#whether that was the intention or not that is what happened

[incognit0slut]

Crawling back to you

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Simmons!Reader Summary: You never planned on having a casual fling with your brother's friend five years ago, nor did you expect him to fall in love with you, which forced you to end things abruptly. But now he's unexpectedly back in your life—older, wiser, and fully intent on winning your heart. Content: (18+) >12k words, reader has commitment issues, he’s the softest softdom i’ve ever written, female oral, fingering, unprotected p in v, a little squirting? teeth rotting fluff and a chaotic ending because who am i without my crack humor A/n: This is for @imagining-in-the-margins FWB writing challenge and somewhat a celebration post for 7k milestone. Idk how that happened but tysm :( I hope you like this as much as I did writing it because matt simmons is so underrated??? I’m also freaking nervous with this i haven’t posted a new fic in a while so please please please be nice i feel like throwing up

Surprise has a way of stopping time. Although you're not sure you can call it that. What you’re experiencing is more than just surprise, it’s the kind of feeling that makes you freeze in place. It’s not just a jolt to the system—it’s a full-body takeover. Your breath catches, your heart skips, and your thoughts scatter like leaves caught in the wind. How could they not, when the last person you expected to see is standing right in front of you, clad in the most questionable clothes?

You almost laugh at how absurd he looks. He’s wearing an oversized hoodie with a tacky “Washington D.C.” print sprawled across the front. It’s baffling why he’s draped in that shapeless thing over his freakishly tall frame, but it’s too hard to focus on something so trivial when you’re still grasping with the reality of seeing him again. You really can’t believe it. Spencer Reid is here. The Spencer Reid.

The guy whose heart you broke five years ago.

You should have seen this coming. In fact, you kind of did, when your brother’s friends came rushing into the hospital room, their voices a chorus of “oohs” and “aahs” as they crowded around the newborn cradled in Kristy’s arms. You exchanged polite greetings when they noticed you—Penelope even pulled you into a tight hug, gushing about how amazing you looked—and thankfully, there was no sign of him.

But you’d almost allowed yourself to believe he wouldn’t show up. When the small space became overly crowded, you stepped out into the waiting room to catch your breath… only to find him standing a few feet away with JJ.

And just like that, all the air seems to vanish from your lungs.

You had a plan, of course. In the back of your mind, you always knew a chance meeting was inevitable, whether you liked it or not. And that plan was simple. You’d offer him a polite smile. Exchange a few words, nothing too personal. You’d be friendly but distant, always make sure to keep the kind of composure that says you’ve moved on, and that the past is just that: the past.

But those well-laid plans seem fragile now, almost naive as you suddenly caught his smile. Now how do you stick to a script when your heart is starting to rewrite all the lines? Or blur the lines specifically, when the past and present merge so seamlessly that you’re reminded of the first time that same smile had charmed you.

You’re suddenly thrown back to that day five years ago, when your brother had thrown a barbecue cookout to celebrate some joint investigation his team had wrapped up. You didn’t know the details—didn’t really care to, if you were honest—but Matt had called you and insisted that you join him.

You hadn't thought much of it at the time. It sounded like another family gathering with a few new faces. But that was the day you met Spencer, and what began as a simple introduction quickly spiraled into something much more complicated. Really complicated. Because as charmed as you were by his smile, he had wanted something more from you when all you could offer him was your body.

So you ran away.

Although not very far, because apparently, he’s standing a few steps away from you, five years later. And the worst part? He’s now very much aware that you’re here. You watch as his jaw slacks open as he takes a double-take. You’re rooted in place. JJ, on the other hand, tugs his sleeve as she notices his demeanor slowly shutting down. She turns around to see what’s caught his attention, and when she spots you, a huge smile spreads across her face.

"Hey! You're here!” You force yourself to look away from him as she moves forward. You reciprocate the hug she throws at you. "How are you?”

You’re not entirely sure how to answer. How do you even explain that your heart just did a triple backflip and landed somewhere near your stomach? Or that you’re seconds away from having an internal existential crisis because, of course, the universe would choose this moment to throw Spencer Reid back into your life?

There's really no good way to sum that up. So instead, you plaster on a smile that probably looks more like a grimace and reply, "Good. I’m good.”

JJ doesn’t seem to notice the strained edges in your voice. “It’s so nice to see you again! How long has it been?”

There’s a moment of silence as you try to gather your thoughts. But before you can respond, Spencer’s voice suddenly cuts through the quiet. It’s soft, almost hesitant, as if he’s been holding onto this detail for far too long, but every syllable rings in your ears.

"Five years," he says. "Five years, three months, and seventeen days."

Your stomach does another flip. JJ raises her brows, her eyes darting between you and him. You carefully meet her gaze. "Actually, you and I met up last year.”

“Oh, right!” She exclaims, her face lighting up as the memory clicks into place. “You were in town for a conference, right? I totally forgot about that.”

“You were in town last year and you didn’t tell me?”

God, he’s making it terribly hard for you to keep your composure. You throw him a sidelong glance. “I didn’t know you wanted to see me.”

His expression shifts slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. He looks at you as if your words sounds ludicrous to him.

“I always want to see you.”

You can't decide what surprises you more, the fact that he still wants to see you after all these years, or how easily he says it. The words roll off his tongue so casually, so effortlessly, as if the weight of your shared past doesn’t cling to them. And to make matters worse, he's saying this right in front of JJ, who is now staring at him, clearly scrutinizing the significance behind his words.

You quickly shift your attention to her, forcing another smile. "So, are you going to head inside?"

JJ blinks at you. “Oh, yeah, I probably should.” She turns to Spencer and gives him a quick but knowing glance. "See you on Monday, Spence."

You glance at him. “You're not going to see the baby?"

"Spencer’s got something he needs to take care of,” JJ chimes in. There’s a slight edge to her voice, like she knows exactly what that ‘something’ is, but she doesn’t elaborate. She gives him one last look before heading inside.

You catch yourself looking up at him again. “You’re leaving?”

Spencer pauses, studying you carefully, his brow furrowing just slightly like he’s trying to read between the lines of your question.

“I was,” he says softly.

There’s a sudden tightness in your chest. “Right.”

“But now I don’t want to.”

There it goes again, the butterflies in your stomach. This is exactly why you didn’t want to see him. You knew that once you looked into his eyes, heard his voice, it would stir up everything you’ve spent five years trying to bury. You’d told yourself it was better to pretend that whatever happened between you was nothing more than a stupid choice. But now, standing here with him so close, you can feel all those walls you built crumbling down with just a few words.

You finally look at him, like really look at him. It’s impossible not to notice how he’s changed over the past five years. There are faint lines around his eyes now, signs of age that wasn't there before. His hair is longer, a little messier. It curls around his ears in a way that makes him look almost boyish, yet undeniably charming which suits him more than you'd like to admit.

But even with all the changes, his smile—gentle and just a little shy—remains the same. That smile reminds you of a time when things were simpler, where it was enough to convince you that you didn't have to keep your guard up all the time. But then you remember the reason you walked away, and his smile becomes a little harder to look at.

Because while he's changed, grown, matured, so have you, and you're not sure if there's room for the person you are now in the space that once belonged to both of you.

His eyes scan you in the same way you’re assessing him. “You look good.”

Your mouth twitches at his words. You didn’t expect him to be so straightforward. “Thank you.”

“You’re even prettier than I remember.”

The sigh you let out is long and weary. He really knows how to push your buttons.

“Spencer. Don’t.”

“What?”

“You can’t just say things like that after—” You hesitate, crossing your arms. "After everything. What happened to 'Hi, how are you?’. Or maybe something simple like ‘What have you been up to? Anything new?’”

He blinks, clearly taken aback by your abruptness. “Okay. Hi, how are you?”

You cast him a wary glance. “Good.”

"What have you been up to?"

"Work."

"Anything new?"

"No."

He pauses again, his eyes searching yours before he asks, "No new boyfriend?"

You frown. “Huh?”

“Girlfriend?”

"Spencer."

"Are you seeing anyone?"

"Spencer."

He smiles sheepishly, his shoulders sagging slightly. "You're right, that was inappropriate. I didn't think I would see you again, it’s throwing me off a bit."

“You didn’t think I would be here for my newborn niece?”

His smile turns into a grimace. "I guess I wasn't thinking clearly." He shifts on his feet, fidgeting with his fingers—a small, familiar tic that you hadn’t seen in years. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make things weird.”

“It’s fine,” you reply, though there’s no real bite to your words. His nervous energy is making it hard to stay annoyed. Your eyes narrow on his oversized hoodie again, the casual, almost careless choice that seems slightly out of character for the Spencer you remember.

He seems to notice you staring so blatantly. “What?”

“You look funny.”

A hint of surprise flashes across his face. “You think I’m funny?”

“Different,” you correct. “Did you raid someone’s closet on your way here or something?”

"Oh… I had to change my clothes. I got wet at the park earlier.”

You glance towards the window with a frown. "It's not even raining."

"I ran through the sprinklers."

The cease on your forehead deepens. Even that sounds so unlike him. Spencer Reid doing something that carefree in public?

“You ran through the sprinklers? Alone?"

You notice his expression shift as the question leaves your lips, something very subtle, but you’ve known him long enough to catch it. The way his eyes flicker, the slight hesitation before he answers, makes it obvious. There’s a hint of something unspoken in the way he looks at you, and suddenly, it all clicks into place.

He wasn’t alone.

You look away. It's ridiculous, you think. To feel this somewhat… jealous when it should be the last thing on your mind because, really, what right do you have? What you had with him wasn’t even a relationship to begin with. But despite all the logic in the world, you can’t help the pang in your chest, the twist of something bitter and familiar curling in your gut.

"It's not what you think," he slowly says.

You force a small, awkward laugh, trying to brush it off. "I wasn’t assuming anything. It’s none of my business, anyway."

"No, really, it's nothing like that." he insists, scrunching his nose in the way he does when he's trying to think. "I mean, I did meet someone at the park, but it’s not like… what you might be thinking. We were just talking, and… and then there were these sprinklers and it wasn’t really planned or anything, then she—well, technically, we weren’t even alone the whole time because there were other people around, and it’s not like we—”

“Spencer, you don’t have to explain—” you begin, but then something dawns on you. “Wait, is this what JJ was referring to? Did you… Did you have plans?”

You notice his Adam’s apple dip as he swallows. "Kind of," he admits. “But it wasn't anything serious. It was just, you know, a casual thing.”

You can't help the way your stomach knots. Casual could mean anything. Maybe a simple coffee between two friends, or even a lighthearted conversation over lunch. But in your experience, at least in the book you and Spencer had written together in the past, casual had always meant sex. And now, hearing him say it about someone else feels like a punch to the gut you hadn't expected.

You suddenly feel foolish for letting your mind go there, for assuming that whatever he meant by casual was the same thing it had meant for the two of you back then. It's been five years, and so much has changed. Maybe casual means something entirely different for him now, and you're the one stuck in the past, reading into things that no longer hold the same weight.

He must have noticed the slight falter in your expression, the way your eyes momentarily cloud over with something you can’t quite hide. He takes a step forward. "It’s really nothing.”

You take a step back. “Even if it is, it’s really not my business.”

“But it’s not,” he urges. He’s suddenly so persistent, and you can’t help but feel the embarrassment gnawing you at how easily he can read your mind. It's one thing to wrestle with these feelings privately, but having them so clearly acknowledged makes it all the more humiliating. You can’t believe you let yourself get so worked up over something that shouldn’t matter this much.

You eye the exit door. “I need to go.”

"Right now?” His brows knit together in confusion. “But your family’s here."

You’ve only spent a few minutes with him and you’re already running away.

"I just remembered I have to take care of… something."

The excuse sounds weak even to your own ears, but you don’t wait for his response. You quickly turn on your heel, and when he calls out your name with concern, you force yourself to keep moving, scurrying off down the hallway.

Me: I'm heading back first Big bro: You okay? Me: Bad headache Big Bro: You didn't eat anything, did you?

You scoff. What is it about your brother always zeroing in on eating whenever you complain about feeling off?

Me: You know I did. Just not much Big Bro: That’s what I thought. There’s some leftover dinner in the fridge. And check the second drawer in the kitchen, there should be some ibuprofen Me: Yes, Dad Big Bro: Don’t get smart with me Me: 🫡 Big Bro: Drink lots of water Me: Yes, sir. Anything else on your mind while you’re giving out parental advice? Big Bro: I’m just trying to keep myself from dragging you out of my house if you collapse Me: 🙄 Big Bro: The kids are staying with Kristy’s parents, I’ll drop by tomorrow morning Me: Okay Big Bro: Call me if you need anything

You toss your phone down on the bed, then let out the most exasperated sigh. Spending your Saturday night in your brother’s guest room is the last thing you expect to be doing, let alone faking a headache just to avoid confronting a situationship from the past. You honestly thought you’d outgrown this kind of avoidance, but here you are, slipping back into old habits as if no time has passed at all.

Ironically, your mind stumbles into the past, and you remember a conversation you once had with Spencer. It was during one of those nights when you both were tangled in each other’s arms. You could faintly remember the conversation started with him talking about his work.

He never actually told you the details of his cases, but he liked to share his thoughts on the different complexities of the human mind. And on that particular night, he was rambling about the psychological concept of avoidance, which he claimed to have detected the first time he spotted the bad guy. He went on at how people often retreat into familiar behaviors to protect themselves from discomfort.

At the time, you had brushed it off with a joke, teasing him about overanalyzing everything when the situation had already played out. But now the irony isn’t lost on you. You’re doing exactly what he once explained. It’s almost laughable if it didn’t sting so much to realize how right he was.

A sharp ding from your phone pulls you out of your thoughts, and one glance at it tells you exactly who’s messaging. The name on the screen makes your chest tighten, but you don’t even give yourself a moment to consider responding. You quickly turn the phone to silent, push yourself off the bed, and head straight for the kitchen. True to your brother’s words, there’s leftover pizza in the fridge, but the idea of reheating it doesn’t seem appealing to you.

You reach for the bottle of wine instead.

The red liquor tastes like butter, or something close to it. It’s similar in the way the liquid melts over your tongue, spreading warmth through your chest and settling comfortably in your belly. By the time you're sipping the second glass, you feel more relaxed, but then the sharp sound of the doorbell ringing cuts through the calm.

You glance at the door from the position of the couch. You have a strong feeling about who it is. But as much as you're sure of the who, what really gnaws at you is the why.

You hesitantly make your way toward the door, and sure enough, when you pull it open, Spencer is standing at your brother’s doorstep. The corner of his lips turns upward in an awkward, almost apologetic half-smile as if he’s unsure of how to begin or whether he should even be there in the first place.

You lean against the doorframe. “Did Matt tell you I was here?”

He gives you a pointed look, his eyebrows raising slightly. “No, but it wasn’t hard to figure out.” You throw him the same questioning look, and he explains, “This is the only place you’d stay in town because not only do you hate staying alone at a hotel, but Matt wouldn’t let you even if you tried.”

You can’t believe he still remembers your offhand comment about sterile hotel rooms. It’s one of the reasons you used to prefer staying at his apartment whenever you were in town.

“Why are you here anyway?” You ask. “I thought you had plans.”

He pauses for moment as if deciding how much to say. Finally, he clears his throat. “Can I come in? I’d rather explain it inside.”

"I don't think you owe me any explanations about what you do with your time," you reply, crossing your arms.

"Maybe I don't owe it, but I want to give it.”

“Which isn’t necessary.”

“But appreciated, I hope.”

You find yourself caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. You tell yourself not to read too much into it, but there's a part of you that can't help but soften at his words. Maybe it's the way his eyes reminds you of melted chocolate as he stares at you that makes you want to let him in, despite your better judgment.

You pull the door open. “Fine, but take your shoes off. Kristy’s very serious about hygiene.”

He does as he’s told and tucks away his shoes on the rack by the door.

“Do you want anything to drink?”

He shakes his head slightly, offering a small smile. "I'm good, thanks."

You nod and gesture toward the living room. He follows you, and as you both approach the couch, he instinctively moves to the far end, settling down cautiously as if not wanting to invade your space. You take a seat on the opposite end.

“So, what do you want to talk about?”

He leans back slightly, resting his hands on his knees. You can tell he's trying to gauge your mood, figure out how much to push and when to hold back. "Do you remember when we went on that date at the street fair?"

You frown, remembering how you had missed your bus home in one of your trips here and ended up wandering at the fair with him. “That wasn’t a date.”

"Fine. Do you remember when we went to the street fair together not on a date?"

“I remember."

His shoulders relax a bit at your response. “You spent ages deciding what to eat and you ended up choosing that little Korean stall in the corner. We had to walk a bit further to get there even when your shoes were hurting you.”

You think back, internally scolding yourself for wearing those damn boots that day. “You thought I was being ridiculous.”

"I didn't think it was ridiculous. I just didn't get it at first. Your feet were practically covered in blisters."

"I really wanted kimchi."

"I could tell, and it took me a while to understand why you went through all that trouble. Now I do.”

You glance at him, sensing there's more behind his words. “Why are you bringing this up?"

He meets your gaze. His brown eyes looking a little more golden underneath the dim light. "I guess this is me choosing.”

“That you’re craving for Korean?”

He gives a soft, genuine laugh, the kind that starts in his chest and reaches his eyes, making them crinkle at the corners. “Not exactly,” he says and leans a little closer. “What I’m trying to say is, that’s how I feel right now. I'm here because I want to be, not because it's convenient, but because it’s you.”

There’s a subtle flutter in your chest, and your skin prickles with a familiar warmth as he speaks. Your heart beats a little faster, not enough to be alarming, but just enough to remind you that you’re not as unaffected as you pretend to be. You can feel your palms start to sweat, and there’s that almost imperceptible hitch in your breathing that you hope he doesn’t notice.

“Spencer…” You don’t even know how to start. “It’s been five years."

He nods slowly. “I know.”

“No, I don’t think you do. A lot of has changed since the last time we saw each another, and you’re here acting like we both separated on good terms? Don't you hate me?”

His brow furrows slightly. “Why would I hate you?”

“Because I broke your heart. I—" Your voice falters as you struggle to find the right words. "The moment you told me you were falling in love with me, I... I ran. I couldn’t handle it. I pushed you away like a coward.”

“You weren't a coward, you were scared. And maybe I didn’t understand that back then, but I do now.”

You shake your head. “But I hurt you.”

