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#also... come and chat to me in my ask box
todayisafridaynight · 7 months
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they could not have chosen ANY MORE different games to make this point
#snap chats#IM CRYING THO 1.) KIRBY AND KIRYU IN THE SAME PICTURE YIPPEEEEE#2.) I JUST SNORTED BEING REMINDED OF THE TIME I SPECIFICALLY REFERENCE KIRBY BEING ANGRIER#IN RESPONSE TO THAT ONE ASK MASU SENT ABOUT SAWASHIRO#AND HOW HE WAS PORTRAYED MORE AGGRESSIVELY IN THE STATES LIKE JAER JERLKAJ#also omg y3... hi lovr...#idc i love the Unreasoanbly Edgy USification of box art it appeals to the shadow the hedgehog lover in me#oh yeah. also. i got here in the first place cause my desperate ass WAS looking up how much itd cost to buy physical discs#and i stumbled on the jp box art of y7 and its so fuckin funny but like i also get it but also lol#CAUSE YK ON THE ART YOUVE GOT NANBA/ARAKAWA/SAWASHIRO LIKE. SPECIFICALLY FRAMED YEAH#on one hand i get it from the approach of 'oh hey you guys know these actors right check it'#and then theres also the approach of 'these three characters will cause SOME form of major conflict for ichi'#BUT ITS JSUT SO FUNNY LIKE nanba so tf are you doing there. come back here.#like at least for most of the game arakawa's suspicious but nanba chills with us for like. ok only like four chapters BUT STILL#the cover also makes me laugh cause of arakawa cause like. Perpetual Peepaw Syndrome IM SORRY HE JUST LOOKS CUTE#like pops you are not fooling anyone.. you cannot intimidate me im sorry.... ily...#funny as hell...#ok im gonna try drawing now fr bye#i hope my bitchass friend gets back to me soon i wanna play y3 on stream so bad...#i could try from my laptop but its SOOO slow. like its consistent but its like playing in slow motion#so id prefer to see if i could play it on my ps4 and then use my capture card to stream it to computer yk..#ok im rambling again BYE
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thefloralmenace · 3 months
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Sometimes the answer is to subvert the rule instead of breaking it.
Anarchy post #5 or something - enough of you have been super sweet about being inspired and hopeful in the tags of my other posts that you've encouraged me to share more of my personal ideology.
So there are good and bad rules out there, and I have a personal analysis I go through to make that determination for myself:
Does the rule achieve its intent?
Is the rule enforceable?
Does the rule disproportionately affect certain people?
Does the rule cause people unreasonable/unnecessary stress?
A good rule is "Yes," "Yes," "No," and "No" - any deviation from that suggests the rule should be ignored, modified, or abolished, but you won't always (or often) have the ability/power to do that. If you've encountered a bad rule, you can decide to break it or take the path of trying to convince the relevant authority to amend or remove the rule, but there is a third option! You can subvert the rule.
I'll give you a quick example of a good rule: You need to wear safety goggles when working with power tools in the woodshop. What is the rule trying to achieve? It's trying to keep you safe in the event of an accident. Does wearing safety goggles help protect your eyes? