bean bag right at the foot of his desk, and he senses an attitude coming from her.

damn, he’d forgotten he squeezed you in last night in the midst of his sweet talking. that was truly a stupid move, he was already behind on studying, and because he likes to think with his head instead of his actual head, he’d fall even further behind.

he checks around the flat— picks up stray wrappers and fixes throw pillows, arranges his sheets. he was a clean man for the most part— he had been so distracted with his studies that there wasn’t much to dirty in the first place. his candles had already been lit so he knew the place smelled fine. he’s pretty positive his loft is clean enough to leave a good first impression.

he fixes loose hairs and straightens out his hoodie and sweats. thank fuck he’d showered not too long ago— he’s beginning to understand why his mother was always so insistent on being clean in case of random pop ups.

when he does finally open the door, there you stood. it was pretty chilly outside this time around, so he wasn’t surprised by the harsh wind flowing in and the clutch of your coat in your hold. your nose began reddening, and you sniffled, scowling from the cold.

you’re so cute, he sends you a smile, “hey.”

“hi,” you replied, sniffling again. “you ever planning on letting me in?”

“dunno,” he crosses his arms over his chest. he leans against the doorframe, ignoring the way he was starting to feel the frosty wind setting in his bones, “maybe if you ask nicely.”

you shoot him a deadpanned look, “move.”

“no.” geto smiles, “try again.”

“move, now.” a small pout is starting to form on your lips. he really liked testing your patience, since it always seemed to run low. you must’ve met your match— because geto always had time to fuck around.

“close, but not quite.”

“oh my goddd,” you groan, and that’s when he decides to let up. it really is colder than a bitch outside and he’d already kept you waiting while tidying up. he lets out a chuckle when you turn to the side, “i’m leaving— too damn cold for this.”

“alright, i’m playing,” geto widens the door. you stop your movements and glare at him. he aims an arm towards the inside of his loft, “don’t go, come in.”

you grumble something beneath your breath but comply, walking right past him. he follows behind you, shutting the door close and is immediately greeted back with warmth. you slip your shoes off and place them on the rack, before stepping in further into his apartment.

he slides his hands into his sweatpants’ pockets, catching up to you in the living room. your head is tilted upwards as you inspect the place though you remain in place. he stands beside you, bumping his shoulder into your arm, “so? up to your standards?”

you’re quiet for a while, letting your eyes roam around as the words build in your mind, “it’s typical,” you shrug but don’t elaborate. you’ve been staring at an art piece he’d done first year when he was fried out of his mind. you shift your gaze back to him, “where do i put my shit?”

“you can leave it in my bedroom, if that’s fine.” geto suggests and you nod wordlessly, to which he leads you to the second floor. he’s walking up the stairs and prays he doesn’t fall flat on his face— his socks can be a real bitch sometimes.

you both make it to his bedroom, with you trailing a little behind. he grabs a hanger from his mobile clothing rack, stretching an arm out to you, “i’ll hang your jacket here.”

you slide off the coat from your frame and hand it to him, to which he hangs on the rack. you circle around his bedroom with your tote on your shoulder, while he makes his way back to next to his desk. it’s pretty quiet for the most part, besides the music playing gently in the background.

your gaze lands on the cluttered items on his desk, noticing the half empty cup of coffee, notebooks and ipad on display, “did i catch you at a bad time?”

“honestly? yeah,” geto shrugs, before motioning at your tote bag. you slip it off and hand it to him, to which he sits at his nightstand, “but it’s my fault anyway, i squeezed you in a busy time. you know how exam season gets.”

“i can always reschedule,” you offer, checking your phone screen for the date, “it’s not that deep.”

“i don’t want you to leave,” geto slumps back into his seat and heaves out a sigh. he spins the chair around to catch you giving him a flat look. he leans back in his seat and spreads his thighs, smirking, “would you stay?”

“depends. are you going to be studying?” you quip, crossing your arms back to your chest.

geto ponders on what to say next. it’s not like he doesn’t want to tatt you up, but he really is caught in a bind. he also doesn’t want you to leave— not when he’s been wanting to see you since the last time he’d seen you. does he prioritize his wants or his needs?

he hums, “i’ll do whatever you want me to.”

you roll your eyes, scoffing as you make your way to his nightstand. for a second, he thinks you’re getting ready to leave and a weird feeling of disappointment settles in his gut. instead, you grab the bag and sit on the edge of his bed, pulling out your macbook and crossing your legs.

he smiles at that, “attagirl.”

“corny.” you mumble, chewing on your bottom lip as you begin typing away.

there’s a comfortable silence that fills the room. he’s back to browsing through his lecture notes, noting down valuable information and memorizing terminology. you don’t say anything either, but the sound of your nails typing at your keyboard blends well with his r&b playlist playing. sounds like you’re writing down an essay or report, depending on whatever your major is.

about half an hour into the silence, does he decide to break it. he looks over his shoulder to where you’re settled on his bed, “you good?” he checks up on you, and you let out a burnt out sigh. he knows exactly how you’re feeling.

“i guess,” you huff, twirling your necklace. your eyes are stuck on your screen, brows creasing into a scowl, “this shit is frying my brain though.”

“what are you writing?” he indulges, dropping his apple pen back onto his desk and spins in his seat to face you. maybe he’s also in due of a break— he’d rather be talking to you anyway.

“this crim report,” you answer, picking at your nail, “it’s not exactly hard but mad lengthy. i have to write a ten page report based on this article and how it contradicts societal norms.”

“ten pages?” geto whistles, rubbing at his chin. he’s settled deeper in his seat, naturally manspreading. you’re much better than him, he would’ve given up before even starting— reports were not his thing, “how far are you in?”

“i started this morning,” you hum, “so i’m four pages in.”

geto nods, “and when is it due?”

“tomorrow night.” you push your laptop off your lap. you close the screen shut and stretch out your legs, releasing a breathy moan as you relax your thighs. “i’ll do this shit later— my head’s starting to hurt.”

geto swears he’s never been so in sync in thought. he dismisses the idea of studying the second you had closed your macbook. probably a bad idea but at the moment, he couldn’t care any less, “want some entertainment?”

you cock a brow, “don’t say no stupid shit.”

“twenty one questions,” geto speaks nonetheless and finds himself beaming brightly when you scoff, “can’t a guy want to get to know you better?”

you ease yourself on his bed, slumping into his sheets as you exhale. you shift onto your side— a sinful curve at your side— tucking your knees and lean your head into your palm, “oh fuck off,” a breathless laugh and nanako makes her presence known, hopping right by you in the space between your body and the edge of the bed, “didn’t know you had a cat. she’s cute.”

“how’d you know she was a she?” geto wonders, surprised just slightly by how welcoming nanako was around you. she purred when you stroke at her fur, nuzzling further into your chest. nanako hated everyone— especially gojo, who unironically visited the most.

“instinct,” you shrugged but there’s a faint smile on your lips. not directed towards him, but his baby, “i also have a cat— he’s a fucking menace though.”

that’s one thing in common already, “like mother like son,” geto grins lazily when you flip him off mindlessly, and when you raise nanako in both your hands, he’s ready to warn you she isn’t a big fan of sudden movements— but when she mewls, the same sound she makes when geto brings home a new toy, the words die down in his throat.

he observes you both silently. you cradle nana as if she were a newborn infant, adoring and loving yet simultaneously careful and steadily. you’re cooing, calling her a sweet girl and rubbing at her ear, and nanako accepts you rather easily— too easily.

“woah.” was this those non-sexual turn ons people spoke about? for somebody so mean, you were oddly gentle with pets. he liked that— really liked that, so much that he pulls his phone out and snaps a photo of you two. but of course, because the universe loves to see him fumble, the flash goes off.

your head snaps to the side and he freezes. you narrow your eyes at him, slowly lowering nanako, “did you just—”

“so!” geto cuts you off, chucking his phone back onto his desk. it makes a loud cluttering sound, damn near knocks his drink all over, but ignores it, “my turn. what’s your cat’s name?”

“milo. and don’t cut me off—”

“milo the menace,” he cuts you off regardless, not wanting to have to decipher just what exactly possessed him to do that. he’s never done so, and he wasn’t about to explain why he’d done it just now. deflecting king! “i need to see the little guy. got any pics?”

you huff, extending a hand behind you to find your phone. when you clutch onto the device, you swing your legs off the bedside, always careful with nanako clinging to your lap. you lay her down on the floor, much to her dismay, before making your way towards him.

his eyes are stuck on your body before his mind can tell him to stop. not like it mattered much, your own eyes glued to your phone screen as you searched for the pictures he’d asked. you’ve got a matching tracksuit on— though the hoodie is cropped, thus exposing your navel piercing. he’d always had a thing for those, the pretty good jewel dangling below the button.

it didn’t help that your thong straps sat atop your waist.

he spreads his legs further open, and you stop right in between. for a moment, you’re stuck on your phone, and geto really wants to get those thighs straddling him. you look delectable— he’d pin your knees to your damn ears, sprawled on your back, and eat you out until you pleaded him to stop.

your hair was pulled back into a bun, and from this angle, he spotted scripture at the column of your neck. there was wording inked in arabic, and he made a mental note to ask you what it meant later.

geto leans back into his seat when you fold forwards, and he gets a good whiff of your vanilla scented perfume, tingling his senses in the best way, “found it?”

you nod your head, swiping through your gallery, “yeah, my bad,” you have a folder named ‘mimi’ and as expected, was filled off candid photos of your cat. he pays attention as you slide your finger on your screen, selfies of you both in the morning passing by.

“cute,” he isn’t talking about the cat, and his gaze flicks from the screen to your face. there’s still a considerate amount of space between you both, but he can see your eye colour much clearer this close up. you blink your lashes at him and he smirks, “anything else you wanna show me?”

you sniff, “don’t be gross.”

“i meant of milo,” geto definitely didn’t mean of milo. you cock a brow skeptically, and he mirrors the look, though the smile on his face grows, “what a cute lil thing,” his voice lowers and his words trail off. there’s a beat of a pause for a while, and his gaze falls on the plumpness of your lips, “you gonna let me pet your kitty?”

another beat of silence. you’re staring at his lips, and he wonders what you’re thinking. he can tell you’ve picked up on what he’s laying down (hopefully you in the next few minutes) but he can’t tell what your next move will be.

“depends. . .” a soft whisper, and he feels your breath fanning over his cupid’s bow. you flick your eyes back at him, and he finally understands the whole siren eyes shit. through lidded eyes, your stare is intense— simultaneously pulling him in closer while pushing him back. you’re toying with him, and the hand he slides up from your thigh to your ass is enough fuel. “you any good?”

he brings a second hand to the other ass cheek, and urges you onto his lap. you comply, looping your arms at the back of his neck. he feels your nails grazing at his scalp and he holds back a lethal shudder. your weight feels amazing against him— his hard on poking and making its presence well aware.

“i’d like to think i am,” he knows he is, but playing humble always goes a long way. he lets his hands run over the cup of your ass, trails back up to your hips, and slides a finger beneath the thong strap. when he snaps the material at your skin, your back arches and you press your chest against his own.

“well,” you exhale when he noses into the crook of your neck, right above your tattoo. he’s littering wet kisses at your hot skin, your taste ever so sweet against his tongue. god, you must taste divine. at your jugular, he’s able to imprint your perfume into his mind. “only one way to find out.”

geto hums at that, relishing in the way you moan at a particular suck, and focus on nibbling at that spot once more. you’re tilting your head for easier access, hips grinding against his own for better friction. your hands are soft and cautious— they trail from his nape down to his chest, and further down to his waistband.

he’s on go, ready for whatever timing you’re on. though, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out by the way your fingertip traces right above his pelvis, that you’re both on the same page. he drags his lips from the column of your neck up to your jaw, and stops right above your parted lips.

he has another cocky remark on the tip of his tongue, in typical suguru fashion, but you beat him to the chase, glossy lips pressing against his. the kiss is short and definitely leaves him wanting more when you pull back as soon as you’d leaned in— but you’re a mere centimetre away.

you whisper, not before another kiss, “don’t disappoint me, suguru.”

and he’s never ran into bed so fast.

☆ ☆ ☆

the door slams shut.

he’s left with a painfully hard reminder in his sweats that he fucked up bad. he thinks he dissociated a little between the labia flapping to the coat zipping. it’s only when he notices that instead of hearing lip smacking sounds, he hears bryson tiller’s lame ass (no shade, his ego is simply wounded), that you really left.

fuck.

geto rushes back to his bedroom, the walk of shame up the steps enough to make him want to jump off— as he takes out his phone, immediately goes through his contact list and presses on the name. it rings twice before the call gets picked up.

“yooo!”

“you still busy?” geto asks, voice hoarse as he flops down on the edge of the bed— his now empty bed. damn.

“nah, just dropped off wifey,” gojo replies. he hears music playing faintly in the back, as well as the sounds of honking. he must still be in the car, “why, what’s up?”

“i fucked up.” geto sighs, running a hand over his face.

“oh?” he isn’t surprised to find out gojo’s surprised. he’s still surprised by how the events turned out and it’s barely been ten minutes, let alone five. “say no more, i’m on my way.”

geto hangs up. he throws the phone away, before falling flat onto his bed. he picks up your scent on his sheets, your warmth slowly disappearing— another painful reminder he messed up. where he’s expecting a wet patch of anything on his duvets, he finds nothing. zip. nada.

his eyes fall shut, “shit.”

☆ ☆ ☆

“and that’s pretty much the gist of it all.”

he exhales a cloud of smoke. more silence. geto’s starting to get sick of all this silence. it was radio silence with you and now even more radio silence from gojo. his hand never stops to rub at nanako, who’s been serving as a cuddling partner in this grand moment of crisis. the only person to ever have his back.

so, geto knew that confiding in his best friend this secret of his would be risky for a multitude of reasons. for starters, geto never fucks up. this would be ultimate blackmail content for him, and geto honestly doesn’t blame him. for two, he was just giving gojo shit about never having eaten pussy. that’s just downright humiliating. and for three, he has a girlfriend who he doesn’t keep anything from. on top of that— his girlfriend is friends with the main culprit here.

overall a bad idea. he does it nonetheless, because satoru is his best friend despite it all. he isn’t too shocked when the silence is filled with bellyaching laughter, though.

“wait— i’m cryinggg,” more laughter. gojo’s now kicked his feet off the couch and is doubling forward. his shades bounce off his head and hit the leg of the coffee table. he doesn’t pause his laughing fit one bit, not even when geto throws a throw pillow his way.

it bounces off his big head and geto scoffs, bringing the joint back to his lips, “oh fuck off.”

“my fault man,” gojo apologizes though he doesn’t sound apologetic. he’s leaning forward to grab his shades back, and he’s back to swiping stray tears. “that was a good laugh— shit.”

geto hums at that, extending the blunt towards him,“glad to hear my misery has brought you entertainment.”

“see, you get it!” gojo jokes, welcoming the joint. seems like he got cocky, however, his laughing mood not quite over as he inhales. he quickly chokes on the smoke, which fades back into cackling, “oh shit—”

geto sneers, annoyance quickly rising, “quit fucking around or pass it back.” he was being pissy, yes, but his pride had been curb stomped. and it hadn’t even been an hour ago!

“nah, nah, i’m good,” gojo waves him off, despite his free hand tapping at his chest. he collects himself soon enough, and takes another hit. this time it’s successful. geto lowkey hoped it would get caught in his throat again.

“sooo,” gojo drags out, melting into the couch, “what now.”

“what now?” geto parrots.

“what’s the next move?” gojo elaborates, fingertip tapping at the blunt, and ashes fall into the tray. the end of the stick crumbles in the same way geto’s ego had earlier. “you’re gonna keep letting her think you suck at giving head?”

geto throws his head back and sighs tiredly, “what else is there to do?” he hears the sound of sizzling in the background, “i fumbled bad, bro. you don’t think she already posted about me in her girls’ private story?” more sizzling and exhaling, “i’m the storytime of the day!”

he feels gojo nudge his thigh with his foot. he looks back and the joint is presented to him. he gladly accepts it.

“what even happened?” gojo wonders. and oh boy, if that isn’t the question of the day. geto is still trying to find the answer to that. had it been out of nervousness? had he gotten too cocky? had it been her?

“i honestly wish i could answer that,” geto slips the roach into his mouth. “i didn’t feel nervous until after i realized she wasn’t fazed,” he drags out a hit and ghost inhales, “maybe it was a sign from above— to shut the fuck up sometimes.”

“maybe,” gojo snorts, throwing his legs over geto’s lap. nanako hisses at the intrusion, but the white haired man ignores her, “don’t let yourself go out sad like this. hit her back up— whatever happened to loving challenges?”

“what kind of fucked up ass challenge is this?” geto mumbles, mainly to himself.