The sigh he lets out is heavy, yet there's something deceptively calm about it, almost as if he’s already made peace with the past. “You did what you thought you had to do, and sure, it hurt. But I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, and I realized that I don’t blame you for needing space. It wasn’t about me not being enough, it was about you needing to protect yourself.”

His words start to chip away at the wall you’ve built around your heart. “I thought you’d hate me,” you admit quietly.

“I could never hate you."

You lower your gaze, your fingers fiddling nervously with the edge of the cushion. “Alright, let’s say you choose me. Now what? What is it that you want?”

He pauses for a moment, his fingers curled into his palms. He looks away briefly, taking a deep breath as if gathering his thoughts, then returns his gaze to you. “I want another chance.”

If you were surprised to see him at the hospital earlier, this is something entirely different. There’s something akin to panic fluttering in your chest. It’s amusing, really, how the human body reacts before the mind fully comprehends as if your heart knows what’s coming before you do. You can feel it in the way your breath catches, in the way your stomach knots with a nervous energy you can’t quite shake. Because how do you even react to that?

You finally turn to face him, leaning your head against the back of the couch. This moment feels like some sort of déjà vu, and just like the last time, your mind is already bracing itself, preparing to give him the same answer you did back then.

“You know it’s never going to work.”

He mirrors you, but instead of the frustration or sadness you half-expected, there’s a gentle smile on his lips. “You sound so sure.”

“That’s because I am,” you reply. “I know what you’re asking for right now, and we don’t function like that. Not in the past, at least.”

“How did we function?”

“Based on sex.”

“And what do you think I’m asking for now?”

“More than sex, which isn’t going to work."

“Why not?”

“Because—” you start, but the words catch in your throat. You’re not even sure how to explain. The fears, the doubts, the past... all of it feels too big, too overwhelming to articulate in a way that makes sense.

“Because the idea still terrifies you?”

You frown, caught off guard by the directness of his question. “No.”

The smile stretches even more across his face. “Then give me one good reason why you think so.”

"Oh I can name a few."

He studies you, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he’s trying to read every thought racing through your mind. “Let’s make a deal then. You give me those reasons why we can’t work, and I’ll give you reasons why we can.”

You’re quiet for a moment, considering his offer. It’s bold, almost reckless, and yet... there’s something in his eyes that makes you want to accept the challenge.

"And if your reasons aren’t good enough?"

“Then we’ll deal with that when we come to it,” he replies softly. “But I’m willing to bet we won’t have to.”

"You really think you can convince me?"

"I can try." He leans a little closer, just enough for you to feel the warmth radiating from his body. "So, what’s your first reason?"

That’s too easy, too obvious. “You’re one of my brother’s closest friends,” you point out. “What happens if this doesn’t work out? I don’t want to put him, or us, in that position.”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “That didn’t stop us in the past.”

You scoff. “Spencer, we were sneaking around behind his back. It’s not exactly the same thing. This… whatever this is, it would be out in the open, and that’s a whole different level of complicated.”

“It would be different, yes. But that doesn’t mean it has to be a problem. If anything, it shows how serious we were then, and how serious we could be now.” You scrunch your nose at his response. “Now what’s next on your list?”

"Uhh.. the distance! You’re in D.C., and I’m not. It’s not like I can just drop everything and move closer.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You’re a three-hour drive away, maybe two if I take the expressway. And honestly, with how much we both travel for work, I don’t see how that’s an issue.”

His reasoning is so undeniably logical you feel a flicker of annoyance, not at him, but at how easily he’s dismantling your arguments.

“You didn’t even want to visit me back then.”

"You were the one who didn't want me to. You kept saying it was easier for you to come here.”

His words hit harder than you expect. You remember all the times you insisted on making the trips yourself. You'd convinced yourself it was about convenience, but with him calling you out on it, you realize it wasn't about convenience at all. It was about keeping things on your terms, maintaining a safe distance even when that distance wasn't physical.

"Well, I had more flexible hours," you claim. The excuse is flimsy, and the way Spencer looks at you—patient, but not fooled—makes it clear that he sees right through it.

You try to think of your next reason, although the words seem to get stuck before they even form. You know you can easily rattle off more excuses, but something about the way he’s looking at you makes it harder than it should be.

“That’s it? You’ve only thought of two? I was expecting a bit more of a challenge.”

You scowl at him. "I didn’t say I was done."

"Take your time," he comments, leaning back slightly, still wearing that infuriatingly patient smile.

You huff softly, trying to regain your footing. "Okay, how about this? Sex."

There's a beat of silence. "What about sex?"

You feel the words forming, but they sound ridiculous even in your own mind. Still, you force them out of your mouth. Your subconscious is urging you to come up with more excuses to keep him at arm’s length. "That was all that we had. What if… what if we just fall back into the same patterns?"

“Don't you think that's a reason why we can work? If we were only ever about sex and we're still here, doesn't that show there's something more between us?"

“Or it just means we had a strong physical connection. That doesn’t necessarily mean there’s something more.”

“You really believe that? That all we had was just physical?”

“Yes,” you retort, though the confidence in your voice wavers slightly. Your eyes flicker away for a split second before you meet his gaze again. “That’s all it ever was and I don’t know if it can turn into something you’re trying to imply.”

He lets out a low, amused sound, as the corners of his mouth twitches upward. “You’re deflecting.”

“I’m being realistic,” you shoot back. “What if we try, and it doesn’t work? What if everything falls apart because we weren’t good at anything but the sex?”

His eyes light up, and suddenly he’s wearing the most boyish grin you’ve ever seen on him. “So you're admitting the sex was good?"

You stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

“You know what I mean. What we had was...” Wild? Passionate? Crazy-hot-mind-blowing sex? “…intense. But intensity isn't enough for a relationship. What if the rest of it doesn't hold up?"

He leans in closer, his hand hovering near yours on the couch.

“But what if it does?”

All you can do is stare at him.

“You’re giving me all these reasons to push me away again,” he continues. “But I’m here because I’m not afraid of those doubts. I’ve always wanted to give you more than what we had because you deserve something real. I want us to be real this time, and I think you do too, even if you’re scared to admit it.”

His words are affecting you more than you like to admit. You can slowly feel it in the tension building between you, it’s surprisingly not the uncomfortable kind, but the sort that pulls you in, that makes you want to move closer even though every instinct tells you to stay put.

And then it happens. You feel a slight tremor in your leg, an involuntary movement that causes it to brush against his. The contact is so light it's almost like it didn't happen at all, but it did. He notices—Of course he does—and now there’s a certain gentleness in his gaze like he knows exactly what's going on inside your head. He doesn't push, doesn't rush, just watches you with those impossibly kind eyes.

And in the softest, most careful voice, he asks, “Can I move closer?"

Your heart is pounding now, the rhythm echoing in your ears, in your chest, in the pulse at your throat. The sensation travels downward, a slow, steady beat that moves through your body, inching its way down your spine, tightening in your stomach before it settles low in your abdomen. It’s a heat that spreads outward until it reaches your core, leaving you acutely aware of every inch of space between you and him—and how much you want to close that distance.

You find yourself nodding. He shifts closer. “Can I touch you?”

You really want to say something witty, something that might deflect from the weight of the situation, but the words won’t come out. You can only manage another nod. He moves slowly, carefully, giving you every opportunity to pull back. But you don’t. You can’t. You’re rooted in place as his hand reaches for you.

His palm gently rests on your jaw. Your eyes flutter closed against your consciousness, and the tension that’s been coiling in your chest slowly unwinds, replaced by a sense of calm. When his thumb slides across your cheek, he speaks again. His voice is so close it's as if the words themselves are brushing over your lips.

"Can I kiss you?"

You inhale sharply. The word "Yes" hovers on the tip of your tongue, but you don't need to say it out loud. He can already see the answer in the way you’re leaning into him, and his mouth is on yours in an instant.

The reality is, you’ve kissed Spencer before. Plenty of times, actually. You know the feel of his lips, the way they can be both gentle and demanding, the way he tastes faintly of coffee or something sweet when he’s had a treat. You also think back to those hurried kisses in the past when time was short and the world was pressing down on you. Or the playful pecks that came with laughter. Even the desperate, heated moments when the need to feel something, anything, was too overwhelming to resist.

This kiss, however, isn’t like any of those. This one is slow, and achingly tender. His movements are unhurried. The way his lips glide over yours carries a deep sense of care, like he’s trying to memorize every soft curve. Just as you begin to melt in his arms, he pulls away slightly, not very far, but enough to hover close that you can still feel the heat of his breath on your lips.

There’s a tense silence as the tip of his nose brushes gently against your cheek. You can tell he’s giving you the space to decide what happens next, and there are a lot of scenarios running in your head. You could push him away, repeating history all over again. You could be in denial and pretend all of this never even happened. But something inside you snaps.

Maybe it’s the way he’s holding back, so gentle, so careful, too afraid of pushing too far. Or maybe it’s the realization that you don’t want him to hold back, that you need more, that you’re tired of resisting what you’ve both been dancing around for so long. Before you can second guess yourself, you’re clutching onto the fabric of his hoodie, tugging him closer.

He tenses for a moment, but the hesitation is gone almost as soon as it appears. His mouth finds yours again, and he lets out a deep, relieved sigh. You feel the soft, insistent push of his tongue against the seam of your lips. You hold onto him, parting your mouth eagerly before he slips his tongue with a desperation that catches you off guard.

Then his hands seem to be everywhere all at once, tracing the curve of your spine, sliding down to the small of your back, and brushing along the edge of your jaw. His fingers then tangle in your hair, tugging gently while his other hand skims over your waist. But when his hand slips inside your shirt, calloused fingers brushing your soft skin, you slowly pull away. “W-Wait.”

His eyes widen slightly, and you can feel the shift in his body. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, no,” you say quickly, tugging him closer again. “I just… I think we should continue this conversation somewhere more… private?”

He pauses for a moment. “Really?”

“If you want to.”

A subtle smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Are you trying to seduce me for sex?”

You’re oscillating between being incredibly turned on and equally mortified. In a sense, yes, that’s what you’re asking. But you didn’t expect him to be so blunt about it. You don’t think he’s ever been this direct in the past, and now you’re wondering if you missed something before, or if he’s just tapped into a level of confidence you’re struggling to keep up with.

“Would it be inappropriate if I said that I am?” you ask hesitantly, and you can’t help but wince a little as the words leave your mouth.

“Since when have you been worried about being inappropriate with me?”

“Well, Spencer, if you haven’t noticed, there’s a five-year gap since the last time we slept together.”

His hand on your waist tightens slightly. “Five years too long, if you ask me.” Then he pulls you closer until there’s barely any space left between you. “You do realize this is you giving me a second chance, right?"

In a way, you do. You've spent so much time convincing yourself that you were better off keeping your distance. Walking away in the past was easy, but now… now it feels different. The years have stretched on, and the excuses you’ve made have started to wear thin. Especially when just being near him is starting to stir memories you thought you’d buried—some good, some less so—but all intense, all Spencer.

Maybe he's right. Maybe five years is too long to pretend that whatever was between you didn't matter.

You slowly meet his gaze. “I realize.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

You hesitate, not out of doubt, but because of the sheer gravity of what you're about to say.

"Maybe."

His sigh is audible when he hears your answer, and without missing a beat, he brushes the barest, lightest, most gentle of kisses on your lips. “Maybe is good.” Kiss. “I can take—” Kiss. Kiss. “—maybe.”

You think you should say something more, but all coherent thoughts scatter the instant his lips meet yours again. You return his kisses, hesitant at first, but quickly falling into a rhythm that feels achingly familiar. It doesn’t take long until his lips move into something more urgent. There’s a hunger there, a pent-up longing that he can no longer hold back. His tongue flicks against yours, teasing, coaxing, and you know you need to stop him before he starts to undress you right there on the couch.

You reluctantly pull back. “Bedroom. Now.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He pulls you to your feet, and you’re practically dragging him to the guest bedroom. When the door closes behind you, he’s quick to guide you toward the bed, his hands firm on your hips as he steers you backward. The moment your legs hit the edge of the bed, he pauses, his hands lingering on your waist, and for a moment, he just looks at you.

“Having second thoughts?” You tease. The sarcasm drips sweetly in your voice, knowing full well he’s been trying to win your heart the entire evening.

“No,” he mutters. “I’m trying to see if you are.”

You draw back from his arms just enough to climb onto the bed and lay down in the middle. “Does it look like I am?”

He shakes his head with that cute, bashful smile. Although there’s nothing bashful about the way he pulls off his hoodie and tosses it carelessly onto the floor. The shirt underneath is crumpled, and his hair is even messier, sticking up in ways that make you want to run your hands through it.

“Come here,” you motion for him. Without hesitation, he crawls between your legs and leans in for another kiss. His hair feels like the smoothest silk when you finally reach for it. There’s a slight dampness from the faint sheen of sweat on his skin, the way it curls just slightly at the ends, brushing against your forehead as he dips his head to capture your mouth.

You don’t think you can ever get tired of kissing him. There’s a familiarity in the way he moves. His lips mold perfectly to yours, soft yet demanding, as if he knows exactly how to draw out the deepest parts of your desire. And you feel it everywhere. In your pulse, in your veins, all the way down to the spot between your legs.

It intensifies even more when his lips begin to trail down your neck. You feel the first warm rush of arousal pooling in your panties when he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your throat, the fluttering veins below your jaw with so much intensity as if he's taking every one of your heartbeats for himself. Your grip tightens in his hair as he marks another spot near your collarbone.

“I’ve missed this so much,” he murmurs as he slowly nips down your neck. “I’ve missed you.”

You can only hum a reply, your voice catching in your throat as your head starts to spin from the way his hands are now trailing down your side. He reaches the hem of your shirt and pauses, fingers lightly tugging at the fabric.

“Can I take this off?” He asks, pulling back slightly just enough to look down at you. With his messy hair falling into his glossy brown eyes and swollen wet lips, how can you possibly say no to him?

Without a second thought, you nod, your fingers already moving to help him with the fabric. His eyes never leave yours as he slowly lifts your shirt. It slides up over your skin, and you raise your arms to let him pull it off completely, tossing it aside without a care. Your bra comes off next, and when that follows to the floor, his eyes sweep over your body.

There���s a certain look in his gaze. Devotion would be too strong of a word, but it’s something close—something softer, yet just as intense. You’ve seen desire before, felt it in fleeting touches and heated glances, but this is different. This feels different. It’s as if his gaze is reaching into the spaces between your thoughts, gently pulling at the threads that hold you together to unravel you in the most tender of ways.

He kisses the spot between your breasts.

“You’re always so pretty.”

He gives a soft peck just above your heart.

“So incredibly beautiful.”

Then his tongue flicks along the delicate curve of your chest, making a slow, teasing trail upward until he takes one of your nipples into his mouth. He sucks gently, rolling it around with his tongue, and you’re mesmerized by the lewd scene of him drawing your flesh between his lips. Your fingers instinctively find their way back into his hair, tugging on the soft strands as he continues to lap at your sensitive skin.

He then shifts slightly, his mouth releasing your nipple with a soft, wet sound before moving to give the same attention to the other. While he suckles and nibbles on one hardened peak, he rolls the other between his thumb and forefinger, sending a rush of pleasure straight to your core. If you thought you were wet before, you’re certain you’re drenched by now. Your panties cling uncomfortably and the growing desire makes you ache to peel them off.

He must sense your growing need because his kisses trail lower, down to your stomach, while his fingers toy with the waistband of your leggings. His touch is teasing, slipping just under the elastic, and you instinctively lift your hips, silently begging for more. He takes his time as he slides the fabric down your legs, his knuckles brushing against your skin before discarding them somewhere in the room.

Your attention is on him as his palm dances along your inner thigh, and the closer he gets to where you ache him the most, the more your breath hitches in your throat. When his thumb brushes over the wet patch on your panties, your hips buck against him. “Spencer…”

He glances over at you and lets out the most appreciative sigh. You really are beautiful. Eyes full of lust, skin flushed with his marks. You’re a vision of longing, and every part of him is consumed by the sight of you. “Yes?”

You squirm under his gaze. “Aren’t you… going to take them off?”

A slow, teasing smile spreads across his face. “What, these?” He gives a playful tug at the edge of your panties, his fingers just barely slipping beneath the fabric before pulling away. “Are you sure you want them off?”

You try to hold back your groan when his thumb finds your clit. “Yes. I-I’m sure.”

He grins, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you, but instead of giving in immediately, he begins to circle your clit slowly with his thumb, watching your reaction closely. “On a scale from one to ten, how sure are you?”

Now he’s starting to get on your nerves. You can’t hold back the small huff falling from your lips. He simply laughs then slowly takes off the last piece of your clothing. The cool air instantly hits your skin as he grabs your knees, spreading your legs apart. He skims along your naked body and when you notice where his gaze settles, you swallow hard, suddenly feeling very shy.

It's kind of ironic, you think, how you've gotten this far, and now, of all times, you're suddenly blushing like a damn teenager. It's as if your brain is catching up to everything your body already knows—that this is real, and it's happening. You can't help but laugh at yourself a little. Here you are, all tangled up in each other, practically begging him to get you naked and yet you're acting shy now?

He seems to notice the shift in your mood, his hands pausing on your thighs as he looks up at you with concern. He tilts his head slightly, his brow furrowing. “Did I do something wrong?”

You quickly shake your head. “I’m suddenly feeling very self-conscious.”

He studies your face for a moment. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” you blurt out, more forcefully than you intended, your hand instinctively reaching out to grab his wrist. “I… I guess I’m not used to feeling this exposed in front of you.”

He shifts slightly, moving closer so he’s eye-level with you, his hands still resting gently on your thighs. “We’ve done this countless times before.”

“I know, but that was years ago. Things feel different now… like there’s more at stake, maybe?” You let out a sigh. “It’s silly.”

“It’s not silly,” he reassures you. He soothes the skin behind your thighs. “But you don’t need to feel self-conscious with me. You’re beautiful, and I just want you to feel as good as you make me feel.”

If he keeps talking to you like that, there’s no doubt you’ll end up giving him your heart on a silver platter by the end of this. He shifts lower down your body. “We can go as slow as you want,” he continues, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh, then another. “Just tell me what you need.”

You take a deep breath as his soft stubble grazes your skin. “I need you.”

“Then you’ll have me.”

