#Bee Writes

[jasontoddsass]

To Gotham's elite, Red Hood is a dangerous murderer with a steadily growing criminal empire. He has no limits, he's unpredictable, and even Batman hesitates before stepping up to fight him.

To Gotham's underground? To it's poor and downtrodden, Red Hood is a guardian angel. He walks sex workers home at night. The minute a drug dealer even thinks about hanging out near a school, they've got a bullet through the knee. Red Hood fist-bumps the kids walking through crime ally and plays lookout when they run jobs. He's their protector, their Saint. Red Hood is their hero.

#jason todd #red hood #i have feeling and opinions #the fic Jason Todd: the Not-So-Outlaw orchestrates this idea to near perfection #its a good fic #bee writes

[giggle-bee]

Bee’s Tickle Asks 🍯

I see a lot of tickle ask lists going around and I thought I would make my own! There are some tickle related questions and non tickle related ones, get to know your community!

Lees: What’s your favorite tease, Lers: What’s your favorite way to tease a lee?

Easiest way to fluster you?

How do you take your coffee? If you’re a tea person, how do you like your tea?

What’s your favorite thing about tickling?

Tag 3 people you’d like to know better!

Do you blush? (You’re adorable either way :3)

What does your laugh sound like?

What show/series are you watching right now?

What’s your favorite way to wind down?

Cuddly tickles or tickles sitting up/pinned?

Tickles to wind down or tickles to wake up?

Name 3 fictional lees you’d love to wreck

Name 3 fictional lers you’d like to be wrecked by!

Do you like nicknames? If so, which one is your favorite to be called?

What’s a spot that you wish got more attention?

Are there any spots you don’t like?

Favorite book?

Do soft or rough tickles affect you more?

What’s the silliest thing you’ve said/done because someone tickled you?

A tickle memory!

A place you’d love to travel to someday

A song that’s been stuck in your head recently

Someone you like to fluster!

Someone that flusters you!

If you could describe tickles as a color, what would it be?

feel free to send some of these in!

#honey #buzz #sfw tickles #sfw tickle community #tickle fluff #tickle ask game #tickle asks #ask game #bee writes

[danibee33]

Halfway through a 14 hour road trip, and so, obviously, I’m plagued with thoughts of Biker!Ghost🩶

(inspired by a video I saw recently. **very gently edited)

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• thinking of riding on the back of his motorcycle, which it took a bit of convincing on his part at first, but as soon as you got that first rush- you were hooked.

•just like he was hooked to the feel of your arms around him. he loved being able to reach a hand back to rest on your knee or thigh, and the way you cling to him a little tighter when he takes a corner faster than usual (which he totally doesn’t do on purpose)

•but on this particular ride, after a night out together, the lingering buzz of your drink made you bold- so when he relaxes, placing his hand in it’s usual spot, his warmth radiating even through your jeans and the black leather of his glove, you let your own hand wander with a devious grin you’re glad he can’t see.

•your fingers spread out over his thigh, making a soft, back and forth motion- the sensation causes his to clench around your knee.

•slowly, you readjust to lean in a bit closer, quickly finding the spot that makes his whole body tense suddenly.

•you palm at his cock through his jeans slowly, cautiously, that same grin still plastered on your face when you feel him try to adjust his position on the seat- a low hum rumbling through his chest.

•as you continue your teasing, his grip on your knee turns nearly painful as he gets harder and harder with each agonizing stroke you give him.

•he was already planning every single way he could ruin you the moment he got back to his flat.

•you could map out the perfect outline of his length now, straining against the dark denim and twitching at your touch- and you couldn’t feel it, but there’s just the smallest wet spot in his boxers stained with his precum.

•but suddenly, you pull away- wrong move.

•Ghost moves fast, reaching back blindly to wrap a big hand around your wrist, “No, no-“ he laughs, you can feel it vibrate through him, his voice growling through the helmet, “put it back, love. Don’t get shy now.”

•he does it for you, pulling you forward to place your palm right against the bulge of his cock again just as he turns his head.

•having lifted his visor, you could now see the dark gleam of his eyes glinting under the city lights, “You’ll pay for this later, baby.” He coos, giving you a sly wink before sliding the tinted visor in place again.

•Ghost gets you back to the flat in, very legal, record time, and let’s just say you do pay for your cheeky little stunt. All night long.

_____

#call of duty #simon riley #biker!ghost #i need to be sedated #SOMEONE PUT ME DOWN #preferably Simon Riley #cod fandom #simon ghost riley #gnawing at the bars of my enclosure #simon ghost x reader #bee writes #simon riley x reader

[phoebelovingcare]

The Friend listened close as the little one that they would call the same name babbled on, pointing to their journal and giving rapid-fire tips on new words that they could not process. Regardless of their ability to understand, they cared about the little one, and so they would learn.

Carefully, as though nervous, a now-freed serf of the gardens approached. They looked right at home here in the abbey, but it was likely that they were lost.

"Doing, what are you?"

The little one looked to the Friend expectantly, likely waiting on a translation. It took them only a second to remember the words needed for this - me, see, book...

"We are reading," the Friend answered.

The poor serf looked immediately confused and bewildered. "...Ah..?"

What? It had been said in the correct language, it-

The Journalist's face went beet red.

"Disregard," they mumbled in Exile tongue, then tried again, "Reading, we are."

Having fixed the sentence structure - simple mistake, easy mistake, one they'd made a hundred times trying to figure out why "you" meant "seeking" - the serf nodded in understanding.

Then, hesitantly, as though unsure of the pronunciation, the serf repeated, "Dis...regard...?"

Their brow furrowed. How to translate...

...oh.

Yes, there was a very easy way to translate what they'd just said. A quick way to explain their mistake.

"...An idiot, I am."

"No!" the serf immediately reached forward and took the Journalist's hands, looking them in the eyes, "No, an idiot, you are not!"

They were at a loss for words.

"Hey," the little one spoke up, "What is it? I don't understand!"

This place needed their help. Speaking to the people... not something just anyone could do. Translation was hard.

And they were one of the only people who could do it.

The Journalist-Friend gave a little smile and then began to translate.

#chants of sennaar #chants of sennaar spoilers #mdnl #bee writes #This Is So Important To Me

[p---l---c]

#bee draws #bee writes #magolor #kirby #kirby series #kirby art #surprise!

[beezusvreeland]

Santi's journal (Santiago "Pope" Garcia x Reader)

I was planning on publishing a fic about Santiago on Valentine's Day, but didn't have time to finish. Since I like what I wrote so far, I decided to share with all of you :)

summary: After the break up, Santiago is advised to write a journal to deal with his feelings, an exercise that brings back memories and, maybe, a new hope for your relationship.

ship: Santiago "Pope" Garcia x Reader

genre: Angst, possible second chance romance, Santi sometimes being sweet and, others, a bitch.

words: 1,7k

taglist (if you'd like to be added, just let me know in the comments): @wreckmyimage @steven-grants-world @lizispunkk @torntaltos @nervousmumbling @littleshadow17

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You’ll never read this. I’ll make sure of it. It boils my blood the fact that I can see the face you’d make, you would tell me writing in a journal is so unlike me. Of course you’re right, you’re always fucking right. I wouldn’t be doing this if Will hadn’t made me. He showed up at 7 fucking am at my mother’s house and you know she fucking loves him, a prince charming, if she has ever seen one. Fucking prick keeps smirking at me because I know he is far from it. After eating like a fucking king, he tossed me this goddamn notebook and a pen and said something how I should stop pouring my feelings on alcohol, hilarious since he was drinking as much as me last night, and find another way to express emotions or whatever. He is still here, watching me like a fucking hawk while I pretend I’m taking this shit seriously. 

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Being back at my parents’ house is fun for like two days, after that it’s just depressing. I’m sleeping in my bed in my room and it just doesn’t feel like home anymore. If my conscience wasn’t guilty already, I would have broken the promise I made to Ironhead and driven my ass straight to the bar. I would keep getting a hangover, but at least I would sleep better.

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I was cleaning the car just now and found one of your earrings. That one that’s a small golden hoop, you wear it all the time. You’re probably looking for it, maybe I should give it to Frankie or Benny to return it to you. It’s funny, you always said that you felt sort of naked without earrings. It was one of these things you would repeat every once in a while, I’ve always liked that. Felt like a confirmation that even if you changed, you were still you.

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Things got complicated after we broke up. I wonder if you feel it too, our friends forming teams for each of us. I don’t like that. And I know you don’t either. I went to Fish’s to give him your earring, feeling safe ‘cause you know, it’s fucking Fish, mi hermano. But Sarah was home and was the one who opened the door. Let’s just say she’s very much on your team. She made sure I knew that with all the screaming in spanish and the dishes being thrown my way. I hid in my car until Frankie came home. Me, an army veteran. That’s how pathetic my life has been, princesa. 

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Can’t sleep again. Think I got too used to having you by my side. Also, this bed is very small, I don’t know how I was able to sleep here. I think you would like to know that now I’m the one doing my own laundry and the cleaning. Ma made it clear that her casa no es un hotel. I heard her telling mis tias that the only baby she wants to take care of is a grandchild and that I ruined her chances of having one. 

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Met a girl at the bar last night. We made small talk for a while, until she asked me if something was wrong because I kept looking at the door every time someone walked in. I told her I thought I saw a friend, but the truth is I realized that my body has an automatic response to the sound of the bar door opening. I turned every time hoping it would be you walking in, but it never was.

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I saw on the news that the old movie theater downton is going to be demolished and turned into a parking garage. Not gonna lie, it made me so fucking sad to think about it and to wonder how you might react to this news. We were always there when we were kids. It was where we talked for the first time. You think it was at school, but it wasn’t. All I wanted was an electric guitar just like James Hetfield’s and my parents said absolutely fucking not when I asked them for it, so I started working there on weekends. Sundays were always boring, only a handful of people showed up in the mornings and time just wouldn’t go by.

And then one day you showed up at the concession stand, hair down in one of those headbands you loved so much, I wasn’t prepared, thought I was going to have a heart attack at the age of 16. You recognized me from homeroom, knew my name and all. I was such a fucking simp, always trying to sit next to you. I thought you would never even look in my direction and then you were there at the theater, trying to make some small talk while I got you popcorn. I spent the rest of the day over the moon that we had talked and terrified I had blown it by being so nervous and barely saying anything to you. In homeroom on monday, you turned to me with a shy smile and said hi. That’s all it took. You had me…and still do.

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The nightmares are back. You know, the ones with the sounds of shots being fired, all the blood and the bodies. I’m terrified that one day I’ll start recognizing them. Of one of them becoming you. I almost called your number, dialed it and everything. Then I remembered that, according to you, the only acceptable excuses for waking you up in the middle of the night were if the house was on fire or if someone was dying. And I just didn’t want to give you yet another reason to be mad at me.

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I’m pissed off right now. Frankie had the audacity of taking me out of town to help him pick up some table Sarah bought online and next thing I know, he starts to reprimand me for what happened. Some bullshit about not giving up on what I loved, especially not you.

No matter how much we argued, he still missed my point. You were the one that had doubts. The one that didn’t want to commit. You said you wanted to, so why won’t you?

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I went back to the bar today. Fuck, I really needed a drink after that disaster with Frankie and the arguments with my mother, who won’t shut up about Miss Celia next door becoming a grandmother to twins and how she is thinking of giving her some of my baby clothes. Ma wanted them to go to her grandchildren, our children. We can’t have a conversation that doesn’t involve this topic. I just can’t do anything right.

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It’s not just the clothes she keeps, you know. Ma also has several scrapbooks with moments I didn’t even remember. There was one just for prom, with pictures at my house, in front of the limo, others where I look very sweaty and probably stoned. I spent years going back to that memory. It’s one of my biggest regrets, not taking you to prom. I put myself in a situation I didn’t know how to get out of.

The night we kissed for the first time, in my car parked in front of the movie theater, blew my mind. Before that, I thought you’d never date me, so I started dating other girls. I had hooked up with Paloma Gomez a few times when she let me know we would go to the prom together. I said yes. I was such a shit little idiot, fuelled by hormones and teenage angst. I hadn’t learned yet that having sex with someone doesn’t mean you are in love with them, how meaningless it could be. It didn’t matter how much I tried, no amount of it could ever compare to talking to you on the phone late at night, trading secrets and whispers about everything and nothing.

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Got a consulting job at a firm. It’s freelance for now, but you know, it gives me something to do and a reason to leave the house every day. The people at the office are fine, there aren’t that many demands at this time of the year and one of the ladies from the other floor brings a cake every friday. This week’s was lemon flavored with a cream filling I know you would love.

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Benny convinced me to try out the gym he is working at and it wasn’t bad. I thought he worked at the counter or something, but he is a personal trainer. A good one, if you ask me — don’t fucking tell him.

Ben made me lift some weights and run for a bit. Tried talking to him about the fight, I actually meant to ask how you have been, but once again the words escaped me and our conversation took a turn to who’s right and who’s wrong. He said if I wanted you back, I should understand what went wrong to make it right. It was weird, not gonna lie, all the riddles and shit. For a moment there, I felt like I was the kid and he was the adult for once.

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A few days after we kissed, you showed up at the theater again, remember? You seemed nervous for once, holding a dark green box that you put on the counter. You were even wearing a dress I hadn’t seen before, the one that made you look like Wednesday Addams. It seemed you even had a bit of makeup on.

You broke the awkwardness between us asking me to open the box. Inside there were five cupcakes with inscriptions on them: P R O M ? When I looked back at you, you had your hands behind your back and were shifting your weight, a smile on your face. Telling you that I already had a date and confirming I was dating that girl was one of the hardest things I ever had to do in life — and I’ve hidden in a cave full of corpses before, you know it.

I became desperate, tried telling you it wasn’t serious, that maybe I could cancel with her to go with you. And you said that would be cruel to both of you, then left.

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author's note: I have and idea for a part two. Let me know if you're interested? And if you like what you read, please reblog and leave a comment, it means the world to us writers to be able to interact with our readers.

masterlist

#santiago pope garcia #santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago garcia x reader #santiago x reader #triple frontier fic #bee writes

[snailor-bee]

Give me what I'm beggin' for (I just wanna get some)

I got hit by the horny train, lol. I love Nanami but wow, season 2 is doing some work, huh? I couldn't resist.

Nanami Kento x GN!Reader / NSFW  / 2.8k Summary: Post-mission, you decide to flirt with Nanami a bit, not expecting anything to come from it.

He decides to surprise you with way more than you'd bargained for. But you aren't complaining.

Warning: Although no pronouns are used, reader is wearing a skirt/tights!

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

The mission is a success.

You stand a bit to the side, watching as Nanami takes out the last curse with one blue shimmering fist, his knuckles covered by his familiar spotted yellow tie, speckled with blood.

When he turns to you, eyes barely visible through the green of his lens you give a thumbs up to show that you’re fine. Nanami nods before rolling his shoulders and starting to unwind his tie from his hand.

You swallow reflexively.

The fight hadn’t been that difficult, just terribly long. The two of you had worked up a sweat taking down the sheer number of curses.

Along the way, Nanami had shed his suit jacket and somehow the top few buttons of his blue shirt are open, exposing a bit of his chest, sparkling with sweat from the lights shining down from above you.

The two of you are in an abandoned district, the veil visible above you in between the buildings that are squished together.

You swagger over to him with a grin. “Hey there sexy, you come here often?” you ask, voice teasing. He pauses in his movements, raising a brow. You flutter your eyelashes at him, jokingly.

Normally, he’d just roll his eyes, the motion recognizable by the shifting of his head, even with his eyes hidden. Today he simply hums and resumes pulling his tie away. “Are you injured?” he asks.

“Nah,” you reply, bouncing on your feet. “Are you? You seem a little winded.”

“I’m fine,” Nanami says curtly, shoving the tie into his pocket. “Come here.”

It’s not phased as a question. You tilt your head and walk closer, wondering what he wants.

“Should I call—argh!” you let out a yelp as you get within arms reach and Nanami grabs your wrist, tugging you until you collide with his chest.

“No,” he whispers, breath ghosting out against your lips, leaning down into your space. “Don’t call just yet.” Then he captures your lips with his, releasing your wrist.

You grab onto the open lapels of his shirt, tip-toeing to press even harder against his lips, eyes fluttering closed. When his mouth opens, his tongue seeking entrance into yours, licking against the seam of your lips, you moan loudly.

A thick arm wraps around your waist, pulling you even harder against his unrelenting body, making you shiver as his tongue dives in to plunder your mouth. Your tongues wrap around each other, and you can feel the way he’s hard against your hip.

Interesting. Nanami, the stickler for rules, is feeling a little frisky today, huh? Well, you aren’t about to complain.

When you finally part for air, you’re panting. Nanami licks his lips and it’s so sinful you have to fight down a groan at the sight.

“This way,” he commands and you’re helpless to do anything but follow.

Nanami ends up pulling you into an alleyway, pushing you against a brick wall, and kissing you positively breathless. His big hands grope over your body, making you whine as they roam over your chest, moving lower to grip your thighs tightly. They’re almost large enough to go completely around them.

When you finally break apart, he places a hand on your shoulder, lightly applying pressure so you’ll get on your knees. You follow the silence command easily, the concrete uncomfortable but you barely pay it any mind. 

Feeling eager, you undo his belt quickly, wanting to get at the impressive tent he’s pitching. When you finally get his cock free, you wrap your hand around the base.  

It’s impressively girthy, and you waste no time angling it towards your face and sucking the tip into your mouth, hollowing out your cheeks. The taste of precum spreads over your taste buds and you look up to see Nanami’s expression.

Unsurprisingly it’s mostly blank, but you know how to change that. Taking a deep breath through your nose, you let saliva pool in your mouth before you start to work your mouth down his length. When you get halfway, the head hits the back of your throat, making you gag.

Withdrawing, you breathe a bit more before swallowing down his dick again. You look up and see the way his lips quirk up in a small smirk.

“You’re doing so good,” he encourages, and you moan, muffled, around his cock. You rub your thighs together, pussy already throbbing. The scent of him, sweat and cologne, and the spicy undertones that are just him fill your senses and you just want more. “Let me?” he asks.

You pop off his dick to moan brokenly, your voice already gravelly. “Please,” you say, voice a rasp.

A hand settles on the back of your head, leading you back towards his dick and you try to relax your throat as he immediately thrusts it all the way in, your nose brushing against the pubes at his base. You close your eyes, trying to swallow around the cock that’s bullying its way into your throat, and not gag around it.

His hand clenches and draws you back a few measly inches, enough for you to breathe through your nose before shoving you back down.

You suck around the length of his cock as he uses your mouth, working you up and down his cock, pace unrelenting.

One hand is wrapped around his hip, clinging for dear life, but the other has trailed down between your legs, desperately rubbing against your aching clit.

You don’t dare to do anything else though; Nanami hasn’t said anything about you rutting against the palm of your hand, but if you tried to work in a few fingers he might get upset.

Nanami is a well of patience, if he wants to drag this out as a punishment for you, he absolutely can.

You’re too worked up to want to wait so you try to be good. But it’s so hard when precum is coating the back of your throat, and all you want is to feel his fat cock inside of you.

When he drags you away your eyes flutter open. Tears make your eyelashes clumpy as you look up at him through watery eyes. Nanami growls at whatever expression you’re making. You open your mouth, leaning forward to lick across the head and he shivers.

His cock looks painfully red, ready to burst and he—gently—grabs your underarm and helps you up onto shaky feet.

“Put your hands on the wall,” he whispers to you, his voice husky and deep. It stokes the flames already burning in your gut and you spin around with a swallow. He hikes up your skirt, rubbing appreciatively over your ass, clothed in tights. There’s a slap and you jolt, placing your hands on the brick wall so you don’t move. The hit wasn’t hard—Nanami has so much control over himself it’s sometimes unreal—but it’s just enough to leave a sting that he rubs at soothingly.

The sound of something ripping makes you flinch, and you feel his fingers stroking the folds of your pussy over your underwear.

“Did… did you just rip my tights?!” you ask, offended.

The bulk of his body leans over you, suddenly bringing with it the warmth of his body heat. An arm wraps around your waist, while one of his feet kicks your legs further apart, and he takes on your weight as you stumble.

“I’ll buy you new ones,” he says mildly. You wrinkle your nose. That is not the problem, and you open your mouth to tell him so when his fingers hook onto the fabric of your underwear, already drenched from your fluids. You wiggle, confused why he isn’t just moving them aside when he abruptly yanks, tearing the fabric.

“Nanami!” you screech, struggling but the arm around your waist keeps you locked in place and all your squirming does is bring your ass in contact with his cock. It’s a rod of heat as it presses between your ass cheeks, and you freeze.

He chuckles, placing a kiss against your temple. “I’ll pay for that too,” he promises.

“Dick,” you mutter under your breath.

“Patience, I’m getting there,” Nanami says, a smile in his tone. You roll your eyes but can’t help but buck back into him, trying to get his cock where you want it. Your clothes are already ruined, there’s no use in complaining about it now, and besides, you want this.

When his cock finally slips between your thighs, dragging against your cunt deliciously, you can’t help but moan and arch into it. You let your hands take on more of your weight as you lean further into the wall, rising up onto your tiptoes, trying to force him inside.

“Greedy for it, are we?” he asks, running a hand down your spine, the other a brand of heat at your hip, holding it tight. “Tell me how much you want it.”

“Badly,” you groan, wiggling your ass. He thrusts lightly, but his cock only manages to glance across your clit, making you hiss. “So badly, Nanami, babe, give it to me.”

He doesn’t immediately, simply drives you mad as he drags his cock across your folds, spreading your slick all over your tights that are still covering your thighs. It’s infuriating but also intoxicating. Nanami has never let the two of you go this far on a mission. Knowing that the manager is waiting somewhere for the two of you to finish up, that they might wander inside the veil to check out the situation and hear the two of you going at it, makes you moan, and your pussy lets out another wave of juice to spill across Nanami’s dick.

“That’s it,” he says with approval, “get it nice and wet for me.”

Finally, finally, you feel him start to feed the tip inside you. You widen your stance, eagerly thrusting back onto his cock. The hand on your hip keeps you firmly in place though and you whine, high-pitched and needy.

Nanami, of course, notices. He chuckles again, the sound ripping through you like a forest fire. “You want it that badly, hm? Well, okay then.”

He doesn’t give you any more warning than that, just suddenly shoves inside, burying himself to the hilt. You let out a muffled scream, slapping a hand over your mouth. Nanami grunts and pulls back a few inches before shoving back inside.

It feels like your nerves are sizzling, everything trained on the feeling of his cock stretching the walls of your pussy so good. You’ve taken him dozens of times before, but every time it’s like you can’t help but be so turned on by the way it carves into your insides.

With both hands now on your hips, he goes a half a step back, forcing you to follow and your hands scramble for the wall, trying to hold yourself upright.

“Don’t cover your mouth,” Nanami chides. “Let me hear you.”

You look over your shoulder at him, biting your lip. “B-but what if someone hears—ah!” He cuts you off with a punctuated thrust, making you lose your train of thought.

“Let them,” he says, before he pulls mostly out and ramming back inside, the force pushing all the air from your lungs.

He works you into a steady pace, the sounds of your flesh slapping together echoing down the alleyway, alongside your moans.

You’re loud and it should feel embarrassing, but it’s hard to think about anything else but the drag of his cock in and out of you, and the way it feels when he pushes all the way inside, burying himself so deep you swear you can feel it in the pit of your stomach. Nobody else makes you feel this way, the way Nanami so effortlessly takes control and makes you take everything, makes you want to take everything, it’s exhilarating.

Your orgasm is cresting, working up to it with every thrust that makes you almost see stars. “Nanami,” you whine, “’m close!”