“if i was in your shoes— which i’d never be,” because he’s gojo, he feels the need to add, “i’d put my pride aside and talk to her. like no homo shit, but you’re a great eater— yeah, no, i’m taking that back instantly.”

geto looks as horrified as he feels, “quickly, even.”

of course, gojo laughs but proceeds, “the point is, you know you’re good at it. everybody fucks up once in a while— don’t let it define you though. think of it as a minor setback for a major comeback— if you care enough, you’ll put your pride aside and do something about it. if you’re this down about it, then it must mean something to you.”

geto can’t tell anymore whether gojo’s talking about the failed pussy eating attempt or you. regardless, he knows there’s truth to his words. has to be the weed talking.

“and who made you the pussy connoisseur?” geto snorts, pressing the bud of his joint in the tray. it sizzles weakly as he kills it, starting to feel that high course through his veins.

gojo sighs dreamily, “why my lovely lady, of course.”

“looks like she taught you well,” geto relaxes himself into the tight space of the couch, settling nanako on his chest. it’s now his turn to nudge gojo with his foot, his sock-cladded toe digging at his jaw. “woulda never expected this from a rookie just a few months ago.”

“well duh,” gojo swipes his foot away, “i aced that course. got my phD in cunningulusophy and all. even won valedictorian.”

geto laughs, resting his lids. he was starting to feel sleepy, indica will do that to you, “enroll me in whatever class you took— i may need to slut myself out for extra credit. my prof’s a tough nut to bust.”

“intro to munch 101,” gojo nods his head, shutting his eyes close as well. there’s a comfortable silence that fills the air for a while. and despite the fact that his sight manipulated, he could hear the smirk dripping off his tone, “if you ever need a letter of recommendation, i got you— alumni’s honour.”

“oh fuck off,” a mixed harmony of laughter and vibrating chests.

☆ ☆ ☆

fun fact: suguru geto loves showers.

the aroma of cleanliness enhanced by thick fog. the scorching water droplets trickling down his skin, the vulnerability of his nakedness inside these four walls. he strangely feels most at ease, most raw in this moment of solitude.

he’s able to gather himself too. there isn’t much to accomplish in a shower once you’ve gotten rid of the day’s dirt. so, he likes to take the opportunity to think. to think deep and hard.

his mind’s all scrambled up. it’s been about three days since you were last in his apartment, two days since he’d thought about it, and a day since he last seen you (granted it’d been on your story, virtually, but still).

this has been the biggest feat he’s faced in a while. if he recaps it, this is what’s he gotten: he invited you over. you came the next day. he didn’t cater to you the sole reason you came. you didn’t mind. you both studied for a bit. he asked about your cat. you ended up on his lap. he ended up in bed with you. you ended up leaving with a chunk of his dignity.

that didn’t explain shit, but it did remind him of his failure. it reminded him that he’d finally met his match. it reminded him he needs to start backing his shit up. it reminded him of how good you smelled and tasted down there. it reminded him of how pretty you looked.

his cock twitches and he glances down. it also reminds him he never ended up cumming, too engrossed in his anxiety to jerk one out.

he feels as though the glass doors of his shower protect him from reality. he’s hard, though mortified, but still hard. he’d spent a long time (two days) suppressing the memory away, but there was no way to mistaken your taste on his tongue. how sweet you smelled. how soft you felt—

geto fists at his dick before he can help it. his free hand plants at the wall before him, and he works his wrist. he twists at his shaft slowly and closes his eyes— behind his lids are photographic memories of you on his lap. memories of you on his bed. memories of the scent of your panties. memories of your tits in his mouth.

sure, you’d made more sounds off the foreplay for the foreplay— but that didn’t take away how turned on he’d been. how his dick twitched in his boxers. how he’d humped the mattress. how he’d moan in your cunt.

“y/n,” geto moans your name, sinful yet hushed, his hand working faster. his thumb grazes his over slit and his gut drowns in heat. he wants a redo. he deserves a redo— you deserved a redo. “fuckkkk,”

next time, he’ll get it right. and if he doesn’t, then he’ll want to try again and again and again— until it ends with your cunt clenching around his tongue and his face sprayed vigorously in your essence. until your thighs tremble around his face, your hand clawing at his hair and your back arched off his bed. until his name bounces off his walls and echoes so loudly his neighbours complain.

he wants a redo.

he jerks back as he paints the tiles white. the joints in his hand ache, the water from the shower head getting colder. geto pants heavily, chest heaving as his load is released from him. his cum drips from the wall and into the drain at his feet— but his dick is far from well spent. if he spends another hour in the shower, it’s nobody’s business but his own.

suguru geto loves showers.

☆ ☆ ☆

“oh. you actually showed.”

“redo,” geto pants, having sprinted from his apartment. he’d spent the next three days after his shower incident wallowing some more— at some point, it just annoyed him. though slightly underwhelming, he was on his phone in bed a few minutes ago, going through his camera roll when he’d seen that picture he took of you and nanako. his feet guided him to his car before he could help it. choso helped him out with the address.

“redo?” you parrot his words, leaning against your doorframe. you crossed your arms over your chest, and it’s only then he noticed your appearance— flimsy camisole and pink lace panties. fuck, he wants a redo now.

“i want a redo.” geto repeats, but is quickly hit with a gust of wind. he hadn’t brought a jacket with him in the midst of his impulse, and goosebumps were beginning to form at his skin. he shoots his shot, “you ever planning on letting me in?” talk about deja vu.

“dunno,” you play along, eyes narrowing. “maybe if you ask nicely.”

swallow your pride, he hears gojo somewhere in the back of his mind. he shakes that thought off quickly. this desperation had to be bigger than a pride issue— he was ready to get on his knees and beg her to let him in. pride? that had been drained to the sewers the second he busted all over his shower days ago.

“lemme in and i’ll make it up to you,” geto tries instead, taking a step closer, “please?”

that seemed to be the correct answer as you push open the door to your apartment further. you turn your back and geto lets himself drink up your backside— he hadn’t seen it last time but you had dimples sitting right above your perky ass. he watches your hips sway left and right, and even tilt your head back, a smirk etched on your face, “you comin’?”

you will be, “cute.” his lips twitch into a small smile, and closes the door behind him.

☆ ☆ ☆

fool him once? shame on him.

geto doesn’t allow himself to make the same mistakes twice. if one fuck up is enough to tear him down for a week straight then why the hell would he do it again?

you’re sprawled on your back, legs spread with enough space to fit his body in between. his hands plant on either side of your face, his bulge pushed up against your core. he feels your warmth through these layers of clothes, and he rolls his hips greedily, feeling himself already grow addicted. your chin is raised high, lids blown open as you stare at him all doe-eyed.

his brows pinch in the centre of his forehead. that faux look of innocence you’re offering is doing wonders to his dick. your tits sit beautifully beneath your top, arms back on him as you pull him in closer, and he lets himself fall prey to you. for a moment, the tip of his nose bumps into yours, lips ghosting over the other, hips colliding to meet yours.

“mhm, that’s it.” you let out a sigh, throwing your head back into your pillows. there’s an opening to your neck calling his name, and geto wastes no time to latch his lips there. he slips a hand beneath your tank top, fingernails grazing over your skin to creep up to your mounds. he flicks a thumb over the bud and you sigh blissfully again— he then cups the flesh.

he loves the way you squirm when he kisses down your body, “i got you, pretty,” stripped from your cami, his lips leave open mouthed marks all over your skin. from the column of your neck, to your breasts, down your torso and past your navel, “let me take care of you.” the lower he gets, the more intense your rawness reeks— and it’s a damned good smell.

he lands right above your clothed pelvis, and he inhales sharply. he won’t make the same mistake this time, he can feel it. there’s something lingering in the air, something indescribable— but he’s confident he won’t. because when he skips your cunt in favour to pamper your inner thighs, dragging his wet tongue all over erogenous zones, he spots dampening right where your clit would be.

bingo.

your hand cradles his hair, and the other props your body up by the elbow. he glances up at you, cock throbbing against your mattress. your beauty still renders him speechless— runs his throat dry and makes his tongue feel heavy. he doesn’t want to decipher what this means either, and decides to conclude he’s simply thirsty for you.

“suguru,” you call at him. he blinks and the hand in his hair snakes down his neck, and pushes him deeper. his nose nudges at your throbbing clit, and his tongue peeks out of his mouth to lick at the damp material before he can help it. two fingers hook at your panties and push them to the side, revealing glistening folds. your slick drips between your crack and stains your sheets. he thinks he hears his stomach growl a little.

another swipe of his tongue, this time in contact with the raw you, and a breathless moan rips from you, “don’t disappoint me this time.”

and he feasts.

☆ ☆ ☆

gojo’s woken up to a notification from his phone.

it’s still pretty late— or maybe early, and his pretty girlfriend is miles away in lalaland. she snores softly, cuddling into his side, and gojo’s ready to cuss out whoever dares potentially meddle with his girl’s sleep. he’s starting to get grumpy.

when his phone undergoes face recognition, he lowers the brightness immediately. he swipes through his notification center and notices an attachment sent by geto.

now that peeks his interest. he presses on the message.

suguboo: [1 attachment]

suguboo: passed intro2munch101 with an A+ 🫡

gojo can’t help the laugh that leaves him, though is quickly quieted down when he feels stirring at his side.

“well i’ll be damned.”

yes, gojo is obsessed with his girlfriend. also 10k words on geto???

[obsesssedblerd]

"Who's your new teacher?" (Part 3)

Synopsis: Toji takes Megumi to his doctor's appointment, and you, his teacher, hunt for a gift to give him.

Pairing: single dad! toji x f! reader

Contains: plenty of fluff, crack, megumi is four, tsumiki is seven, toji is still toji (but like he's soft for his kids and he takes care of them), reader is a preschool teacher, reader and toji are around the same age, protective toji, protective tsumiki, megumi being scared of doctors, mentions of shiu kong, everyone is happy bc i said so

part one here, part two here

a/n: here's part three! barely proofread. sorry for mistakes.

update: pt. 4 here

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

Though Megumi said that he would be brave, Toji Fushiguro knew his baby all too well. In the waiting room of the doctor’s office, Megumi sat stiffly beside him, clinging his dog plushie way too tight—an obvious sign that he was scared. Toji’s heart aches within his chest, and once he finishes filling out the paperwork for him, he sets the clipboard aside and pulls the small boy onto his lap. “Megs, it’s okay, I promise. We won’t be here long, alright? No scary shots.”

His eyes fill with tears, and he buries his face into Toji’s shirt with a distressed whine. Tsumiki—who was sitting next to Shiu and playing a game on his phone to pass the time—immediately lifts her head once her ears register the sound of her little brother crying, and she hands Shiu his phone back before coming to stand in front of the two of them. Toji moves an arm so she can inch her way closer to Megumi.

“Don’t worry, Gumi, we’re here,” she coos softly as she wraps an arm around Megumi’s free side, so he was being comforted by her and Toji at the same time. “Me and Papa won’t leave you alone, okay? We’re right here. You can hold my hand the entire time.” 

A middle-aged man sitting across from them sighs loudly in annoyance, and Toji looks up in time to see him rolling his eyes at Megumi’s little sniffles. “Oh, c’mon, it’s not that big of a deal. Besides, boys don’t cry.”

The concern that Toji feels for his son is immediately replaced with sheer rage, his blood boiling as he squeezes his hand into a tight fist. He’s about to open his mouth to say something, but his seven year-old daughter beats him to it. Tsumiki whirls around angrily, meeting the asshole’s stare head on. “Nobody asked you, stupid head!!” She yells.

The man’s eyes go wide, the receptionist at the front desk gasps, and a few of the other patients in the waiting room either stifle a laugh or turn the other direction. The man looks at Toji, as if expecting him to intervene on his behalf and correct his daughter. Instead, he pats Tsumiki’s shoulder and stares at him with a small smirk. “You heard her,” he tells him, his voice dark with warning. “Stupid head.” 

He must’ve seen the utter violence in Toji’s eyes, because he chooses not to say anything else. Toji looks over to see Shiu giving Tsumiki a high-five. Then, Toji gives her shoulder a small, loving squeeze. “That’s my girl.” 

To his relief, Megumi—who had watched the exchange silently—had finished crying and was a little bit calmer. Though he’s done crying, Toji’s little blessing decides to remain in his lap, smiling up at his sister when she turns back around to hug him some more. He notices Megumi taking slower breaths, and holding up his little fingers to count the seconds as they go by. 

As he silently counts to himself, a memory from three weeks ago floods Toji’s mind. You, sitting on the ground next to Megumi, explaining a good tactic to calm himself down after crying and experiencing stress for too long. “Breathe in for four seconds,” you explained in a soft voice, holding up your fingers in front of him to count. “Then you’re going to hold for seven seconds, and finally, breathe out slowly to last eight seconds.” 

Now that he’s thinking of you, Toji smiles, wondering if it would be awkward or not to send you a message after Megumi’s appointment. Just what did you like to do after work?

—

“...What?!” You shout into the phone, your heart pounding as you pace back and forth in your living room. 

“Uh, sorry,” the store clerk on the other line says, gulping nervously around their words. “We’re unable to put this item on hold for you.” 

Your head is spinning. You think you’re about to throw up. Your eyes drift back to your laptop which displays the email announcing the special, limited edition of the dog plushie Megumi has—a bright white one, matching the dark-colored one that he kept with him all of the time. 

You subscribed to the brand’s website around a month ago, and had been keeping an eye out for it to drop so you could get one for him. Since it dropped this afternoon shortly after all of your students had gone home, you immediately knew that it would be the perfect gift after his doctor’s appointment. For the last three hours, you had been calling store after store, only to be met with disappointment when customer service revealed that they were completely sold out. It was a popular plushie, after all. You finally found a store that had the plushie in stock, but—

“How come you can’t put it on hold?!” You exclaimed. “I’ve never heard of something like this before!” 

“Um, well, since the plushie is a special edition item, they can’t be ordered from the store or put on hold, just so everyone has a chance to get one. It has to be fair.” 

You’re shoving your shoes on, using your shoulder to hold the phone to your ear as you grab your keys and purse. “Okay, how many are left?” 

“I believe just one. They sold out super fast today.” 

You didn’t care what had to happen. You were getting that damn plushie for Megumi. 

—

You thank every deity that you didn’t get pulled over, and that you didn’t get into an accident. You pull into the store’s parking lot, run out of your car, skip the cart, and go straight towards the toy section. The store is busy this evening, and that worries you. You hope that you’re not too late. When you reach the aisle where the plushie is supposed to be located, you skillfully maneuver your way through the crowd of parents and kids. You are a teacher, after all. 

You see the stand where the special edition plushie is supposed to be, and your heart sinks when you see that it’s completely empty. You groan as you walk down the next aisle of toys away from the crowd, reaching into your purse to grab your phone. Maybe there’s another store nearby, or even about thirty minutes away with at least three of them in stock. Maybe—

A brightly-colored package barely sticking out from underneath the rest of the stuffed animals in a large bin gets your attention. You shove your phone back into your purse, then dig into the bin, pulling out stuffed animal after stuffed animal until you reach it. You gasp, then pull out the last special edition dog plushie. Luckily for you, it’s not damaged. You squeal in victory, already excitedly imagining what little Megumi’s reaction is going to be like once you deliver it to him tomorrow. You check the price of it, and wince. Definitely a special item. You’re definitely going to have to dip into your savings account. 

It doesn’t matter. The smile on Gumi's face will be worth it. You know that much. 

As you’re transferring money from your savings account to your checking account, you hear footsteps approach the aisle you’re standing in. “Shiu, I’m telling ya, it’s supposed to be here, but it isn’t. You sure you called the right store? I swear, this shit-” You look up to see Toji, who comes to a complete stop once he sees you, his eyes widening in shock. 

Oh. 

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

tags: @abadbitchblogs @koriisworld @queendessi24 @chosoyukisgf @blubearxy @starmapz @atomictrashcreator @levixbby @jjknanamin @roxytheimmortal @eternallyvenus @jup1tersuccubus

sorry if I missed anyone! I went based on the replies in the previous part. if you would like to be tagged for part 4, kindly let me know in the replies! this includes those who have been tagged previously! <3

[nutterzebutters]

Honestly given the update I'd like to say a few thigns

First things first, white lily cookies separation!

This character is so brief that one might not think about it, however I do have it in mind that this Tower keeper had purposely reminded pure vanilla and white lily of the riddle in order to push Lily to make a decision sooner, rather than later as originally intended. I do believe it was a good decision for her to go off on her own, as we all know that pure vanilla is quite lost on the topic of dark enchantress vs lily- at this very time we are unsure if truthless recluse is a further repressed version or a version that has somewhat accepted it. Furthermore, if truthless recluse is a shard/illusion I do feel it may defeat a lot of storyline purpose, and do hope that it is truly a pure vanilla or part of him that has since transformed.

As for this sprite - I will not lie this is not the Sprite I was expecting to be edited for beast eyes! I totally expected the mental breakdown Sprite. I've seen a few say that this might not be pure vanilla as Shadow milk is tampering with memories- however!!!