You watch with heavy lids as he drags his lips along your skin until he presses the most tender kiss on your cunt. He really wasn’t lying when he said he could go as slow as you want because every kiss is achingly gentle, barely more than a feather-light touch. It’s the kind of softness that makes you writhe beneath him, and before you know it, your fingers are tangling in his curls while your hips buck against his face.

There’s a slight vibration on your skin—it could be his laughter, or maybe just a hum of contentment—but you don’t bother deciphering it. You’re too lost in the sensation as his tongue breaches your folds. You peer down and watch as he trails the tip of his tongue through your wetness, slowly tracing up and down your slit until he flicks it against your clit.

You’re honestly gone after that. You’re not surprised, though. If there’s one thing Spencer Reid is good at, it’s knowing exactly how to use his mouth. Sure, he’s a bona fide genius who spouts off random facts and quotes obscure literature, but his mouth? His mouth is a whole different level of expertise. It’s almost unfair how good he is. It’s like he’s studied you, memorized every little thing that makes you go crazy, and now he’s putting all that knowledge to devastatingly good use.

And it’s not like he’s doing it just for your pleasure. It brings him the same deep satisfaction. His eyes are closed, and he seems to lose himself in the act, savoring every taste, every reaction, every subtle shift of your body beneath him. It’s as though he’s completely immersed in finding an almost insatiable need to drink in everything about you. His tongue delves deeper, swirling around your entrance before sucking gently on your folds, pulling the soft skin into his mouth.

You find yourself pressing his head closer to your heat. His eyes flickers up to you. “You’re back.” Your response is simply another push of his head. “Oh. Needy, are we now?”

"Mhm," you manage to squeak out, feeling a rush of wetness seeping out of you. He leans in, his tongue catching a bead of moisture before it drips further, dragging it between your slick folds.

Your grip in his hair tightens.

“Spencer…”

“I know, I know,” he murmurs, his lips curling into a smile before his mouth descends again, this time focusing on your clit. His tongue flicks over the sensitive nub before he gently sucks, pulling it into his mouth with a slow rhythm that has you gasping. Each motion is perfectly timed and you feel yourself growing even wetter under his attention. His tongue swirls, then flattens before he sucks a little harder.

It doesn’t take long for you to feel that familiar coil in your stomach. The pleasure builds steadily, the tension winding tighter and tighter until it slowly overwhelms you. Spencer seems to sense it too, his hands gripping the back of your thighs a little tighter, pushing them further apart as he continues with unwavering focus. He’s not rushing, though, he’s savoring it, but his slow motion is enough to make you snap.

Your hips jerk against his mouth, and he doesn’t miss a beat, holding you steady as he continues his ministrations. He’s relentless in his gentleness, coaxing every ounce of pleasure from you, even as you’re left gasping for air. When you finally come down from the high, Spencer finally lifts his head and places a final, soft kiss on your inner thigh.

“Do you still feel self-conscious now?”

It takes you a moment before you can answer. You smile lazily at him. “Not after that.”

He grins and pulls you up into a sitting position. “Do you think you can give me another one?”

“Spencer,” you breathe out. “Even if you gave me thousands of orgasms, I’d probably ask for more.”

The laugh he lets out is warm and infectious, the sound vibrating through you in a way that makes you smile even wider. “Well,” he starts, slipping his hand down your thigh. “The human body is capable of experiencing multiple orgasms in a relatively short period of time, especially for women. So technically, you could keep asking for more, and I could keep giving them.”

“Even up to a thousand?”

“Maybe not to that extent.” He pulls you close, and you lean your weight against him. “Hold on to me.”

You do as you’re told and somehow you find yourself in a new position. When he spreads your legs apart, your senses go on high alert again. “Spence?”

He kisses your cheek, your jaw, then the corner of your mouth. “Try to relax.”

A gasp escapes your lips as his fingers dive between your thighs. Try to relax? Try to relax? Men and their audacity to tell you what to do, especially when they're the reason you're so wound up in the first place. Because how are you supposed to relax when his fingertips are brushing ever so gently over your clit? How are you supposed to calm your breathing when he’s spreading your arousal up and down your folds?

And how are you supposed to keep your composure when he suddenly fills you with, not one, but two of his fingers?

You feel yourself slipping and he tightens his other arm around your waist. “Told you to hold on.”

He’s starting to annoy you, but you listen to him and bury your face in the crook of his neck. You take a deep breath as he starts to move his fingers. Soap, you decide. It must be his soap, because he smells clean and crisp, almost like fresh linen and a hint of something peppery. It’s almost distracting if it weren’t for the way his fingers are curling inside of you.

Then you feel that sensation again, the kind that ripples through every nerve of your body. At first, it’s manageable, an intensity you think you can handle. But when he suddenly changes his technique, everything shifts. His entire hand moves in a fast, up-and-down motion that catches you completely off guard, and before you know it, you’re whining, your grip tightening on him as your head falls on his shoulder.

The rapid pace makes your head spin. It feels like he’s pulling the control right out of your hands, leaving you questioning your own limits. You’ve seen yourself getting wet, you’ve felt yourself become drenched before, but you’ve never experienced anything like this. You never realized your body could produce this much liquid. It’s not an overwhelming amount, but more than you’ve ever seen from yourself, and it splatters against his hand, dripping down your thighs.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even flinch when your nails claw into his shirt. He keeps going, and going, and going, until the only thing you hear is your rapid breathing against his neck and the slick, wet sounds he’s coaxing out of you. You’re overwhelmed (in the best way, of course) but you can’t stop yourself from cursing as the sensation intensifies, multiplies even.

It's not until your body starts to go limp that he finally takes pity on you. He slows down, his fingers pumping lazily inside you. “Good?”

“How did you—when did you—” you exhale a long breath. “I can’t feel my legs.”

He slowly withdraws his fingers out, only to rub your essence over your puffy clit, and your hips jerk once more before he finally stops. You're a trembling mess once you sink into the mattress.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you do that before.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever done that in my life.” Your eyes suddenly feel incredibly heavy that you can't resist letting them flutter close.

He kisses the tip of your nose. “Still up for another one?”

You peer through one eye, and when you catch him starting to undress himself, your other eye shoots open. The nod you give him is eager. His smile widens as he shrugs off his shirt, and you can’t help but let your gaze drop to the line of hair trailing down his stomach. You wonder what it would feel like under your tongue.

"Wait."

Your eyes snap back up to meet his. "What?"

His face twists into a grimace. “I don’t have a condom.”

Shit. Neither did you.

You roll onto your side, propping yourself up on one elbow and resting your head in your hand. “And you’re realizing this just now?”

“I was too focused with you."

And by that, he means giving you the most intense orgasm of your life. You watch as his fingers hover over his belt. “You really didn’t think of bringing one when you decided to come over?”

“My intention coming here wasn’t exactly for this.”

“Well, it would be great if you at least considered the possibility." You study his face and blurt out the first thing on your mind, “I don’t want to stop.”

He shifts his weight on the bed. “Me neither.”

“I mean… we could have sex without using one. We’ve done it before. Once.”

He recalls what you're referring to and lets out an amused laugh. “Are you sure? Didn’t you freak out when you realized your period was late?”

“That was a coincidence! I was stressed out at that time, but I’m safe now—I think.” You pause, brows furrowing as you start calculating your cycle in your head. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’m not ovulating.”

“Pretty sure?”

You give him a look. “No, I’m actually sure. I know my body, and I’ve done the math. See?” You gesture vaguely, as if the numbers and facts are floating in front of you. “No ovulation in sight.”

The corners of his mouth twitches into a smile. “Alright then,” he murmurs, and leans down to plant a soft kiss on your lips. “No ovulation in sight.”

“None,” you confirm before tugging his belt. “Can you please take off your pants now?”

He complies—with incredible speed—and when he’s finally as naked as you, your mouth waters at the sight of him. His cock is painfully hard, thick, with a bead of arousal glistening at the tip. You try to reach for him, but he has other plans. He crawls over your body and slips between your legs. He then grips the back of your thigh with one hand, pulling it up slightly to open you to him, while the other holds himself from the base.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The moan you let out is lewd. “Fuck, Spencer.”

An airy laugh slips out from him as he rubs the head of his cock around your clit. “So needy.”

You wiggle your hips. “Hurry up.”

He only hums in response, before easing his hips back just enough to drag his swollen tip through your slick outer lips. The underside of his cock splits your folds open with each stroke, and your head is spinning. It’s almost sweet how he’s taking this slow, but at this point, you’re so close to just shoving him inside you. You let out a frustrated whine when he pulls back, only to thrust forward just enough for the head of his cock to nudge at your entrance.

Your walls squeeze around him.

“O-Oh…” His mouth falls open slightly as he stares down at where your bodies meet. “I… I don’t remember you being this tight.”

You follow his gaze, watching the way your outer lips swallow him inch by inch. “I-It’s been a while.”

He pushes further, and your nails dig into his shoulders as he stretches you in a way that feels almost too much, and you can't help but tense when he thrusts further. He wraps your leg around his waist before leaning down, propping his weight on his elbows.

“Need you to relax,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over the pulse fluttering wildly in your neck. You do as he says. Breathe in, breathe out. Clench, unclench. And then you feel him easing inside you, oh-so-deliciously slow, until you squeak out a gasp when he finally fills you completely.

Because fuck, he stretches you—wrenches you open, and you’re consumed by his heat, the pressure, the sheer size of him. It overwhelms your senses, and all you can do is sing out a filthy moan. He follows your tune with a melody of his own, though his voice trembles, sounding more like he’s in pain as if he’s trying to hold himself back.

“You’re so warm,” he groans, his breath hot against your skin. “You okay?”

You nod and wrap an arm around his shoulders. “More than okay.”

“Do you think I can move?”

“Please.”

There’s no hesitation in the way he pulls back, only to sink into you again. His hips roll against yours in a way that feels both achingly slow and unhurried, like he’s savoring every second to memorize the way you feel around him. It’s like he can’t quite believe this is happening, that you’re giving him the chance to be tangled up with you in this position again.

And truthfully, neither can you.

But here you are, two bodies moving in perfect harmony, intertwined in the most primal, human way. Flesh against flesh, breath against breath. Even your heartbeats sync in the same rhythm. The world beyond seems to dissolve, leaving nothing but the pull of desire that draws you deeper into the moment, into him, until the boundaries of where you end and he begins blur into something undefinable.

It’s nonexistent. You’re glued to him, fused in a way that feels as if this is exactly where you belong.

No more running away, you decide.

“Kiss me.”

He’s in no position to decline, and within a heartbeat, he captures your lips in the sweetest kiss—well, as sweet as it can go. Because even though he tastes like honeyed warmth, his hips continue to pound into you, hitting that deep, tender spot inside. You whine against his lips. A needy, breathless sound that has him faltering for just a second, his hips stuttering against yours.

“You feel so—” he chokes on his words. “God, you’re so perfect.”

You’re perfect, you want to say, but you stop yourself, biting down on the words before they escape. It’s not that you don’t believe it. You just can’t bring yourself to admit it out loud. Not yet. Instead, your need wins out, pushing past everything else.

“More,” you gasp between shallow breaths.

He rests his forehead against yours. “Yeah? You want me to go faster?”

You whine in approval.

The instant he pulls back, his tip barely teasing your entrance before slamming into you again, a sharp gasp escapes your lips. He repeats the motion. Once. Twice. By the third time, he doesn’t hold back, driving his hips hard and fast, the wet sound of your bodies slapping together echoing off the walls.

You turn into a putty mess. You can barely think, let alone form words, your mind clouded with nothing but the feeling of him—inside you, around you. Your whole world narrows down to this moment, to the way he fills you so perfectly. His forehead stays pressed against yours the whole time, his lips hovering above yours he murmurs, “Tell me if it’s too much.”

But it’s not. It’s everything. Maybe even not enough. “I…” you gasp when a certain angle from him hits a deep spot inside you. “Oh, Spencer… harder, p-please.”

He’s more than happy to oblige.

He shifts slightly, then snaps his hips forward with a sudden, forceful thrust. He repeats the motion. Over and over again. His pace is relentless now, and he starts to pant, his breath coming in sharp, ragged bursts, every exhale brushing against your lips. There’s a tension in his body, a taut strain in muscles, but he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop. And you can’t help but moan softly into his mouth, swallowing each of his gasps as his control starts to slip away.

“Where do you want—” His voice falters. “Can I—inside—”

You nod frantically. “Yes. Yes.”

It’s enough to push you both over the edge.

The sensation starts as a gentle warmth in your fingertips, slowly winding its way through your body. It weaves through your limbs, spirals up your spine, before gathering intensely at your core. You’re shaking, trembling, and you instinctively reach out for something to ground yourself. One hand threads into his curls, the other clutches his jaw.

Then it happens. His cock moves in a frantic rhythm, sending you spiraling deeper into intense pleasure for the third time tonight. Your inner walls tighten around him as your orgasm crashes through you, gripping him so tightly that it pulls a raw, breathless groan from his lips. He slams into you with uneven thrusts as he presses your body flat onto the bed, until he stops and shudders, spilling hot, white liquid deep inside you.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt something this intense before—not even with him in the past. Every inch of your body is buzzing as his warmth spreads through you, reaching places you didn’t even know existed. You cling to him, your nails softly grazing his back as he finally lets out a satisfied hum, his lips moving to pepper kisses along your face.

He starts with your left cheek. Two gentle kisses. He moves to your right, giving a light peck that lingers just a moment longer, almost as if he’s blowing a warm breath against your skin. You giggle as the air tickles you. Then finally, he settles on your lips with a sigh that merges into a kiss. It’s soft, sweet, and tenderly slow.

You let out another laugh when he finally pulls away.

“What?”

His curls fall messily on his forehead and you reach up, brushing it back. “You’re starting to grow on me.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “I grow on you?” You simply nod. “Like fungus?”

Your fingers pause in his hair. “Like what?”

"You know, fungus. It grows on things. Like mold or mushrooms,” he explains and gives you a smile. "Am I growing on you like that?"

You’ve been apart for so long that you almost forgot how his brain works. His unexpected comparison sparks your amusement, so you decide to humor him. “Depends on what kind of mushroom you are.”

He looks thoughtful for a while. “There's this mushroom called mycorrhiza. It forms a symbiotic relationship with trees and helps them grow by improving water and nutrient absorption."

“And that makes you what, exactly?”

“Essentially indispensable.”

“So you’re claiming you’re good for me?”

A slow, confident grin spreads across his lips. “I’m saying I’m exactly what you need.”

You burst out laughing. Your cheeks might actually ache from smiling this much. “That was pretty smooth.”

He looks incredibly pleased with himself. Then after a quiet moment, he buries his face in the curve of your neck. You close your eyes, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against yours, and a sigh escapes your lips. It’s like all the time you spent apart melts away in that single breath, and something inside you relaxes, as if he’s managed to sneak back into the parts of you you’d forgotten existed.

Maybe he is right. Maybe, after all this time, he’s exactly what you need.

You wake up to the sound of clatter. It’s loud, jarring, and it echoes around the house. You stir in bed, stretching your limbs before tensing when you feel something poking your back. Your hazy mind immediately snaps into alert, and you open your eyes fully, glancing toward the window. Sunlight is already pouring into the room, far too bright for how early you thought it was.

You quickly turn over to the other side.

“Spencer. Spencer!” you hiss, shaking his shoulders urgently. “Wake up! We overslept!”

He groans softly but doesn’t move. Another loud clatter bounces off the walls, and your heart pounds wildly in your chest.

“Spencer,” you whisper sharply, eyes widening. “I think Matt is home.”

That finally gets his attention. He blinks his eyes open. “Wha—?”

You’re already halfway out of bed, rushing to the window to peek through the curtains. Sure enough, you spot your brother’s car parked in the driveway. “Yep, he’s here,” you mutter under your breath, the panic rising as you turn back to Spencer. “And now he’s going to kill us.”

“He’s not going to kill us,” he mumbles, but even by his voice, you can tell he’s not entirely convinced. You watch as he finally slips out of bed, scrambling to pick up his clothes scattered across the floor. “We talked about this last night. It’s not going to be as bad as you think.”

You shoot him a look before quickly pulling on your own clothes.

“There’s a big difference between telling him, and him finding out that his sister is sleeping with his friend while he was away taking care of his wife and baby.” You yank your shirt over your head. “In his freaking house.”

When you put it that way, Spencer’s heart sinks a little. Although Matt isn’t a violent person, he has twice the muscle he does, and it’s not hard to imagine him being a lot less forgiving in a situation like this. He can’t help but picture the worst-case scenario even though Matt’s always been the reasonable type.

Until now, maybe.

“Do you think I should climb out the window?”

You stare at him in disbelief. "Spencer, you’re not sixteen.”

“Actually, I’ve never been in a situation like this,” he admits, pulling up his pants. “My biggest concern when I was sixteen was getting my first PhD.”

You forgot how ridiculously smart he is. Smarter than most people, definitely smarter than you. “Well now you’re getting firsthand experience.” You start pacing around the room. “Let’s just try to stay calm.”

“That’s kind of hard to do when your brother could walk in while I’m half-naked.”

You look at him in horror. “Then put your damn shirt on!"

Before he can reply, there's a noise from outside the room—a quick shuffle of steps, light and rapid, as if someone’s rushing down the hall. You barely have time to react before the door is wrenched open.

But it's not your brother.

It's far worse.

You feel your stomach drop when your eyes lands on the small figure of your nephew, standing there with wide eyes. His gaze shifts back and forth—from you, disheveled and clearly flustered, to Spencer, whose bare back is facing the door, still fumbling with his pants. From little Jake's point of view, it must look like the most confusing sight, because he quickly retreats, bolting down the hallway.

“Dad! Help! There’s a strange man in Auntie’s room!”

You don’t know whether to laugh or panic. The fact that Jake didn’t recognize Spencer without his usual suit is almost comical. You glance at him, noticing how his body has tensed, his back straightening in alarm.

“Who was that?” he whispers, turning to you with wide eyes.

"Jake.” You blow a strand of hair that falls across your face. “Who apparently thinks you're an intruder."

The blood seems to drain from his face. “He didn’t recognize me?”

Your eyes flick over his appearance—his wild, tangled hair sticking out in all directions, bare chest still slightly flushed from sleep, and pants barely zipped. “Not when you look like this, no.”

But before he can respond, you hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway, heavier this time.

Your heart leaps into your throat.

“Shit.”

“I should have climbed out the window.”