A hand travels up the length of your spine to bury itself in the hair at the back of your neck. He tightens his hand into a fist, dragging you back, making you arch even further. It hurts but also feels so good that you can help but moan as he leans over you, making eye contact through the green of his glasses. “That’s it, baby, I got you. Come on my cock for me.”

“Mmm! Please, please!!” you beg. You can’t move, stuck between Nanami’s unrelenting pace and the wall. You wish desperately that you could thrust back into him as he starts pounding into you even faster.

The hand in your hair pulls harder, and the knot that has been tightening suddenly snaps as you sob out your release as you cum, fingers clawing against the brick looking for purchase.

Nanami fucks you through it, not bothering to ease up the ferocity of his thrusts. Once you start to relax, he finally releases your hair allowing you to collapse more fully against the wall, slowing to a stop.

Again, he wraps an arm around your waist, leaning against your back. Your eyes flutter as your body struggles to come down from its high.

“Good?” he asks, and you nod numbly. “Alright, just a little bit longer.” You groan as his cock withdraws and presses back in, slowly, letting you feel every inch of it.

He nips at your jaw before pulling away completely, his cock sliding free from your body. You turn to look at him whining with confusion when he spins you abruptly and grabs you beneath the thighs, lifting you into the air and letting your upper body press against the wall.

Nanami’s cock finds its way through your folds again and you throw your arms around his shoulders as it pierces you, making you cry out. When he buries himself again, he leans forward enough to kiss you and your mouth falls open immediately.

Moans are muffled between you as he starts thrusting once more, easily taking on your weight and you can do nothing but take it.

“Nanami,” you groan against his lips. You hang on for dear life and feel the way his hips crash against your ass, the way it seems like he grows bigger.

He moans your name, before his hips start stuttering, pulling you flush against him as you feel the way his cum starts to coat your insides. For a moment, the two of you just breathe. You feel tingly all over and as Nanami slowly withdraws and lowers to you the ground, your legs are shaky as you attempt to stand straight.

The moment you do, you feel the way his cum sloshes out of you, trailing down your thighs and you shudder with displeasure.

“Why did you rip my undies?!” you demand but he’s already tucking himself away and pulling out his phone. “Don’t ignore me!”

Unfortunately for you, he does just that and you end up in the back of the car, Nanami by your side, arms crossed and scowling.

You can feel the way his cum is still leaking out of your totally drenched pussy, no fabric except for your skirt to catch it, your tights thoroughly ripped around the crotch and your underwear no more than strips of fabric that don’t do anything but dangle uselessly.

The manager luckily doesn’t seem to find anything amiss, but you’re still feeling a little testy. Nanami rests a hand on your thigh making you jump but he squeezes the flesh there and you look up at him with a glare. He leans closer to you to whisper, “What’s wrong?” He says it low enough that the music playing in the car easily covers it. 

“You!” you hiss, and he raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “You’re an asshole, making me sit here like this!” You open your knees just a little to demonstrate. Not enough to flash anything but just to get the point across.

Quick as a snake, his hand works its way under your skirt and presses against your core. Just as fast, he withdraws with a hum, leaving you to wheeze next to him.

You watch, wide-eyed, as he brings his fingers up to his lips and gives them a little lick. “I just wanted to make sure you were ready for the next round,” he says, and you blink back with surprise. “But if you aren’t interested…” he trails off mildly, crossing his legs and brushing off invisible lint. “Then that’s fine.” 

Grabbing his arm, you narrow your eyes at him, considering. His expression doesn’t change. Your pussy clenches on nothing and feels the soreness that comes from a thorough fucking. More cum gushes out.

You make a decision.

“Your office, on the desk,” you state under your breath, still mindful of the driver. Nanami smirks and tilts his head in agreement.

“Fine with me.” He leans in closer to whisper into your ear, “I’ll finish ripping off whatever’s left.”

You swallow as he settles back, looking pleased, desire once again simmering low in your belly.

Nanami is unfair, you decide.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

#nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #bee writes #bee writing

[undoing-anobrains]

you bring me home - matty healy

part four

pairing- matty x f!oc

wc- 3.4K

summary- following her fiancé suddenly calling off their engagement caroline daniel finds herself moving in with her brother and his best friend who she had a huge crush on as a teenager just in time for a worldwide lockdown.

Something had shifted within Caroline following the night she spent connecting with Matty. A change which wasn't unfamiliar to her, in fact it was all too memorable. It was like finally coming home, like remembering what warmth feels like after a seemingly permanent coldness. And Caroline was absolutely petrified by the sudden resurgence of emotions she had buried a long time ago.

He had just taken pity on her, Caroline reiterated to herself. Like any decent human being he had comforted her when she was evidently distraught. Matty had only been acting out of obligation because they were somewhat friends and more importantly she was his best friend's little sister. His words didn't have any deeper meaning, he was just an inherently good soul.

If she let herself entertain her delusions she would be no better than her ex she mused. Even if he had never really been committed to her, she had given her everything to that relationship and she couldn't possibly move on that quickly. But Matty was frustratingly conscientious and always checking in on her so it was impossible to avoid him, despite knowing she had to if she wanted to prevent her little resurfaced crush from developing any further.

So that's what prompted Caroline to come back to the hospital to work on the unit after leaving to pursue research the year prior. Coming back to work on the front lines in the middle of a global pandemic was stressful but she found it gave her mind the necessary rest from her own problems – it was much easier to face and solve other people's than her own. And it gave her a sense of purpose in a time where she truly felt lost. She could be a friendly face, a comforting presence for her patients, she knew how to do that. What she wasn't so sure of these days was who she really was underneath all of that. The studio is alive when Caroline returns every evening, a stark contrast to how things were at the start. It's buzzing with energy and she somehow walks in to the boys doing something stupid every time that makes her genuinely question their sanity before falling into side splitting laughter with them over their antics. It's the good kind of laughter Caroline notes, the kind that you can still feel in the slight aches of your ribs hours later - serving a very needed reminder that it was real.

She can handle her highly inappropriate yet persisting feelings towards Matty in small doses. Even though those small doses are concentrated ones where he's in constantly in her orbit. Although if she's being completely transparent it would be more accurate to say she's in his orbit. For Matty is the sun. Radiant and blinding. Luring people in with his warmth and for the most part unknowingly the centre of everything. At least for Caroline because in the heart of her world Matty was the brightest star, an ineffable illumination of everything good in the world even if he purposefully extinguished it to the prying, outside eye. Every interaction with him was akin to stepping into the gentle embrace of dawn after a night filled with pitch black, stormy skies.

He had seriously committed to his unspoken promises of reviving Caroline's genuine smile and expelling the lingering misery she still experienced. His laughter was everywhere all of the time – occupying every neuron, every auditory pathway until it eventually overwhelmed her auditory cortex with its captivating and melodic quality. It was as if his mirth had the ability to dispel the shadows, coaxing a smile from the corners of her lips even in the gloomiest of moments. Matty had that kind of power over people. The power to kindle a spark within them that soon spread like uncontrollable wildfire. Then when you pair that with a long lived crush still breathing...well it only amplified that effect of his.

But just as the sun graces the world with its light it also casts shadows. And in the gentle radiance of his presence, there existed the shadow of her unspoken, resurfacing feelings. A dichotomy of warmth and yearning, a constant tug of war between being content with their shared moments in private and longing for something more. It was a paradox she navigated, for she knew that while he was the sun that illuminated her world, he was also a star she could only admire from afar.

As Caroline returned to her work at the hospital, an unexpected transformation seemed to weave its way into the fabric of her relationship with Matty. The dynamics between them shifted, evolving into a state of familiarity and comfort that bordered on domesticity. It was as if the unspoken connection they shared had blossomed into a new phase, one where their interactions were marked by a sense of intimacy that transcended the already blurry bounds of their friendship. The transition was subtle, like the gradual turning of seasons, but it was unmistakably present.

The first time Matty made her coffee, Caroline was half-asleep and unsuspecting. As she shuffled into the kitchen, eyes half-lidded, she was met with the sight that would etch itself into her memory. There stood Matty, a vision in tousled hair and sleep-drawn features. His right hand held her travel mug, his fingers wrapped around the vessel with a certain tenderness that belied his dishevelled appearance.

The corners of his lips curved upward into a sleepy grin as his gaze met hers. "Mornin'," he greeted, the warmth in his voice a stark contrast to the chill present due to the early hour. He extended the mug toward her, a silent offering that carried more weight than words ever could. "Thought you'd need this."

The weight of his gesture, of the effort he had taken to ensure her morning started with comfort, settled over her like a cosy blanket. She accepted the mug with a quiet gratitude, her fingers brushing against his briefly in the exchange. The world outside may have been chaotic, but in this small moment, it was as if time stood still.

Caroline cradled the mug in her grasp as she studied Matty's features in all their morning glory. He was somehow still beautiful despite it being evident that he hadn't yet slept a wink – clearly having spent all night abuzz working on something for the album. Bringing the brew to her lips she took a sip of the hot liquid and was pleasantly surprised. It wasn't as though she doubted Matty's ability to make a good cup of coffee but considering he typically made his a lot sweeter than she would normally take hers, Caroline was impressed that he noticed those little details.

"Good stuff, huh?"

Caroline smiled in return, a soft warmth settling in her chest. "Yeah, really good. Thanks."

His smile widened, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. "I'm wasted making music."

She chuckled, shaking her head. "Oh definitely, I'm sure Café Nero would be dying to have you back if you ever get bored of being my personal barista and world famous musician."

"Cheeky," he goads "was going to make you another tomorrow morning but I think I'll just sleep in instead."

Caroline held back a laugh "I won't force you but you'd be earning a lot of points in my books Matthew."

His expression softened "well then...I'll be waiting, same time tomorrow."

Mornings follow suit with a sense of anticipation, as Caroline would find herself waking up to the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the studio. She would step into the kitchen to find Matty, already awake, a warm smile playing on his lips as he handed her a cup of her favourite brew. Initially she had thanked him for the coffee but persuaded him not to lose sleep over her but she hadn't been very successful as the following mornings Matty greeted her with her travel mug full, his own mug of tea and the knowledge that he usually went right back to bed once she left for work everyday. Slowly and not without complaints he adopted her sleep schedule – or at least the early morning aspect. When Caroline asked him why he was making such an effort his answer rendered her speechless. It was the only time of day during the week which he got to spend with only her. That he'd grown fond of their midnight ramblings but these days they were so inseparable with George and Louis that the mornings were regretfully their only time alone.

The boys, in their own way, embraced this shift. Evenings greeted Caroline with the comforting scent of food fresh out of the oven. It was nothing spectacular but they managed to not burn anything and it was the sentiment that touched Caroline. She would have been happy to cook for them all in the evenings regardless of her just arriving home from work but that suggestion had hardly left her lips before it was meant with protests. It was rather sweet how they all insisted that Caroline deserved a rest after the long days on her feet.

When she'd returned to dinner at the studio the first time she had been shocked to say the least because none of the boys were even close to amateur chefs. In fact her first reaction had been to raise a brow in mock scepticism and quip "You lot? Cook dinner? Are you trying to give me food poisoning?"

To which Matty retaliated, eyes twinkling with amusement. "Oh, come on! I can cook, you know."

With a well-practiced sense of theatricality, Caroline countered, "Right, and I'm the Queen of England."

The friendly sparring continued, each word exchanged a playful volley.

"Literally the only times I've ever seen you cook for yourself the smoke alarm thought we were under attack," she recalled, a grin playing on her lips.

Matty met her accusation with a smirking defence. "I was just testing the fire safety measures. A responsible citizen, that's me."

And then came George's orchestrated declaration, wrapped in an exaggerated façade of admiration as he tried not to cackle. "Ah, of course! You, responsible. Truly the pinnacle role model Mattthew."

So when Caroline came back to dinner made every evening like her life was an episode of some bizarre gender swapped fifties fever dream she accepted it happily so as to not set the boys off on a rant about how they couldn't possibly make Caroline, the resident genius and hardworking radiation therapist cook her own meals and continue to work once she came home. Even when she pointed out that they were literally also working all day they quickly brushed that argument under the rug, informing her that adding the finishing touches to an album was nowhere near comparable with saving lives and treating cancer patients daily.

The studio had become a haven, not just for the boy's creative endeavours but for the shared moments of respite they found in each other's company. Matty, in particular, seemed to take on a new role as a constant presence in her life. During her work hours, she would receive unexpected FaceTime calls, snippets of songs from their upcoming album playing softly in the background as Matty's voice offered glimpses into their world of music and inspiration. Sometimes all of them would be there on a call with her when she eventually got her lunch just to keep her company because Caroline had mentioned in passing how unsettling she found the otherwise empty and sterile canteen.

Caroline cherished these stolen moments, the sense of connection deepening with each passing day. It was as if Matty was inviting her into a space that was uniquely theirs, a realm where the boundaries of friendship blurred into something more profound. The snippets of songs he shared felt like secrets whispered in her ear, a testament to the trust he placed in her. In the evenings, the studio transformed into a realm of games and laughter. Game nights became a ritual, although putting four highly competitive people against each other often ended in disaster and strings of light hearted but intense insults.

The evening sun cast a warm, golden hue across the studio as Caroline stepped through the door, shedding the weight of a long day at work. The scent of familiarity enveloped her as she kicked off her shoes and set her bag down. The studio seemed to exhale a sigh of relief as she returned, as if it had been waiting for her presence to fill its spaces once more.

Caroline's tired gaze fell upon the inviting sight before her: the cosy living area adorned with soft cushions and warm throws, the gentle crackling of a fire in the fireplace, and, most importantly, the figure of Matty, seated on the couch with a book in hand.

She offered him a weary smile, her shoulders relaxing as the strains of the day began to dissipate. Matty looked up from his book, his eyes lighting up as they met hers. "Long day at work?" he asked, closing the book and setting it aside.

Caroline let out a soft chuckle, the tension in her features easing as she moved toward the couch. "You have no idea," she admitted, sinking into the plush cushions beside him. The warmth emanating from the fireplace and his proximity seemed to chase away the remnants of stress that had clung to her throughout the day. 

Matty reached for a nearby throw blanket, unfolding it and draping it over both of them. It was a small gesture, but one that spoke volumes about his attentiveness. "Well, you're home now," he said softly, tucking the blanket around them both. "And I've got the perfect remedy for a long day."

Her curiosity piqued, Caroline turned to him, a playful glint in her eyes. "Oh, do tell. Is it a secret Healy remedy?"

Matty's grin was infectious as he leaned in conspiratorially. "It's simple, really," he began, his voice low as if sharing a well-kept secret. "I might have done a tesco delivery with a stash of your favourite snacks earlier and then you have good company."

Caroline chuckled, the exhaustion of the day giving way to a sense of contentment. "And I suppose you're the 'good company' part?"

Matty's feigned offense was accompanied by an exaggerated gasp. "Well, if you must ask, I suppose I can reluctantly fill that role," he replied, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

Once again Matty had surprised Caroline with a sweet gesture and it really wasn't making trying to suppress her feelings for him simple. Luckily for her Louis shortly joined them after he got off the phone with his girlfriend and George came back minutes later. Caroline was grateful for them being there because she didn't trust herself to be alone with Matty at the moment - even if her mind was well aware of the fact that starting anything with him was a bad idea, her heart was screaming at her, begging her to throw logic and reason out the window. 

The four of them curled up in a messy pile of blankets on the couch and Matty turned on some random movie that Caroline had never seen before but didn't care about enough to know the name of.  As much as she tried to focus on the screen Caroline found her gaze kept drifting to her right where Matty was curled up alarmingly close to her.

Their legs were thrown all over the place, even on top of each other. Matty's right leg was drooped across George as he also snuggled into the left side of his torso. Louis was on the other side of Caroline and he had the most space by far and also the most pillows. Initially Matty had been leaning over Caroline in an attempt to snatch one of them from his brother's grasp but Louis hadn't let any of them go. Merely sending Caroline a knowing look as Matty then resorted to using Caroline's shoulder as a headrest. Feeling his warm breath on her skin sent Caroline's brain into overdrive as it struggled to function. His presence and the lack of space between them was overwhelming, goosebumps forming on her skin in anticipation. 

Caroline couldn't keep her eyes off of Matty but it seemed to be reciprocated. Occasionally she'd force herself to look at the screen but his eyes always drifted back to the man currently resting his head on her shoulder. He was truly captivating, even more up close when you could see all the intricacies and tiny details like the small freckles from the sun or the soft pink flush that spread across his cheeks whenever they locked gaze. And Matty's close study of her features, as if he was trying to commit her to memory had Caroline losing her mind. There was a tenderness to his expression - as if he was observing a beautiful piece of art and not a jaded shell of a woman whose eyebags grew and darkened by the day with a practically permanent indent across the bridge of her nose from the pressure of her protective mask digging into it all day at work.

When the movie ended George let out a soft yawn and rubbed his bleary eyes "I think I'm going to head up to bed, see you lot in the morning." They said goodnight to him and Caroline didn't fail to point out that he wouldn't see her because she'd be long gone. Then despite looking awake as ever Louis rose from the sofa and announced that he was off as well. Sending a cheeky wink in Caroline's direction when Matty wasn't paying attention on his way out. He knew exactly what he was doing when up and left claiming to need to sleep and now Caroline was alone. Alone, with Matty . Alone with someone who she had spent such a large portion of her life in love with.

"You're comfy," Matty said quietly, almost like he was too scared to say it any louder.

Caroline's chest grew heavier at that. Suddenly everything was weighing her down and she was terrified. It felt like her heart was slamming against her chest so rapidly that it would burst through her sternum with ease.

But it was all silence after that until Matty broke it. "Caro," he began, his voice a conspiratorial whisper as they lounged in the living area of the studio, "I've been thinking."

Caroline's eyebrows quirked in curiosity, her gaze meeting his with a mixture of intrigue and amusement. "That's rare."

Matty's grin widened, his enthusiasm contagious. "How about we do something... a bit out of the ordinary?"

A bemused smile tugged at the corners of Caroline's lips. "And what exactly do you have in mind?"

Matty's eyes twinkled as he leaned in closer, his voice taking on a dramatic flair. "A fort," he declared, his tone hushed as if revealing a secret of the utmost importance. "We should build a fort."

Caroline's laughter danced in the air, a melodic sound that filled the room. "A fort? Are we twelve years old again?" Too many times in her childhood had she found Matty and George inside a fort he had built in George's room when they were meant to be asleep and Caroline used to join them on the promise that she wouldn't tell their parents.

Matty's expression remained earnest, his enthusiasm unwavering. "Why not? I haven't made one in forever."

Eventually giving in to his eager but pleading smile she found herself gathering an assortment of blankets and cushions, their laughter mingling with the rustling of fabric.

In the heart of the living area their fort began to take shape. They draped blankets over chairs, positioned cushions just right. With each layer added, the sense of nostalgia deepened, harkening back to a simpler time when building forts was an art form in itself. Their fingers brushed against soft fabrics, occasionally lingering too long or too close to each other.

Matty gestured with a flourish toward their handiwork, a playful glint in his eyes. "We did good, should be a professional."

Caroline laughed, her heart lighter than it had been in days. "It's... surprisingly impressive, I must admit."

Matty patted a cushion invitingly, his voice a whisper that held a touch of mischief. "Well, come on then. The fort awaits its inhabitants."

How had she ever believed she could get over him? Had she ever really wanted to get over him? Either way - she was well and truly fucked now because she was fully enraptured in the whirlpool that was Matty again and faced with a choice, sink or swim?

#the long awaited part four :) #i love them #matty healy fic #matty healy fanfiction #the 1975 fic #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 #matty healy x reader #matty healy x oc #matty healy x you #ross macdonald #adam hann #george daniel #bee writes #you bring me home

[hot-soop]

don't let me tempt you / ch.1

pairing: angel!seokjin x angel!f.reader ⇢ au: Good Omens universe (none of the characters or the plot are mentioned so this fic can be read without knowing anything of Good Omens) ⇢ genre: forbidden romance, friends 2 lovers, comedy(?), fluff, eventual smut (not in this chapter) ⇢ summary: Seokjin is temporarily banished from Heaven and you're not all that good at paperwork. ⇢ chapter wc: 4.5k ⇢ rating: fic rating is explicit/18+ for eventual smut; chapter rating is 16 & up bc they're the equivalent of ken dolls rn, but minors please DNI anyway. This isn't for you. ⇢ chapter warnings: LOTS of religious imagery bc this is set in the Good Omens universe and there's gonna be a bunch of biblical references, but please remember that this isn't meant to be accurate. Author is an atheist. Author did next to no research on calendars that pre-date the Georgian one bc she is lazy and can't do maths. Swearing. If there's any tags you think I'm missing, please let me know - I'd hate to be the cause of any upset or discomfort <3 ⇢ a/n: thank u to my beloveds @the-boy-meets-evil and @ugh-yoongi for reading this over and thinking my babies are cute. thank u to my angel @effortandmore for your encouragement! Ur all cute too. Ily

1106 BC

Time in 1106 BC follows some kind of construct that the author has not deemed necessary to research, but if the Georgian calendar (or indeed days of the week) had been invented, the day our story begins would be in mid April, on a Tuesday, around 3pm. 

The weather in Heaven is, as you would expect, perfect. The company is not.

“Sorry to bring you in here like this,” you say, as the thirteenth angel of the day takes a seat on the other side of your desk.

There’s a spiel to this. Angels have a tendency to lean towards the dramatic, so you’ve learned the ways of ‘softening the blow’, as the humans call it. Doling out God’s punishments wasn’t your preferred assignment, but it’s the role that was dropped in your lap after you quit the last - and you’re not in a position to refuse Her again. Here goes another. 

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news but-”

“Let me guess,” the other angel interjects. “She’s demoting me?”

This is unusual. The angels know God’s wrath, but they’re usually surprised to find out when said wrath is directed toward them specifically. Not this one, he’s sitting there, arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently, waiting for you to rip off the bandaid. 

“Uhh. A temporary banishment actually.”

He stares at you. “It was only a little miracle.” 

“Three very large miracles, I’ll have you know. We’re not supposed to be bringing people back from the dead anymore.”

“Since when?” he asks, rather like a petulant human toddler. 

You frown. “Since protocol changed - didn’t you read the memo?” The angel shakes his head. “God’s decided to save those types of miracles for someone really special in-” You pause to check your watch “- a thousand years, give or take a century.” 

“Special how?” The angel asks, sitting up a little straighter. 

“You know we’re not told details of The Great Plan.” You flip the file shut. “Well, it seems like you know the issue at hand, and there’s little else to discuss-”

There’s a look of unease creeping over his assigned face that gives you pause. His fingertips drum on his knee. Too human for a heavenly body. “Are you alright?”

“She’s not- they’re not going to cut-”

“Oh! Goodness no,” you’re quick to reassure. “Oh no, you’d have to do something really awful for that, like, question her authority like Lucifer did.” His laugh comes out like a bark, and you’re confused because it wasn’t a joke. “No, but I am terribly sorry to say that you’re being sentenced to four-hundred years on Earth.”

He blinks twice. “Excuse me?”

“Four-hundred years - horrid, I know. But God does say the punishment must fit the deed-”

You’re interrupted again, this time by the kind of laughter that starts as disbelief and quickly has his shoulders shaking and tears rolling down his cheeks. Most unusual. 

“You’re telling me I get to spend near half a century on Earth?”

“What do you mean ‘get to’?” The thought of even spending ten years in such a place sends shivers right through your wings. “You won’t be able to return to heaven at all during that time. No correspondence with anyone, unless of course we contact you first.” He’s positively glowing and you can’t understand it. “You’ll have to live amongst humans-”

He’s standing now, moving to the screen and zooming in on earth. “Can I pick where?”

You move to stand next to him. He’s zoomed in so far, you can’t quite tell where it’s supposed to be. In truth, you spend very little time looking over God’s preferred planet, choosing instead to focus on the vastness of the universe in all its glory. You prefer the stars and the galaxies and all of their colours. 