Part of the tactic is to put pure vanilla in situations so that he may react himself in order for shadow milk to place the narrative that he will become just as bad as him. He can use these reactions and insecurities against pure vanilla- after all he poked at pure vanilla on the matter of Lily becoming dark enchantress. That she may have been more qualified to wield the power of Truth regardless, using pure vanilla's self perceived failures as the device.

This one's a little peculiar, I have a few ideas here.

Step one, I feel I should clarify if it's not already obvious that the implication of pure vanilla being Shadow milk is not a literal one~but one that works in tandem with the ladder truth of the story. Much like Shadow milk, pure vanilla does lie! Even if Shadow milk used it for his own game, pure vanilla is self-aware enough to recognize that he too has lied so that cookies may find a sweeter world. Even if it's about himself, or about the situation at hand regardless if it was for comfort it is always dug him into a hole and has even gotten him in trouble with friends. He too is somebody that has been shown to be skilled tactically- it is very reasonable to say that beyond the soul jam this was the sub-context shadow milk was bothering pure vanilla about back in episode 2 of beast yeast, "the biggest liar" as a means to place on pv.

Now let's talk about the sheer silent terror that Truthless recluse is bc I can't express enough how unnerving he could be.

Throughout the entire time, fortune teller cookie still kept a rather calm demeanor. Keeping pure vanillas soft spoken attitude and quick thinking when it comes to help- even when faced with his current self. He was silent, he was an observer and he did it without much hassle showing how cold and calculating fortune teller cookie operates. It's a different type of imposing presence than Shadow milk but I would imagine it isn't any less cold.

It does not seem that shadow milk had given him any power boost either, rather that he was holding back the first time gingerbrave and Co fought him. This is a character who is making moves with precision bearing a frigid expression not at all like the warmth that the characters have come to know. The safety that was pure vanilla cookie has been ripped out from under Earth bread at this point, as for a large majority he has somehow remained the catalyst/nexus for a lot of progress events in the main story..

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

I don't have a screenshot of this part, but I do remember golden cheese appearing next to clotted cream in the Republic! I do feel that shadow milk had used the likeness of such figures to instill what may have been a previous anxiety of pure vanillas. Especially towards golden cheese, whom seeks comfort in the fact that he has experienced the same events regarding his kingdom. It shows that for pure vanilla there's always been a confliction and form of denial regarding Lily- losing the trust of everybody he has put every effort into protecting is definitely a huge fear.

I'd also like to point out in case some were confused, the doubt pv has of his power being Shadow Milks is not merely a ownership conflict despite the wording!!!!!! I can already smell the misinterpretations.

It's that everything pure vanilla has worked through was only really lent to him, his skills and anything else that may connect to the soul jam has created a permanent tether to the ladder: making it near impossible to escape. Even from episode 2, Shadow milk has set up the very open paranoia of forever watching pure vanilla- it's a consistency so we cannot say for sure that this part is a lie!! After all, in the developer commentary live stream it stated that shadow milk is more incomprehensible than the other beasts- and just unlike the other beasts his relationship with pure vanilla and the way their soul jam works is entirely different.

Pure vanilla is aware that now that shadow milk has been there the entire time, he needed to be extra careful. Now with this vision he feels that he can't use it at all unless he wants to bring danger to the cookies he cares for- damned if he does and damned if he doesn't! As if the soul jam attached to him is nothing but a tracking device with a chain.

Just like the countless appearances of Shadow milk you can only really go off of consistencies in a world of lies. One of these consistencies is the idea that pure vanilla is more connected to the other-realm/dark side of the moon then your typical cookie. It's hard to say if he inherently came from the realm, like some sort of magic birth such as candy apple but the fact that shadow milk left it so open ended leaves it as a possibility-

NOW. I will not be showing the awakened spoilers, as I am aware they are about and circling. For those who wish not to see it, I will not show it! However I will talk about a few details that I will keep for the sake of selective obscurity as I do believe that the pure vanilla Nation won💀

We all remember the theories?? Hell, even with the connections to moonlight and keys. Y'all he's gorgeous. I cannot WAIT until he gets patched in. It also seems that some of truthless recluse stayed! Hinting to the idea that pure vanilla did not escape unscathed and reinforcing the narrative that being somewhat more intertwined with Shadow milk is not a lie. That pure vanilla will eventually gravitate towards a different balance, Fun things!

[lchufflepuffcorn]

Hey queen, me again. I had like an idea like dragon!hybrid Targs with a mate that’s horrified of heights and just refuses to join them like flying and stuff. bc lowkey I feel like they would want to take their mate for a ride and like some of them would be divas about it.

- 👑 anon

Hi again!! I find it so funny you thought of that, because for sure it would have happened to some !! I haven't written about everyone, because you didn't really specify, so I chose those who struck me as funny or would absolutely have an attitude about it.

Masterlist

Dragon!Targaryen Masterlist

Aemond: 

Will be the first one to work with you to remove that weakness. 

He needs you to be able to take up on yourself if needs be

This means having to fly on his back for a quick escape! 

Does not really understand why you fear the great vastness of the sky

He longed to fly since he could see Aegon and Helaena do it. 

Will work you hard, like one would practice the sword. 

He’ll even scold you if you tear up because of it

Will feel guilty about it afterwards

The bed is empty when you wake the next morning. It’s later than usual, but Aemond has not roused you with him as he usually does. Maybe he truly was angry with your failure. 

The room is engoulft in an unusual silence, and you take a moment to truly rise from the warm bed. There’s already a plate with breakfast on it, and flowers. You frown. Walking closer, you also notice a small bit of parchmin on the platter. Qelos written on it. 

Now, you smile. 

Baela:

Would be one of the most understanding of your fear. 

But it would be funny because her literal nickname for you IS Rider. 

So you should have rode on her before that 

Or it’s for a more cheeky reason 😏

Or maybe, she’d convince you to ride with her, so you went

Because who would contradict THE princesse Baela, right? 

Not you. 

How were you to know that not having your feet on the ground would actually make your stomach drop to the sole of your shoes?

At first, Baela thought you were laughing. 

The wind being in her face and pushing the sounds away did not help

But she felt you grasp at her tightly, and knew something was wrong. 

Once landed, and changed back into a form somewhat more humanoide, Baela would be cradling you, kissing every inch of your face while she apologised. 

“I’m so proud of you. Not many people can say they have rode a Targaryen!” 

Her teasing made you smile a bit, still shaking in her arms. Your legs felt like jelly and your heart was beating at the same rhythm as a waring drum. 

Daemon: 

Is too proud to have you ride him anyway. 

He’s a dragon not a horse. 

Truly couldn’t care less about your fear of flying, cuz he won’t ever take you nowhere. 

That’s a lie. 

While he IS too proud to become a mere horse, we would be disappointed that you don’t even WANT to think about flying with him. 

Would be the type of man to surprise you by picking you up in dragon form

And learn about your fear that way. 

Will tease you about it. 

What’s the point of having a fearsom dragon shifter Targaryen as a lover if you don’t even want to use him as a scare tactic?? 

Kinda flattered that you’re not seeing him as just an advantage tho 

Daemon ran a hand over his face, both amused and annoyed at your stubbornness. 

“Has it ever brushed your stream of thought that you could lie, Azantys?” He purrs, the rumble of his voice making his chest where you laid, half-asleep tremble. “I’m sure anyone else would have used our relationship to their advantage.”

You furrowed your brows, too tired to put up a real fight. “I don’t. You might be a dragon, but you're not an object for me to use…And I realy don’t think humans should be flying.” 

Rhaenyra: 

Being that she loves flying herself, she’d be disappointed

She would respect your decision of not wanting to try, but would silently judge you

Will ask you a couple of times by years, to see if you changed your mind

If you did, she’ll take you flying 

Not too high, she wants you to agree again sometimes soon

Syrax might become overjoyed and push your limit a little bit tho…

She might be younger, like S1!Rhaenyra, too… 

“See, beloved? Wasn’t it such a great time?” 

You were as tense as a bow, your smile iced on your face like the wind had sculpted it as such. You simply nodded, fearing that your voice would betray you, like your legs were at the moment. You were leaning heavily against Rhaenyra , hugging her back tightly to keep her from moving away. 

“Yes. Fun.” You finally let out. She giggled. 

Taglist: @lady-dragon-rider

Current anon: (👑)😵‍💫🥰🧑‍🍼😣

[clumsy-jiminie]

ɪɴᴇᴠɪᴛᴀʙʟʏ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ | ᴘᴊᴍ | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴ

❝ ᴀ ᴅɪɴɴᴇʀ ❞

↣ summary :: Kiara Smith had dreamed of true love for as long as she could remember. from being obsessed with the Disney princesses who found affection in the strangest situations to dressing up as a bride from kindergarten to fourth grade. it was the only thing she ever truly desired, so much so that a pleasant smile and kind eyes could have her smitten in seconds. right when she thought she found the one, a chance encounter with Park Jimin—the city’s famously perfect fuck boy with a smile so warm and a heart of ice—has her feeling quite the opposite. he knocks her off her axis and derails her life as she knows it, yet the universe seems to have another plan for the two.

↣ rating :: 18+

↣ genre :: fluff, angst, smut, e2l, slow burn

↣ pairing :: business owner!jimin x fem!artist!oc ft. taehyung

↣ word count :: 6.9k

↣ chapter warnings :: mature language, smut - unprotected sex, creampie, on the phone while being intimate, ⚠️ verbal abuse, manipulating tactics ⚠️, angst without resolve, heavy alcohol consumption, public intoxication, BIKER!JK ( a warning in itself bc 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨 )

↣ notes :: she's a little late because I may have forgotten to schedule her 😅 but this chapter is a doozy and the seeds are GROWING

↣ next :: previous :: series m.list ↢

if you have any questions, comments, or concerns PLEASE don't hesitate to message me or send me an ask! my inbox is always open. 💖

"you're perfectly wrong for me, and that's why it's is so hard to leave."

- perfectly wrong, shawn mendez -

"Babe!?" Kiara called out as she put a sparkly earring through her lobe. She had heard the door open and shut, but there was no answer. The dark-haired woman stepped out of her bedroom and into the living room, seeing as Taehyung pulled off his coat with a heavy sigh. She pouted her burgundy-painted lips. "What's wrong?"

"Work was just more tiring than usual today," he quietly said as he removed his coat. He loosened the black tie around his neck, not even glancing at Kiara as he walked past her to the kitchen.

Kiara's shoulders dropped as she followed after him. A weird feeling overtook her as she watched him lazily push through the items in the fridge. "Too tired for date night?" She asked quietly, hiding some of her body behind the archway.

Taehyung's head perked up, shutting the fridge before turning to face the shy girl. He gestured for her to move from the shadows so he could see her fully. Kiara always had a pretty face and knew exactly how to do her makeup to accentuate her features without doing too much. But Taehyung's favorite part of her was her body. As she stepped into his view—adorned in a glittering baby pink dress that clung to her curves and silver accessories that popped against golden skin in the dim lighting—he could feel the blood rushing to her lower regions. She was thick in all the right areas—a busty top with wide hips and thighs that not even air could escape between to support her ass. He was in love. She looked like something out of a wet dream.

Taehyung curled his finger, beckoning her to come closer. She obeyed silently, suddenly feeling shy under his gaze. Once Kiara was close enough, he took her hand and spun her around to see the whole picture. Her straightened midnight locks flowed with her. He loved it when her hair was straight. "Fuck, darling," he smirked as he bit down on his lower lip. Her cheeks flushed with color as she playfully hit his chest with her free hand. He placed a hand on her waist, holding her close. "You look absolutely stunning."

The girl blushed as if Taehyung didn't compliment her all the time. She knew he would love this dress. He wasn't like most boyfriends who would tell their girlfriends to cover up if they wore something too tight or too short. It seemed as if Taehyung couldn't keep his hands off her whenever it was time to dress up. Kiara adored the attention, even if it consisted of inappropriately timed ass grabs.

"Thank you, babe," she smiled as her hands ran up his chest until they reached his shoulders, where they wrapped around his neck. 

He leaned in, pressing his lips to hers and filling any gap that they had. Taehyung wasted no time exploring her body with his large hands. He squeezed her ass, using the grip to press Kiara further into him. She let out a soft moan, feeling his erection pressing into her stomach. The kiss grew deeper and needier as they continued. The warmth from between her legs began to spread throughout her body. Kiara was close to telling him to take her on one of the counters.

"Taehyung," she mumbled while trying to break the kiss, but he kept leaning in to reattach his lips to hers. She couldn't help but smile against his lips. The need for affection made her feel warm inside. She tried to pull away again, leaning further back before he could attack. "We're gonna be late for our reservation if we keep going," she giggled. Someone had to be the sensible one; more times than not, it was Kiara.

Taehyung groaned softly, leaning in to press kisses against her neck. She inhaled softly, gripping his shirt tightly enough that the fabric wrinkled between her fingers. "We can be a little late, can't we?"

Kiara bit down on her lower lip to hold back her moans while allowing her to focus on her thoughts. Her brain was growing hazy with arousal. Logic was on the brink of fleeting—too many feelings combined with too many thoughts all at once. "I mean," she drawled out. Before she could finish her sentence, Taehyung bent down a little to pick her up, wrapping her legs around his waist. She squealed softly from the sudden surprise. "Taehyung!"

A mischievous grin formed on his lips as he locked eyes with the girl. "What?" He asked innocently.

Kiara's eyes narrowed at him momentarily before a smile cracked on her lips. "What do you think you're doing?"

Taehyung began to walk, following the familiar path to their bedroom. "I don't know what you're talking about, darling."

"I think you're a liar."

Taehyung smirked, throwing Kiara onto the bed after they entered the room. She landed on the plush mattress with a giggle. Her short dress slid up her thick thighs, giving him the slightest peek of the lacy black panties she wore. She gazed at the man, watching him take off his belt and toss it. "Me? A liar?" He parted her thighs with his knee before fitting himself between her legs. Her hovered over her, eyes filled with desire. "Never," he said lowly before kissing her again.

Kiara hummed with delight, accepting defeat as her body overtook her mind. Damn, that man for knowing how to kiss so well, his lips convincing her with every movement to skip another date night and just stay in bed all day. He pulled away, leaving a trail of affection down to the sweetheart neckline of her dress, where her breast spilled out of the tight fabric. She arched into his mouth, physically begging for more as he reached down to inch her dress up more.

Her once-shut eyes shot open, "Wait!" His fingers froze at the sound of her voice as he peered up at her from the valley between her breasts. "I don't wanna mess up my hair," she said quietly with a slight pout.

"Then I guess you better get on top."

In one swift motion, Taehyung flipped their positions. Kiara landed on his abdomen briefly before sliding back. She undid his pants and pulled his clothing down enough for his cock to spring out. The girl inhaled deeply, never getting tired of looking at the sight. Though she was in a rush, she couldn't resist to slide her tongue against the underside of his length. He sucked in harshly through his teeth. Satisfied, she repositioned herself, hovering over the man's abdomen once again. She leaned back and wrapped her fingers around his erection, causing him to inhale sharply as she stroked him slowly.

He placed his hands on her thighs, letting out a low groan as he stared up at her. "Don't tease me."

She smirked as she released him. She pushed up the material of her dress to rest over her hips, exposing the lingerie that was supposed to be for tonight. Taehyung reached out and pulled the material to the side, exposing her heat to the air. She glided his tip against her wet slits before guiding the man into her, lowering herself down as they both let out a slow sigh.

Taehyung hissed with pleasure as he became encased in her walls. After he gave her a moment to adjust, he began to roll his hips back and forth. Kiara placed her hand on him, pushing his button-down shirt up just enough to rest her palm against his tanned abdomen. He penetrated every delicious inch of himself into her as she leaned forward, meeting his thrusts with a pleasant smacking sound. 

Taehyung watched Kiara's face as she lost herself in the pleasure. His eyes quickly darted to her chest, watching as her breast bounced in the constricted material. It took everything in him not to lean forward and free them of their limitations, but he'll make a mental note for later. Instead, he reached around to her ass, gripping at the flesh as he guided her up and down his member. She loved how he felt inside of her, making her increase speed.

The brunette suddenly got an idea, reaching around for his phone.

"What's the name of that restaurant?" He groaned, his thrusts lessening in power as he tried to focus.

"W-What?" Kiara stammered. She opened her eyes as she looked down at the man below her. Her hips started to slow as she tried to de-fog the sex-crazed haze over her mind.

Taehyung suddenly raised his hand and promptly slapped the girl's ass, causing her to moan as she resumed some of the pace from before. He used one hand to guide her while the other tapped away on his screen. "Give me the name of the restaurant."

She bit down on her lower lip while her eyes shut again. Focusing was incredibly hard when someone was currently massaging your walls. "N-Nomiya."