The idea of him dangling from the window is even more absurd. You glance toward the door. "Okay, wait here. Let me talk to Matt first." Your eyes flicker to his bare chest again, and you let out the most exasperated sigh. "And please, for the love of God, put on your shirt."

You don’t have time to wait for his response as you rush out of the room, quickly closing the door behind you. You take a second to catch your breath, trying to compose yourself, when a noise down the hallway draws your attention. Only then do you notice Matt cautiously advancing towards your way, his back against the wall.

That’s when you spot the gun in his hand.

“Seriously?” you hiss, staring at him in disbelief. “What the hell, Matthew!”

He looks at you, equally surprised. “Jake said there was a strange man in your room!” he replies defensively, tightening his grip on the weapon. “What was I supposed to think?“​

Your eyes shift toward your nephew, who’s peeking around the corner, his little head barely visible as he watches the scene unfold. This is definitely not how you expected your morning to go. A simple, awkward conversation was one thing, but having to disarm your brother while explaining this mess was an entirely different level.

“There’s no intruder, Matt. Put the gun down.”

He looks past you, his eyes zeroing in on the closed bedroom door. “Then who’s in there?”

You bite the inside of your cheek. There’s no easy way to explain this. How do you even start? That Spencer is standing half-naked in the guest room, trying to gather his dignity after being mistaken for an intruder by a six-year-old? You never thought you'd have to introduce Spencer to your brother this way, in his own house, under these chaotic circumstances.

You can feel Matt's eyes boring into you, waiting for an answer. All you can think is how ridiculous this all must look, and how there's no good way to smooth over the fact that, yes, Spencer Reid, his friend slash teammate, is behind the door. And the most absurd part? A part of you is more worried about the look on Matt's face than the fact that he's holding a gun.

“Please don’t be mad.”

You hold your breath as you slowly reach for the doorknob. You push the door open and let out a small, relieved sound when you see Spencer fully dressed, looking almost presentable, except for the wild hair that refuses to settle. He gives you a small nod before stepping out of the room.

“Uncle Spencer?” Jake’s small voice cuts through the tension. Matt’s gaze darts between you two, his jaw tightening as he puts the pieces together. You can see the moment realization hits him full force.

“Reid?” Matt’s voice is incredulous, bordering on betrayed. “What the hell is going on?”

“I can explain,” you say cautiously. “It’s not exactly how it looks.”

“Not exactly how it looks?” Matt echoes, his eyes narrowing at you, then shifting back to Spencer. “You’re in my guest room looking like you just rolled out of bed—”

“Fully clothed now,” Spencer cuts in quickly, which only earns him a frown from Matt.

“Not helping,” you mutter under your breath, shooting Spencer a look before turning back to your brother. “Fine, it’s exactly how it looks like. So… uh, surprise?”

You watch so many emotions flashing in his eyes. Matt’s always been a good brother. Sometimes annoying, but always reliable. He doesn’t usually get angry at you—quite the opposite, actually. He’s calm, level-headed, and more prone to offering advice than raising his voice. But now? The frustration is clear in his eyes.

He’s not mad exactly, but he’s definitely not happy either.

“Surprise?” Matt repeats, his voice flat. His gaze flick back to Spencer, who’s now shifting his weight awkwardly beside you. “This is how you decided to tell me?”

“Okay, it’s not how we planned it, obviously.”

“Clearly,” he deadpans. You put on the best innocent face you can muster.

You put on the best, innocent-looking face you can muster.

“Maaatttt,” you try again, deciding to use a different approach by being cute this time. “Don’t be so harsh.”

To your relief, it actually works on him, like it usually does whenever you try to charm your way out of trouble. His tough exterior falters because, no matter what, you’re still his baby sister. His face softens for a moment, shoulders dropping as he lets out a sigh.

“I’m not mad, okay? But I am your brother. And you,” he adds, pointing at Spencer. “You’re supposed to be my friend. I feel like I should’ve known about this before… well, before finding you like this.” Your shoulders slumps at his words. “How long has this been going?”

Now that is a tricky question. Explaining that you and Spencer occasionally had sex five years ago definitely isn’t something your brother needs to hear right now—or ever, really. You can almost feel Spencer tense beside you, probably having the same thought.

You clear your throat. “Last night.”

"Last night?" Matt looks at you as if you’re crazy. It might be the most disapproving look he’s ever given to you. "You're telling me this just started last night?"

"But—" you quickly add, holding up a hand to stop his train of thought. "We’ve been talking for a while, it’s not like it happened out of nowhere. Last night was just the first time we decided to actually do something about it."

“Right under my roof?” Matt’s brows pinches upward. “You lied about having a headache, didn’t you?”

“Wait, you had a headache? Why didn’t you tell me?”

You’re not sure you can handle two men pestering you at the same time. You focus on your brother instead.

“Look, we didn’t plan anything yesterday. Things just… happened,” you say, trying to explain without making it sound worse than it already does. “But it’s not only about last night. For what it’s worth, we were planning to tell to you. Just not like this.”

Your brother cocks an eyebrow. “So this isn’t a one-time thing?”

Spencer doesn’t hesitate. “God, no,” he says. You feel an arm snake around your waist. “I care about her. A lot.”

Matt stares at Spencer for a long moment, his face a mixture of frustration, concern, and something else. Acceptance, maybe. He looks back at you. “Is this what you want?”

You feel Spencer’s grip tighten on your waist. He’s also waiting for your answer.

“It’s what I want.”

Spencer’s thumb brushes over you as Matt lets out a long breath, his grip on the gun finally relaxing. “This feels weird.”

“In a good way?”

“In a bizarre kind of way.” Matt’s falls falls on Spencer again. “I’m still trying to process this, but if you hurt her—”

“I won’t,” Spencer promises. “I swear.”

“Good, because you know I can put you back to prison if you do.”

Oh, he knows. Spencer understands exactly what he means, after all, Matt was one of the few people who helped clear his name during one of the most horrific moments of his life. Even if there’s a slight jab in his words, Spencer can tell he’s being dead serious. Especially with that gun still attached to his grip.

You, on the other hand, are hearing this for the first time. “Wait, what?” you blurt out. “Prison? You went to prison?”

Spencer merely shrug. Matt finally lowers his weapon, shaking his head as if he can’t quite believe this is happening. “I need coffee,” he mutters, turning toward the kitchen.

“Wait…” Jake finally peeks out from behind the wall. You blink your eyes, forgetting he’s even there. “Does this mean Uncle Spencer is your boyfriend now?”

You feel three pair of eyes on you. Matt’s gaze is sharp. Spencer’s expression is cautious. And then there’s Jake, looking up at you with the straightforward curiosity only a child can have. To him, things are simple. Either you are, or you aren’t, and in hindsight, it really is a straightforward question. But nothing about this situation has been straightforward.

You look at Spencer for a fraction of a second. You can see the nervous hope reflected in his eyes. Maybe Jake’s question isn’t just his… maybe it’s Spencer’s too.

And sure, maybe it doesn’t have to be so complicated. Maybe it really is as simple as saying—

“Yes.” You can feel your heartbeat in your ears. “I suppose he is.”

If you’ve ever seen Spencer being happy, it pales in comparison to this. His eyes light up, and he looks at you like you’re the only person in the world. A genuine, almost boyish smile spreads across his face as you feel his warmth seep into your skin. There’s so much affection in his gaze it makes your chest tighten. He’s not just happy. He’s beaming.

Matt clears his throat awkwardly. “Come on, kiddo, let’s grab what your mom needs and get back to the hospital.” He glances back at you. “You guys coming?”

You nod absentmindedly. “Sure.”

He throws you both a look. Not hateful, but definitely not warm either. You see him grip his gun from the corner of your eye, more out of habit than necessity, before steering his son away with a firm hand on his shoulders.

“That went better than expected,” Spencer mutters the moment your brother is out of earshot.

“‘It’s not going to be as bad as you think’,” you mock, reciting the words he said to you half an hour ago.

“It wasn’t.”

“Spencer, he held a gun.”

“He thought I was an intruder. I would’ve done the same thing,” he points out, his tone surprisingly calm as he holds you by your waist. “Relax, okay? He’ll come around us. Eventually.”

“You’re awfully optimistic about this.”

“He likes me.”

He does have a point. Matt has always had a soft spot for Spencer, but you’re not sure how far that can go after what just happened. “I think you might have lost a few brownie points today.”

He considers the truth in your words. “Maybe,” he admits with a shrug. “But at least I earned a few with you.”

“Because of the boyfriend thing?” He’s grinning so wide that his eyes practically disappear into crescent moons. You poke the slightest dimple on his cheek. “Don’t act so smug. I’m still trying to process the fact that I’m dating an ex-felon.”

“I was framed,” he explains, and the way he says it so nonchalantly only deepens your confusion. He tries to smooth your frown with a kiss. “I’ll tell you everything on our first date.”

“Who said I’ll go on a date with you?”

“You will,” he simply says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“And what makes you so sure?”

Because he’s always been sure. The man who doubts everything, who overanalyzes every situation, looks at you with a certainty that makes your heart swell. You’ve seen that look before—the one that says he’s considered every possible outcome and decided this is the one that matters most. There’s something magnetic about it, the way he seems to know exactly what he wants, and right now, it’s you.

“Because I’m your mushroom.”

He’s so silly, yet there’s something so perfectly Spencer about it that makes the idea of not going on a date with him feel impossible. You shake your head, unable to suppress your smile.

“You’re ridiculous,” you mutter, but the warmth in your chest tells you he’s already won your heart.

And you don’t mind him keeping it.

[imaginariumwanderer]

Mkay last post before logging off. Featuring silly pixel art I made w/ my mouse.

This chart was actually made out of pure self-indulgent a while back with no intention of being posted, I ended up scribbling(?) all over the thing. Hopefully it's readable when zoomed in.

It's "my ship in 5 minutes" but I can make it 30 if you want. WARNING: Tons of sappy yapping+pixel art download under cut.

About "tropes": The trope is called Angel-Devil shipping, oh but I don't think PV is an angel. He's more like a God for SM (at least that's my preference)… Thinking at all the possible tropes that suits them make me really wonder why some people consider Shadowvanilla a crack/pro ship. Enemies to lovers or villain/hero ships have been pretty archetypal since the day of olds. Compared to all the ships I've encountered in the past… Shadowvanilla is more or less the "slightly out of the norm" on the "problematic ships scale" <- typing this out make me feel like an old fandom veteran haha

About "how it happens": I have no idea where to put PV on that chart. He's the one who approached first, but not out of romantic intents, him falling for SM is as unexpected as can be. SM fell first and slowly, and in 'slow' I meant decades upon decades. It's inevitable, painfully so, spending all those years watching over this cookie who's so perfect in his imperfections, how could one not feel something? Of course it's not so simple, that 'something' is a horrid mixture of disgust, envy, hatred, understanding, both the need to preserve and destroy… And maybeee the tiniest crumb of affection? SM realized something around the first couple hundredth years mark, he then spends the next thousands in denial of it. No matter. Whether it's PV or the Soul jam, his birth-given rights. SM knows what he wants and he WILL get what he wants. (He's wrong on both fronts. And somewhere in the back of his mind, SM knows that. But he'll never admit it. He'll never ever admit anything. Until it's too late. In a way, the same goes for PV)

About a certain someone who's not clingy, but would die for attention: I think PV gets lonely easily. As he's hyper-aware of himself and considerate of others, appearing clingy is the last thing PV wants. So PV would put extra efforts in taking care of those around him, be it cookies, animals or the greenery in his garden. A healer is always busy, always helpful. If he's always needed by others then he would never be afraid of being alone. Ironically enough, this ended up making PV come off as a little overbearing. As of late, the only ones able to see through the facade are Hollyberry cookie and you-know-who.

Other scattered thoughts: These two are completely different yet can't be more similar, on the various sliding scales they're either stuck to one another or are flung to both ends. On another note, honestly I can't see these two doing anything domestic together, the most I can see is cooking, which is basically the same as magic in the cookie world. Anyways, are they in "love"? Are they dating? Not really, no. It's more of a a parasitic-turned-symbiotic-soulbond, a will-they-won't-they-destroy-the-world situationship (iykyk) I do enjoy relationships that's hard to put into words. Their feelings are somehow romantic, somewhat deranged and something much, much deeper.

My desire to ship these two comes from the desire to see them grow beyound their archetypes. Being with PV does give SM the chance to be horrible as can be, yeah, but I'd like to think SM does have a personality outside of being a villainous tormentor. He spends so long observing others, and now for the first time he's being seen. Now SM have met someone who can see right through him, who can glimpse into those dammed vulnerabilities of his. Being with SM does let us see PV in his darkest moments, but it's at the same time the moments where PV can shine the most, to prove SM that his ideals isn't naïveté or simple platitudes. In canon, SM+PV works well as enemies, but it is the many contradictions born when romance is added into the mix that got me shipping. They simultaneously break down and bolster one another's greatest traits. Like binary stars, they orbit around the other, so close yet so far apart, lest they collide. They could've been so perfect for each other. But not in this life, or the next, or the next...

Pixel art time! I have way too much fun w/ Smilk's many faces, his and PV's combined came to around 22 expressions. These are quick to made due to their small size (25x25 px). Zip file includes both the og and 75x75 sizes. I don't mind if any Vanilla milkshakers might use these, just please remember to read the my art terms and conditions first! (which can be found in my About)

Some disclaimer: some images may have different names. This is the first time I'm using Getuploader so sorry if something broke.

Link

[sonotpattismith]

YOURE WRITING IS LIT AMAZING OMG- I had an idea: Sukuna switching in and telling u yuji likes you (romanticly and sexually) and eventually switching back and the aftermath…. 🙏🙏🙏

Forgive Me for Whatever I Do (Yuji Itadori x Reader)

word count: 4.9k warnings: a teeny bit dark, angst, suggestive content, 18+ a/n: y'all, I think I kind of altered what the original vibe was meant to be for this request, but I am apparently physically incapable of not making a fic angsty, I'm SORRY. Also, this was a bit inspired by Remember You by Dominurmom, link if you wanna listen cause it makes me cry. I hope you all enjoy and please remember my requests are always open! 🥹🫶🏻

Friends. It was a good word-- a safe word. It was one you had found solace in hiding behind for years. How could you dare risk the beautiful ebb and flow you had found within the days of while you’d experienced with your best friend? No matter the pools of warmth that engulfed your chest with each glittery-eyed smile-- no matter how the both of you had always found your way back to each other whether rain or sunshine-- no matter how much you loved Yuji Itadori. Friends; it was a safe space. 

There was a time when you wanted something more. It was so early on, before you were too scared to lose him yet. When you two had first met, you felt undeniably pulled toward the bright-eyed and charismatic boy. Both of your lives had been overwhelmingly and newly hectic, what with your being thrust into a life of curses and sacrifice. Similarly, Yuji was still coping with the abrupt weight of managing the demon he now shared a body with. It was never the right time. 

So, your timid glances and blushing compliments soon turned into confiding conversations and fierce loyalty. You two fell into the gentle and safe rhythm of a blossoming friendship. Of course, deep down within the confines of your cowardly hearts, you were always drawn to one another. There was always a hope, never communicated, that maybe once your lives found a peaceful medium, you two would no longer need to hide behind the solace of friends.

This certainly wasn’t how you wanted it to happen. 

Yuji had always made it appoint to keep you and Sukuna at opposite ends of his world, in all senses of the phrase. He barely spoke of him to you at all, in fact. It was actually something you argued often with him about, worried about the impacts of keeping that kind of burden locked away would have on him. In typical Itadori fashion though, he wouldn’t even entertain the notion of an argument with you. No, he’d just squint his honey-brown eyes, and flash that bashful smile to you, a half-assed excuse about why it wasn’t that big of a deal falling easily from his lips. 

The truth was though, it was a big deal to him-- a massive one, in fact. After having already witnessed what that counterpart of his could do, the havok it could ensue on those important to him-- nothing scared him more than the prospect of you coming face to face with Sukuna. Yuji felt this fear so much so that he spared you the details. He didn’t want you to think of him in such a way, to know that any part of him was capable of such atrocities. Yes, he’d bear it all if it meant none of it touched you. 

So, when he felt his own body deteriorating rapidly in tandem with the whaling blows of cursed energy courtesy of the special grade the two of you had been cornered by, the thought flickered in the back of his head. Heaving out a pained groan, Yuji’s gaze found yours, and he pushed it back down. But you screamed. You screamed, and he couldn’t help you-- he couldn’t move. You screamed, and he was trapped beneath the concrete pillar that had fallen so unceremoniously over his heaving chest. You screamed, and suddenly, it was his only option. 

“Sukuna!”

The King of Curses was not one for favors, especially not for the brat that held him hostage in what was meant to be his vessel. He assessed the situation before him-- the one he’d been watching intently from the safety of his own shrine. Through his insolent vessel’s eyes, he could only see you. It was all the brat would look at, you were all he ever looked at. Whether it be the back of your head, hair swaying gently as you’d turn to smile at him, and Sukuna would always feel the boy’s heart clench fouly at the sight. On some occasions, you’d be looking right at him, your eyes with stars behind them, and the demon wanted nothing more than to rip them right from their sockets simply for the way his vessel would tremble under your gaze.

Pathetic. 

Maybe if the brat had been looking toward something else for once, they wouldn’t have been in this predicament. But he was racing toward you at every chance he got, taking blows that were meant for you, countering attacks that you had antagonized. He couldn’t understand how someone could be so weak.

So, he laughed. In the back of Itadori’s frenzied mind, Sukuna cackled at him. The boy whispered a plea, tears stinging his eyes as he watched you stumble to your feet in a grave attempt to escape the repeated blows being landed on you. 

“Anything, I’ll do anything, please!”

The demon liked the sound of that. Yuji could feel the control slipping away from him, his consciousness being sucked up by the all consuming darkness lurking within. For just a moment, he fought against it, staring up at you in an almost drunken haze. 

“I’m sorry. Please,” He called out to you, voice hoarse and morphing into one you didn’t recognize. “Just look away.”

In mere seconds, the boy you loved was shifting before your eyes. His features were sharpening; sinister, black marks pooling onto his skin like ink. The second set of eyes below his own snapped open, and they were looking right at you. Maybe, Sukuna thought, if he saw it for himself he’d understand, without the barrier of this boy’s soul in the way. Still, as he stared into your fearful eyes, he felt nothing but indifference-- no-- disgust. 