“May I?”

“Sorry, I don’t understand.”

“Can I choose where to live? Will I have a role?” 

There’s nothing like this in the training manual. No one ever has these questions. They’re too busy crying, wailing for another chance to stay in heaven, let alone look excited as this one does. 

“I suppose you could,” you say slowly. “And no - there’s no role.” You wait for the penny to drop, but he doesn’t seem to get it. “Pointlessness is the point of this sentence.”

Wonder breaks out in his expression, and he turns back to the screen and zooms in on a peninsular you’ve never noticed before. “Can you drop me here?”

“Where’s here?”

“Gojoseon.”

“Why?” 

“Good people.” His smile spreads wide. “Good food.”

You gasp. “You’ve consumed their provisions? You’ve eaten?”

He looks at you in shock. “You haven’t?”

Of course you flaming haven’t! Even if you could stomach it - how in heaven would you get the opportunity to dine on Earth, what with all the work piling up in your pigeonhole and the lack of angels rights to paid time off, not to mention a union?

Your expression must say it all because he laughs again and says, “Well then visit me sometime, I’ll cook for you.” 

“You’re very peculiar.”

“Yes,” he says with a shrug. “I get that a lot.” 

You move back over to the desk to complete the rest of the paperwork while he stands there, still looking at the map with a satisfied smile.

After a few moments, he says, “I’ll need a name if I’m to live with humans.”

You find his given name at the top of the page. Soterasiel. 

“What’s wrong with the one you’ve got?”

He shrugs again. “Doesn’t quite roll off the tongue for everyone.”

“I hear John is rather popular these days,” you muse, still checking boxes. “And Abraham. Or what about Jos-”

“Seokjin.”

“Bless you.”

“No, I mean- Seokjin.” He moves to sit back down. You don’t quite like it, the way he walks, like he’s got a bravado he hasn’t done anything to earn - rather the opposite in fact, given his grievous error in judgement. “That’s my new name.” 

“Oh-” You glance up at him. “It suits you.”

Seokjin beams. He’s quiet for the next few moments, but you can sense his eagerness as he watches your fingertip move down the page. When all the documents are signed, you show him over to the chute, and he peers into it.

“This is the one-way?” 

You nod. “We’ll send someone to relieve you once your sentence is up.”

He steps inside without hesitation, and it’s almost too late. You've been itching with curiosity since you opened his file, so you blurt out exactly what you’re not supposed to ask.

“Why did you do it?”

Seokjin tilts his head, confused.

“Why did you bring those humans back from the dead?” you clarify.

His eyes soften. “They’re my favourites.” 

There’s a pregnant pause as you regard him. You don’t understand. Favourites? Angels aren’t supposed to have favourites. Angels aren’t supposed to be anything like him. Maybe you haven’t met enough to speak on the matter.

“Come visit me, won’t you? I get the impression you’ll like it down there.”

And before you can scoff at the very idea of visiting a banished (albeit temporarily) angel on earth, the chute opens up below him and he’s gone.

It’s difficult to get back to work after all that. All day there are punishments to give out in God’s name, but thankfully they’re nothing as extreme as that one. You get through a few sanctions, several warnings filed, and a strongly worded letter to the Department of Animals to remind them to stop creating wasps (apparently earth has enough) and then (at what would usually be known as 6pm), like clockwork, Turiel enters your office. 

He’s another one you can’t get a read on, but in an entirely different way. He came up the ranks quickly, and became your boss without the necessary qualifications within a single century. He’s kind of course, but he’s a Watcher, so naturally he watches everything. Being watched makes you uncomfortable. 

“How is everything?”

“Wonderful, thank you.”

“What happened with the banishment this morning?”

“With Seok- Soterasiel? He took it rather well.” Turiel stares at you, and you clear your throat to fill the awkward quiet. “Seemed quite happy about it, actually.”

Turiel frowns. “That’s odd.”

“Yes, quite.”

“We should watch that one,” he says, already making his way out. “Oh- you remembered to strip his miracles, correct?”

Strip his- why in heaven would you do that? It seems horribly cruel enough just to leave them there, let alone take their ability to do anything worthwhile. 

“Sorry?”

Turiel stops on the spot and turns, frown deepening further. “Tell me you saw the memo from Metatron? We’re to strip any and all banishments of their miracles going forward. Too many mishaps and too many angel turned demon that still have their powers.”

If you had any blood in your face it would surely drain. No, you haven’t seen any blasted memo. The pigeonhole is stuffed to burst and it’s something you’ve been meaning to work through, you truly have, but there’s so little time in the day and- and- heavens, he’s still staring at you. Tell him the truth. Tell him you didn’t take Seokjin’s miracles. They’d overlook one error, especially as it’s the first offence. Surely?

“No need to worry,” you hear yourself say, voice unnaturally high. “Of course I did.” 

Turiel blinks, smiles with relief, and shuts the door behind him as he leaves.

For the first time in your existence, you’re tempted to curse. 

879 BC

6:43pm. Patchy rain showers through til 8.

Seokjin’s home looks like nothing. A shack at best. It’s hardly worthy of the name home but you still need his sodding permission to cross the threshold, so you knock and wait, huddling as close to the door as possible to keep dry. As the rain pelts your back you bitterly wonder why angels have to wait at the threshold for permission to enter. It’s utterly beyond you, surely such a restraint could be reserved for those who are up to no good?

(You pointedly ignore the little voice saying that you are actually up to no good.)

“Oh my God,” Seokjin says when he opens the door (if it weren’t for the threshold force you’d keel over) and your nose wrinkles automatically at the blasphemy. “It’s you.”

“May I come in?” you say, too busy watching for Watchers in your peripherals to take in the sight of the angel in front of you. It would be terrible to be caught now, after the web of lies you weaved in order to get an hour off work. 

“Why?” he asks, suspicion lacing his voice. “You’re not bringing me back early are you?”

“Oh heavens no,” you say, starting to feel a little desperate, pushing the wet hair from your eyes. “I forgot something in your documents, a quick signature and I’ll be off in a jiffy.”

“You forgot something?”

“Yes-” 

“And you decided two hundred and twenty-seven years later was the right time to fix that?”

“Time slips away when you’re working!” 

Seokjin rolls his eyes. “Your lot really need to unionise.”

“Shh!” you hiss. “Let me in, please?”

“Alright, alright,” he says, stepping aside. “Come on in. Take your shoes off at the door.”

“I don’t have shoes,” you say as you push past him. A little miracle as soon as you’re out of the rain has you dry and warm again. What a pity, you think, that Seokjin will have to live without these little perks for the rest of his banishment. The sympathy you feel for him catches you unawares.  “What are shoes?”

Seokjin smiles. “Thought you were a watcher?”

Part Cherubim part Virtue actually, but you won’t be telling Seokjin that. That’s between you and God. You bustle past him inside the shack and you can finally relax. All protocols are being broken right now, but with the teeny tiny miracle that you performed earlier, only you and Seokjin will know about this clandestine meeting.  

Seokjin’s home is much nicer on the inside. Rather homely. And clean. And it smells good. What is that smell? 

“I just made some tea, would you like a cup?” 

Drinking? Apparently you can’t hide your expression because Seokjin's responding smile is mirthful. “Haven’t changed much, have you?”

“I suppose not, no.”

There’s no time to dilly dally like this. If you’re not back in the office soon, there’ll be questions you won’t know how to answer without twisting the truth. An angel can’t be going around telling lies. It’s uncouth. 

Seokjin busies himself at the table while you unroll the documents. The scroll is horribly long, but eventually you find the line you missed all those years ago. You cough to get his attention, and he looks up and takes the scroll from your outstretched hand. 

But then he starts to read. Oh goodness gracious. You hadn’t expected that. He seemed the sort that wouldn’t get hung up on the details, that would trust an angel (one like yourself in particular) implicitly. It’s offensive, actually, that he doesn’t trust that you’re not trying to pull the wool over his eyes, even though that might be exactly what you were trying to do. Are you not trustworthy? Are you not angelic?

Seokjin frowns. Uh oh. 

“You’re taking my miracles?”

“Uh-”

“Why?”

“Well- uh. It’s protocol, you see.”

Seokjin stares. The silence is palpable.

“You fucked up.”

You gasp. “Don’t curse!”

“You did!” he says, eyes wild. “You fucked up when you sent me down here!”

There’s heat creeping up your neck.

“It really doesn’t need to be such a big to-do,” you splutter. “Just sign the form, and I’ll be on my way and then you’ll be back in Heaven in no time at all!”

“But I won’t have my miracles?”

“You’ll get them back on your return!” 

“What if I need them?”

“You won’t.”

“I’ve needed them a lot, actually,” Seokjin insists. “You’ve no idea how many sticky situations I’ve been in thanks to all the creatures our Heavenly Mother made!”

“Oh!” you exclaim. “Have you seen a tiger yet? Those are my favourite.”

Seokjin looks like he might slap you.

The door opens.

“Seokjinie-hyung! We’re back!”

We? Who’s we?

We are three men, one short, one tall, and one somewhere in the middle. 

The room is very suddenly too small and too quiet as all of you stare at each other. 

The small one’s eyes, wide and curious, dart between you and Seokjin. 

“Who’s this, Seokjin hyung?”

“Uh-” you say.

“Uhh-” says Seokjin.

You can’t think of a human name. Not a single, blasted one comes to mind. Of course, humans know angels exist, but you can’t go around telling everyone who you are when you’re not exactly here on official business. Their mouths blabber too much. Word on Earth gets around faster than in Heaven.

“This is-”

“Oh my God-” the somewhere-in-the-middle one exclaims, while you grimace. “You’re that angel hyung told us about!”

You turn to glare at Seokjin, who is all of sudden very interested in the wood grain on the table. His ears are strawberry red. Strawberries were one of your ideas, you’d know that colour anywhere.

“You told them?” you say, incredulously. “What were you thinking?”

Seokjin sighs. “They’re not going to say anything.”

“Yeah!” the small one says. “Don’t worry, we’ve kept Seokijn hyung’s secret for two cent-”

He’s cut off by a loud cough from the tall one, but you’re not stupid. Humans aren’t supposed to be alive that long anymore, not since The Great Flood when God finally got sick of Noah and his bothersome family - that was one of the few memos you read. 

“Seokjin-” you say slowly. He’s pointedly looking everywhere else but your face. “Are these the same humans you told me about during our first meeting?”

The small one grins. “Oh hyung, I knew you loved us more than you let on.”

Two centuries they’ve been alive - at least. Oh Goodness. You need to report it, but how could you without telling them you didn’t do your job properly. 

“You don’t need to say anything to Heaven,” Seokjin says. “What they don’t know doesn’t hurt them.”

“The protocol-” you start, but you’re cut off by a groan.

“Fuck the protocol! Don’t you want to think for yourself for once? Didn’t She give us free will for a reason?”

“She gave them free will, not us!” you reason. “We’re to do as we’re told!”

“Why? What for?”

“The Great Plan!”

“The Great Plan-” he parrots in the most condescending tone. “-is supposed to be ineffable. If we knew what was in it, we wouldn’t have a choice. If I didn’t have free will, I wouldn’t have been able to turn them into vampires.”

You frown, confused. Vampires weren’t in the handbook, but then you never could keep up. “What’s a vampire?”

Seokjin swallows thickly. “Uh. Nevermind that. The point is, if this wasn’t in The Great Plan, if it wasn’t written, would I have even been able to do it?”

The thought gives you pause. He’s got a point, actually. The Archangels talk often of fate and destiny and what She wrote. No one knows the plan, of course, and it can change at Her will, but the whole point of this charade is that you’re all to trust in God’s Plan, regardless of what happens.

There’s a long moment of silence. The three men- or rather, vampires- are still just standing there watching the two of you argue. 

The small one finally breaks the tension and introduces himself. “I’m Jimin,” he says.