He guided her down his length, taking him fully inside her velvety walls, causing his tip to press into her cervix. She let out a soft squeak while a shiver of delight splashed over her. She opened her eyes as his hips finally seized. Taehyung was such a sight to see. Sweat beaded along his forehead, causing his dark waves to stick to his skin. His once prim and proper button-down shirt somehow opened in the heat of the moment, exposing his tan skin flushed with red in the low light of their room. His lips were structured and plump with desire. He looked like a model while tapping against his phone screen several times. She bit down on her lower lip, swirling her hips in a circle and grinding against him absentmindedly.

Was it possible to come from only someone's face?

He suddenly handed the device, ripping her from her thoughts. "Push back the reservation."

"Right now?!"

"Right now. It's ringing."

Panic overtook her system for a second, causing her walls to tighten around him involuntarily. He moaned right before she heard a faint hello from the phone. She quickly grabbed the device from Taehyung and put it to her ear.

"Um, hi. My name is Kiara, and I have a reservation for—" A soft moan slipped past her lips as Taehyung decided to resume his thrusts. A mischievous smirk played on his lips, mouthing a petty 'sorry' as he grabbed her hips with both hands. Kiara narrowed her eyes at him, desperately trying to swallow her sounds of pleasure.

"Ma'am? Hello?"

She cleared her throat, acting as if nothing was happening. As if Taehyung wasn't ramming into her. "Yes, sorry about that. I have a reservation for 6, and I was wondering if I could push it back to—" Taehyung's large hand made contact with her ass again, causing the woman to inhale through her teeth. She used his abdomen as support, hanging her head a little as she tried to collect herself. "Push it back to 7," she breathed. She felt an incredible and familiar pressure growing between her legs. 

Taehyung watched as the woman on top of him tried to keep it together, driving him wild from the sight alone. Her flushed face, her slipping dress, how her nails dug into his skin as some sort of anchor. He wondered if the person on the opposite end could listen to the sounds of their love. He wondered if they could hear the sticky, slapping sounds of their bodies hitting against each other. As he bit down on his lip, his hand trailed to the front of her abdomen. 

"I'm sorry, ma'am, our next table won't be available until 8:30. Is that alright with you?"

"8:30? Yes, that perf—" A gasp stole the last syllable of her sentence as Taehyung's thumb circled her swollen clitoris. Her eyes rolled back as she tilted her head back. She covered her mouth with her free hand, trying to muffle the breathy moans that were escaping. He increased the pace of his digit, causing the pressure between her legs to grow as well. He briefly felt her walls constrict around him, knowing what would come soon.

"Alright, thank you!" Kiara quickly hung up the phone right as her body soared over the edge. She came hard, throbbing around Taehyung's member. His hips slowed for a moment, letting her ride out her orgasm. His hands slid up her body, stopping at her breast, where he squeezed them.

"Reservations for 8:30, right?" Taehyung asked, and she nodded in response. He rested his hands on Kiara's waist, pulling her down to lay on his chest. He flipped them over as she steadied her breathing so Kiara was lying underneath him. He pressed a quick kiss to her lips. "You'll have enough time to fix your hair then."

Her eyes grew wide as he started drilling into her again. Their lips met once again, sharing needy kisses and muffling moans as he pushed her thighs back towards the bed, giving himself maximum access to her heat. When he pulled away, he leaned back so he could watch as her body bounced.

Kiara shut her eyes as if to lessen the immense pleasure she was receiving. "T-Taehyung," she whimpered. The pleasure built up in her body again as shivers of delight danced against her skin. "Fuck!" His thrusts were hard and deep, hitting her spot repeatedly. Her face twisted with pleasure. Her amber eyes looking up at him helplessly filled her. Her legs began to tremble, causing him to raise an eyebrow while a smirk played on his lips. 

"You gonna cum for me again?"

The woman couldn't even form words, only being able to nod her head quickly as another wave of pleasure crashed over her. Taehyung leaned over her once again as his hips remained in the same rhythm. His face hid in her neck as she wrapped her arms around him, fingers entangling in his damp hair. The pulsing of her walls around him neared him to his orgasm. His rhythm grew sloppy. He pushed his length fully into her one last time as he succumbed to his climax.

After a minute of heavy breathing between the two, Taehyung slowly pulled himself out of her. Kiara felt the mixture of their fluids leak out of her and onto their comforter. She tried to regulate her breathing, watching him stand up and walk towards the bathroom. The dopamine coursing through her veins left her glued to the covers. He returned from the bathroom with a towel, tossing it to the girl before lying beside her. 

"You fucked up my hair," she murmured.

Taehyung looked at the girl, leaning in to kiss her cheek, "I think you look great."

Surprisingly, Taehyung and Kiara made it to the restaurant on time. After a few showers and touch-ups, they were walking hand in hand into the discreet entrance of Nomiya. The two were practically glowing, giggling, and holding each other tightly as the maitre'd led them to their table. Taehyung pulled out the chair for Kiara, and she slid into her seat gracefully. He sat across from her in a booth connected to the wall.

The restaurant was modern, with wooden accents sprinkled throughout. Large industrial half windows let light in while keeping the dining area private. They chose a dark color scheme with warm lighting to make the room feel spacious. It was pretty classy for an establishment attached to a shopping mall and, from the menu, right up the couple's alley.

The two engaged in conversation and flirty banter until Taehyung became engrossed in his phone. Kiara was used to it. Even though the man was a king at small talk, long-term and deep conversations drained him. And those types of conversations were Kiara's strong point. She didn't care much about the how are you or how's the weather; she wanted to know the nitty gritty about someone. The ins and outs, what made them tick, what made them smile. Things that were worthwhile. 

Kiara glanced over the menu in the comfortable silence, wondering why the waiter hadn't yet swung around to take their order. The reviews she read online showed that the wait staff here was top-tier and super friendly. Taehyung didn't seem to care about the woman's growling stomach, happily tapping away and laughing at the lit screen in his hands. So, she took it upon herself to get the waitress' attention. She walked over with a tired smile on her face.

"Hi, how may I help you?" She asked.

Kiara offered the woman a smile. "Yes, I believe we're ready to order."

The waitress's eyes widen briefly. "Oh, um," she took a little tablet from her apron, "you didn't want to wait until the rest of your party was here?"

Kiara's brows squished together, glancing at Taehyung briefly as she let out an awkward chuckle. "Um, no? The whole party is already here?"

Maybe it's been a long night for her. After all, the restaurant had been decently packed, parties of two or more surrounding them with smiles and laughs. Maybe she confused their table with another's.

Taehyung suddenly lifted his head, standing to his feet. He began to wave his hand in the air with a broad, boxy grin on his face. Kiara watched the man, blinking rapidly before turning to see what excited him. 

Her heart dropped.

Blonde hair styled to expose his forehead, dressed in an all-black outfit—from his blazer to the t-shirt underneath and his slacks to his shiny oxfords—and strutting over to their table like a model on a runway was none other than Park Jimin. The walking sin. He was smiling, beaming at the man she called boyfriend. Kiara quickly turned around and stared up at Taehyung. Once their eyes connected, his smile shrunk to a shy one.

Soon, Jimin was at their table, giving Taehyung a long hug before looking at Kiara. Their eyes met briefly, her jaw clenching when he very obviously gazed at her exposed cleavage.

"I'm so happy you made it!" Taehyung grinned as he sat down, finally rejoining Kiara at the table. "Did you bring someone?"

Jimin nodded, gesturing to the woman who suddenly appeared next to him. Kiara must not have noticed the person following behind him until now. "Everyone, this is Izzy. Izzy, this is my good friend Taehyung and his girlfriend Kiara."

Kiara awkwardly waved at the woman as she sat next to her. She was drop-dead gorgeous—slim, tall with legs that went on for days, a natural blonde. The woman looked like she just hopped off a Sports Illustrated magazine cover. She wore a simple, long-sleeved, black mini dress and heels, matching her date.

Cute, the dark-haired woman thought.

Kiara and Taehyung could never, no matter how much she yearned to.

"So what are we eating?" Jimin asked after sitting down. He picked up the menu and started to look over it.

"I'll give you a few minutes," the waitress said before leaving. Taehyung leaned towards Jimin, suggesting various options.

"Taehyung," Kiara said sharply despite the forced smile on her lips. Taehyung slowly peered at her through narrowed lids, like she was interrupting something important. "Can I talk to you outside for a second?" She stood up and walked towards the exit, not checking if the man was following her. She opened the sizeable black-tinted glass door and took a few steps from the entrance. 

"What's up?" Taehyung asked once he joined her. He tried to ignore how the winter breeze nipped at his skin through his dress shirt. 

"What's up?" Kiara repeated, brows drawn together as she looked up at the man. Her blood boiled, heat spreading outward to the very ends of her fingertips. Who needed a coat when you could run off the heat of pure anger? "Why the fuck is he here?" She paid close attention to her volume and tone. It was a Saturday night at peak time, and people surrounded them. The last thing she wanted was a scene.

Taehyung tilted his head slightly as his lips pulled down into a frown. "I invited him?"

"On date night?!"

The man shrugged his shoulders. "I don't see the problem with having a double date."

Kiara blinked at him, staring for a few seconds before letting out a scoff. She folded her arms over her chest as she glanced away from him. "You've got to be fucking kidding me, Taehyung. You know damn well this wasn't supposed to be a double date!"

Taehyung's jaw clenched as he looked down at the girl. "Watch your fucking tone." His voice had grown severe, chilling Kiara to her core. She hated it when he used her favorite thing as a weapon. "Jimin wanted to hang out tonight. I said I had plans, and he asked to come. It's as simple as that."

"But why would you agree?" Her voice had softened slowly, like a flame losing its source of oxygen. "Like, aren't we supposed to have one-on-one time?" She could feel herself shrinking like she always does. She looked up at him, amber eyes meeting dark, cold ones.

"Oh my god," he drawled out. He rolled his eyes, folding his arms over his chest. "We have one on one time all the fucking time, Kiara. We go grocery shopping. We watch movies. We even fucking read together. You're gonna tell me I'm a bad fucking person because I wanna hang out with my friend?" As he started getting louder, Kiara's arms lowered from her chest to wrap around her midsection. She couldn't look at him; she didn't want to see that face with pinched features or eyes that resembled the dead. She opted to stare down at the ground instead. It was always the safest option. She felt the sadness creep up her throat, silencing her because tears would flow like waterfalls if she even made a croak. 

"Get over yourself, Kiara, honestly." Her heart dropped again, feeling like it should be a permanent residence there. Tears stung her eyes, threatening her with further embarrassment. She knew people were definitely staring now, looking at her like she was a zoo animal—locked in a cage with eyes full of pity tracking her every move. "The world doesn't revolve around you, and I sure as hell am not gonna act like it does."

He turned around swiftly, not caring for the reactions surrounding him. Once he reached the door, he paused for a second. "Maybe Jimin was right." She looked at him out of curiosity, almost instantly regretting it once she met his eyes. She had hoped, for once, he looked remorseful, like he pitied her. But instead, he looked over his shoulder with that look. The one that made her feel smaller than a field mouse. The one that made her question if his I love you's were genuine. The one that ripped every ounce of confidence she had from her soul. 

"You are selfish."

She cracked and desperately tried to keep herself from spilling onto the pavement.

As he walked back inside, leaving her to battle the cold, she felt like someone had just stabbed the 24-year-old woman in the chest. She looked around, watching as people narrowly avoided her gaze. Her bottom lip quivered. Kiara inhaled deeply before exhaling shakily. She refused to cry in public, surrounded by sympathetic eyes but no brave souls to spring into action. That was typical for New York, though. Everyone had their own story with little time to read others. 

Am I really just overreacting?

She wondered when and where she went wrong. Was it how she said it? Should she have waited until after dinner? She hoped the cold would give her some clarity, but all it left her with was red-stained skin and a runny nose.

All Kiara wanted was a sweet night with her boyfriend, and she did everything in her power to ensure so. From the makeup to the restaurant, everything that she had picked was to make sure he had a good night. They had a good night. They only went out to eat occasionally, and Kiara did all the planning every time they did. She was meticulous, and it always took a lot of energy. The woman just wanted him to see that, to appreciate it. Was she wrong?

She used her thumb knuckles to pat the area under her eye dry gently. Kiara sighed softly, picking up the pieces of her Taehyung left sprawled over the ground before walking back inside. She rejoined the table, not that anyone noticed.

For the rest of the night, she sat at the table, silent as the two men across from her caught up as if they hadn't seen each other in weeks. They laughed as if they'd been together for years. They even shared each other's entrees to see if the other would like it. She was surprised Taehyung didn't just feed the man with his own utensils. It felt like she was third-wheeling a double date and paired up with a friend she didn't get along with. This wasn't to say Izzy was bad; she was an sweetheart and embodied the word entirely. She politely offered small talk, even telling a boys will be boys joke when Taehyung and Jimin got too loud, hoping to lighten the sour expression on Kiara's face.

But boys will not be boys.

Boys don't act like Park Jimin and try to infiltrate every aspect of Kiara's life as she knew it.

None of these feelings would've happened if that blonde hadn't arrived. Taehyung and her would have their regular date if he had never approached her. Because Park Jimin wouldn't have existed to him. Just a thing of the past. A memory ever so slowly fading.

Kiara had to order a bottle of wine to keep herself from wanting to slam her head against the table repeatedly. Since no one else decided to have a glass, she managed to drink at least 3/4ths of the bottle herself. It wasn't her best choice of the night, but the 24-year-old needed alcohol if she was going to be around Jimin for prolonged periods. At this rate, she'll have an alcohol use disorder in no time.

The red wine made her numb and quiet like it usually did. The world around her dulled and melted together until there were just blobs of color floating around space. Nothing around her existed, and she liked it like that. She was in her own little bubble where people became brushstrokes, and noises became low hums. At some point, the tan splotch with a dark top emerged and walked away from the table. A pinkish line with pale yellow strokes around it also left. And then there were just two.

Kiara played around with the piece of paper that once covered a straw, folding it as many times as possible.

"This is a nice restaurant, don't you think?"

She hated how his voice could cut through her little world like a steak knife through softened butter—words wrapped within a smooth velvet, purposefully seductive and laced with poison.

"I know," she spat, harsh tones slitting through the fabric of his voice. "I was the one who picked it."

"Woah there," she didn't have to look at him to see the grin on his plump lips. She knew it was there. Why wouldn't it be? His smugness was becoming predictable. "Someone's being a little hostile, hm?"

She looked at him, amber eyes set ablaze through narrowed lids. "Shut the fuck up, Jimin. You shouldn't even fucking be here."

The grin on his face dropped as his eyes went wide. He placed a hand on his chest while he gasped. "For your information, I was invited."

"You intruded," she said slowly, ensuring he heard every syllable. "You knew he had plans, and you invited yourself like a fucking loser."

"He wanted me to come!" Jimin's brows pinched together.

"Yeah, aight," Kiara scoffed. Jimin would never tire of hearing that abrasive accent trapped in that honeyed tone. It was pleasant on the ears. "At least you're having a good time with your fucking date."

"Oh, Izzy is a doll. Love the girl to pieces."

Her gaze remained unchanged. "No, dipshit, I fucking meant Taehyung."

He tilted his head to the side to match his playful smile. "Do you know any word besides fucking?"

"Do you know how to mind your fucking business?" She quipped, mirroring his actions.

"Guess that's a no," Jimin chuckled lightly. Kiara sighed deeply, chugging the rest of the crimson liquid in her glass. He raised an eyebrow slightly. "You're becoming a bit of an alcoholic, aren't you?"

Kiara almost slammed the glass on the table, hands like cinderblocks, as she forced herself to grab the bottle. "And you're to blame." She stared directly into Jimin's eyes, noticing the grey-colored contacts that hid his natural color. If eyes were the window to the soul, he had the curtains closed right now. Maybe she would've held back more if she saw the concern swirling in his dark irises. "Ever since you waltzed into my life, it seems like alcohol is the only thing that makes you tolerable." She poured the remainder of the bottle into her glass, sucking her teeth at the empty container. A full bottle of wine, and she still wasn't drunk enough to deal with Park Jimin.

Her words sunk deeply into Jimin, causing him to chew on his lower lip. This Kiara wasn't fun. When she drank herself into nothing but a shell, he couldn't help but feel bad. He never wanted to be the cause of someone's addiction. He leaned back, remaining quiet until Taehyung returned to the table. The man resumed conversation with Jimin as if he couldn't see how out of it Kiara was. It seemed to be all the blonde could notice. She finished the rest of her wine rather quickly, parting her lips enough for a sigh to pass through. Her eyes danced around the room, looking at anything and anyone that wasn't Taehyung. Water lined her golden irises, constantly threatening to spill but never doing so.

Guilt. Was that the feeling that was weighing down Jimin's chest? Did he take things too far? But she deserved it, right? She deserved the troubles and hardships for choosing the easy life. Right? Kiara sniffled as she reached for her eye, gently tugging at the sensitive skin and blinking her tears away.

Taehyung didn't notice.

Jimin did.

"Hey," Jimin interrupted whatever rant Taehyung was going on about, glancing at his dark-haired friend. He gave the man a small smile; that's all he could offer without seeming too fake. "This was fun, but Izzy is getting pretty tired. Right, Iz?"