Jagged chunks of concrete rubble sliced through the air around you, knocking into your already weak body, some even slicing through the special grade in front of you. Blinking back the dust that invaded your sight, when your eyes opened again, the curse was desecrated; an explosion of grotesque, purple evidence of what it once was. 

Sukuna didn’t care to save you. What enticed him more for the approximate two minutes he had left in control of this body, was breaking down the brat a little. In all fairness, when you stood there so helplessly, so vulnerable with eyes full of fear before him, how could he resist? His impossibly sharp teeth flashed under the moon’s light as he stepped toward you, torn shirt hanging loosely off his shoulder and chest. 

You wanted to apologize to Yuji, to tell him that you tried to look away like he’d asked. It wasn’t a fair request though. No, not when your best friend, the boy you loved, was being held hostage. You feared if you looked away he might do something awful to him-- unaware of what lurked in the dark chasm of his thusfar imprisoned mind. 

“I’ve gotta say,” Sukuna’s gravelly voice reached your ears. It didn’t hold that playfully boyish cadence you had come to love. In its place was one that mocked you, laughing boisterously in the face of your trembling fear and anticipation of what he’d do next. “In the flesh, you’re pretty underwhelming.”

You gulped down the bile that threatened to rise from your stomach. Still crumpled on the ground from the last hit you’d taken, you weren’t sure if you should attempt to stand; unsure if he’d find that acceptable. Sukuna tilted his head at your silence, taking two slow and calculated steps forward. 

“Disgusting.” He spat suddenly, gripping you by your elbow to haul you up. You yelped in surprise, trying not to shed the tears that welled in your eyes at the sting of his nails against your skin. “This brat spends day in and day out allowing himself to be consumed. And for this?”

Your brows furrowed at his words, and you pulled against his grip. 

“Give him back.” You gritted through your teeth, fear igniting your body in tremors. 

Sukuna’s red eyes, all four of them, lit up sinsiterly, grin widening in a manner that appeared painful. You realized for that split second that he likely didn’t have much time at all to wreak havoc, and he was enjoying this. He wanted to hurt you-- to hurt Yuji, even with the limited scope of his abilities at the moment. 

“How romantic.” He cooed mockingly. His hand came up to grasp your jaw, forcing you to look into the eyes of your best friend, but he wasn’t there. Your stray tear betrayed you, slipping down your mangled cheek. Leaning forward with gusto, he licked a debauched stripe up the path your traitorous tear had taken, cackling madly as the salt tainted his tongue. Pushing you back a bit, his voice was suddenly booming, cracking at your abused eardrums with fervor. “All day!”

You tried to keep your face neutral, to be unwilling to give up the shred of dignity you had left-- for Yuji. 

“All day this brat pines and trembles and burns with the thought of you-- pathetic!”

For a moment, you felt your heart stop at his words. Surely he wasn’t implying that Yuji, even in the slightest sense, saw past more than just your friendship. You knew you shouldn’t. It wasn’t him, but your lips were moving to a different rhythm than your mind was, and you were whispering to him in hushed bewilderment, 

“What?”

“And you’re so stupidly oblivious, too? How revolting.” Despite his disgusted words, the baleful smile on his face grew that much wilder. It struck you then, how much you had disconnected yourself from the fact that the body before you, holding your body weight up with a deafening grip on your jaw, was Yuji. You didn’t see him. When you looked at that pink hair and felt the familiar curves of his hands, he wasn’t your best friend. “I suppose you’re not the only ignorant one. I can practically feel the way your weak little heart pounds everytime that brat looks at you.”

Your cheeks were burning at this point, and if he couldn’t see it in the dim moonlight, he could surely feel the heat under his mean fingers. Blinking away your tears, you willed your lip to stop trembling. 

“He doesn’t know it, you know.” Sukuna chuckled, spurred on by your painful silence. “I spend all day having to listen to him whine about his unreciprocated, little love-sick infatuation.”

It was making your stomach churn, the way he was turning your feelings for one another, ones that you were only now becoming privy to, into something so revolting. The words falling from his lips were ones you prayed so long to hear. You had spent so many sleepless nights staring back at your best friend where he laid sprawled out on the other side of your bed, both of you too traumatized from the day’s monstrosities to sleep alone-- to leave each other. This isn’t how you wanted to find out though. 

Amongst the desecration of your normal lives, you wanted to grasp onto the hope of innocence, of pure and untouched love and fondness. You hoped for bashful confessions and spontaneous kisses, ones that were purely Yuji’s intent. Sukuna was snatching the opportunity right from beneath you two, and he knew it. 

You shook your head, or tried to with the grip that was forcing your gaze on him. 

“My days are filled with his insolent whining, and I don’t find solace at night either.” If you didn’t know any better, you’d think by the eager way he was spilling these thoughts out to you that he was happy to spend his fortitude in such a manner. You did know better though, and you knew what he enjoyed was the chance of domestic normalcy he was ripping away from the boy that held him hostage. “No, he touches himself at night.”

“Stop it.” You spat, unable to hold back the dam of your tears any longer. They spilled freely down your cheeks, and you swore you could see his red eyes roll into the back of his head. Your weak hands came up in a desperate attempt to shield your ears from the intimate secrets Yuji likely never intended for you to hear-- not like this anyway. The hand that held your jaw quickly fell, and he laced his fingers through yours mockingly, forcing you to listen. 

“That brat thinks of you all night when he’s beating himself off like the degenerate he is. Sometimes he calls out your name too, when he--”

You couldn’t take it anymore, feeling as though you might throw up. Above all else, your heart ached for Yuji, and you wondered if he could hear what was going on, if he was clawing his way out. You wanted to apologize to him, tell him you never meant to find out this way. You wished you could forget.

“Yuji!” 

Your cry made the demon smile, but it quickly faded with a knowing furrow of his brows. Eyes drooping lazily as he looked toward you, he shook his head. The marks on his face were slowly absorbing back into his skin. His upper lip curled in disgust. 

“Pathetic.”

In an instant, he was falling to the floor limply, bringing you down with him. When you looked up in a frenzied haze at the head that fell onto your chest, you noted with relief that it was Yuji again. His eyes fluttered open deliriously, taking in his surroundings. Looking up, he was met by your grief-stricken expression, fresh tears clinging to your face. His freshly healed arms were pulling himself up clumsily, hovering over you in a way that made it obvious that fear was gripping at every nerve in his body. 

“What— what did he do? Are you okay?” 

It was Sukuna’s very intention, the manner in which you had no choice but to see Yuji so differently now. As he hovered over you, unintentionally entrapping you under his tensing arms and bare chest, you couldn’t help but blush as the curse’s words rang in your mind. The thought of the boy you’d dreamt about for so long thinking of you in such a way, touching himself to the thought of you, longing for you-- and he was right there within your reach. 

“You… you don’t remember?” You whispered, trying to calm your racing heart. 

Yuji quickly shook his head, his comforting brown eyes tracing down your body as if to assess the damages. When his hands molded around your waist to pull your shirt up, the one that was slowly flooding through with blood from the gash on your side, you gasped and flinched away. He gulped back his nausea at the racing thoughts of what Sukuna could have done to you to warrant such a response. His hands reeled back to his sides, and he sat back on his knees. 

“I got pretty messed up back there… I think I was still healing.” he explained slowly, wanting so badly to help you, but unsure of how you viewed him now-- how scared you were of him. What he didn’t know was that you weren’t scared of him, not at all. In fact, you wanted to pull him in, hold him close, tell him that you’ve loved him all this time as well. It should have been an idyllic occasion. In the back of your mind though, you knew if Yuji hadn’t confessed to you himself already then there was likely a reason, and you shouldn’t force the decision onto him just because the curse residing in him ripped away the layers of protection that shrouded those feelings. “Please, I’m sorry. What did he do to you?”

He didn’t remember, and maybe it was better that way. At least one of you could be spared the humiliation. It took some time, but you had convinced Yuji that you were simply shaken up from the fight, though you felt he still wasn’t entirely convinced. His movements were painfully careful as he carried you to safety. It was so clear in the way he touched you with such delicacy, that he feared scaring you more than he thought he already had. 

You stared up at the ceiling that night, tears clouding your vision as you toyed with the edge of the gauze that wrapped your abdomen. In all the time you two had known each other, you couldn’t wrap your head around why he was so scared of opening up to you about the monster he shared a body with. Countless nights you’d spent after missions, as he stared unblinkingly at a wall, begging him to confide in you. In just under five minutes with the thing though, you understood the cruelty he was trying to protect you from. 

There was a soft knock on your door, and you lifted your head up as it slid open. Yuji stood tentatively at the entrance, looking like the absolute picture of health compared to your mangled self. He was scratching at the back of his head awkwardly, a little quirk you’d grown to love, much like everything else about him. Flashing you his attempt at a bashful smile, he tilted his head at you. 

“Thought you could use some company.” He offered. It was somewhat of a routine of yours to meet together after a particularly grueling mission. The two of you would lay in bed, facing each other with moronic smiles on your lips as you talked about everything-- everything but the horrors you’d witnessed. It was the only way you could find yourself calm enough to fall asleep. If you two talked each other’s ears off about the comparable strength of two manga characters, or argued halfheartedly over what was the superior horror movie in your already trash-fire line up, if you distracted one another line by line-- the two of you would forget about what you saw. Just long enough to allow your eyes to forcefully drift in exhaustion. 

Now though, as he stared undecisively at you, you could tell he wasn’t sure if he would still be allowed such privileges. Despite being lost in the labyrinth of your own mind over the night’s events-- over him-- you smiled softly for his sake and patted the spot beside you. Your breath hitched as he eagerly closed the door behind him and climbed into bed beside you. His sigh of relief fanned over the side of your face despite his attempt at concealing it. You felt his eyes on you, his body already on its side and facing you, awaiting for you to do the same. 

“Oh, your side.” Yuji sighed in ackowledgement, and you simply nodded in agreement, not wanting to reveal that you simply couldn’t look him in the eyes without bursting on the spot. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as he reached out to softly graze his hand over the wounded area. The boy saw the way your breath hitched and your expression shifted, slowly retracting his hand. “Listen, I’m sorry for whatever happened back there. Please, look at me.”

A little piece of your heart broke off at the pained desperation in his tone. Blinking back the tears that threatened to form, you turned your head to the side to look in his wide, distraught eyes. Softening your gaze, you struggled against your pain as you forced yourself on your side to face him. 

“No, Yuji, it’s okay--”

“No it’s not!” In an instant, he was sitting up, looking down at you as his chest heaved with purposeful breaths. “He’s taken everything from me, and I…”

His shoulders slumped, and a rosy tint rushed to his cheeks. 

“I won’t let him take you too-- I can’t. So, please, just tell me what I have to do to make you not scared of me anymore, and I’ll do it, okay? I’ll do anything.”

Unable to take it anymore, you moved to sit up with a grunt. Yuji’s hands quickly shot out to help you until you were facing him. He looked back at you with such conviction, such longing in his gaze, and, with hindsight bias, you wondered how you never saw it sooner. 

“You’re my best friend, Yuji… I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Then why can’t you look me in the eyes?”

You pursed your lips, tentatively taking his hands into yours to hold them between you two. His breath hitched ever so slightly at the connection. Scraping your thumb over his knuckle absentmindedly in a manner that was scrambling his brain like eggs, you thought carefully on your next words. 

“You don’t think anything could ruin our friendship… right?” You asked timidly, eyes meeting his through your lashes. His brows furrowed at your question, and he found himself leaning forward to gaze into you sincerely, shaking his head quickly. 

“Nothing. Don’t you think we’ve been through too much together already? You’re kinda stuck with me.”

The hesitantly joking tone in his voice made you smile softly. Yuji had a way of easing your anxiety that way, as if there was a little door in your mind that only he had the key to open up and gaze into whenever he pleased. It gave you more confidence to continue your pursuit.. 

“And there aren’t any secrets between us? Nothing you’ve… not told me?”

Gulping thickly, he felt his face pale. There was something he was keeping from you, something he had come to terms with being content with if it meant he’d never put your relationship in jeopardy. An attempted smile broke into his face, but the corners of his lips were twitching anxiously. You could have melted at the sight. 

 “Uh… no. You know I tell you everything.” The lie stumbled from his lips unconvincingly. Your lips set into a firm line as you shot him a knowing yet playful look. Suddenly, his eyes were darting everywhere but you. They were at your hands, on your nose, on the ceiling, anywhere that would allow him to gather his thoughts. “Is this about the dent in your bathroom wall? Cause I promise I have a good explaination, a-and I was going to tell you, but you were already upset about the--”

“I love you.” It fell from your lips, permanent, unable to be drawn back in. In truth, the both of you could have died that night. Yuji was practically pinned under a building, and you had been face to face with the king of curses. The sentiment of either of you dying without having heard the depths of your feelings for one another was not lost on you. The lifestyles you led were perilous, self-sacrificing, and morbid. You already lived in fear that your next mission would be your last, and, as you were blanketed by the comfort brought upon by the proximity of the boy you loved so dearly, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel this type of fear too. Not for Yuji. 

“Take it back.”

Okay, maybe his blunt order hurt more than the boulder that flew into your side earlier, but you still stood by what you said. A small, breathless gasp fell from your lips as you stared at his solemn expression. 

“Oh,” you muttered out meekly, and, despite your burning embarrassment, you couldn’t tear your eyes from his. “I’m sorry, I just—”

“I wanted to say it to you first.” He reiterated, his lips pulled to the side in frustration, eyebrows furrowed as he regarded you. “I spent years thinking of what I wanted to say to you. Take it back.” 

Relief flooded your system like a drug, flowing through your veins and relaxing your constricting muscles. In its place came a bashful flush at his words. Smiling softly in disbelief, you shook your head a bit.

“Okay,” you drew out slowly, watching him square his muscles back as if preparing for his line. “I take it back.” 

Despite his previous determination and insistence that he had something profound to say, all he could do was lean forward to press his lips against yours clumsily. He couldn’t help himself, not with the way your twinkling eyes stared up at him expectantly, glimmering with an excitement he felt he was alone with for years. A muffled huff of surprise from you was swallowed right up by his eager lips as he lunged forward to deepen the connection he’d just forged. 

“‘M sorry,” Yuji mumbled against your mouth, reaching up to grip at the side of your face as if you’d ever run from him. “Know I talked all that shit, but I forgot what I was gonna say. I love you. I just love you. I’ve always loved you.”

He didn’t allow you any room for a response because his desperate push against your lips had you leaning back to accommodate the sudden weight, and you fell back against your pillow. The boy eagerly chased you, crawling over your panting form to pour out all the soliloquies he longed to spill out to you with some semblance of eloquence, he wanted it all conveyed to you through his frenzied devouring of you. 

Your mind was reeling with his sudden urgency, and you quickly came to the realization that the both of you had been living with this fear of passing one another up. Your hand snaked up to run along his chest, daring to explore up his neck and into the tufts of his pink hair. A soft moan of your name had you blushing profusely, suddenly remembering what Sukuna had told you about the extent of Yuji’s desires for you. You wondered if this was what he sounded like when he called out to you at night with his hands wrapped around himself. Squinting your eyes, you willed your imagination to take a quick u-turn, remembering that that wasn’t information Yuji had given up willingly. 

“Say it back.” Yuji suddenly demanded, finally tearing away from his assault on your lips to stare down at you determinedly. “Say it again.” 

Your free hand came up to cup his cheek. There was so much fear and guilt and sadness pent up in your chest at the prospect of what Sukuna had taken from him that night. It had never been like you to lie to him or keep things from him. As your thumb ran across his bottom lip lovingly, and he looked so accomplished, so content with how this night had somehow progressed in his favor, you realized that the curse hadn’t taken anything from him. Not when you were there to make sure that kind of hatred never touched him. 

“I love you too, Yuji.” 

His wide, boyish grin lit up the dim room. Swinging back down with fervor, the two of you laughed against each other as your teeth clashed messily. Humming contentedly, his wandering hands traveled down your side and snuck up your shirt. God, he’d dreamed of this for so long, and you were right there- underneath of him and pliable to his every touch. He knew he was getting ahead of himself, he could feel it in the way his boxers tightened uncomfortably against him, but he feared he may wake up at any second back in his dorm room alone, like he had so many times following his messianic dreams about what it may be like to have you. 

As his fingers creeped up, you flinched against his fervent grasp that lit your wounded side ablaze. Yuji was suddenly reminded of the night’s events, and he cursed quietly before reluctantly pulling away from you. Looking down at your flushed cheeks and swollen lips, an unbrittled exhilaration swirled in his chest. There would be so many more nights with you, he would make sure of it. He leaned forward to press a last, longing and solemn kiss against your forehead-- a promise that you two would come back to this. 

Carefully, he pulled his grasp away from your wounded side and settled down beside you. Unlike those countless nights the two of you shared a bed, Yuji laid snuggly against you, locking your knees under his strong legs. With his head propped up on his elbow, he beamed down at you, lovestruck as he affectionately tugged your shirt back down. As his fingers lingered against the protruding gauze, his expression creased a bit.

“You… you never told me what Sukuna did.”

Although he hated that he felt the need to ruin the moment with such dark thoughts, no amount of lust could have driven that fear from the back of his mind. Your smile faltered marginally at his words. Thinking of how excited he was to confess to you, and how ardently he fell into this new role so comfortably with you, exploring you with an innocence that was a stark contrast to the dark world you two traversed, you shook your head. Leaning up to press an assuring kiss to his cheek, you looked right at the slits under his eyes, as if daring the curse to acknowledge you. 

“He didn’t do a damn thing.”

masterlist.

[g1rlw1th0n33ye3]

When the sun goes down.

Summary ~ Aegon Targaryen II x reader ( no use of y/n cause noo) Aegon finds out something unexpected during his most recent visit to the street of silk.