You nod, and give your name. He repeats it, butchering the pronunciation, but of course you expected that. Humans have never quite managed to get their tongue around it. You muse for a moment if you should give yourself a more human name, like Seokjin, but your thoughts are interrupted by the large one. 

“I’m Namjoon,” he says, and points to the last one, who gives a tentative wave. “This is Taehyung.”

You nod again, and start to feel a little ridiculous.

Okay, so the plan needs to be adjusted. You can’t take away Seokjin’s miracles without getting him to undo whatever he did to the human-vampires. 

“How long have you all been alive?” 

Namjoon glances at Seokjin, who nods. “Around three hundred years.”

“Okay,” you say. “And do you plan on dying any time soon?”

The three of them stare at you. “It’s not something we’d considered, no,” whispers Jimin. 

“Right,” you say, and then turn to Seokjin. “You need to fix this, make them human again. I’ve got to go, they’ll be looking for me, but I’ll be back soon to check in on you so you’d better have done it by then.”

Seokjin’s Adam's apple bobs in his throat. It’s… somewhat pleasant to look at.

“Pleasure to meet you everyone,” you say tightly to Seokjin’s friends. “Enjoy the rest of your lives.”

You catch their confused expressions shift into something horrified before you appear back at your desk in Heaven. It leaves you befuddled. That was a perfectly pleasant first interaction with humans that are aware of your celestial-ness - you’re not quite sure what they could be so bothered about.

827 BC

Early Autumn. 8:12am. Current Earthly conditions: foggy

It’s another fifty years or so before you can catch a break long enough to get back down to Earth. The shack has improved drastically - quite the pleasant looking home in fact. There’s flower boxes on the windowsills that are covered in a light morning dew, but the plants seem hardy. Purples and yellows. Dainty looking little things. You wonder what they might be. 

The door opens as you bend to smell them, and you look up to find the angel wrapped up in the largest item of clothing you’ve ever seen for something that just seems to be used for a neck. It’s ever so bright. Mismatched colours and patterns that don’t seem to line up. One end of it drags along the floor. Seokjin doesn’t appear too pleased to see you. 

“What are you wearing?” you ask, amused.

“Taehyung made me a scarf.”

“It’s very big.”

Seokjin glares.

“Did you really come to ruin my life so early in the morning?”

You roll your eyes. “You’re immortal. I hardly doubt this little blip will destroy you. More like God would if you don’t pull it together.”

“I could say the same about you.”

He’s got you there. But as you hold his gaze something in the air shifts, and he reluctantly lets you in. This time you take his offer of a cup of tea. You take a tentative sip, and it warms your belly in such an unexpected way. The weight of the cup is heavy in your hand, and the warmth of it seeps into your palm. It’s rather nice. 

You sit at the same table he had fifty-something years ago. There’s a few more marks in the woodwork by now. 

“Shall we get it over with then?” he says. “Where do I need to sign?”

You stop his hastiness with a gentle touch to his arm. He stares at your hand.

 “Did you get everything in order first?” you ask.

Seokjin coughs. “Yes, of course.” 

His ears are strawberry red again. The colour really is pretty, you’re glad you chose it. You’re glad you see it in other things, even if they are the tips of this angel’s ears. 

“They’re dead?”

“Not yet,” he says, lips twisting bitterly around the words. “They’re living out the rest of their lives. You might get a chance to see them, if you stay awhile. They said they’d be popping by later.”

“Oh,” you say, surprised. “Well, I suppose that’s something. You know, I am really sorry about that. I thought about it after my last visit, and I think I understand now why you’d want to keep your friends around for longer.” 

“Feeling lonely up there?” he asks, voice gentler than usual.

“No!” You snort with (only slightly put on) derision. “Of course not. Too busy for such a thing as loneliness.”

He chuckles. “Maybe I wasn’t busy enough then.”

You ignore what feels like a thimbleful of sadness dropping into your stomach.

Seokjin does most of the talking while you drink your tea. He talks about what he does down here - cooking mostly, but also a little pottery. He’s been training under a man called Yoongi. Says he made the cups you’re holding, and you inspect them. They’re quite ugly, thick and uneven- and you’re about to say as such, but Seokjin looks proud, so you smile and tell him he did very well, and that you like the colour of the clay. You wish you could bottle the way he beams.

All too soon the tea is finished, and Seokjin signs the document. It’s done. His eyes still shine, if a little less bright now. 

“What now?” he asks.

You suck in a breath. “Your miracles are in trust until your return to Heaven. Until then you can live as a human. More or less.”

His eyes snap up. “I’m still immortal, right?”

“Oh of course,” you say with a laugh. “You think they’d go through all this trouble just to risk you being eaten by a giraffe?”

“Do you know anything about Earth?” Seokjin says it like you’re an idiot. “At all?”

You’re tempted to roll your eyes. “I know plenty-”

“Name one thing,” he interrupts, crossing his arms and looking at you with an almost amused expression. 

You draw your shoulders back. You’ll give him three. “It weighs five point nine-seven septillion kilograms.”

Seokjin blinks three times fast. You must’ve caught him off guard with your knowledge. Good.

“It’s made up of thirty-two point one percent iron, fifteen point one percent silic-”

“Alright,” Seokjin says, lips twisting into a small smile. “I get it. You don’t need to prove yourself.”

You grin, ever so pleased with yourself, and Seokjin laughs.

“You’re cute.”

“What?”

“Cute,” he repeats. “It’s a compliment.”

“Oh,” you say, wondering why reciting facts from the Earth’s handbook would warrant a compliment on your character. “Okay…” You look down at your mug and see it’s empty and you’re struck with a surprising pang of disappointment. The tea was really rather good, it’s something of a pity as you realise you won’t be able to make it the same back in Heaven.

“Well, I’d better get going. Paperwork to do. Miracles to take.”

“Of course,” says Seokjin, and stands to see you off. “If you visit again will you let me know in advance?”

“Why?”

“I’ll make dinner.”

You smile without thinking. “I don’t eat, Seokjin.”

“You know,” he says, in a very matter of fact tone. “Despite the fact that every time we meet you’re taking away something of mine, I’m growing quite fond of our meetings.”

You blink. 

His eyes are so big and gentle and- “Let me know- okay?” he says with earnest.

“Okay,” you promise, already wondering when you could possibly get away long enough to watch Seokjin eat dinner.

“Would you like to take some flowers with you?” he asks suddenly. “I saw you smelling them.”

“Oh! Ye-” you start, and then you think better of it. So you plaster on a smile and say “No, that’s quite alright, I can whip some of my own up in no time at all.”

Seokjin nods. He looks like he’s going to say something else, but time is getting on and you’re not used to these odd goodbye rituals the humans (and this angel in particular) seem so fond of, so with a flash of a smile you’re back in Heaven. Seokjin and his lovely brown eyes remain on Earth. 

Your office looks so bland in comparison to Seokjin's home.

It takes a second to notice that the cup he gave you is still in your hand, remnants of the sweet tea drying on the bottom. You briefly consider going back down, just to hand it over and say goodbye properly, but in walks Turiel to squash any ideas you have about leaving your post again.

“Great, you’re finally back,” he says, dumping a stack of files on your desk. “We’re swamped.”

“What happened?” you exclaim. You’re barely able to see him over the pile. 

“Some bright spark in Organisms made a new virus. Let it loose in Greece without proper authorisation, killed half of them,” he says with a frustrated sigh. “The higher ups are fretting because one of the dead ones was supposed to be a prophet.”

Oh dear.

Turiel leaves without display. No time for pleasantries like offerings of tea and flowers up here. You sigh, dejected. 

Being around Seokjin makes you wistful for things you didn’t know you wanted. You set the mug on your desk, turning it to and fro so you get a view of the prettier side- and with the smallest of miracles, there grows delicate flowers, in purple and yellow.

#bts fic #bts fanfction #seokjin x you #seokjin fanfic #seokjin x reader #bts fanfic #bts seokjin #seokjin fluff #jin x you #jin x reader #thank u for reading #fic: don't let me tempt you #ksj x reader #ksj fic #ksj fluff #bee writes

[viharbinger]

How Genshin Men Would Help You Study HCs

pairings: reader x diluc x scaramouche x itto x xiao x heizou (separate)

warnings: heizou's character may be incorrect as we know nothing about him yet, but i tried to read a few descriptions in genshin wiki to make it match his initial personality ^^

a/n: i finished my exams awhile ago and i NEED COMFORT FLUFF

Diluc

Diluc is a really intelligent and smart guy, he's your go-to if you need a tutor!

He'll help you slowly and with every step of the way till you understand it

If you still wouldn't get it I bet you this man won't give up.

He's going to promise you rewards whenever you get something right, and oh, is it rewarding

He'll give you affectionate head pats, kisses and so on if it'll motivate you to keep trying!

And eventually, you did pass your exam!

You made sure to give your thanks to the owner of the dawn winery by giving him all your attention the next day

Scaramouche

He's just so impatient to make you understand every question, he'd get hot from feeling frustrated over it

I can just imagine you two arguing over your answer being right or wrong and when you asked a third party, they told you you were correct!

Scaramouche would slouch in embarrassment the entire time while you struggle to do your work alone, him cursing about how you deserved this for making him look stupid lol

Oh don't get me wrong, he is a smart guy. He just doesn't like to be wrong and insists he's always right

After bribing him with some hot chocolate and long cuddles after, he's suddenly so interested in getting you an A in your test

Itto

Does bringing over snacks and soft drinks count as helping-

I'm sorry but Itto is kind of a dunderhead, information goes in his ears and right out

I imagine you just putting up posters for tutor help and Itto would stop you himself and goes, "What'cha need that for? I'm already smart, just ask me!" Spoiler alert, he isn't

Instead of helping you study, he studies with you! I can see you both just looking over a reference book a million times together, and celebrating everytime you get a question right

He's moping around about how boring it is but at least you studied! I'm going to guess you got a barely passing result for your exam because of how many times you had to help him though

The next day, you two just lazed around in bed the whole day because of how burnt out you were from all that studying, it was some well deserved rest!

Xiao

Another smart man who would help you every step of the way!

He's reluctant at first but after a few trade offers for a couple kisses for some lessons, he agreed to it

He's patient with you and doesn't scold you for making any mistake

He loves watching you get happy from getting a question correct, the smile of your face is probably his favourite part of you

Finally after studying all day and night long, you finished your exam and made sure to finish your end of the deal of giving him a bunch of peppered kisses all over his face, and lotssss of warm hugs!

And as a result, you got high marks in your exam! Xiao is a great teacher and he knows it

Heizou

He's going to try to convince you to cheat, help

No really, he would

Okay, okay, i guess real studying with Heizou would be like:

Him holding your flashcards for you to memorise over, solving a question together, a little makeout session in between,

You got a question right and next thing you know, you're kissing your boyfriend again!

Heizou isn't that great with whatever you're studying for, he's just there for the kisses and your company

He tries his best though. Which is why he's on flashcards duty

Study with Heizou, and i believe you would get a half mark result

#genshin x reader #genshin imagines #diluc x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #diluc ragnivindr x reader #heizou x reader #bee writes #scaramouche x reader #itto x reader #arataki itto x reader #xiao x reader #xiao x reader fluff #scaramouche x reader fluff #scaramouche x you #diluc x you #xiao x you #itto x you #heizou x you

[beesinspades]

Pairing: Vash the Stampede/Nicholas D. Wolfwood

Rated: Teen and Up Audiences

Tags: Canon Compliant, Bathing/Washing, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Nudity, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Touch-Starved, Bittersweet, Fluff, Post-Tristamp Finale, basically tristamp timeline but like kinda trimax-flavored, POV Nicholas D. Wolfwood, Asexual Character, Asexual Vash the Stampede, there's some fluff at the end for Healing because i'm merciful, [slaps their asses] these bad boys can fit so much guilt and love and lack of self-worth

Word Count: 3.7k

read on AO3

#vashwood #trigun stampede #trigun fanfiction #trigun #OK I'M GOING TO BED I HOPE YOU LIKE IT #cries i worked so hard #if you enjoy the fic and reblog this post to help promote it i will frame your pfp on my wall /hj #bee writes #ace vash tag

[honeybeefae]

Azris x Reader fic is already 4,000 words and they haven't even STARTED fucking her properly yet. I hope you guys don't mind a long fic... :)

#bee writes #i got carried away #but its so good #i hope you all love it

[giggle-bee]

Triple Threat (Squealing Santa 2023!)