The blonde woman stared at her phone, tapping away at the screen. "Yeah, I'm exhausted," she said without an ounce of sincerity.

Jimin had to stop himself from glaring at the woman. He loved the girl, but she was an ass at times. "We're gonna call it a night. Thank you again for inviting us."

Kiara let out a loud scoff, uncharacteristically unfazed by the glare she received from Taehyung. The wooden pattern on the table seemed more interesting than his anger. 

"It was no problem, honestly." Taehyung grinned at Jimin as the blonde and his date stood up. "I'll see you around?"

Jimin nodded with a faint smile. "Yeah, definitely." He turned his gaze to Kiara, biting down on his lip briefly. "Bye, Kiara."

"Fuck off."

Izzy tried but failed horribly to hide her laughter. Jimin sighed, knowing she would say something sassy, but it was worth a shot anyway. Taehyung narrowed his eyes once again at the foul-mouthed girl. It was a dramatic flip from how he looked at her during game night. He looked like he couldn't stand the sight of her, and it was frightening. Deciding it was best not to stay any longer, the couple left. He'll send Taehyung some money later tonight to cover his half of the tab.

After the couple left, Taehyung didn't waste a second expressing his disdain towards the girl. "You're such a fucking embarrassment, you know that right?"

Kiara let out a deep sigh as she leaned back into her chair. She knew this was coming based on their fight from earlier. Taehyung had barely paid attention to her for a reason. She expected to get an earful on the way home or once they were in the comfort of their living room. Taehyung lashing out at the girl in public was a first for her, especially with people surrounding them.

"All fucking night, you've been acting like a spoiled brat who didn't get her way."

She looked away from him, catching the waitress' attention as she raised her hand. "Check, please!" 

Kiara blowing him off with ease made Taehyung's blood boil further. He slammed his large hands down on the wooden surface, causing all the utensils and dishes to shake. As he intended, it caught her attention. Her eyes lazily looked up at him, still unbothered by the manchild's actions. But her eyes weren't the only ones peering at him. Neighboring couples and families glanced out of the corner of their eyes. They paused conversations to observe the drama that was unexpectedly unraveling quietly.

"You will not make a fool of me, Kiara Smith." His jaw clenched, and she could practically see the vein on his forehead throbbing. Tan skin turned to a deep red, and all she could do was raise a brow in challenge.

"Looks like you've already done so, Kim Taehyung."

Taehyung shot up from his seat, shifting the table as he did so. The last thing she saw were his eyes, filled with hatred she didn't know he could possess—not while looking at her. He left the restaurant, leaving a trail of silence behind him. Kiara sighed deeply, sitting up in her seat. She knew she should've stopped. The woman knew she shouldn't have poked the bear since he had attacked for less. But she couldn't find the energy to care. She couldn't find the energy to worry about the concerned eyes that stared at her as she gave the waitress her card. It was all for show anyway, knowing as soon as she left, they would go back to loving each other as if none of this had happened.

She left the waitress a hefty tip, around $150. The woman was technically dipping into her future home funds, but that was an argument for another day. Every damn thing was an argument.

She gathered her things and slowly stood up, trying to ensure she didn't stumble in her heels, but she did so anyway. Kiara used the table to balance herself before taking a deep breath. There was no need to embarrass herself further by falling in this establishment. She was sure people already saw her as a trainwreck. She and Taehyung fought as much as any average couple did, and in a few days, this would all be water under the bridge, and they would be back to their usual loving selves.

When she reached outside, the cold winter air did nothing to cool down her warm body as she wobbled around to her car. Or where her car should be. She stood in an empty parking spot, brows furrowed with her hands on her hips as she glanced around. Her vehicle was highly noticeable, so even if she was in the wrong spot, she should've been able to see it in the parking lot. She huffed quietly, pulling her phone out of her purse as she returned to the pavement. She called her significant other, and it went straight to voicemail, as usual. She sighed deeply, swaying her weight from one heel to the other as she placed her phone to her ear.

“Sup loser,” said Jeongguk. He answered after the first ring like he always did. He wasn't munching on food this time, but she could faintly hear the sounds of power-ups going off and catchphrases.

"Heeeeey," she drawled out, making Jeongguk chuckle.

"Someone's fucked up."

"Just a little," the girl grinned, her eyes catching a bench nearby. She wouldn't stand in five-inch heels if she didn't have to. "Do you happen to be anywhere on or near Long Island right now?" Her words slurred, causing Jeongguk to pause the game he was playing.

"Um, no, I'm not." He answered, concern slowing growing in his deep tone. "Why?"

"OK, so, hilarious story. Hear me out," Kiara plopped down on the cold metal bench. "Taehyung kinda sorta took my car and left me at the restaurant with no way home."

There was silence on the other end of her phone. Her face scrunched a little as she pulled the device away from her ear to make sure she didn't accidentally hang up. She returned the phone to her ear, hearing intense rustling and shuffling.

"Helloooooo?"

"Stay right fucking there, Ki." His deep voice managed to lower an octave, making her heart race. "Don't move a god-damned inch."

"OK!" She sounded awfully chipper, not realizing the weight of the situation as she swung her legs like a child.

"I swear to god, I don't understand how you're still with this dipshit."

Kiara pouted her lips as if the other could see. "Stoooop, we're gonna get married Kookie!"

Jeongguk released a deep sigh, hoping to calm himself down a little. "Stop saying that. No husband would leave their wife outside, with no way home," there was a short pause, "at fucking midnight!?" So much for calming himself down. "Ki, you better pray I don't catch this asshole on the street."

"Kookie," she whined, the pout still fully formed on her lips. "I love him. Please be nice. We're just fighting right now."

"No fucking excuse, drop your location right now."

Kiara huffed as she did what she was told. The GPS said the ETA was about 45 minutes, and Jeongguk made it there in half the time. The risk of getting tickets for speeding and lane splitting was all worth it when he arrived. He found Kiara sitting on a bench, shivering slightly but smiling widely at him as if she wasn't in the proper clothing to be outside.

They were in what New York would call the 'Third Winter', where the air is just as harsh as the middle of January, despite being the first week of April. He sighed deeply, pulling his leather coat off of her body. He walked over to her, "C'mere," he said as he helped her into the jacket. It wasn't much, but she wore a flimsy, practically see-through cardigan over her dress.

"Kookieeee!" She looked up at the man with a never-ending smile on her lips. "You came!"

"You called," he sighed, a small smile tugging at his lips afterward. Whether close or far, day or night, if Kiara called for him, he would be there for her in a heartbeat. "Now come on." He helped the grinning girl stand up, catching her when she stumbled into him. He should've brought a pair of pants as well. How could Taehyung let her walk out of the house in a dress this short, then leave her in the cold? "We're gonna stop by your house and pick up some clothes, OK?"

Kiara was the only other person he'd let ride on his bike, so he had gotten her a helmet, which she customized herself. He preferred to keep his minimal, allowing the shiny black paint to speak for itself. On the other hand, Kiara painted wavy lines of her favorite colors with cute stickers. It was her in a nutshell, and she could do whatever she wanted to it as long as it was going on her head. With that said, he put her helmet on while she giggled, glazed eyes meeting his sober ones. He was too annoyed to find this moment adorable. He helped onto the bike before getting on himself. She felt his arms lazily wrap around his waist as he started the vehicle.

"You're gonna stay at my place for a few."

"Yay! Sleepover!"

Jeongguk couldn't help but smile. Whenever she got drunk, she would always become the baby of the group—eyes big and filled with amazement at the world around her, wondering body, and absolute lack of coordination. She was the cutest, especially when she smiled. Taehyung was going to ruin her. He was going to destroy every ounce of life she had by the end of this relationship.

They stopped at her house, and luckily enough, Taehyung wasn't there. He must've been sucking the universe's dick because if Jeongguk had seen him, he would've made sure his face made contact with the pavement. After years of having to deal with this man and this shit excuse of a relationship, he would've beaten him to a pulp. He grabbed their hideaway key and went inside to pack her a quick bag and some clothing to throw on over her dress. 

Afterward, Jeongguk drove them back to his apartment in the city. He made sure to drive extra carefully as he felt Kiara's grip loosened when they were about halfway there. He parked his bike on the side of the street before glancing back at the woman behind him, confirming his suspicions as Kiara barely had enough energy to open her eyes. She used most of her energy to stay up on the ride there.

He didn't even bother asking if she could walk. He crouched down to the ground, encouraging Kiara to hop on. She did so happily, allowing him to carry her upstairs to his apartment. He put her in his bed, tucking her in before taking the space on the couch.

↣ next :: previous :: series m.list ↢

[toastthewolfie]

finally finished Reagan’ information

template from @olibird :D

Dont have much art of her yet D: art is not arting 😔😔😔😔

info under the cut bc i have a lot more for her backstory initially :D

Name: Reagan Monroe

Aliases: Vulcan

Nationality: American          Ethnicity: African-American

Age: 32             DoB: 5/25/1992 (M/D/Y)

Pronouns: She/Her      Gender: Cis Female            Sex: Female

Sexuality: Lesbian

Height: 5’9

Languages: English, ASL, Spanish

Which CoD Universe: the Modern Warfare Reboot timeline

Branches of Service: N/A

Affiliation:  Shadow Company (Current), Augusta Fire Department (Former)

Specialties: Medical Treatment (Paramedic Training), Identifying stable/unstable buildings, Swimming, Navigating hazardous buildings

Personality: Kind and patient, very mother-hen like most times. Does have some anger issues but they rarely surface.

Backstory: 

Reagan always wanted to be a athlete, so most of her younger years were spent swimming, she neglected her academics purely for her dream and she almost had it, only for her to fail at the exact moment she needed to succeed.

At the age of 25 she met her girlfriend, Ophelia and 3 years later they adopted their son, Jace.

Around this point, she didn’t have good enough grades to get into any good college, so she went into firefighting and she loved it, however, her first captain was injured in the line of duty and was forced into retirement due to it when she was around 30. This new captain wasn’t a good person, often opting to cut corners if she deemed something ‘unnecessary’ and was just generally an ass.

Reagan tried her best to deal with it but eventually it all came to a head when this captain nearly got her and her entire team killed. It was purely accidental and out of control but Reagan was already on her last straw which ended up leading to Reagan beating them up. It was bad enough that the police offered to allow the captain to press charges but she decided that she wouldn’t press charges if Reagan left and to prevent her family from going through agony due to a court case, she left.

About a year later, Reagan ran into a few shadows and Graves where they got talking, eventually in ended in Reagan joining S.C. (after extensive discussion with her girlfriend) as a medic.

Issues: She has a few anger issues (and holds grudges) but she’s working through them so they aren’t very prevalent, she also has the self preservation the size of a pea, she’s not destructive, it’s just how she’s grown as a person. Also she still does *not* get military norms, she gets the terms and codes but it’s the environment that confuses her.

Habits: Tends to keep a heavy jacket that can double as a blanket (if needed) on her person. It’s mostly for if someone falls asleep around her. Also she tends to silently catalogue people and their likes/dislikes.

Scars: She has a few scratches on her legs but she has a fairly large scar that runs up her neck and down her shoulder.

Preferred method of showing care/affection/love language: Acts of Service and Quality Time. She likes doing things for people and spending time with them :)

Preferred way of receiving care/affection: Physical Contact and Quality Time. She’s not very tactile but she loves it, same with quality time.

Eye Color: blue

Hair description: curly, it’s shaved down to the scalp on one side and really fluffy on the other side.

Clothing description:

Tactical is TBA

Casual is usually just a white t-shirt, black pants, and combat boots.

Body description: Well built, she’s a larger person but has a lot of muscle.

Favorite Activities: She loves hanging around people, even if theres no talking, she loves just being in the presence of other people while listening to a podcast or reading or something.

Blood Type: B-

Favorite color: Pink

Favorite animal: Seals

Favorite food/Dessert: Soup, pretty much any type of it.

Other Fun Facts:

Reagan takes as much time off as possible without affecting anyone so she can spend time with her son, who’s currently around 8 years old.

She’s very used to being a victim of violence, like, she could get hit in the head with a bottle and just be like: “ok wow let’s sit down and try to calm down, yeah?” (She’s seen some shit 😭🙏🙏)

She’s actively in therapy, so she’s working through her issues (yipeee she’s not emotionally constipateddddd)

If she had the chance, she probably would leave shadow company to be a firefighter at her old station again. She loves shadow company, but the longer she stays, the more she worries about what would happen if she died.

She has two foxes tattooed on the right side of her ribcage. The larger one represents Ophelia and the smaller one represents Jace 

[midnight1404]

For the ask game! Taliya🍼🍨🌹🍒🌶️🧅🏵️🥞🍹🍰🍏🥒🥦🌲🍾🍃🌱🌸💮🌷🍧🍇 🍩🎂🥔

Tw: references to different types of child abuse.

🍼 What's your OC's first memory?

Taliya just have fragments from that moment but she remembers one time she was held by her Daddy when she was only maybe some months or a year old. She doesn't remember where they were or if they were alone but she still remembering the feel of his calloused hand playing softly with her yet naked kuru while she was inmobile in his armd, not doing tsaheylu but yes teasing the pink tendrils to make them dance in the air, stare completely lost in them, only stopping when Papa screamed.

🍨How does your OC compose themselves in stressful situations?

Well, Taliya yet in The Offspring is very young so she still keeping the charateristic emotion explosion that kids often have to things that they cant understand or doesnt have the emotional tools to process stress but as consequence of the enviroment she's growing (constant loneliness and isolation, scolds or punishment for being "over emotional", just having a place where she can comfortably cry (Lo'ak) and adults that are unpredictable) she is developing the Jake Sully's clasic tactic, supress her emotions the best she can and do like nothing bad is happening until it exploits in her face :D.

🌹 Does your OC believe in true love? Why?

At this point of her life and in the future, and the reasons are not so different, but yes the way of love.

Kid!Taliya learned all her beliefs about love from Daddy (Papá never liked talk so much about that topic), and he always told her about how the most unconditional love she would ever have would be within her family, how all apple falls close the tree and everyone always will end going back to their roots like it or not. In his worst times, Rjake would say to her that love have to be earned, in the best ones, he just would say that nothing would be capable of separate them. While Lo'ak would just say even the years pass is "Loving you is what saved me."

I can't explain a lot of details bc it would a lot of spoilers for the second part of the "I'm you and you're me" series but Taliya passing time along with Vaykay and learning about her is enough to make her understand that love is the real reason why she exists in first place and why she's still alive.

🍒 Who's your OC's perfect companion?

This is hard one bc this silly girl has more of one companion but i will go for maybe his main companion in The Offspring that will be Walker, the science nerd that is an Grace's fan in secret (or that is what he thinks) but also is a little bit out of his mimd when he gets to excited about his projects, forgetting sometimes about ethics in his work.

The crazy antisocial doctor and her little (not so little taking account she's a navi) assistant💙.

🌶️ Who would your OC declare their sworn enemy if they could meet them?

Quaritch. There is not other answer. As grandaughter like Grandmother, Quaritch is that bitch in their lives that also shares the same feeling. (Rjake gets a free pass bc daddy issues and trauma bonding)

🧅 What is surefire to make your OC cry? Who knows this information?

Separate her from Lo'ak permantenly or leave her in a dark silent room alone for hours. The former one is basically known by everyone who knows her, is easy to guess how Lo'ak is everything she takes for granted and safe in her little world, the only person that would not abruptly change of humour or stop of love her if she does something wrong while the latter is basically one of the extreme punisments Rjake does to her when she doesnt behave or is a bad girl, sometimes locking her in a closet or bathroom until he thinks she learned the lesson. (Bc he is insane and a militar Dad)

🏵️ What flower symbolises your OC best and why? What does the flower mean in floriography?

Sunflowers, because they reminds me to the sun and Taliya loves the sun (and she's sunlight also tbh)

I had to search in Google but sunflowers mean loyalty, happiness, longevity and good fortune :3

🥞 What's the most your OC can eat in one sitting? At what point do they get sick?

Potatoes, she loves potatoes but especially fries, tho sadly, she has a picky stomach and if she eats more of one plate her belly starts to ache like hell xd

🍹 If your OC could go anywhere, where would be?

In The Offspring!universe she would enjoy be anywhere but in the Rda intallations where she can feel the grass but in an Earth!au her kid version would love to visit japan (i hc she would be one of the kids obsessed with pokemon causing her to have her anime phase xd) but teen!Taliya thinks often in Argentina thanks to Spider's (and her creator) influence.

🍰 How does your OC changes as you get to know them?

Pretty much tbh, especially im her way of handle problems and how she acts with the people around her (especially adults) and she does along the war increases in speed and cruelty and she is forced to deal with it in the less delicate way (if there is a delicate way in war tbf), more forced to deal with the most uncomfortable familiar meetings in ever exist, and get used to be a therapist for the old murderous women in her life :3

🍏 How do they differ from the norm and how they are punished for it?