Warnings- Dubious consent, Drunk sex, its Smut so like yuh know 🧍🏽‍♀️

Also, this is my first fic ever so be nice, please!! I had a day off and a bottle of pink Whitney so here we are! I hope you enjoy also Aegon isn't complete scum of the earth in this story because no that face to pretty for that bad writing and he's not married either Helena and Jace are married and the twins are Jace's kids instead of Aegon's for plot reasons ok enjoy my baby dolls and lemme know if you want a part two!! 🫡

The hour was late as Aegon made his way through the tunnels of Megors holdfast intent on getting to the street of silk as fast as he could he needed something to destress after another unbearably dreadful family dinner they'd been happening more frequently since Helena had given birth to another baby boy this one with bright white hair unlike the two twin babes heads full of brown curls like there father she had given birth to two years earlier it seems his mother has finally accepted that the delusional idea of annulling the marriage was no longer possible now the two sides would favor being intertwined whether she liked or not though her new urge for family dinners to try and bring the family together prove her delusion is not fully gone. Aegon thinks to himself as he slides himself past the guards. Dressed in his usual common clothes disguised for sneaking about so as not to raise any suspicion to the roaming gold cloaks he kept his hood placed high on his head to hide his white tresses as he bobbed and weaved through the huddles of small folk through the streets of flea bottom till he reached his favorite brothel on the street of silk though he hadn't frequented it in awhile a new brothel full of women from Essos had been keeping him otherwise occupied but tonight he wished to be in the place he called closest to home as he entered hood down looking a disheveled mess the madam had immediately come up to him ready to shoo him off till he took off his hood white hair flowing freely that she stopped in her place and instead ushered over the cupbearer and grabbed a glass of wine from the girls tray and holding it out for Aegon

" my prince we haven't been graced with your presence in some time what a pleasure what can i do for you this fine night my prince" the madam spoke with almost an unnerving smile Aegon looked about the room taking it all in before speaking to the madam "I don't know about a fine night but just keep sending pretty girls to fill my cup for me and I'm sure soon it will be " he said before grabbing the wine and making his way to the pile of pillows and blankets strown around a little make shift stage with a dancer atop as he settled down and began chugging his wine beginning to feel the effects of his drink the whole room starting to feel like a warm mix of colors when he finally gazes upon the dancer he's settled Infront of taking in her beautiful face and body adorned in jewels she looked strangely familiar like a face he new but hadn’t seen in a long time the longer he watched you move the more he feel like he was falling into a dream the way you danced around swirling silk scarves in every direction pulling him in that mixed with his cup of wine the bar maids made sure to never let empty he was sure he was in a dream now, he was suddenly snapped out of his trance when he saw you dismount your makeshift stage and make your way for the stairs that led to the back rooms where the girls slept men weren’t allowed back there cause that’s where many of the other girls left the children to sleep while they worked if he didn’t get to you now you he would be out of luck for the rest of the night, he quickly got up and moved as fast as his drunk limbs would carry himself to get to you before you slipped through his grasp “ you there stop “ he said somehow out of breath from simply getting up to cross the room .

Stopping in your place as you adjust your robe you had finished your final dance of the night and were ready to rest your tired legs on your bed when you hear some drunk fool calling out behind you surly following you to ask for a night of your company though your surprised when you turn and are instead met with a drunken prince falling over himself to get to you. “ My prince i was just about to retire to my chambers but i’d be happy to find you another to serve you for the night” you say forcing a smile on your face “ you look familiar have we met before though i don’t think i would have forgot a night with someone as enticing as you” he whispers the honey laced words to you as he comes closer you try to back up to keep a respectable distance but he’s right on your tale “ y…yes my prince we did spend a night together some three years ago i was much different looking then so it’s understandable your memory fails you and well you were also quiet drunk m’prince “ you reveal hoping it will get him off your back men rarely want the same thing twice in a place like this a shame “ a shame i can’t recall though it just gives us more reason to make new ones “ he’s says leaning in to whisper in your ear his warm breath the smelled of honeyed wined fanning your face words catching in your throat at the way he pressed his nose to the side or your face to breathe in your smell “ I’m sorry to disappoint M’ prince but i’m just a dancer now my company is unfortunately not for sale and the madam would be upset with me for taking client from her actual girls but id be happy to help you find one of them “ you feel him pull away at your words a grunge pained on his face “ I didn’t ask for some other girl i asked to spend my time with you and i don’t see the madam here making sure her costumers are tended to so why don’t we just keep it between us and i give you all this gold i have here one this sack and this here “ he says handing you a fully stuffed bag of gold dragons and the golden ring that adorned his middle finger your jaw particularly drops at the sight of all the gold “ for you just for you not the madam what she knows won’t hurt her and will certainly help you “ he says with a mischievous glint to his eyes you look back down at the small fortune he’s handed you it nearly enough to get you out of this dreadful city

“we can do whatever you want “ he speaks one more time trying to convince you a hopefull drunk sloppy smile painted on his face even you can’t deny is charming “ I… alright”

You led him down the stairs by the hand to your small chambers at the very end of the long hall that held all of you and all the other girls' rooms you quickly pulled him in and turned to lock the door to avoid any prying eyes though it was unlikely anybody would be around at this hour non of the other girls usually made it back to there chambers before the sunrise when you turned from the door you found him sat at the edge of your bed taking off his heavy boots and placing them to the side before getting up and beginning his exploration of your room " did you spend all that coin just to gaze upon my perfumes and lotions " you finally speak trying to break the tension, he chuckles to himself before speaking " Mayhaps I did i mean I did say we could do whatever you wanted so you tell me what I paid for " he says looking at you with that tempting smirk of his " Whatever you'd like to m' prince" you say as you remove your robe to be only left in your dancing clothes if they could even be called that it was two simple strips of silk one covering your breasts and one covering your bottom all connected with a strip of jewels to make a sheer dress. You watch as he watches you as you remove your robe before stalking over to you trapping you between the door and himself. The moment Aegon pinned you between the door and himself, the air crackled with an electric tension. His violet eyes gleamed with mischief as they took in the sight of you, draped in the delicate silk of your attire, expertly designed to entice. “Call me Aegon,” he said softly, his voice low and enticing. “There's no need for formality here, pretty girl.” You tilted your head slightly, a playful smile gracing your lips. “Aegon,” you replied, letting his name roll off your tongue with a hint of teasing. It felt daring, refreshing, in a world filled with whispers and expectations. “What do you want?” he asked, leaning in just a fraction closer, his breath warm against your skin. You could feel the weight of his presence, drawing you in like a moth to a flame. A smirk danced across your face as you countered, “What do you want, Aegon?” It was a bold question, not typically asked of a prince, but you had learned to navigate these encounters with a blend of charm and confidence. He paused, a glimmer of surprise flashing in his eyes. “I want to know you—beyond what I see in this place. For tonight, I want to escape the constraints of my title and be just a man in your presence.” Your heart raced at his words, intrigued by this unexpected vulnerability. “Then let’s embrace that freedom together,” you suggested, eager for an evening untethered from convention. With a swift, graceful movement, you stepped closer, the silk of your dress brushing against him. “I must admit, I don’t often get to entertain a prince,” you said, your voice rich with playful mischief. Aegon chuckled, clearly delighted by your banter. “I’m not like the others, I assure you.”

As the tense atmosphere thickened between you, you could feel your pulse quickening. Every heartbeat echoed the electric pull between you—a magnetic attraction that begged to be explored. “Can I…?” he began, hesitation lacing his voice as he searched your eyes for permission.You nodded, breath catching in your throat. “Please,” you whispered, excitement pooling in your stomach. Aegon leaned in, capturing your lips with his in a soft but eager kiss. The taste of him sent shivers racing through your body, igniting a flame of desire that radiated from your core. You melted against him, feeling his warmth envelop you as he deepened the kiss.His hands found your waist, fingers sliding under the silk of your dress, caressing your skin with a slow, tantalizing touch. You gasped into his mouth, a mixture of surprise and longing coursing through you.

“Beautiful ,” he murmured against your lips, his breath hot as he pulled back just enough to search your eyes. With a surge of confidence, you leaned in, kissing him again, more fervently this time, deepening the connection that was rapidly spiraling into something primal. You could feel his heartbeat racing alongside yours, the tension thickening in the space around you. As he kissed you, his hands traveled further up your sides, gripping your waist with a firm but gentle hold. You arched into him, yearning for more, your body responding instinctively. Aegon used the momentum to press you back against the wall, the solid surface grounding you as he pressed his body closer, molding you against him. “Do you want this?” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear, igniting a rush of desire. “Yes,” you breathed, feeling the heat flush your cheeks. “I want you.” His gaze ignited with hunger at your words, and he captured your lips again, kissing you deeply, as if he were trying to consume you whole. “Let’s move to the bed,” he suggested, voice gravelly as he pulled back, clearing the space to carry you. Without waiting for an answer, he swept you off your feet, lifting you into his arms effortlessly. You gasped, your heart racing as he carried you to your simple bed draped in soft, inviting silks to seem more lavish . He gently laid you down on the mattress, hovering above you, his violet eyes burning with fervor. The anticipation making your body ache for his touch as Aegon slipped lower, trailing kisses along your body. He kissed down your neck, over your collarbone, and down to the swell of your breasts, but he didn’t stop there. His eyes darkened with desire as he made his way down your torso, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. “Let me taste you,” he murmured, glancing up at you for permission. The intense anticipation made your breath hitch, and all you could do was nod, overwhelmed by the way he looked at you, like a man starved.

He nestled between your legs, and as he kissed the soft skin of your inner thigh, your body tingled with excitement. The heat of his breath against your most sensitive areas made you squirm, the anticipation driving you wild. With teasing slowness, Aegon’s mouth found your core. The moment his tongue made contact lapping t your senstive bud, a gasp escaped your throat. His tongue moved with a masterful grace, licking and swirling, expertly coaxing pleasure from you. “Oh, Aegon,” you moaned, your fingers tangling in his short curls as he pressed closer, the sensations building rapidly within you. He drank you in, sounds of your pleasure encouraging him, urging him to explore further. “Just like that,” you gasped, hips instinctively rocking against him. The pleasure he gave you was overwhelming, a wave of ecstasy that swept through you, threatening to consume you. He moved with determination, using his tongue to tease and tantalize, exploring every sensitive spot with the precision of a skilled lover. Each flick sent jolts of pleasure sparking through your body, pushing you closer to the edge. You could feel your breathing becoming erratic, each gentle stroke igniting an inferno deep inside you. “I’m so close,” you gasped, unable to restrain the sounds bubbling from deep within. Aegon heightened his pace, his mouth working you to the brink, the pressure building so exquisitely that you could hardly believe it. The world faded away, leaving only the two of you, lost in an intimate dance of pleasure. With a final surge of intensity, you cried out, your body arching as waves of bliss crashed over you, holding you captive in a sweet surrender. The sensation consumed you, leaving you breathless and blissfully spent. He emerged from between your thighs, a smug smile gracing his lips as he wiped them with the back of his hand. “You taste even better than I imagined,” he teased, his eyes sparkling with satisfaction. Now, with your body humming from pleasure, you pulled him in for a hungry kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. The heat between you flared back to life as your bodies tangled, the urgency of your connection surging once more. With renewed desire, you whispered, “Now I need you inside me.” His eyes darkened with longing at your words. “I can make that happen,” he replied, his fingers hastily shedding his trousers, to release his aching cock. He hastily positioned himself at your entrance, rubbing his leaking cock head over your weeping slit before slowly, achingly, pushing his cock inside you, breaking through the last barriers that kept you apart. You gasped, a mixture of pleasure and fullness consuming you as he filled you so completely. With a deep, primal urgency, he began to thrust, the rhythm of your bodies a perfect match. Each movement sent shockwaves of pleasure radiating through you, driving you both toward the brink. “Just like that,” you urged, feeling the tension within you build with every thrust. “Tell me how good it feels,” he demanded, his voice low and gravelly as he continued to drive into you, at a frantic pace

“It feels … uh soo good, Aegon i’m so close ,” you moaned, feeling your body tighten around him, welcoming him deeper. “ Me to sweet girl, me too “ he panted into your neck as he continued to pound into you cunt your sweet little sounds spurring him on the heat between you both intensified, and with one final thrust, you both reached your peak, aegon not bothering to pull out as his cock spent itself inside you continuing his thrusts till he could no longer handle it falling flat on top of your sweaty form cock still sheathed inside your cunt you can hear his panting breathes beginning to even out and him began to drift away to slumber your about to protest and tell him he’s crushing you and he can’t sleep here when he scoops you up flipping you both over so your rested on top of him instead head placed right over his heart the soft beating lulling you away to. Just one moment like this wouldn’t be so bad you think to yourself just a minute and you’ll wake him up and tell him he has to go but for now you will enjoy the warmth of his body and the soothing rhythm of his heart beat lulling you to bed.

The soft hues of morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the lavish room. You slowly stirred awake, wrapped in the comfort of the sheets, a sense of bliss enveloping you as memories of the previous night flooded your mind. Aegon lay beside you, his face relaxed in peaceful slumber, the warmth of his body a comforting presence.

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling a mix of affection and excitement. Last night had been a whirlwind of passion and connection—something you hadn’t anticipated when you first saw him. Stretching slightly, you turned to him, admiring the way the morning light danced on his features. But as the reality sank in, urgency washed over you; you had to get Aegon out of here before anyone else in the brothel woke up. “Aegon!” you whispered urgently, gently shaking his shoulder. Before he could fully process your words, the door flung open with a loud bang, and an adorable little girl burst into the room. She had bright, tousled white hair and wide, lilac eyes that darted around, filled with a mix of anxiety and determination. “Mama!” she called, her voice filled with sweet yet panicked urgency. The sight of her jolted both you and Aegon wide awake. He shot upright, confusion etched on his face as he took in the scene before him. “Who is that?” Aegon asked, his voice laced with shock, turning from you to the little girl. You felt your heart race. “Anya, honey, what are you doing here?” you asked, trying to maintain a calm demeanor. “I woke up and couldn’t find you!” she said, her tone shifting as she caught sight of Aegon. “Who’s he, Mama?” Aegon’s brow furrowed as he took in Anya's features, realizing that she had the same bright white hair and lilac eyes as him . “Anya?” he murmured, a sense of recognition dawning on him as he thought out every possibility of who the girls father could be but Daemon hadn’t been to kings landing in Five years since jace’s wedding and this girl couldn’t be older then three, aemond was to preoccupied with his old bat to be fathering bastards and there was no way his father was visiting the street of silk in his declining health there was only one answer . “Is… is she mine?” You felt the weight of the unsaid truth crush you. “….Yes,” you confirmed, your voice barely above a whisper. “But this isn't the right time to discuss it. Aegon, you need to leave!” His expression shifted from shock to something deeper—fear mixed with a desperate need for understanding. “Leave? I can’t just leave without knowing the truth! Three years ago… that night—” he stumbled over his words, his hands clenching into fists, eyes wide with anxiety. “Is she really…? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Mama, why is he scared?” Anya asked innocently, her small hand gripping the edge of your dress, sensing the rising tension.

“Aegon,” you urged, feeling panic swell within you. “Please, I promise I’ll explain everything, but not here. She shouldn’t hear this right now.”

But Aegon wasn’t backing down. “I can’t just disappear, not when I might actually have a daughter. What if I never get to know her?”

Your mind raced, torn between the instinct to protect Anya and Aegon's desperate plea for answers. Anya looked up at Aegon, her bright eyes shining with curiosity. “You look like me!” she said, a huge grin spreading across her face. “You have my hair and eyes!”

Aegon knelt down, his expression softening as he glanced at her. “You’re right,” he said, the fear in his voice giving way to wonder. “You’re beautiful, just like your mama.”

A wave of emotions washed over you as you watched them together. The reality of this moment settled heavily in your chest. “Aegon, if you’re going to be in her life you have to do what best for her and right now isn’t the time to put this all on her give me a day or two to talk to her then you guys can meet properly” you say trying to give him something “ Alright he says two days I'll be back “ he says not looking away from your daughters face before trapping her in a hug you can see the tears in his eye as he grabs his cloak and shoes layed about the room so he can go not forgetting to leave you the sack of coin and all the rings on his hands before he leaves before you can protest he speaks “ For anything you and her need I'll be back i promise “ he goes to close the door and leave you before turning back around to speak once more “ Goodbye Anya it was a pleasure to meet “ you can here him holding back tears as he speaks only going when Anya waved him off with a toothy grin and a bye bye “ He was nice mama” Anya says when he’s finally gone you smile at her words coming down to her level to meet her bright lilac orbs “ Yes.. yes he was sweet girl now should we get something to break our fast “ you say reaching out for her little hand.

[piltover-sharpshooter]

I think what frustrates me about the Arcane fandom is that the show is complex enough to invite discussions on topics which are deep and multi-layered, and the fandom at large seems to categorically ignore those complexities to fit the themes and characters in one simplistic mold.

The show presents us with Caitlyn, and repeatedly shows us through her actions that she is trying to be a good person with good intentions, but at the same time points out that she is both part of the elite and naively believes the police force are the good guys. And instead of talking about how as a character Caitlyn manages to avoid becoming an opressive force because she's not engaging with both those systems in season 1, but could likely become that force if she does engage in season 2...people argue on whether she is or she isn't and that's it, no nuance or discussion.

And this has happened CONSTANTLY throught the years, grab a character and simplify them. Is Vi abusive or not? Does she deserve what happened to her? Is Silco justified or not? Is he a good parent? Is Jinx to blame or not? Did she ruin everything? Is Jayce an idiot or not? Why is he easy to manipulate?

And on and on and on. It's just...frustrating.

[ivelle-serenity]

Skateboard 14

Wind breaker

fem bodied reader | smut | action | pwp | jayjo/fml | vinny/fml | wooin/fml | joker/fml | hyuk/fml | owen/fml | enemies to lovers | angsty | the other woman (?) | reverse harem | fluff | SLOW BURN! | all characters featured are 18+

author's note: this part uses third-person POV.

✧˖° — windbreaker men

✧˖° — mdni, smut, description of not safe for work content.

✧˖° — this is a story not one shot.

Wooin's vision darkened as he saw the two bouncers assigned to his condo sprawled on the floor. Joker's eyes widened in shock at the sight, and he rushed inside to check if Demitra was still there. He nearly broke down every door in his frantic search, desperate to see if anything had happened to her. But there was no sign of her anywhere. Wooin clenched his fist, knowing immediately who could be responsible for this.

"What’s going on here?" Hyuk asked, his voice dripping with boredom. He seemed unfazed by the sight of the two large men on the ground. "That looks bad," was all he managed to say, eyeing their battered faces.

"That bastard," Wooin growled, making his way down the stairs to find the man he suspected was behind it all. When he reached the bottom, he spotted Vinny sitting on a counter stool, casually drinking alcohol at this early hour, his gaze fixed on the TV. He was watching the race.

Rage surged through Wooin as he recognized Demitra on the screen. He knew it was her, even with the wig. No one could identify her like he could.