Hi, @hakurei-k, I'm your Santa for this year! Sorry this is a little late, but I hope you still enjoy it! It was a challenging prompt since I don't typically write intense stuff with multiple lers, but it was a fun fic to do, and I'm so happy I got you!! I also want to thank @squealing-santa, Hypah, for being such an amazing host!! Couldn't have done it without you, thank you for keeping the tradition alive!

(Ler!Barbatos, Ler!Solomon, Ler!Simeon, Lee!MC)

Warnings: pranks, suprise tickles

Summary: Barbatos has a day off but doesn't know how to spend it. How better to than with you? Mediating a prank war wasn't in the plans, though.

Word Count: 1.8k

When Diavolo had first approached Barbatos about taking the day off, he was against the idea. “My Lord, the New Year’s celebration is not far away. The castle must be prepared for guests, there is much work to be done-” “Exactly my thoughts! You’ve been working tirelessly, my friend, you deserve some time to yourself. It’s my castle, I want to have part in the decorating! Besides, I know you’ve been keeping an eye on that new tea house. Take the day and relax, Barbatos.”

Diavolo patted him on the back and left Barbatos standing in his office, lost for words and with a blank mind for the first time in a while. For anyone else, the opportunity would be a blessing, to leave your duties behind and pay attention to the parts of your life neglected. All Barbatos could think about was the castle in a state of disarray, clashing colors, decorations strewn haphazardly about the place, anything less than perfect was not acceptable.

However, Diavolo’s pout if he figured out Barbatos was still working during his break was too heartbreaking to think about. Barbatos sighed, pulling out his DDD and pulling up his messages with you.

Barbatos MC, would you like to join me at Witch’s Brew this afternoon? My schedule has been cleared. 

MC Oh? Is that the new tea place across from Majolish? I would love to!

Barbatos Alright. See you at noon. 

Witch’s Brew was a quaint shop that sold both loose leaf teas, tea sets, and delicious desserts. To a demon like Barbatos, it was heaven. The aroma of dried flowers and warmth tickled his nose as he opened the door, sitting down at a small table with a candle in the middle. It was peaceful here, soft music playing over the speakers and setting a light ambience to the space. Ordering some tea for the both of you would be his first order of business. The fragrant notes of hibiscus and lemon called to him from behind the counter, he would bring it back to the table piping hot and waiting. 

A smile came across his lips as he imagined you taking the first sip, your eyes lighting up at the sweet flavor- rich and floral with a hint of tart to balance it. The thought was almost as sweet as you were. The tinkling of the doorbell made Barbatos glance up hopefully from his cup, eyes alight when he saw you. But you weren’t carefree and jubilant as usual. He picked up on the nervous glances you were sending around the room, your hesitant steps towards the table, and most of all, you hadn’t greeted him with so much as a smile yet. Quite unusual. 

“Ah, hello Barbatos! Sorry I’m late,” you whispered, smoothing your clothes and sitting in the chair he pulled out for you. The demon cocked an eyebrow at your behavior, instantly analyzing your expression. He knew something was up.

“Would you like to tell me what is obviously bothering you? You look like someone is out to get you.”

“Ahaha… well…” You scratched your arm, averting your gaze and peering down into the teacup. “You could say that.” You chose to elaborate on the prank war currently going on in Purgatory Hall, the one you had started a week ago. Luke had voted on staying out of things, which meant you, Solomon, and Simeon would have to prank amongst yourselves.

Pulling out all the stops this morning, you had set up several pillows to fall onto Simeon’s head, covering him in feathers. You had swiped one of Solomon’s singing potions earlier in the week and mixed it into a batch of cookies, which had him singing curses for the next hour. You had found these harmless pranks extremely funny, but both Solomon and Simeon were sure to get you back. 

“So that’s why I have to stay vigilant! They could be anywhere, Barbatos, I have to keep a lookout,” you explained, taking a sip of your tea. The flavor was complex and delicate, a nice reprieve from the chaos going on with your friends. You melted into the warm drink, nodding at the teapot, “This was a good pick, thank you for letting me try it!”

Barbatos shook his head with a fond smile. He knew you were “I believe tea is better when shared in good company, so it’s my pleasure.” Pouring you two another cup, he thought on your predicament. If Solomon and Simeon were working together, it could spell disaster for everyone in Purgatory Hall.

Humming in thought, Barbatos finished his tea and set the cup down gently onto a saucer. “Can I escort you back? Like I said, my schedule is clear for the day, so it would be no trouble. That way, you won’t have to worry about anything on your way,” he offered. Barbatos knew they would never do anything to harm you, but if it would make you feel better, it was worth it.

You perked up, relief washing over your face. “I would appreciate it, those two like to scare me as much as it is.”

Taking a dessert to go, you and Barbatos left the teahouse and started the journey back to the House of Lamentation. On the way, you talked about everything from next year’s classes to Satan’s newest cat adoption antics. Barbatos felt at ease talking to you, as he always did. His worries for the celebration faded with every step as he let you take the wheel of the conversation. Before you knew it, you two were on the doorstep. 

“Thank you for walking me here, Barbs. We need to do this again sometime!” You opened the door and were about to wave goodbye when two arms pulled you into the foyer. Barbatos quickly moved inside, surprised by the sight that greeted him. 

Solomon and Simeon had trapped you in their arms, encircling you like twin felines playing a game of cat and mouse. Solomon’s deadly smirk was something you knew all too well, paired with Simeon’s laughing eyes, they had been out to get you from the start. “You fell right into our trap, MC~” Simeon purred in your ear, watching your eyes flit between the trio of people in the room. Well, one human, one angel, and one demon. The mischievous fire in Solomon’s eyes appeared anything *but* human to you in this moment. 

Solomon looked to the demon at the door, “What do you think is a fitting punishment for our friend here, Barbatos?” 

Barbatos slowly stepped forward until he was in front of you three, assessing the situation. “Seeing as they’ve confessed their transgressions to me already, I believe something… like this will suffice,” Barbatos reasoned, grinning at your shocked face.

“Barbatos! You’re supposed to be on my side- HEY!” Barbatos wormed his hand between you and Simeon to give your side a squeeze, making you curl into Solomon. Simeon started to snicker at the idea, using his free hand to scribble around your neck while Solomon’s smile grew wolfish. “I think that’s a great idea, don’t you think so, MC?” 

You were trying not to react to Simeon’s gentle scribbles, your cheeks puffing out and your lips pouting to hide your smile. “N-no! Not a great idea! Barbatos- help me!”

Raising an eyebrow, the demon tilted his head to the side, “You want me to help? Alright, I can manage that. After all, I have no obligations today, I can spend as much time as I want here.”

Barbatos latched onto your sides, kneading into them with sudden speed and vigor that you weren’t prepared for. Your straight faced facade went flying out the window as you tried to wiggle away from the tickles to no avail. Solomon and Simeon seemed to have the same idea, the angel’s fingers finding a home in your armpits and Solomon’s squeezing at your hipbones. “WHAHAHAIT! NOhOHoO!” 

You had endured tickle attacks from all three of them separately, but together, the trio was insufferably good at reducing you to a laughing fit. They continued to scribble and poke all over your worst spots, Simeon finding a good spot on your lower tummy that almost sent you backwards. Every time you got used to something, one of them would move, sending you into giggles all over again. 

“I almost forgot how ticklish they are! Solomon, keep that up,” Simeon laughed with delight at how you squirmed away from Solomon’s evil hands that were currently chasing your ribs. “If I were you, I would stay still- it would be done a looooot faster!” Solomon chirped from your left, tazing your ribs and making you fall into Barbatos’s waiting arms.

“Your laugh is almost as sweet as the tea, you know,” Barbatos whispered quietly, kneading into your lower back and sides, chuckling when you tried to pull away with a blush. Simeon gasped and excitedly pulled you away, hugging you tight against his chest. 

“Theres this thing I used to do to Luci when he would misbehave, let me show you!” He closed his eyes and you felt invisible feathers gliding across your ears and neck, making you scrunch up. The feathers seemed to reach all of your worst spots, soft but they tickled like hell. When you felt one graze the bottom of your foot, you squeaked in surprise, how was this even possible? Simeon’s laugh sounded like bells, contrasting with your loud and squealy one. “I cAhAHaAHaN’t! PlEHehAHeaSe!” 

He slowed down the feathers of his wings to softly stroke up and down your arms, letting you collapse into him. Solomon ruffled your hair, “You all tired out? I think it’s payback for making me sing through all of breakfast. Simeon looked like a fancy chicken this morning,” he laughed. Simeon rolled his eyes, “Did you learn your lesson, MC? Never mess with Purgatory Hall, or you’ll awaken the tickle monsters that live there!” He tapped your nose, taking note of your lingering smile and flushed cheeks. He grinned and gave you a hug, releasing you. 

Barbatos had his hands behind his back, almost like he hadn’t contributed to your ticklish demise. “The cake is still outside, would you like me to bring it in?” His sly smirk didn’t go unnoticed, you nodded, rolling your eyes. “You were supposed to help me!”

“I never said I would help you. Besides, I think you deserved a little prank back for the ones you performed,” he noted, bringing the slice of matcha cake inside. 

With a sigh, you took the bag, holding out the delectable sweet. “How about a truce? Do you guys wanna split this?” All three of them nodded, causing you to smile. As you made your way towards the den, Barbatos concluded that his day off was a day well spent.

#squealing santa 2k23 #ss2k23 #obey me tickles #obey me tickle fic #ler!barbatos #ler!solomon #ler!simeon #lee!mc #lee!reader #honey #bee writes

[danibee33]

More Simon “Ghost” Riley brain rot because I’ve been in a car for 8 hours 🙃

But this time, make it undercover!Ghost🩶

(inspired by “Billie Bossa Nova” by Billie Eilish - reader goes by callsign: “Hela”)

+++++

•thinking about Ghost being absolutely livid that he’s the one chosen to attend the event- some ritzy, wildly overpriced and stupidly exclusive, art exhibition.

•”You’re the only one that they wouldn’t know- they can’t recognize a face they’ve never seen. We’ve already talked about it-“ Price pinches at the bridge of his nose, sitting behind his desk, sitting in the same exact position he was in an hour ago, trying to convince his lieutenant that it truly was a last resort.

•Ghost huffs out a rumbling sigh, only just barely fighting back the urge to roll his eyes- the military bearing far too engrained in him to disrespect a superior officer. But really, he knows it’s because he respects John too much as a friend.

•and he’s just about close the door behind him when he hears the older man’s voice again, “Hela will be your second.”

•sure, he could try to argue like he so badly wants to, but judging by how far he made it with this, he wouldn’t be getting the answer he wanted either way.

•it’s not that the 141’s newest lieutenant was incompetent or incapable, no, you were far from either of those things.

•you were smart, a great leader, and even better in a team than he could ever dream of being. you had only made them better-

•but you were a fucking pain in his ass, with your annoying and, at times overbearing, sunshine fucking personality. Your habit of wanting to learn things about him and the others just to see them perk up a bit, though you’ve yet to figure out what makes Ghost not look like a walking rain cloud-

•and it had taken them months to figure out how the hell you got such a dark and foreboding callsign such as Hela, Norse fucking goddess of death- it didn’t make any sense, there was no way, right? No way someone so sweet and chipper could be that brutal.

•boy, how wrong they were.

•you were downright certifiable on mission, merciless on the battlefield, with your laughter trickling through the radios after a particularly challenging kill- there was something wrong with you, but he guesses that’s why you fit in so well with the rest of them.

•they were all a little fucked up in the head. You had to be, to do what needs to be done, to do all the terrible things no one in their right mind could do.