To be fair with her, is not so difficult differ from the norm when the norm is something so strict like be the perfect doll-daughter growing in a military base with an human identity that is built in half-truths and straight lies. I think they differ the most for her curiosity, and her instinct to know things and be smart than the rest, something put her in bad situations with her Dad due to be dishonest with him and Uncle Q's presence just make the tension worse.

Well, the punishment i think already said it in the 🧅 ask but the punishment is basically psicology torture like that or sometimes when Rjake is in an serius agressive-religious mode is made her kneel in front of a closet or wall and made her pray as he uses his belt as whip on her legs, asscheeks or back.

🥒 How innocent are they?

In this part of her life, very much or atleast her incapacity of process heavy information as a six year old without hurt her makes her very naive to her current situation, like she sees what is happening atp but her brain cant give her the right answer yet.

🥦 What do they hate about their species?

She is very confused what species she belongs to at this moment and the thing doesnt get better in the future neither but for now we can day she thinks herself as human/avatar.

She hates how cold they are, she hates how mean they can be with her or the animals subjects in the clonation laboratory. She hates how they dont take her seriously or careabout her at all for be a kid. She learned an specific hate to nurses, alway injecting her hormones to help with her growing problems without caring if she feels pain or not, she hates how they dont like her company, she hates they way they look at her.

🌲What does your OC's dream treehouse looks like? What tree is built upon?

Tbh, her dream treehouse is basically one that could grown from a fallen Samson and make with it a little room where there is something known for her as part of home (the metal, the technology from the Samson) but also something that fascinantes her deeply (a big green tree with it's flowers and mud)

🍾 How does your OC celebrates special occasions? With whom?

It all depends of Daddy, Uncles and Aunts and if they feel with the mood to celebrate a human holiday or birthday (yes almost always).

Excepting from her birthday (where they mostly are her parents+spider if Q lets him in a short little celebration with a white cake fill of dulce de leche but there are always gifts from all the squad(rjake forced them)), the majority of time she is not allowed being part of thr celebration, being locked in her shared room with Papa to watch her favorites cartoons (How to train your dragon, Spirit, Arnold, etc) until she falls asleep. Papa always seems with problems to walk the next morning.

🍃 What's the darkest period of time that your OC has been gone trough?

Offspring!Spoilers.

No matter in what way happened the separation from Lo'ak or Rjake (by death or distance) and the RDA will be always the hardest for her. Not only bc they are the only thing she knows, but also when she is out of the RDA and is forced to see everything she knew being dragged to the ground and show her what is happening around and outside her and is too much, overwhelming, lonely and scary as fuck from someone that young, especially realizing with time as she has other paternal/maternal figures how wrong were the things there plus that she is now safe but Papá and Spider still there and the image of rjake falling and falling but her love for him still there with just a drops of poison mixed there.

🌱 What news loves/hates is your OC discovering?

She will start to hate obey orders and love science, especially biology (100% Walker's fault but rjake is delighted with it bc it reminds him to Tommy so there are not complaints)

🌸Does your OC believe in legends/myths?

Yes, she completely does, and it will show a lot in her interactions with Vaykay, who instead of give her information about Jake will only say Navi/tupani lore on purpose xd

💮Has your OC ever kissed someone? Who, where and when?

She does at her 15-18, i didnt decided with who yet but So'lek and Teylan are the strongest options, in the western front resistance and at the moment she asks to them to be their mate (I know is so cliche but i need to give my sweet girl her happy ending somehow xd)

🌷What is your OC's favorite flower and colour?

As she said in the offspring's introduction, she doesnt know what flowers are TuT but her favorite colour will always be red.

🍧 What's your OC favorite flavour of edible thing?

Watermelon 100%🍉 she loves everything with that flavour even if Daddy says she has bad taste.

🍇What's the circle of people like? What dynamic they would be called?

In The Offspring her circle are basically the recoms so they dynamic is literally: Pretty trophy high price doll that is also a daughter-Pupeteer(daddy) and first-class viewers of the show.

I cant say a lot of the next circle of ppl she would be part of but is mostly: group of freaks and traumatized people and kids (in a way this is just sully's description but these are not the sully who im refering to this time xd)

🍩What is your OC's biggest flaw? Do they deal with it?

Big spoilers!!

She with time developes due to rjake's suicide to save her+the adults around her using her as the voice of reason of their problems+daddy issues the trait of "I can fix him/her" not matter who, she will try of help them to open themselves and often she ends having some feelings for that people even if they never change for better.

She is not dealing with it, rather, her attraction to So'lek and Teylan is heavily related and influenced to this flaw xd.

🎂How does your OC celebrates her birthday? With who, and where?

Spoilers maybe!! And also insane amount of fluff sorry xd

Post her six years, she starts to celebrate them with the Tupani and in the first birthday with them, since they were aware of she feeling lost, unwelcome, alone, underserved of be there (basically, guilt and depression), the tupani instead of made a small celebration during dinner along give the gift they normally do. They asked for help to Walker (you will know later why he is also there) of how birthdays are made by the sky ppl.

So, the night of her seventh birthday she had a little cake of mud made by the other village's kids (obviously the adults dont let them eat it even if they tried) as they tried to sing her in an awful english accent the fucking birthday's song. And more of one handmade gift (her favorites were Vaykay's obsidian knife and Walker's Pandora's plants encyclopledia by Grace Augustine).

🥔 What do they have others see as a flaw, but they don't care about?

Spoilers!

Her extreme kindness to anyone and how she decided to forgives Rjake for everything he did just because she still loves him for be her father even if she also hates him for the damage she and her Papa still living with years after his death. But she cant help it either, her Dad is a ghost about what could have been if rjake decided to live and change for her. She thinks he is a cowrd for kill himself, evade responsability, evade the pain, but she also loves him bc even if he chose the easy way of end the things on purpose, he did it for her.

(Im not saying sucide is for cowards or something like that, but Taliya talks about it bc rjake killed himself bc he preffered death that admit he was wrong but also he didnt want be the cause of his daughter's death)

[the-paris-of-people]

Real interesting that Taylor Swift broke up with Matty Healy and finally spoke out against anti-LGBTQ+ legislation after a press tour to cover her actions and on the heels of promoting Speak Now TV.....

[medievalcat]

I was going to joke that I always think its funny when people are like "Angelina wouldn't want Hoffman to kill any people ever :(" bc like how do we know that, we unfortunately barely know anything about her but also why would she care if someone like Ivan or the abusive guy at the school died, or yknow the guy who literally killed her, fuck knows none of us do lol. BUT it got me thinking about how...kind of the point of her inclusion in the story is a commentary on society and the legal system's endemic violence against women. Women are killed by partners so much that people just don't even think about it and the law often does nothing at all or enables it or is a part of it. Angelina's death in the story is essentially considered a minor crime that her killer pretty much gets away with legally. Seth Baxter when in his trap even claims he accidentally killed her, a classic tactic used by many men who actually do murder their wives and girlfriends. Angelina was considered an acceptable loss, a forgettable statistic, even before she was killed. She was only in the headlines because she was related to a local detective. The law was never on her side.

In retrospect, when we learn about all this, the horror of Saw IV isn't simply "wait the detective was the killer all along!" Because we see that the trafficker is known to be exploiting young girls- but that these young girls are not evidently considered a priority to help by the law (the fact that the trafficker is a woman doesn't "disprove" that what she did is violence against women). We see that the rapist operates in a motel where there are undoubtedly many witnesses who clearly have not done anything to stop him or to help his victims. We see that the wife-beating child abuser is accosted by Rigg and Hoffman but the abuser's word is backed up and he is protected, and that even the abuser's wife, a victim herself, is too afraid to do anything but support him even though he is hurting a child- reflecting how many women are silent because they know they will not believed. The horror is that with the way the legal system works Hoffman can do more to help abused women as a serial killer than he ever did as a detective.

But then, of course, Hoffman wouldn't have been the serial killer he became if he hadn't been a detective first, and the fact that he was a detective was something utilized by him and John in their endeavors. And even if he saved lives of vulnerable women and girls like his sister by getting rid of Seth Baxter and those people in IV, he still helped John do the same thing those people did to other women- and then did the same thing on his own. With these similar systems, there are similar results. We remember John sent Addison to her torture and death for being a sex worker, with Hoffman's help, further comparing and illuminating the similarities between John's work and the legal system. We see that Hoffman's resentment of Amanda (based in her similarities to Angelina, even their names point this out) that led to him orchestrating her death may have been met with disapproval by John, but was ultimately enabled by his actions, because John thought further torturing Amanda for her trauma, addiction, and self harm was not only correct but helpful. Maybe Hoffman thought he really was "helping" Sidney by putting her in the trap that enabled her to kill her abusive boyfriend, maybe he really did think this was a way of doing what he couldn't do for his sister. But ultimately, if he did help anyone, he did much more harm. Ultimately, Amanda was right. It's all bullshit- the Jigsaw ideology doesn't "save" anyone, just perpetuates the cycle.

[kooktrash]

hi :D ty for doing spooky requests.

can i request something like: witch!reader x jungkook.

reader is very obsesses with jungkook.

but jungkook is s1 else’s boyfriend. and that s1 is s1 reader wouldn’t want to mess with. (you can ignore this btw)

but still reader couldn’t let go of her little crush on jk. (she would if she could). so reader decided to just admire/watching him from afar silently instead.

and everyday reader would sitting on the tallest branch of tree and watching jungkook doing his works silently. example: shirtless!jungkook chopping off woods. 😏 (they’re living in the wood)

you can decide the ending for them.

i hope u have a good day! 🫶

I’m gonna do it as a list cuzzzz why not. also I wasn’t sure which route to take so I just did a little fluff???? it COULDVE been more yandere but listen 😭 it just ended up being fluff

little witch | jeon jungkook drabble

okay but think about small village in the woods au where Jungkook is like the town’s golden child. he’s nice, good looking, helpful… the list literally goes on

it’s no surprise that you fell for him early on, since you were a child. he was just so sweet and his smile was gorgeous and his voice so melodic. everyone had a crush on him but you definitely took it too far. it wasn’t your fault that he was so unapproachable that you had to admire from afar.

sure, he was always nice when he’d see you somewhere in the small farmer’s market filling your woven baskets with goods. he always said hello when the two of you would find yourselves walking in the same direction

he’s only unapproachable because of her. Her who has been Jungkook’s closest friend for a long time, always trailing after him, always latching on his arm. probably the one started the rumors that they would wed.

still, you couldn’t stop your little crush on him. you just had to keep your distance considering she had no problem confronting anybody who got too close to him. like today; you’ve managed to keep good distance from him. you haven’t seen her but maybe that’s bc you’ve been hiding in a tree

your spying tactics have def escalated lately, more bizarre since you’ve been avoiding seeing him in the market. and the look today was amazing. a shirtless Jungkook cutting lumber in what he could call his backyard. in reality it was just a neck in the woods only a few yards away from his cabin and yours too

you had only been watching him for thirty minutes but you swear you’re not a creep. you were doing a little sketch and it just so happened to be about him. you had just finished adding shade to his backside when you heard her voice.

“Jungkookie! Why don’t you take a break? I’ve just picked some fresh strawberries.”

well that just ruined your day. if she catches you up here she’ll just tease you about something and embarras you

crazy enough, this was not the first time you’ve hidden somewhere to watch him. sometimes you’d be around a corner in the market watching him take lumber to some of the elders who couldn’t cut any. sometimes he’d offer bread to a stray child or show them magic tricks like a coin behind the ear

unlike you he was praised for everything he did. you were merely called a witch even tho you didn’t think you were. nobody trusted you or wanted to be around you so you didn’t have friends. the only nice one had been Jungkook

handsome and kind and unavailable jungkook who knocked on your cabin one stormy night much to your dismay. he was drenched in rain clutching something under his wool

“Y/n, sorry to disturb you I know it’s late but I need your help”

you hadn’t even known what to say, he had never come to you door, you had no clue he knew you lived next to him

you didn’t say anything caught completely off guard. even in rain he looked good, still kind and pretty smile. you moved to the side letting him in and suddenly all the hanging herbs and spices in jars seemed ridiculous. the black cat sleeping on a book and the cauldron tucked away in the fireplace seemed bizarre.

he was nervous too mostly bc you were so quiet. “so… i heard you can help with injuries? i accidentally hurt myself earlier and—“ he lifted his shirt, a gash down his torso not deep but long

you bit your lip, well this was an excuse to stare. but still. you had a feeling any second she would barge in here and tell him you’re a freak. you left him for a second going to the kitchen opening up a jar. his nose scrunched at the smell but he tried not to say anything

“w-whats that?” he couldn’t help but ask when you crushed some dried berries and mixed it with what was in the jar. it was a dark green color, “swamp mud, helps with scratches”

“s-swamp mud?” he asked before wincing arrival the first cold touch of the paste. his muscles tensed like the skin around the cut was burning but you told him to leave it on for a few more minutes

he’s always known you. a sweet and shy person who kept to themselves and often times he found himself wanting to greet you. just let you know that you could always talk to him but you never do.

of course she always tries to tell him you’re a witch and a freak but he doesn’t believe it to bad. if she knew he came tonight she’d be missed but it was his decision. he knew if anyone could do something about the gash it was you, a healer

he watched you back away from him, tucking yourself into the window seat as the rain hit the windows harshly. the black cat coming by to curl around his foot while he felt embarrassing bare in front of you. you just seemed so innocent and gentle, he felt bad for the way the town treated you.

“what’s her name?” he asked about the cat. “salem and they go by he”

he smiled a little, the cat goes by he. before he could ask another question you were leaving to the kitchen again. a bucket of water and a rag in your hands as you pulled a stool in front of him

at this proximity he was able to get a good look at you. he hadn’t known minutes passed instead of seconds. he sees you sometimes in the market but you always keep your distance. usually he’s the one who has to stop with a hello and even then you don’t always talk. whenever he’s with her you don’t even look his way but in truth nobody does. why? he’s not sure but every now and then when he catches you in the woods smiling down at a bunny or bird it makes him smile. she always tries to tell him you’re a freak and stalker but he doesn’t believe that.

“does it hurt?” “huh?” “the cut” “oh, uh a little?”

actually not at all but he didn’t think when he responded. “alright, we’ll give it another minute or two.” he nodded wondering why he said it still hurt but he pushed the thought aside. instead he thought about your soft scent of rosemary and elderberry. up close he can tell you’re very pretty. well, he always thought you were pretty but right now it was different. he used to think you were cute with the shy smiles and soft voice but up close he can tell you’re just naturally pretty

she always tell him you’re obsessed with him. that you’re a freak who watches him in the woods. you’re just a loser with no friends. but he never listens, he has seen you in the woods before sketching in some book but he thinks it’s sweet. anytime he’d be cutting lumber and he’d catch you up on some tree branch sketching away he wouldn’t say anything. he didn’t want to scare you away but he always wondered what it is you sketched

after some time you didn’t ask him again if it hurt but if you would have he would’ve lied again. instead you dipped the rag into the warm water and began to wash away the dried paste. he prepared himself for the pain but there was none so instead he watched you

“there.” “what?” “it’s healed.” “oh” why was he disappointed? you left him to go back to the kitchen and as he looked down the gash had turned into scarred tissue but healed. you came back out with a little jar of the paste, “put this on before bed and soon the scar will fade.”

you sent him on his way before he could even say thank you and he was back in the rain with a jar in hand

the next time you saw him it was in the woods again. you were down by the swamp collecting more mud, unaware of Jungkook passing by with her. he stopped the second he found you crouched down on the floor, the end of your dressed costed in dirt and grass. she pulled in his arm, “let’s go to the market for some bread. hurry before y/n sees u—“

“y/n!” he left her there cutting through the meadow to the thicker marsh side. you looked up seeing him there before looking behind him where she stood glaring. immediately you got up turning to leave before she confronted you about Jungkook talking to you

he visibly frowned watching you walk away. “Jungkook just leave the witch alone. she’s a fre—Jungkook!” and he’s running after you calling your name but he couldn’t find you anymore. hw turned to her, “don’t talk about y/n like that anymore. she is sweet and kind”

you stayed in your cabin for a couple days. just enough time for Jungkook and her to stop looking for you. the other day by the swamp he probably told her how you helped him and was ready to chew you out for it. so you avoided them both. you haven’t even gone to watch him cut lumber but it was for the better. your obsession with him would turn into something more and you can’t dream about something you can’t have.

Jungkook knew your shy nature though and even if he didn’t see you out of the cabin in a couple days he had a feeling it had something to do with his friend. you must’ve heard her call you mean names and it scared you of. he didn’t want to scare you off. he wanted the opposite actually. so what did he do? he went out into the meadow where he could pick some herbs out for you. he had a feeling you weren’t into flowers or sweets so maybe he could try and coax you with things he knows you’ll like

so what happened? little jars of spices, rosemary, thyme, lavender, even that healing swamp mud, all packed nicely for you. set in front of your door everyday with the little notes here and there

it was ironic actually. you used to watch and obsess over him and now he’s the one watching and obsessing over you. making sure to be as loud and obvious as possible when he passed by your cabin or in the market he’d follow after you. he’d cut more lumber than necessary as an excuse to drop it off at people’s doorsteps, making sure to knock when he got to yours. the kind little witch who used to obsess over him was now his own growing obsession.