Without a word, Wooin grabbed Vinny by the collar and punched him hard in the face. Vinny didn’t even flinch, as if he had anticipated the blow. Instead, he just grinned. It wasn’t long before Joker and Hyuk appeared behind Wooin.

"You let her escape? Do you really want to die?" Wooin challenged, his voice laced with a threatening edge.

"I didn’t let her escape. I helped her get away," Vinny replied, his tone dismissive.

Joker’s ears perked up at that, and he stepped forward, gripping Vinny’s shirt tightly. "Why did you do that? Why?" he demanded fiercely. Vinny looked back at him with a blank expression.

"The girl wanted to go to the race. Who am I to say no? Besides, you keep telling me she’s a princess. A princess should be obeyed," he retorted arrogantly, tilting his chin defiantly.

"You piece of shit," Wooin spat. "Is this your way of apologizing for messing with her? Let me tell you, you’re a fool for doing that. She’s in danger and shouldn’t be involved in races, you asshole."

Vinny’s expression remained surprisingly neutral, despite the intensity of the situation. "That’s not my problem anymore."

Hyuk shook his head in disbelief, scoffing. "Idiot," he muttered before turning away.

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

"I don’t know why I’m so nervous. We can’t possibly be picked, right? With so many crews, it’s practically impossible," Dom tried to reassure himself, laughter escaping his lips. Demitra was focused on the MC at the front, who was mixing the papers in a box. Jay couldn’t help but think she looked like she was performing some sort of ritual to ensure their team wouldn’t be selected.

June, on the other hand, stared intently at the large screen, swallowing hard as he considered whether he could really make it to the finish line. Deep down, he knew he was the most likely to lag behind. Jay glanced at the other crews and spotted the Monster team. Some members grinned smugly, while their leader wore a serious expression. Where was the Sabbath crew? Jay wondered, unease churning in his gut.

"I’m sure the Monster team will go first—"

"Ladies and gentlemen, the first team to race is the Hummingbird Crew!"

"Oh, fuck," Dom exclaimed, his shoulders sagging as disappointment washed over him. Demitra sighed, tightening her grip on her face mask. June took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come. Jay, however, remained focused, his bike ready for action.

Based on what Demitra had watched, Shelly had stretched before her race, so she decided to do the same. She extended her arms while glancing at the large screen, where their team was being featured. She caught Jay looking at her for a moment, but he quickly averted his gaze. This left her confused—should she approach him and pretend to be Shelly?

"Just remember what I told you guys. We're going to win this," she declared, mounting her bike with a serious focus on the road ahead.

"I’m gonna mess this up, I just know it," Dom muttered under his breath.

"Stop saying that, Dom. We can do this," June reprimanded, though the nervousness in his eyes betrayed his words. Dom slapped his mouth, then shouted as if to motivate himself.

Demitra glanced at Jay, who appeared deep in thought. She had noticed his distracted demeanor since they arrived, as if he were lost in another world. She shrugged it off. Maybe he was just missing Shelly. Her gaze fell to the necklace he wore, but as soon as he caught her looking, she quickly averted her eyes.

"WOW! WE'RE TRENDING ON SOCIAL MEDIA! THIS IS SO EXCITING! IT LOOKS LIKE THE HUMMINGBIRD HAS PLENTY OF FANS!" the MC announced to the crowd, laughter evident in his voice.

A man stepped to the center of the stage, holding a small flag, ready to signal the start of the event.

Demitra tightened her grip on the handlebars. As the man in the center signaled the start, Dom took off first, followed closely by Jay, June, and finally her. The road was filled with large trucks, leaving barely enough space for them to race together. Demitra cursed under her breath as she realized the different types of trucks blocking the way. The organizers had clearly invested a lot of time and money into this race.

"And we can see that the Hummingbird team remains calm as Dom kicks off the race! Let’s see how long they can maintain that composure as they reach the most thrilling part of the competition!" the MC shouted, his voice booming over the crowd.

"Oh hell nah," Dom muttered under his breath as he spotted a truck with a trailer and an empty orange platform blocking the road. That was the only route available. He came to a halt, causing Jay to stop beside him.

"Show him first!" Demitra yelled to Jay. He immediately understood her cue and pedaled faster, lifting his bike to reach the truck's platform. There was only one way back to the road, and that was to ride up to the edge and drop down onto the ground below.

Now Demitra understood why Dom had hesitated. The drop from the platform was dangerously high.

"WOOAHH! THE SUPER ROOKIE DOES IT AGAIN! HE'S FLYING!" the crowd erupted with excitement. From a distance, Demitra saw Jay actually make it to the edge and drop his bike onto the ground. He stayed airborne for a moment, which only fueled the crowd’s cheers.

Demitra quickly glanced to the side of the truck, hoping for a way out for Dom and June. She knew they wouldn’t be able to handle such a high drop. A grin spread across her face when she noticed the truck's door was slightly open, offering a narrow escape route for them, even if it was a tight squeeze.

"Fuck it."

A gasp echoed through the crowd as Demitra stood up on her bike, determination etched on her face. With swift precision, she lifted one foot from the pedal, shifting her weight to the left side. In one fluid motion, she swung her left foot toward the truck's door, kicking it with all her might. The sound of splintering metal filled the air as the door broke free and swung wide open.

She quickly lifted her bike to avoid any damage, her eyes darting back to Dom, who was still trailing behind. With a fierce look of encouragement, she signaled him to move forward.

“What just happened? Did she really break that door so easily?” Mia exclaimed, disbelief flooding her voice as she watched the unfolding drama on the screen.

Minu’s face lit up with amusement. “She saw that the door was old and weak. She took the opportunity to break it, creating a path for Dom and June.”

“How did she even think of that?” Aria asked, eyes wide with surprise.

“Because she’s a princess,” Minu replied nonchalantly, causing his girlfriend to furrow her brow. He glanced at her, a silent understanding passing between them, but then looked away. Mia sensed there was something deeper between them that she couldn’t quite grasp, and she was eager to uncover it.

Meanwhile, in the office, Nick sat with Mr. Nam, watching the spectacle unfold on the TV. “She hasn’t changed at all,” he remarked, a hint of admiration in his voice.

"One minute and thirty seconds left!" the announcer's voice echoed through the arena, and the tension surged.

Chaos rippled among the crowd. The spectators, engrossed in the race, didn't know where to look—at the ticking timer displayed on the screen or the Hummingbird crew racing against time. Teams who had already been disqualified from League of Street watched intently, their attention riveted on the extreme round, where Hummingbird was the first to take the plunge.

Then, the atmosphere shifted as Wooin arrived at the event. Eyes shifted toward him, murmurs spreading through the crowd.

"They're late. Good thing their team wasn't drawn from the box, or they'd be disqualified," some whispered.

But Wooin ignored them, his gaze locked on the screen where the camera focused on Jay Jo. His fist clenched at the sight. He knew this man was the reason his plans for Demitra had crumbled.

Joker appeared at his side. "We can't risk her being in trouble. We can't talk to her now," he reminded Wooin in a hushed tone.

Wooin smirked darkly. "Who said I'd talk to her?" he replied, his voice ominous as he glanced at Joker. "Soon, she'll realize we were right. She'll come crawling back, crying for us. I'll make sure of it." A sinister laugh escaped his lips.

"She will," Hyuk agreed, nodding beside him.

Meanwhile, on the track, Demitra licked her lips behind her facemask, eyes sharp with focus. "Dom, go!" she called out. Dom’s eyes blazed with determination as he accelerated toward the bowl area, June close behind him, and Demitra bringing up the rear. Jay was already near the finish line.

"We're right behind you, Dom!" June's voice broke the tension, steadying Dom's nerves as he began to falter, his pace slowing. The fear of not making it out of the bowl gripped him. But June’s encouragement gave him the strength to push through, despite the burning in his legs.

Finally, Dom burst out of the bowl, followed closely by June and then Demitra.

"Thirty seconds!" the announcer shouted.

Dom gritted his teeth. "Here we go, fuckers," he muttered, picking up speed, his bike roaring as he pushed forward. They were closing in on Jay now, the finish line coming into view.

"You can do it..." Mia whispered to herself, glued to the screen.

"They’re not gonna make it," Aria muttered nervously, her hands gripping the phone tightly.

Just as Dom and June neared the finish line, a loud horn blared, echoing through the track. Dom's eyes widened in horror as a massive truck sped toward them from the left side, aiming straight for Jay and Demitra.

"Watch out!" Dom screamed.

The truck was enormous, barreling down with terrifying speed. Demitra's heart raced, adrenaline flooding her veins as the looming vehicle threatened not just their bikes but their lives. Jay reacted first, jerking his handlebars to the side, riding up the wall to narrowly escape.

Demitra followed suit, leaning hard into a curve as her bike slipped just beneath the truck. She felt the sting as her elbow grazed the ground, the bike so low that it scraped the asphalt. She cursed under her breath, pain shooting through her arm.

"With 10 seconds to spare, Hummingbird crossed the finish line!"

[novella-november]

Not to harsh your joy regarding your personal project, (which does sound awesome!) the fact that you keep answering the "can I do fanfic?" questions with "technically yes, but have you considered not doing that?" does not actually *feel* very fanfic friendly. (Especially for anyone who enjoys fanfic as a hobby and isn't also an ofic writer. For example, I personally write almost exclusively character studies that are an explicit reaction to canon; there is no real way to write that sort of thing except as fanfic.)

Which is just a long-winded way of requesting that you maybe consider less of a caveat with the FAQ if you make one, please.

oh that was definitely not my intention, thanks for the ask! I think it was mostly just because I got that same question a few times in a row from various anons within the same time span (including some that were not published publicly), it just happened that I was thinking of my own project(s, plural now) in the last day when I answered those two, for those who want an extra creative challenge.

There's a reason my own original thing has been in my head for the last ten years without me actually writing it while I've written and posted tons of fanfiction, and even now some of my original works are going to be based on Arsene Lupin, so they'd technically be considered fanfiction since they're based on and use an established work for the characters and settings --

--writing completely original fic *is* harder, and that's exactly why I'm *suggesting* (not requiring!) that people consider taking 1 out of short story 4 challenges to look at their work in a new light.

90% of what I read and (until I actually start and finish my original works) 100% of what I've written in my life is fanfic. I have nothing against fanfic, otherwise I woudn't even be interested in creative writing.

But its also not a diss to say "Would you consider looking at your [fanfic] writing from a new angle and try to figure out different ways of going about it?"

Honestly, being able to even consider this option *as a fun extra challenge* is meant to help improve your writing and creative skills; it's not meant as a cheap shot at people who choose to write fanfiction because I my self write and read tons of it,

it's me saying "if you want even more practice at creative writing during these monthly challenges, try branching out a little bit from your comfort zone, you may be pleasantly surprised."

People who write and read fanfiction already have tons of creative experience, and if people like me and many other fanfic writers who one day dream of being published authors, want to broaden our horizons and seek new experiences, one of the easiest exercises is to take something we're planning on writing or already wrote, and see what we would change to make it brand new and standalone--

-- something that not only helps you come up with new ideas, but also will help when it comes time to *edit*, which can be, depending on the length and complexity of your story, can be a complicated process:

whether that means having to delete scenes entirely,

changing what a character says,

altering an aspect of the worldbuilding to fix plot holes

, re-writing your character so they're not overpowered because it was ruining the stakes and tension,

changing the POV of chapters because it was ruining the flow of the story,

etc etc etc.

I love fan fiction.

I love reading it and I love writing it, and for many people who take on monthly writing challenges, it is a way to test ourselves and gear ourselves up and prove to ourselves that not only can we write x amount of words, but it proves to ourselves that we are *capable of creating*, and for many creatives, that ultimately leads to crafting our own unique stories;

if you're already taking place in a monthly writing challenge, why not push the bounds a little bit *if you're so inclined* and test the waters? Especially when you're surrounded by a community who is cheering you on, every step of the way?

Every Nanowrimo I ever won was fanfiction. Heck, even not during November I once did 40k words in two weeks for a fic.

I always stalled out when I tried to write original works;

it is much easier to start small with a single short story than it is to try to write an entirely original novel, and my encouraging people to try baby steps by *experimenting* with one short story out of four in a month is not meant to be a diss against fanfiction,

but an *encouragement to those like me* who were so eager to write original works but floundered when I tried to jump into the deep end and felt disheartened.

Many fanfic authors aspire to write original fics, and thats who that challenge is for, for the people who want to write original works but are too afraid to fully commit; I'll still be writing and posting fanfiction even if I become a published author, even If I just have to come up with a few new pen-names to post them under.

There's absolutely no judgement on anyone who wants to write fanfiction for these challenges, my "caveat" as you say, is only there as encouragement to those like me who are afraid to take the first step, or uncertain of how to even *begin* that first step, not any kind of condemnation.

TL;DR:

I did not mean for my responses on the "can I write fanfiction" to come off as rude or looking down on fanfiction, its meant to be an encouragment to all the people like me who love fanfic and started out writing fanfiction, and dream of writing original works to take the first step, with a community of like-minded people all taking the same challenge.

Like every other challenge aspect of these events, taking a fanfic idea and turning it into an original short story is completely optional and meant as inspiration, just like following prompts for events is not mandatory, and even completing the 30k word goal is not mandatory; the goal for this month is to create, get in the habit of creating, and having fun with it!

[wazzappp]

@rokhal okay so you see heres the problem. You asked too many good questions so I opened a google doc to answer them and then things just got going and then I ended up with an entire summary of the story I have so far.

ALSO thank you @moosemonstrous for helping me puzzle through my fugnking ramblings

Also it is IMPORTANT that you know I had this song on repeat the entire time I was plotting my nefarious schemes

OKAY SO. I’m thinking Robbie is some sort of specialized stealth unit. He was originally designed for high level infiltration but was repurposed by the human resistance in the future. He has skin with a metal endoskeleton just like the usual terminators but he ALSO has those nanobots that allow him to heal at the same pace as a normal human. They also would help with repairing any damage to internal systems like wiring. They could also be what repurposes food to grow his metal endoskeleton. I’m debating on whether he can manually speed that up for an accelerated healing process because that would require a level of control over his machinery that I’m not sure it would make sense for him to have right after figuring out he’s a machine. Maybe with some practice he could do it. OHHHHH OR IF HES IN SOME SORT OF ‘EMERGENCY DEFENSE’ MODE IT ACCELERATES AUTOMATICALLY THAT COULD BE FUN!!! 

Also I really like the idea of him being able to heal with those nanobots but like. SPECIFICALLY for Gabe. They’re programmed to create synthetic flesh and skin but only for certain genomes. His and Gabes are similar enough that they can help repair tissue if he’s injured. Like being a blood donor for matching blood types.

STORY WISE HERE’S WHAT IM THINKING: Eli still exists in this universe and he’s still a massive shithead. Still pushes Mama Reyes down a flight of stairs while pregnant with Gabe (their soon to be first child), still a serial killer and still involved with the mob. But shortly after Gabe is born, Eli is caught and sentenced to prison for life. The mob figures he told his brother’s family so that makes them a liability. They kill Alberto and Julianna, but leave Gabe alone in his crib. This happens when he’s about 6 months old.

While this is happening, Robbie is time traveled into the back yard of their house. He goes inside and puts on whatever clothes he can find. When police show up to check after getting a noise complaint from the neighbors, they find what looks to be a 5 year old boy soothing a crying baby and a massive burned hole in the backyard they think is just some sort of already detonated explosive. Everyone just assumes this kid is his brother and they try to get him out of the house without letting him see his dead ‘parents’. He doesn't talk much but does answer that his name is Robbie when asked. 

Things get REALLY weird when they go to the police station and find… absolutely nothing about him. No birth certificate, no social security number, no history of schooling, not even their notoriously nosy neighbors know anything about him. The Reyes’s had not marked down a dependent on their tax forms until Gabe.  Even when they look at the possibility of him being an undocumented immigrant; NOTHING. Half the guys think he’s an illegal alien that slipped through the cracks of.. EVERY country and the other half think he’s an ACTUAL alien For all intents and purposes the kid in front of them does not exist. Eli isn’t much help when asked, he just assumes ‘that bitch of his turned him against me didn’t even tell me that I had a nephew already here god DAMN her’. 

They quickly start questioning whether they're actually brothers, but genetic tests determine that they are. That, and the absolute INSISTENCE of the boy that ‘This is my brother. I HAVE to keep him safe’.

So they do what just about anyone might do. Decide this weird magically appearing child is someone else’s problem, and put them into foster care. From there the story stays about the same for a while. They know Eli exists but they honestly couldn't give less of a shit about him. That guy is never getting out on parole lmao. Robbie catches up with social development and for the most part fits in pretty good (he never gets sick. Like ever. Never gets so injured he has to go to the doctor for emergencies. Just regular checkups, which he passes through with a few raised eyebrows but still good). He’s still a GENIUS with cars and works at Canelos. He understands them in a way that usually takes years of experience way beyond what Robbie has. Things are going.. Not GREAT but they’re okay. And then AMADEUS FUCKIGN SHOWS UP.

Skynet of the future has sent back a Terminator to kill Gabe. No one is really sure WHY but they figure if skynet is going to such lengths to kill this kid then he must be worth protecting. So the human resistance sends back Amadeus to find Gabe and keep him safe from this Terminator. 

He steals some clothes, a gun and a car(not like hes really planning on settling down here anyway who cares about a few broken laws)  shows up at the Reyes residence, meets Gabe.. and basically all his plans blow up. This is absolutely NOT the type of person he was expecting and he sure as shit doesn't want to go anywhere with this random stranger. So naturally he kidnaps Gabe and starts getting the fuck out of the city (while also starting work on an electromagnetic field reader that he thinks can help detect terminators).

Robbie shows up back home after grocery shopping and uhhhhh Gabes NOT THERE theres BROKEN SHIT IN HIS HOUSE and the neighbors keep talking about a STOLEN CAR and some maniac who stole from a GUN SHOP. So he does the only reasonable thing he can think of, checks Life 360 hoping that Gabe still has his phone on him (he does) gets into his car and starts hunting them down. Between his crazy driving skills and freakish persistence, Amadeus can only conclude that Robbie is the terminator sent to kill Gabe.