+++

•when the night arrives, Ghost is left staring at his own reflection, and it physically pains him to leave the comfort of his balaclava laying on the bathroom counter- even though he knew Price had made sure to limit his exposure to only the bare minimum, it didn’t make it easier.

•”You’ll meet Hela inside the venue, she’s in a black, floor length dress, red purse, hair up.” He nods at his captain’s words, committing the details to memory as he slides into the back seat of the blacked out SUV.

•the ride blurs by, he doesn’t pay attention to anything going on outside, preferring to focus on the parameters of the mission; it would be mostly recon, some light pick-pocketing, a little slight of hand, a cellphone full of intel procured-

•he certainly doesn’t dwell on how excited you were to had been to go undercover, or how you had talked fucking relentlessly about the dress you picked for your “007 moment”, as you so lovingly to referred to the mission- and to his surprise, Johnny had apparently helped you pick it out.

•and there’s no reason whatsoever for that fact to have made him want to wring the Scot’s neck.

•Ghost steps out the car at the curb, straightening and buttoning the fitted, black tuxedo jacket- the grimace on his scarred lips doing a well enough job of carving a path through the sparse crowd.

• “C’mon, LT- ye could try ta’look like ye spent an obscene amount o’money ta be here.” Johnny playfully drawls through the ear piece, “and lemme tell you-“ he pauses to give a quiet whistle for effect, and this time Ghost doesn’t stop his eyes from rolling back, “Hela is lookin’ real bonnie, aren’t ye, lil’ LT?”

•”Keep it tactical, Sergeant.” Ghost grunts back, eyeing the upper windows of the surrounding buildings before waltzing through the grandiose entrance-

• “Hm, I thought it was nice.. thank you, Soap.” You say, and he swears he can hear the smile in your sultry tone. The one that you just love to use on comms.

•Johnny gives a low chuckle, “Ye’re very welcome, ma’am.”

•Christ fucking alive. Ghost is in hell, he’s sure of it.

•but then, he sees you. And at first, he’s not entirely sure he’s even looking at the right person- because, of course he’s seen you in civilian clothes, even some more form fitted PT gear; and he’s always had a hard time dragging his eyes away from you even then. Right now, though?

•right now, he’s ardently staring at your profile, studying the lines of your face under the soft glow of the museum lighting- the way your glossy pink lips are parted just slightly as you look up at the painting in front of you, your fingers daintily clasped around a flute of champagne, a deep red leather clutch in your other hand.

•something compels him to blend back into the crowd, silently moving to take you in from all angles, his eyes roaming and lingering all the same-

•and it’s at that moment he realizes Price severely understated your “black, floor length dress”. Yes, it was all those things, but fuck.. a warning would’ve been nice-

•he also decides then that he will wring Johnny’s neck- because if he helped you pick this? well that means he’s already seen too much. And Ghost couldn’t have that-

•the dress you chose is fitted like a second skin, high neck and long sleeves, entirely modest and yet.. it manages to leave so, so little to the imagination with the way it hugs every single curve- but it’s the back that causes an awful flicker of arousal to make his cock twitch.

•the back is completely, and gloriously, exposed- from the petite span of your shoulders, all the way down to the godforsken pair of dimples that decorate the lowest curve of your spine before the fabric meets together again right above the delicious swell of your ass-

•it takes everything in him to stay on track, to keep aware of his surroundings as he makes his way to your other side. It’s only then that you finally turn towards him, certainly having felt the weight of his gaze. But by the time you crane your neck to search the crowd, he’s already out of sight.

+++

•you scan over the strange and unfamiliar faces, unable to shake that feeling of being watched- it was probably just nerves, you knew Ghost would be with you on this, which means you’re well aware that he would be maskless tonight.

•and you really should not be so excited- this was still a mission, you shouldn’t be thinking about him.. shouldn’t be imagining what hides beneath the balaclavas-

•you’re so lost in the thought you can’t help to but gasp when you hear the familiar, brassy voice in your ear, “Spotted the target.”

•you barely stifle another gasp when you feel the sweltering heat of his palm suddenly pressed against your lower back- and you don’t know why the touch sends a rush of chills down your spine. Maybe it’s just knowing you’re finally about to see the ever enigmatic man’s face, or it could just be how comfortable he seems putting his hand on you like that.

•but when you try to turn, he holds you in place, the hand that was at the small of your back, moving to the gently hold the nape of your neck,

• “Wait..” He whispers, an odd mixture of authority and desperation in his tone.

• “Why?” You ask just as quietly, your eyes fixed ahead, but the beautiful art is lost on you now, too consumed by his proximity- by the standoffish brute of a man who had only looked at you like a nuisance for months. It’s ridiculous, what you should really be asking is why you care so much-

•but you don’t think you would know the answer to that, not for sure anyway; maybe it was that you craved his approval- you had earned it from literally everyone else by this point, but his had alluded you. And you couldn’t fucking stand it.

• “Ghost?” You try to pry a little further, his callsign coming out a bit breathier than you meant for it to, but the way his thumb is rubbing back and forth, back and forth, so softly, so slowly.. it’s enough to drive you crazy.

• “Target’s directly to your left- cellphone in his right jacket pocket.” Without warning he removes his hand and brushes past you, taking with him the chance to see any of his features apart from the head of wavy, honey blonde hair that’s been messily swept back.

•and it’s the purposely careless movement that causes you to stumble, your crystal flute knocking right against the sturdy chest of the man that had just approached the painting,

• “Oh! Oh, my god- I am so-“, you slip the device from his pocket almost too easily, “so, sorry, sir.”

•it’s easy to distract him, flashing a bright, slightly nervous smile- bat your pretty lashes up at him, maybe let your hand linger a bit too long on his bicep..

• “‘M sorry, sweetheart-“ Ghost is back, and you have to force yourself not to immediately focus on his presence, instead noticing how he efficiently leans around you to slip the bugged phone into the target’s pocket.

•and again, it’s unsettling how natural it feels for him to snake a muscular arm around your waist, and god, the way he settles his big hand possessively over your lower stomach has your knees weak and an uncomfortable pressure building between your legs.

• “Just saw an old friend, and he wants to meet you, love.” He says it like it was the most normal night in the world, holding you like you could’ve been a couple- but, he’s just playing his part, right?

•after another round of apologies, Ghost promptly leads you away, your hand held firmly in his as he weaves through and around the small groups of people who couldn’t care less about you.

“Riley- hang on.” You hiss just as he turns a corner, finally far enough way to give the all clear to Price and Soap without concern of being overheard, but he’s still just ahead of you, his face still just out of view.

•you struggle to keep up with his monstrous strides in your outrageous heels, “That excited to get away from me, huh?”

•no, you don’t mean for it to sound so bitter, it was suppose to be a joke, but maybe it’s a little more honest than you care to dive into right now. But, it does finally get his attention, his feet coming to such an abrupt halt that you stumble right into the thick, solid mass of his back.

•he opens a door, quickly turning to walk you backwards into the dark room- slamming the heavy wood shut as soon as you’re both inside.

•with effortless speed, he pulls your earpieces out, shoving them him in his pocket, “what. the. fuck, Ghost? What are you doing?!”

• “Fucking hell, do you ever shut up?”

•you scoff into the darkness, his giant silhouette still looming over you- and with your curiosity too quickly turned to rage, you shove him backwards,

• “What’s your problem with me?” You have to stop yourself from shouting, you know you’re away from the party, but there could still be staff close by, “Well?! What did I do tonight except everything I was suppose to? Please, tell me what I did wrong, because I am so fuckin-“

•the last thing you expect is to feel his hands grasp either side of your face, and it’s completely unfathomable what happens after-

•Ghost’s lips collide with yours in a rough, hungry kiss, one that leaves you to stunned to do anything but let your body do what you’ve fantasized about one too many times.

•but too soon, he pulls away, out of breath and still gripping your face, “No, sweet girl, no. You’ve been perfect tonight, and you look..”

•you reel at his praise, your lungs seizing at the sound of the pet name on his tongue- internally cursing the lack of light for depriving you of getting to see his expression.

•Because you so desperately wanted to know what the actual fuck was going on and why it was happening right now.

• “-so bloody beautiful.. you’re fucking stunning, y’know that?”

•he kisses you again before you can even attempt to think of an answer, but this time you’re ready, turning your head to deepen the gesture into something dangerously close to sinful. Heated and passionate, you cling to him, letting your purse drop to the floor so you could wrap your arms around his neck.

•his hands wander, needy, yet so languid, you feel him trace the lines of your back, every touch delicately ravenous. And the fire you feel spread through your entire body at the simple skin to skin contact threatens your already very thinly tethered control-

•you take a step, then another, your hands now splayed out over his broad chest- pushing him until you both feel his back make contact with the door, his lips moving lower now, hands pulling you closer.

•the old light fixture crackles to life when you flip the switch, effectively freezing you both in this moment- crossing boundaries that could never be uncrossed, seeing each other in a way that couldn’t be forgotten.

•and you don’t know exactly why you keep your eyes clamped shut, even when you feel him lean back just slightly, though his nose still grazes across your cheekbone, and his fingertips are still dug into the flesh of your hips.

•your breath stutters when he presses a single kiss to your lips, the taste of champagne mixing with a hint of tobacco and peppermint, it was an odd combination, but you find yourself craving it already- what a terrible drug he is.

•without pulling away, he speaks against your lips, and you can feel the smile on his, hear the timbre in his voice, “It’s all right, love.. you can look. I know you want to..”

++++

>>>> {Part II}

PLS DONT HATE ME. I never meant for it to be this long, so I’m splitting it into two parts 😬 (unless I shouldn’t??)

#bee writes #call of duty #cod fandom #simon ghost riley #reader #I think about ghost in a tux waaay too often #cod fanfic #cod #cod mw2 #john soap mactavish #john price #simon riley x reader #part one

[muddywxter]

anasthesia — s. mingi

pairing : idol ! song mingi x non idol ! gender neutral reader

genre : established relationship , fluffy , some teasing , mingi gets very flustered

warnings : just fluff , some teasing , reader is shorter than mingi , not very good but it's all abt that confidence 💪💪

notes : hey guys 🤭 yes i know this episode came out a month ago but shhhh

summary : after wanteez episode 10 comes out, mingi's partner watches it without mingi's knowledge while he's out. when he comes home, he won't hear the end of his partner's teasing !

"I'm home," Mingi called as he opened the door into his partner's apartment. You bit back a smile as you slid your phone back into your pocket.

"Hey darling," You call, getting up from your position from the couch to go to him, slipping you arms around your boyfriend's waist as he hangs his coat on the wall. "How was today?"

"It was good," He grinned, wrapping his arms around you. The two of you swayed slightly as you conversed.

"Did you get your sushi omakase, by the way?" You ask, a small smile tugging at the corners of you lips. Mingi tilts his head in confusion, thinking back to when he had said that he wanted sushi omakase.

"You watched that?!" Mingi exclaimed, his face flushing red as he remembered the members telling him that he had been dancing when he first woke up from the anaesthesia.

"Yeah, like twenty minutes ago," You smiled, pulling away from him. Mingi complains, trying to pull you back, wanting to bury his face in the crook of your neck to hide out of embarassment.

"We need to feel this," You grin as you copy how he danced in the episode, your hair falling over your face as you laughed.

"Stop," Mingi complained, a hand covering his mouth as he smiled widely. His face was still red as you finally stopped imitating him.

He tugs you towards him, wrapping his arms around you with a small, dramatic huff. You tilt your head back slightly to look up at him, a teasing smile on your lips.

"Come on," You hum, pulling away from him - only for him to tug you back gently with a pout on his lips, "I got dinner in the kitchen."

His eyes lit up, "What are we having?"

"Sushi omakase."

#muddywxter #kpop x reader #bee writes #mingi x reader #gender neutral reader #ateez mingi #ateez fluff #ateez x reader

[p---l---c]

Happy Worldsense Saturday!!!! with this chapter we've reached 100k words!!!!

#bee draws #hollow knight #hollow knight art #bee writes