[oh-no-its-bird]

SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP I LEFT AND WHEN I CAME BACK THIS POST HAD RECIEVED SO MANY REALLY FUCKING GOOD REPLIES AND ADITIONS I AM STARING BLANKLY AT THEM ALL BEFORE SPONTANIOUSLY EXPLODING

No bc literally everything u just said is so good what the fuck. I was picturing this as totally doable as a longer one shot but ough the additions of god of medicine Hashirama and god of war Touka and branch gods Butsama and unnamed wife,,,,,,,, suddenly it is spiraling into smthn so much longer as I just. Picture those little bits of the story. Ur actually SO genius for thinking of that Im taking that and running for the fucking hills

Idk if Id commit but I am for some reason picturing Hashirama finding out ab the box and sending Madara a letter and, well, yk that one sonic snapcube audio thats just eggman yelling "WHY ARE YOU CALLING SONIC ON OUR EVIL PHONE LINE. YOU CANT BE DOING THAT. STOP CALLING SONIC ON OUR PHONE LINE." Thats just Tobirama yelling at Hashirama ab stealing his pen pall

Actually note to self to draw that later in general bc thats really fucking funny

BUT LIKE GOD OF WAR TOUKA TAKING LIKE. ANCIENT AND MODERN WARFARE TACTICS CLASSES AS PART OF HER DEGREE / AS A FUN CLASS IN COLLEGE. PERFECT PERSON TO CONSULT. AND HASHIRAMA GOD OF MEDICINE BC HE WORKS AT A HOSPITAL. JUST. SO GOOD. IM SHAKING U.

Also the sort of outsider POV of Madara just retreating into his room and emerging some time later with a ton of food reminds me of the old brothers grim fairy tales Id used to read, I can not lie. Like it giving a mix of one of those call and response "please I need food -- the next day they woke up besides all the food they could ever need" fairytales but also one of those "a woman is told not to see her husbands sleeping face or smthn bad will happen" tales where so long as the woman never sneaks a peek, her life is magical-- but the second she looks to satisfy her own curiosity, she is punished for her hubris and loses it all

From an outsider POV Madara totally looks super fantastical here, Im sure the story is passed down for generations to come and maybe even turned into a fairytale of its own

"A great general faces his end, his troops starving and his walls besieged. "General, please, the men are starving!" says his second. The General hums, and retreats into his room to think. Half a candle later, he emerges with barrels of rice and water to cook enough porridge to feed the entire army. "General, where did you get this?" Gasps his second, but the general only shakes his head. "Do not ask, or our good fortune may meet its end!" But it is not long before again, the generals second is crying out. "General, please, the enemy are knocking at our door!" The general hums, and retreats into his room. Half a candle later, he emerges with detailed plans to counter the enemy, numbers of their troops, and enough arrows to man every archerer they had. "General, how in the world did you get this?" Gasps his second, but again, the general only shakes his head. "Do not ask, or our good fortune may meet its end!" The battle won, the generals second came to the general once again. "General, please, our men are all wounded and dying!" The general hums, and retreats into his room. Half a candle later, he emerges with strange medicine, and instructions to follow that save every last man. "Well, are you not going to ask me where I got this from?" the general demanded when this time, his second remained silent. "Of course not general! I don't want our good fortune to end!"

^ anyways something like that being passed down as a fairytale that seems to suddenly pop up out of nowhere for Tobirama to find in his research as he helps Madara

(Izuna was totally his second but Im definitely picturing Hikaku as the second mentioned in the story)

I was kind of set on a sad "and then they never meet" ending but @thybirbman's addition convinced me and I am now picturing like, the letters slowly stop as time seems to speed up on Madara's end, or maybe the chest breaks after Tobirama's 'duty as a god' is done or whatever

And so at this point, history has been changing before Tobirama's very eyes (being aware of the chests power somehow allows him to remember how things used to be) and now the Uchiha still exist as this successful clan turned business family-- including one Madara Uchiha, named after his ancestor (along with his brother Izuna and cousin Hikaku, also coincidentally named for long dead, important Uchiha. What a funny coincidence.)

And some months after the letters stopped, Tobirama manages to bump into this modern age Madara.

Tobirama is struck by Madara's strikingly familiar appearance to the rare portraits he'd seen of his Madara, and Madara is struck by this strange pull he seems to feel towards the seemingly random man. Neither of them know that this Madara is the reincarnation of that Madara, but they don't need to know that to fall in love all over again

The end <3

I have a feeewww more thoughts but I can physically feel myself loosing focus w every paragraph so Ill leave it here for now

Fic based off of the cdrama 'she is a god: love with an ancient general'

Where modern AU Tobirama inherits some ancient chest that acts as a little time travel mail box to the ancient warlord Uchiha Madara, who is only days from death where he and his army are trapped inside the walls of their own city.

After Madara dumps some bloodied bandages into the chest, it is transported to Tobirama's time, shooting out the top. Tobirama replies by trying to wash the pot out— only for the water to seemingly go nowhere, and a correspondence begins.

Madara mistakes Tobirama for a god, and Tobirama attempts to help Madara win the war from his side of the timeline by sending food, weapons, and hints of what may be yet to come as he studies the few crumbs of Madara's history that remain today— which becomes more complex as Tobirama sees history change in real time, corresponding with each new battle won and day lived where Madara should have died.

The fic ends w them never meeting but Tobirama going to a museum where he finds statues of both his and Madara's likeness (his own borrowed from a photo he sent upon Madara's request)

Madara is recorded in history as an incredibly devout man who never took any spouse and was for all intense and purposes recorded as terribly in love with the god he worshipped

[marshmallsy]

the things from The Batman (2022) that made me go fucking ballistic in theatres

a long, long, long rant bc i can’t stop thinking about this movie that feels like it was made SPECIFICALLY for me. spoilers under the cut of course!

the entire intro sequence with the monologue that felt like it was lifted straight out of the comics. the perfect visual representation of the batman being the shadows, the way seeing his emblem in the sky is enough for bad guys all across gotham to get scared and think twice, think they see batman in every dark hallway. like it literally felt like the live action embodiment of THIS:

the little details like how the new initiate in the gang (SHOUTOUT TO TIM DRAKE’S ACTOR IN THE TITANS SHOW I GUESS) only has half the face paint, both to distinguish him from the others as perhaps not a full member of the gang just yet but also to show his humanity that the others have covered up. 

also the fact that this batman hasn’t established himself yet, so the people he saves are still terrified he might hurt him, and all the cops distrust him and think he’s involved in crimes too.

i’ve been gushing about this forever but FINALLY we get a good depiction of gotham since, like, batman returns. the city is just as much a character in the batman mythos as anyone else and portraying it as just another generic metropolis will always be such a missed opportunity. so much loving detail was put into this movie, from the rich wood and wallpaper of victorian-styled old money mansions, to the graffiti-covered subways, to the cobblestone streets mixed with Times Square-esque billboards. the moody atmosphere perfectly merges the neon gothic city architecture with bruce’s absolutely batshit looking genuinely gothic manor in a way where it all makes sense.

also, my absolute favourite small detail is the fact that all the downpours and rain makes sense. like yes, it helps make gotham feel moody and noir with all the umbrellas and hazy neon signs and all that, but it also means that the flooding in the climax doesn’t come out of nowhere. we just watched like 2 and a half hours of scenes in the rain, of course the riddler could so easily flood the city.

rpatt just KILLED it as batman. i love the nolan trilogy as much as the next batman fan, but christain bale’s batman felt composed and collected right from the start. he had shit basically planned out the moment he got back to gotham, and he figured out his gear and his tactics pretty quick. rpatt’s batman isn’t like that. he doesn’t get everything perfect, he makes mistakes that ends up with bad guys getting a hit in, half of his fights feel like he’s just letting his anger take over and force him through the pain. he’s clearly so much angrier and traumatized, he’s emotionally withdrawn and disconnected from everybody, and the way he’s just such a silent batman works so well in showing just how intimidating and off-putting he is to everyone. and it’s GOOD! the scene where he’s finally showing vulnerability to alfred is so poignant and bruce can’t even look at alfred as he says it, it felt so raw and real to me!

speaking of batman being silent, i looooved that first scene where gordon takes him to the crime scene. the way he’s putting together all the evidence on his own without saying a word, but he does it so slowly and deliberately that forensics eventually start following him so they can take pictures of the right clues. like, yeah he’ll help them out, but fuck you if you think he’s gonna sherlock-style spell it out for you.

honestly i don’t think i even have to say too much about zoe as selina kyle, she OBVIOUSLY was incredible. she channeled year one comic!selina perfectly and her origin story here felt so grounded while also leaving enough room for her to become the antihero thief we all know and love.

paul dano as the riddler was great too! i’ll always have a soft spot in my heart for cory michael smith’s absolutely perfect campy egomaniacal riddler from the gotham tv series (JUST LET HIM WEAR THE STUPID GREEN SUITS AND BE FRUITY), but this version of the riddler as a completely unstable zodiac killer was great as this more detective-like batman’s first rogue’s gallery enemy and imo still leaves enough room for the riddler persona to evolve further. this was also an origin story of sorts for him too, after all. 

(and to quote barry keoghan’s cameo ((who was gonna fuckin tell me they got druig from the eternals to sneak in a lil joker moment??? i nearly screamed in the theatre??!!)) everyone loves a comeback story.) 

also they got the point of batman. they UNDERSTOOD THE ASSIGNMENT. batman’s quest for vengeance did teach bad guys fear, but it also served to inspire dangerous ppl on their own quests for vengeance. the way he was going only continued the cycle of violence in gotham. when he falls into the water it felt almost like a biblical death, and when he re-emerges he becomes a hero, a literal light guiding the most thematically important gothamites (a little boy who obviously reminds him of himself and an honest leader who’s genuinely trying to change gotham for the better) to safety. they so beautifully demonstrated his growth as a person, and seeing him in full daylight helping civilians evacuate and seeing them put their trust in him for the first time was so fucking moving, and that’s always the best version of batman anyone can create.

[eldritch-spouse]

we've briefly discussed breg + pets but uhhhh.......

my dog is mixed catahoula and is VERY on site with p much anyone whos on my property, even with extensive socializing-- like shes howling and barking and raising her hackles. ofc, she can bond with other people, but i have to be present or someone shes known since she was a puppy >.>

if reader had a dog like this, how do u think he'd work around it? bc early on, he primarily watched them at night, right?

murdering the dog is unacceptable. btw.

Breg would not kill your pets, even if they despised him.

Breg can be very silent when he wants to be. I'm pretty sure that, the first time he breaks in, he's not as careful as he should be and alerts your dog probably instantly. Since you said she's very vocal, I think he would get cold feet immediately and run off. The next time he attempts this, the breeder is going to rely on crawling silently and sticking to the shadows. His scent may give his location away regardless, it's a matter of testing, which is what he's doing. Breg needs to find out how attentive your pet is, what he can and can't get away with.

If you have a window/yard or even balcony which your dog can access, Breg's first plan of action is to lure your pet over, with treats. Every animal likes food, he's sure he can win your dog over with the right type of treat, eventually. The fact that he's a nervous wreck definitely makes it harder, since your dog, who likes to socialize apparently, probably picks up on it and vocalizes some form of disapproval.

If this rather nice alternative is unsuccessful, Breg resorts to scare tactics and hisses or snarls at your companion until she runs away with her tail tucked between her legs. He'd rather not have to do this, as it will make bonding with said dog much harder in the future, when the two of you meet officially. This naturally achieves nothing if your dog is the brave sort and doesn't get intimidated by his size/noises.

Ultimately, if nothing else works, Breg will simply grab your pet and hand it to Fasma for babysitting while he's inside your home at night. He does this quickly enough to not let it bark/whine/whimper in your vicinity, and therefore wake you up. Fasma will definitely struggle with a dog that's about his size, but I digress. The breeder quickly deposits your dog back inside your living area when he's ready to leave. It doesn't really matter if she reacts negatively to being picked up, since a dog bite isn't enough to incapacitate him longer than a couple of seconds.

[soupserum]

THE FAEQING.... ugh now im thinking like. when hes younger or like even before they know hes a fae he has like sharper fangs and like his pupils are a little too slitted to be normal and his movements seem a little too smooth. and all of those are written off like 'oh maybe he just has foxian blood.' 'maybe its al that training he does!' or like. his face is just symmetrical enough to be Odd or his limbs are a little too long or his hair moves a little too lifelike in the wind and . i just fuck so heavy with Inhuman characters that are juust human enough to pass but not enough to go unnoticed and the angst... poor faeqing...... OMG AUNTIE FEIXIAO CAN HELP. i bet she has exsperience with being ostracized/dehumanized due to her borisin blood they can be friends this is fantastic EXACTLY her and jing yuan subtly fight over yanqing all the time. she insists he wants to go into the divination commission 'just look at how interested he is in the matrixes! im gonna give him an abacus for his birthday' 'umm actually he was very informative during the meeting he fended off the preceptors with efficiency ive only seen in centuries-lived professionals...' and yanqing is sitting there with a wooden toy sword and an ai he coded into his bracer 'i like to play with swords and metal :D' like ok yanqing you are five years old. i can just imagine his birthdays (extravagant, obviously) so many books and little like 'introduce your kid to the world of molecular biology' kits (and fu xuan literally commissioned him a mini matrix of prescience. jing yuan is looking at her all smug and she is ignoring him in favor of yanqing) she ABSOLUTELY sends yanqing after qingque. she sends yanqing after everyone actually. jing yuan doesnt but fu xuan has no qualms with it. yanqing is the only one with the proven ability to drag anyone back to work (including qingque, surprisingly. but only half the time because sometimes she successfully drags him into a game of tiles and he gets really competitive) also this is so real yq will be on call with SW and he'll be ranting and raving about this or the other and she'll just access his computer and put him in a game with her and he starts playing on autopilot its a proven tactic to make him shut up about something. he complains after but they both know he appreciates it (though silver will NEVER EVER admit she goes easy on him. kafka walks in on them callign one time and she never lets it go ever. 'soooo... how has that boy from the luofu been-' 'im going to kill you' if they befriended each other before kafka's story quest or the fight at scalegorge you best believe silver wolf is giving both kafka and blade the silent treatment for WEEKS after they get back. mainly kafka though (cuz she has her spirit whisper and didnt even need to make stelle beat up yanqing in the first place) i can imagine it leads to fantastic angst bc silver knows but yanqing doesnt (kafka made him forget) so its only a reminder of how different they are (yanqing being the beloved prodigy lieutenant and silverwolf being a wanted criminal with no real space for her beyond her other group of wanted criminals) it creates some beef id say. SW doesnt get why yanqing always chooses to see the good in people or fight to incapacitate instead of kill because she knows for a fact hes seen just as much if not more bloodshed then her and if he is choosing to be good then why cant she and what does that say about her. what can i say i just lov eangst

sneak peek of a tentative timeline for my erudition yanqing fic!! ughh ive only got like 3 chapters of the mainfic done and i need to post the prequel before i can post the mainfic & for this one im trying to get the whole fic written before starting to post, instead of like swmtbb where i write as i post. UGHH I HATE THIS KID

in case you're wondering why swmtbb updates so slow... its bc of 1. writers block and 2. this fuckign thing but i prommy its worth it i love this fic

[valwentinefics]

can you please write zemo x reader when he gets jealous bc she gives someone else her attention (fluff)

A/N: I’m not sure if I like this or not but I tried to write it a few times and this was the one I liked the most. I hope you enjoy it anon! Ty for requesting!

I cannot think of one reason why I wouldn’t love you - Zemo X F!Reader

Warnings: Description of cleaning a wound (not too detailed)

Y/n never thought Zemo considered her as more than an ally, but as she re-bandaged Sam’s bullet wound she began to rethink that. Y/n pressed the wipe against the wounded area, carefully cleaning up the blood as the Baron huffed in the background, sipping his whiskey indignantly. Y/n chose to ignore his childish act, grabbing hydrogen peroxide and putting it on a cotton ball, dabbing at the wound and receiving a wince from Sam.

“Shit that hurts.” He groaned, looking at Y/n as she worked.

“If it hurts that means it’s working.” Y/n laughed, putting the cotton ball aside and grabbing the gauze and bandage, wrapping it tightly around his arm and giving it a small kiss. “All better.”

The sound of a cup being slammed down and swift footsteps followed shortly after, causing Sam and Y/n to look at eachother with confusion. It was odd for Zemo to be acting like this. Normally he was very cool and collected, Y/n didn’t know what was going on with him. Frankly,she was worried about the man. Spending so much time with her hospitable unlikely ally made her warm up to him in an odd way, and in that same odd way she didn’t like to see him upset.