When Robbie finally heads them off at an abandoned warehouse Amadeus tries to pull Gabe along with him and run away. But when Robbie steps out of his car, Gabe recognizes him and starts trying to get there. Amadeus is panicked, pointing his gun at Robbie to try and keep him away and, at this point, VERY confused. Because he’s pulled out his EMF reader and is getting some absolutely WACK readings off Robbie but hes also very much so being deterred by the gun (terminators couldnt gibe two shits about guns thlse metal fuckheads eat bullets for breakfast). The readings shortly get even more wack when the ACTUAL Terminator sent to kill Gabe shows up. Amadeus fires a couple of shots into the Terminator to confirm what he already knew (subsequently freaking both Robbie and Gabe out sufficiently enough to confirm that at least Amadeus isn’t entirely crazy). They pile into the Reyes-mobile and peel off shortly before the terminator gets into Amadeus’ abandoned stolen car and starts going after them.

Robbie is doing his best to ask what the FUCK is actually going on while getting away but Amadeus is still double checking his EMF readings because Robbie is DEFINETLY not human but also clearly isn’t here to kill Gabe. Quickly puts two and two together that for SOME reason SOMEhow Robbie is here to PROTECT Gabe from this other Terminator. Amadeus is. A little distracted because of this and keeps asking Robbie about his ‘Programming’ (sort of a “WOW your programming must be good you REALLY think he’s your brother and thats WHY you have to protect him!” “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT WHO WAS THAT GUY HOW DID HE KEEP WALKING AFTER YOU SHOT HIM” “It was a terminator keep up. Hey did you even TRY to call the police or did you just start coming after me because you knew it would be faster? Cause damnnnnn again. PROGRAMMING!”)

After finally losing the terminator that’s been on their tail, they find the police are not too happy about their reckless driving, arrest them and take them to the station to keep in a holding cell. While Robbie is in said holding cell with Amadeus (Gabe is presently being asked questions) there’s a police officer who recognizes him as that weird little kid who just appeared out of nowhere.

“Yeah we had absolutely NOTHING on you. It was like you hadn't existed until the day we found you!” So Robbie has to sit and listen to this while Amadeus is just confirming in his head what he already figured out. Being stuck in that cell trying to stay in denial with the guy whose favorite thing to say in the world is ‘I Told You So’ is not great. (un)Fortunately this is when the actual terminator shows up again.

This time, being faced with both the Terminator AND police trying to stop him from leaving, Robbies defense systems activate. He goes absolutely HAM on everyone in his way. He’s extremely default Terminator-like (Emotionless, distant, empty, quiet) in this state because all of his infiltration protocols have been halted. He even manages to fight off the other terminator decently well, but not before getting blasted in the arm with a shotgun shell. It goes deep enough that his metal endoskeleton is revealed. I also had this idea of like. His arm getting caught in something and he just stares at whoever trapped it there. Looks them dead in the eyes as he degloves his entire hand then beats the shit out of whoever got in his way with his metal fist. He stays in this state until they steal ANOTHER car, and he finally snaps out of it. And sees his hands covered in blood. And glimmers of his metal skeleton. And his brother looking at him in fear.

AND THATS WHAT IVE GOT RN I CAN'T WRITE LIKE YALL CAN I DON'T HAVE THE PATIENCE FOR IT I HAVE TO GET ALL OF THIS OUT LIKE RIGHT NOW SO YEAH UHHHHHHH ENJOY

[goodolddumbbanana]

[Bad end au 2] A sleepless night

Part 1

‘I love the fact that I can look into your eyes and see nothing but lies…’

Two weeks before Dark Sun kickdrop Nexus for Sun.

The sound of dripping water disturbed Sun’s already fragile sleep.

The lily-colored animatronic groaned lazily on the bed, its metallic senses sinking deep into the soft quilt, struggling like a lazy child refusing to wake up.

The dim electric blue light covered Sun’s small, narrow room like a curtain, reflecting the solitude of its owner, when the most prominent thing in this room was only a few plum blossom petals that Molten had collected and placed on Sun’s desk.

Sun couldn’t sleep. The robot didn’t need to sleep, but closing his eyes and turning off the power still brought about a certain feeling of comfort. 

It was just that… The tasks that Father assigned piled up on top of each other, spinning Sun around like a pinwheel, to the point that even when Sun lay down, his interface system still popped up with painful notifications of things to do.

And today was one of those days when the restlessness Sun shouldn’t have felt in his chest suddenly became more intense, like the way the sensor in his abdomen contracted, rolling as if someone’s nails were scratching it, or the screws in his body suddenly became too heavy, too wobbly for Sun’s liking.

Putting his hand on his chest, Sun realized that his fan was too hot. The warmth radiating from the metal casing tickled Sun’s fingers, making him unconsciously press harder, as if testing whether the heat would melt his hand. 

His claws leisurely ran along the gold plating, slowly spreading up his neck, touching the red tassel and pressing down hard.

‘It’s hard to imagine what would happen if he squeezed harder.’

Sun thought absentmindedly, as his hands gently caressed and drew the joints of his neck. The cold hard steel, with its circular patterns and sturdy screws, held the wire he walked in one direction. He could almost feel the heat of the electricity running, the clocks and gears slowly turning to simulate the biological mechanism of a human.

The child whose neck he had broken the day before didn't have time to scream, nor did it shed a drop of blood. Just a stiff crunch of broken bones and a panicked wheeze, mixed with the tears of the small hand trying to reach Sun's arm before it stopped.

It was almost like a hug when Sun wrapped his arms around the child's neck. Soft, small and warm, and then there was no warmth left. Even as he ran his arms through the child's hair or held it completely in his arms, what he touched was still numb as ice, cold as winter seawater, and stiff as a machine.

Sun had kept the child like that for almost a day before Father came to make him throw it away. ‘It was so unhygienic’, that's what he was told when his Father threw the child into the blender.

‘Where do you think the fertilizer for my potted plants comes from, you stupid child.’ Creator pointed to the lush, mutated potted plants that grew twisted and twisted all over their lair, to the ancient tree beside the bridge that swirled with dark water below.

‘Soul for energy, flesh and blood for fertilizer, and bones for materials.’

‘It seems that despite all the modifications, you are still making me feel so disappointed…’

Creator’s voice hummed, and in that dark darkness, Sun was not alone. Something writhed and trembled, the cries of trapped remnants, cracked skulls staring intently at him—

Sun was released about a day later.

The blood was something sweet and dirty, it was slippery and sticky on Sun’s metal skin, dripping with every step he took.

And the smell was the worst. Like rotten pizza and rotten fish, Sun couldn’t wash away the smell even after using countless detergents.

Sun didn’t remember how long it took him to clean and dispose of all the meat stuck to his bell after he crawled out of the hole…

***

“Do you want to get out yet, my boy?”

The Creator’s voice was sweet as honey but full of venom. The brain looked down at the yellow animatronic covered in blood that was trembling non-stop, but still couldn’t drop something like a child’s skull in his arms.

“Then bring Lunar to me.”

***

Squirming to sit up, Sun didn’t think he could lie down any longer, as his processor was now repeating the image of maggots crawling on him for the nth time.

He really didn’t know what to do… Capture Lunar?

Lunar was much stronger than Sun… And the boy was smart too… There was no way Sun could fool his little brother.

And he didn’t want to…

The dilemma made him fiddle with the bandage wrapped around his hand. The red smelled rancid, but Sun still wrapped the soft fabric around his fingertips and pulled.

He would rather be destroyed again than to choose something like this.

In truth, Sun didn’t like any of what his father had ordered.

It was wrong in every way, and Lunar was someone he never wanted to hurt.

But every time he thought like that, something was washed through his system, and the desire to obey his father grew stronger and stronger, making the morality Sun tried to cling on withered.

Sun didn’t understand why in the past, he could scream and curse at his father as much as possible but now, just a shake of the head from Creator was enough to make his 1 and 0 coded heart cringe.

Follow, follow, follow, that's what his head and code table whispered, it was almost like an addiction, the excitement and joy of completing what his father asked.

And Sun was always the one to follow, and no matter how much he resisted, he still couldn't fight back.

Because father is family.

And it's better to be a heartless dog than to make his father sad.

Maybe being broken would be easier to fix than this. Sun sighed, standing up. The wandering thoughts in his head made Sun wish that if there was something that could help him manage both, both pleasing Creator and keeping Lunar safe, then Sun would be satisfied.

His feet touched the cold floor, the sound of metal clanking as Sun carefully opened the door and stepped out.

The cold wind blew through him, blowing cold air onto Sun's rays.

The smooth whiteness flowed like silk into his vision. The silence was as bleak as a mirror, following the corner of Sun's feet. Father was probably out with his friend somewhere, or still busy in the lab. 

Sun alone, toiling, wandering, perhaps cleaning up again if he got too bored, though Sun usually tried not to. More or less, this was the only free time he had when Father wasn't sending him and Molten off to some unknown time and space to find something or deal with someone his brain desired.

He tried to hum a tune, but sadly, there was nothing in his head right now. The sound of running water grew louder, as he stepped onto the bridge. 

The echoes echoed along with the sound of the bells wrapped around Sun's wrists, bouncing off the steel on the bridge. The cool scent of water tickled his sensory system, caressing the golden animatronic’s back as the green leaves gently brushed against Sun’s light.

It was 4am, his internal clock system announced softly. The water flowed gently, bottomless, pitch black and glowing with chemical green. The flower petals drifted, occasionally a plum blossom petal would touch Sun’s shoulder, the playful lines on the hem of his skirt wrapped around his waist.

Sun was lost in thought, but there was really nothing on his mind.

It was just the familiar feeling of stagnation that even cleaning had lost its charm, not after he had scrubbed this lair more than a dozen times a day. The wind blew, the waves rolled, and everything drifted out of Sun’s control like some planet lost its orbit.

“So this is what you do when our esteemed father lets you rest?”

“Pathetic. Can’t you think of anything more helpful to our Creator, Sun?”

Sun didn’t even need to look. His audio processor could have picked up that arrogant and even-tempered tone anywhere.

“Oh, Goliath. Didn’t see you there? Heh… What business does our father have with me?”

The silence of the gears slowly turning against each other. A harsh growl answered, as rough as gravel being crushed into dust.

“… No.”

“So you came out here on your own?” Sun raised an eyebrow, his pearly eyes narrowing in amusement, ignoring the instinct that told him not to provoke the sleeping lion, or this time, a gorilla.

“Whoa! And I thought you only knew how to follow the Creator’s orders and turn off the power? How amazing.” 

“Congratulations, you finally have thoughts on your own.”

Sun was genuinely surprised by his counterpart’s actions, but the words he uttered under the influence of his lack of a personality chip made his words sound rather sarcastic.

And honestly, Sun didn’t care if Goliath decided to strangle him here.

“Shut your mouth. You’re the last person I want to hear that come out of your mouth. I’m not here to entertain an inferior thing like you.”

The giant animatronic, with a haughty and disdainful look, stared at him as if he were looking at an ant on the ground, or a puppy that had been hit by a car and the vet had long gone to sleep, leaving it to writhe and bleed on the side of the road to dead.

Sun just sighed, compared to what Goliath usually said, this could be considered the gentlest. The gorilla seemed to be in some sort of moody mood as well, as they too turned their gazes to the river like him, saying nothing, only their processors making clicking noises of recognition.

“So Goliath… If not because Father wants to see me… What are you doing here?”

The silence was a perfect chord for a tone-deaf man. Sun hadn’t meant to ask, but the restlessness that existed deep within his code made his mouth conjure up the huge elephant in the room.

Of course, the only response he got was a slap across the face, a ruffling of a cat’s fur.

“None of your business.” Their voices were mocking, and defensive.

They looked as if they would break his entire beam before throwing him into the water, and pulled him up. And did it again. Again and again because Sun’s metal is too heavy for him to swim.

But Goliath wasn’t his father. So Sun could still calmly ignore the hidden threats in the words of the one who treated silence as a competition and they always had to be the champion, and let his mind drift into nothingness, which Sun did quite a lot these days.

“Suit yourself.” Sun yawned. He suddenly felt a little cold, which was strange considering the fact that he was just a robot. The feeling of exhaustion from every bolt, which had been getting heavier lately…

Sun wasn’t the smartest, but even he himself  had figured out that being so close to the Wither Storm debris wasn’t a good thing.

“You shouldn’t be like this. I remember you used to be so much—”

There was something annoyed in Goliath’s voice, making Sun turn back to look at him in spite of himself.

Maybe it was anger, or nostalgia. Or maybe his fan was faulty. Sun didn't understand, nor could he remember how to handle it, as a burning sensation in his chest that made it hard to breathe came as quickly as it had gone, before being extinguished as coldly as Goliath's words had metaphorically nailed into Sun's head.

What did Goliath expect Sun to be?

Uptight, cowardly, too helpless in his own emotions?

Imprisoned by fear of everything?

Stupid to the end?

Sun didn't mean he'd gotten any smarter, but at least for now he felt fine. The feeling he never could enjoy since the day he was alive.

Guess his father was right.

Life was pain.

And the easiest way to end the pain was to become a machine again.

The comfort of not having to worry about anything but obeying his father's orders, it turned out to be more comfortable than he thought.

Still, in the face of the stupidity and meanness of the person who was always jealous and comparing themselves to him, Sun just smiled, his social AI chip calculating the most likely answers to lessen the gorilla's arrogance before flipping the table and throwing every answer it had predicted down the drain.

"Ah... I don't understand what you mean?"

And the orange light flickering in their eyes almost reminded him of a candy corn smoldering as if thinking about something, before regretfully turning away.

"Idiot."

And leave Sun alone, like some asshole that dudebag is.

[spaceorphan18]

I just have some thoughts and, I just... they're just thoughts with zero intention of being inflammatory or derogatory. (I do respect all the other ships on the show, enjoy Kanthany and am looking forward to Benedict/Sophie, and am slightly annoyed I even have to have a disclaimer, my god fandom, sometimes...)

I think that in one way that Bridgerton, as a show, struggles a little (and I suppose I mean struggle loosely) is that it's chaffing between wanting to be (what is essentially) an anthology show vs a regular TV show where the characters are developed long term.

I think Simon and Daphne's story works within season 1. But like the book(s), it's a self-contained story that isn't intended to go beyond the happily ever after other than a cameo here and there. (I do hope Daphne comes back eventually to cameo, it's a shame she wasn't in season 3.) But their story isn't meant to go anywhere else.

Anthony and Kate is the most awkward story at the moment. Anthony is one of the few well rounded characters in the book, as he's the head of the household and in most of the books. And Anthony and Kate having to run the household feels a little like a missed opportunity to be developed on the show. Now -- I know it's because Jonathan Bailey is becoming hugely successful actor -- and the original premise of the show is supposed to be self-contained stories. But it's a shame, because I think Anthony and Kate have so much potential for good stories to tell, and I have a feeling they won't be.

The thing about Pen and Colin, though, is that they haven't been treated like the anthology format the two previous couples got. Their story has been treated in a more traditional, long-form tv style, in which the characters have grown and developed, and so Season 3 was their spotlight, but we've past that and... I still think they'll be getting a considerable amount of screen time in Season 4. (Obviously, not as much as Season 3 - and I hope people don't get their expectations up too much). But look at how much they both got to do in Season 1 and 2. It's A LOT. And Season 4 will probably be on par with that.

I'm super curious as to where we go from here. Season 4 kind of has its expected trajectory, and I can pretty much guess what we're in for (and am looking forward to it!)

But what happens after? Do Benedict and Sophie now fade into the background completely? What are we doing with Anthony now - which is still rich in possibility? Pen and Colin's story probably will wrap up (in a way) in Season 4 -- where do their individual arcs go, or will the by pushed back?

[And, as an aside that I don't really want to make -- if Nicola wanted to get off the ride, after Season 4 would be a good place to do it. I guess that depends on whether or not she becomes the next Jonathan Bailey -- and as much as I would love that for her as an actress, the Pen fan in me's heart would hurt]

And if you don't have these subplots in future seasons, what do we have? Neither Eloise's book or Francesca's book really have any sideplots (Francesca's especially) -- and yet you have all of these characters. I know they want to develop Gregory and Hyacinth more, but idk idk.

But I guess, back to my original point -- the further we go on, the less the anthology style works because we've started spending A LOT of time with these characters. I think the central romances will, for the most part, be fine, but the subplots and the previous couples and the long standing characters -- what does the show do?

I don't have answers, I'm mostly thinking out loud....

That all said - I really, really hope they get to Gregory and Hyacinth's books -- because I think there's potential for a lot of fun to be had in them. (I personally like them way more than Eloise and Francesca's books, so at least Netflix has one long term fan...)

[withthewindinherfootsteps]

mdzs tumblr post au but it’s just “what were you doing at the devil’s sacrament” (nightless city)

[cathodic-clairvoyant]

Oh hi there transfem discussing her experience in the trans community i just had a quick question about your post

What does tme mean?

Oh okay i see i understand, thank you.

What does transmisogyny mean?

Ah I see, I get it.

What's a trans woman?

Oof scary. One last question.

What's a woman?

Thank you for being my own personal google (not like you had anything better to do right?) and derailing the point of your post for my own personal education. I will now add nothing of value to this post in return. Bye bye!

[dennistakesamentalhealthday]

the nancy boy thing is just so fucking insane because like. they broke from the spelling of this name to do it but also incorporated it into the spelling of his name with n for nancy (possibly showing how he associates it with himself). but the license plate could have been any letter and that letter could have been any word and they chose b for boy. they could have cut to the license plate from any letter in dennis and they chose n for nancy. and we already know the way dennis spells out his name/words in this scene is very important metaphorically they showed us with that alternate D.E.N.N.I.S. system he gives us so.....they did that on purpose and drew attention to it

[screechingfromthevoid]

FEARNE AND DORIAN GIVING THEIR RESPECTIVE PERSONS OF INTEREST "SEE YOU LATER NOT GOODBYE" KISSES ON THE FOREHEAD INSTEAD OF KISSES KISSES WILL SHATTER ME

[clits-and-clips]

Since writing the affirmations and starting manifestation again, I've actually been in a much better headspace. It's crazy how things align, and you end up where you need to be, especially through pain

[s4pphic-sh3nan1gans]

do you want to know how much the jance pictures affected me?

I am currently writing a song about it (or attempting to, at least) and I just- ajshakshak I can't do this anymore, the chokehold they have on me is INSANE.

that said, there is absolutely no better inspiration than something that makes you feel so many things at 3am. no matter what it is, it just hits different and I'm... I'm not okay 😭😭😭