“I’m gonna see what's up with him, is there anything else you need?” Y/n asked Sam, standing up and tossing out the cotton ball and wipes she had used.

“I’ll be fine. Call for me if you need backup.” Sam smiled at Y/n, going from laying down to sitting up with a soft groan. Y/n returned his smile and headed to Zemo’s room.

Nervously Y/n approached the room at the end of the hall, hesitating as she stood in front of it. What if he wanted to be alone right now? Y/n didn’t want to intrude but she was curious as to why he had been acting so strange. With a deep breath Y/n knocked her knuckles against the dark wood door. Shuffling could be heard behind it before it swung open and she came face to face with Zemo.

“Helmut, can I come in?” Y/n asked. Despite not being too close with him, Y/n preferred to call him Helmut, it was the least she could do when he was being so hospitable to her and her friends. She didn’t hate him as much as Sam and Bucky. Although she still held a grudge against him for what he had done to her friends, she understood his motivations and sympathized with him.

“Of course Y/n.” He said, opening the door wider and stepping aside to let her in. The room was beautiful and spacious, everything someone would expect from the room of a Baron. 

She stepped into his room carefully, worried she could somehow dirty the impeccably clean area. “I was worried about you after you stormed off. What happened?” Y/n asked carefully, not wanting to upset him by asking.

Zemo inhaled sharply, looking down at the ground. It took him a few moments to respond as if he was working up the courage to say something. “I intended to say this in another way but after what happened I feel as if I should say it now. I have deep feelings for you Y/n, and seeing you tending to someone else makes me…”

“Jealous?” Y/n finished for him, receiving a scowl from Zemo.

“Y/n, I am a Baron, I do not get jealous.” He said looking away. “But about my feelings” He sighed. “Do you feel the same way? If not just say so and I will leave you alone.”

Y/n wasn’t sure what to say, but standing in front of the unusually vulnerable man in front of her made her realize something. She loved the way his voice sounded, smooth yet with a slight rough edge, his accent peaking through more when he was passionate about something. She loved the way he looked in that jacket, strong and intimidating, yet his face looked soft and kind. She loved his intelligence, his prowess in battle, his kindness to his unlikely allies and devotion to those he loved. She loved everything that made up Helmut Zemo, and so she realized she loved him.

“I think I feel the same way. But why would you have feelings for me? I go against your code by supporting Bucky!” Y/n asked, not understanding the situation. Part of her was worried this was just a manipulation tactic, his confession came out of nowhere, but there was another stronger part of her that truly believed he was genuine.

Without a pause Zemo began to speak. “You’re intelligent, strong. You stick up for what you believe in with no care if others may think badly of you but you also treat those who go against you with a respect they don’t deserve. You treated me with kindness despite what I did to your friends, and by god are you beautiful. I cannot think of one reason why I wouldn’t love you.” 

He looked at her, his brown eyes meeting her own e/c ones as his hand’s held Y/n’s gently as if she would disappear out of his grasp. Y/n realized it must have been hard for him to love again after losing so much and so she vowed silently to herself that she would never intentionally leave or harm the unusually vulnerable Baron in front of her. With the hesitation of a teenager’s first kiss Y/n leaned into him and met his lips with her own, feeling sparks throughout her body as their lips moved in sync, his arm wrapping around her waist and her hand cupping his cheek gently.

“Hey Y/n I think I fucked up my bandage-” The two split apart at Sam’s voice, seeing him standing in the hallway behind the door they forgot to close. “What the hell!”

Y/n let out a giggle at Sam’s confused face, knowing she wouldn’t let go of her newfound love despite what he or Bucky had to say.

[spacedikut]

my all ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid (criminal minds) x f!reader

summary:  “hey could i do a fic request for an x spencer? could u maybe do something with really touchstarved spencer (bc germaphobia) and him being at first too awkward to go n cuddle and then as he gains more confidence he gets much more touchy and huggy and stuff? and reader being shocked by how cuddly he is? plzplzplz? its totally ok if u dont write it but just wanted to send in the request!” 2689 words

a/n: i hope i did this justice! i love spencer reid!!!!!!!!!

masterlist

Spencer first realised how much he loves your touch after a case where he put himself directly in danger.

You ran up, flung your arms around him and pulled him against you so tightly he felt winded.

He was shocked, stunned, and everything in between, but the most important thing is that he hugged back. It felt natural, the right thing to do, and his arms felt so snug and perfect around you his heart stuttered.

You pulled back, noticed his expression, and winced despite his reciprocation, “Sorry. I just. You could’ve died, you moron. You scared me.”

All he did was give you a breathless smile and with a squeeze of his shoulders you let go, allowing him to get checked by a medic.

Spencer struggled to sleep on the jet home, plagued by the thoughts of you - you with your arms around him, how much he enjoyed how it felt.

It felt… wrong to like it as much as he did. Like, in theory, enjoying your physical touch went against his moral code – as a germaphobe, the thought of having to come into contact with anyone in any way makes him want to vomit. But, with you?

You smelt so good, even after running for God knows how long. You were so soft, yet so firm, so warm and welcoming and dear God Spencer has never wanted to touch every inch of someone so bad in his life.

The case was a rough one, so Garcia was waiting for you all with loving eyes and a pitiful smile, arms wide open for whoever may need it. Spencer instantly decides no thanks, but you swoop in and cuddle up to Garcia within seconds of seeing her.

You even place a series of kisses against her cheek, and Spencer is transported back to your hug.

If he was more like Garcia, open to any form of love as long as it’s love, would you have kissed him like that?

His pulse quickens, palms get sweaty and he has to clear his throat to bring himself back to Earth.

He can’t afford to think like that.

But your lips…

No. Paperwork? Let’s do that and not think about a colleague’s lips.

+++

You’re furious.

You told Spencer to wait for backup, to not do anything stupid or irrational and definitely do NOT go in there alone, genius!

And what did he do?

He didn’t wait for backup, did something very stupid and irrational, and definitely went in alone.

And now he’s dealing with a hefty concussion and flurry of other injuries; cuts, scratches, and bruises alike all dotted over him like he’s a connect-the-dots drawing.

The second he wakes up, you’re gonna kill him.

For the time being, you’ll gently thread your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp, and watch his chest rise and fall to ensure he’s alive and breathing.

“Mmm,” A groan, “That feels nice.”

His eyes flutter open. You lean towards the table next to him, pick up the bottle of water and the jello cup, and offer him both.

“Thanks,” He says, hoarsely.

You sit back in your chair. Spencer doesn’t take his eyes off you once. Not when he drinks the whole bottle of water, or when he cracks open the jello and inhales it with one slurp.

Your brows furrow.

“You’re banned from work until you’re fully healed.”

“I’m suspended?!” He guffaws.

“No,” You shake your head, “I’m personally telling you you’re not welcome back until you’re okay.”

“I’m okay now.”

“Do a backflip, genius.”

Spencer giggles, “I can’t do that in peak physical condition, Y/N.”

“Sounds like a cop out to me. So, again, you’re banned from work until you’re fully healed.”

He considers fighting back, but then he remembers what you were doing when he woke up, what he felt when he woke up.

He was confused and, you know, in pain, but there was this tender and soft, repetitive touch that immediately eased him. His subconscious knew it was you, in all your glory and sweetness, that had stayed with him for however long, looking after him even when he wasn’t conscious to know it.

So he just keeps staring at you, spoonful of jello in his mouth.

+++

When you get to Spencer’s place, he looks around like it’s his first time seeing it – awe and wonder painted on his face.

Everything he’s doing, everything he’s going through, you’re putting it all down to his concussion.

On the way here, he told you the whole history of car air fresheners after taking a good five seconds to get a good sniff of the cherry blossom scent you have.

“Let’s get you settled in, huh?” You say quietly, guiding Spencer to his bedroom. He walks a little like a mummy, kinda stumpy and heavy, and he flops on the bed.

You give a lopsided grin as you watch him. He’s mumbling incoherently, shuffling up to the top of his bed to fall flat on his back.

He moans.

“Alright, alright,” You placate, “Let me go… gather some things.”

You don’t know Spencer’s place all that well, so it takes you a while to find even the simplest things like a glass, a flannel, a snack. You get lost in snooping around, trying not to profile him, and the one thing you deduct is his apartment is so him. So Spencer, so lovely and comforting and a little odd.

You can’t get enough.

There’s a weak call from his bedroom: “Y/N?”

“Coming!”

He hasn’t moved an inch from where you left him. He looks so pitiful, bruised eyes and a cut right through his lip, and you almost coo at him.

“I’m not a good cook, so I thought we could order some food later.” You hand him the water and gesture for him to drink. “In the meantime, you need to rest. Mind if I borrow a book while I keep you company?”

You turn to leave, but Spencer’s voice makes you pause.

“Could you play with my hair again?”

A part of you wants to say no, like this is some overly intimate thing he’s asking, but then you remind yourself that he’s injured, which has reverted him to acting like a sleepy child.

“Please?” He looks at you with glassy eyes and he looks adorable, “Only for a little while.”

You say nothing, sliding into bed next to him. He scoots over a little to make more room for you, curling into you before your back hits the bed entirely. One hand rests above the covers, naturally placed on his arm, thumb smoothing him back and forth. The other, the one wrapped around his head, cards through his lightly tangled hair, all warm and loving.

He falls asleep instantly and, not long after, you fall asleep, too.

You both dream of eachother and wake up blushing.

+++

Spencer’s back in work within four days. You’re working a new case the second you arrive.

There’s been a shift in your dynamic and everyone’s noticed it. No one questions it, however, because they’re all aware you looked after him while he was away, and they witnessed how worried you were when you found him, but they can’t help but ogle and whisper.

They might be federal agents, but gossip is gossip and they love it.

You’ve noticed it, too, obviously. JJ tried to tease you about it, after Spencer bought you your favourite coffee and morning muffin on the way to the precinct, but you shut her down (and yourself from thinking about it too much) by reminding her you spent several days caring for him. He’s repaying you, even though you’ve told him he doesn’t need to.

Ever heard of transference, JJ?

A shiver runs through you as you look into the interrogation room. It’s not because of the suspect, though, it’s because the AC has been turned up – a tactic Hotch promises will be worth it despite your chattering teeth.

Something’s wrapped around you, suddenly, light but cosy and adds some heat to you that you need.

It’s a cardigan. Grey, much too big for you, the sleeves falling way beyond your arms and length reaching your mid-thigh. There’s a little red heart with eyes stitched on the left breast.

It’s Spencer’s.

“You’re shivering,” Spencer chastises, seemingly appearing from nowhere, “You know, when we shiver, it’s our bodies doing the opposite of sweating – it tightens the skin and shakes the muscles, a process that conserves and generates heat. We shiver to get warm. Do you not have a coat?”

“Alright, dad,” You tease, “It’s in the conference room. I wasn’t prepared for Hotch to make the unsub an icicle.”

Spencer breathes a laugh, moving closer to reach an arm around you. His other hand presses against your bicep, his grip sturdy as he vigorously rubs up and down your arms to generate heat.

Whoa.

It certainly works. You feel hot, suddenly, but not because of the cardigan or whatever the hell he’s doing, because Spencer has voluntarily touched you and is standing so close you feel like you’re on fire from the inside out. You’re sure your heart skips a beat and you stare at him in bewilderment.

He shrugs, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world, “My mom used to do that for me when I was young and got cold. I thought you’d appreciate it.”

You give a shy smile, “Yeah, I appreciate it a lot, Spence. Thanks.”

When Hotch leaves the interrogation room, he half-halts when he sees you in Spencer’s cardigan. It’s the perfect Hotch reaction, combined with the rise of an eyebrow as he walks past you to reconvene with the team.

You don’t take it off when you all walk back to the conference room, and Spencer doesn’t ask for it back.

Everyone notices. A lot of eye contact is made with many questions silently asked.

You and Spencer pretend not to notice.

+++

There’s a knock on your door at precisely 10:12pm. You check because your first instinct is if I’m about to get robbed, I’m making sure the timestamps are correct.

It’s not a robber. It’s Spencer – frazzled, wrapped up all nice and warm like a pretty present, Spencer Reid.

His nose is slightly red from the biting cold outside.

Leaning against your doorframe, you say, “Hey there,”

“Hi,” He waves.

You stare for a couple of seconds, then remember the polite thing to do is invite him in: “Come in, come in! Do you want some tea? You look cold.”

“Coffee would be great, thank you.”

You move to your kitchen, not very far from your front door, but Spencer stays put and awkwardly glances around your place. He loves it, he decides. Very you.

You notice he hasn’t moved, “Make yourself comfortable, Spence. My cat is somewhere if you want to say hi.”

He slowly moves to your couch, removing his coat, scarf and satchel as he does it. Two drinks in hand, you join him and fling your fluffy sock-clad feet onto your coffee table.

“So what can I help you with?” You ask.

Spencer takes a sip of his burning drink, “What makes you think I want something?”

“Why else would you be here? You wanna watch Grey’s Anatomy with me?”

Spencer laughs lightly. You’re right. He’s here for a reason that isn’t to watch TV that he loves to correct with you.

He’s quiet, then, and does that thing where his tongue flicks out to lightly wet his lips in nervousness.

“Something’s been going on.” He starts, ambiguously, “And it’s left me asking a lot of questions.”

Your brows furrow. It’s not like Spencer to be cryptic like this.

“Did it mean anything?” He asks, finally, turning to look at you. “Any of it?”

“Did what mean anything?”

“The.. the playing with the hair, the over-all gentleness, the cuddling.”

Your shoulders tighten up and you hope he doesn’t notice.

He does.

“Spence,” You give a fake laugh, “You were hurt and I was comforting you. Looking after you. You know, like a friend does.”

“No one else did as much as you.”

“You wanted comfort, and I’m more than happy to provide that, Spence. Everyone else was busy.”

“You took time off for me.”

You don’t have an answer for that.

You’re trying to keep the conversation light and breezy to not show your true feelings. You’re not ready for that kind of conversation, but he’s right. You used your vacation days to stay with him and care for him.. and you know you didn’t do it platonically.

“You’re my friend, Spence,” You say, voice soft.

“That’s it? That’s all it was?” He doesn’t sound angry, or hurt, maybe peeved. He won’t look you in the eyes, though.

“What else would it be?”

Spencer scoffs.

He moves away from you, hands running through his hair in exasperation when he lets out a breath.

“We cuddled, Y/N. I haven’t done that with anyone in-in years! The last person was my mother when I was ten years old!”

“That’s supposed to mean something?!”

“I-I don’t know,” He sounds exhausted, as if the complications of his emotions are taking way too much energy out of him, “But I really liked it. And I really like you.”

You look at him, then, and he’s staring back. He looks… hopeful.

“I really like you, Y/N.”

You swallow deeply.

“I tried to show you with the uh, the cardigan thing,” He scratches the back of his neck, a laugh to mock himself leaving him, “But I’ve never been good with that stuff.”

He moves closer, shifting to face you, eyes remaining locked with yours.

“Say something.” He whispers.

“I-I-“ You stutter, “Are you sure?”

“Of course I am. I’ve spent the last week thinking about it non-stop.”

“Really?” You laugh in disbelief.

“Yeah!” He gives a small smile, “I-uh.. wrote to my mom about you, too. She told me that if I’m this caught up on you, you must be special. Which you are, by the way.”

“I’m special?” You grin teasingly.

“Very special.”

There’s a moment where you think he’s going to kiss you, but instead he shyly asks, “Do you feel the same?”

You bite your lip. “I do. Really, I do. I’m just.. a little apprehensive, I guess.”

“Of what?”

“It’s stupid.”

“Nothing is stupid when it comes to you.”

God, he’s so infuriatingly sweet. You wish you could kiss him all over.

You might be able to, if all this goes well.

“I don’t want things to be weird if we don’t work out.” You admit, adding a shrug to appear casual. It’s not like you’ve worried about this since you realised you liked him.

Spencer tilts his head at you, “You’re already thinking about a breakup when we haven’t even gone on a first date?”

You giggle, which he returns with a smile, “I mean- I like you, Spence, and have for a while. I’ve thought about all outcomes.”

“All?”

You roll your eyes as he gives you a look, “Yes, all. I’d want us to work out but.. what if we don’t?”

He places a now warmed up hand on yours, “Well, we won’t know unless we try, right?” His hold tightens, “I’m willing to give it my all if you are.”

You look from your hands to his face, and decide yes, if there’s one risk you want to take in your life, it’s a risk that could possibly result in you spending the rest of your life with your favourite person on this planet.

So you nod.

“I’ll give you my all, and then some.”

He grins, “That’s quite the promise.”

You don’t reply, instead swinging your legs over his lap and leaning into his side to cuddle up to him. He reciprocates like it’s second nature, hand slipping from yours to wrap around your waist and tug you closer.

“Wanna watch Star Trek as a mini first date?” You look up at him through your eyelashes.

You really are perfect for me, Spencer thinks.

“Yes. Yes I do.”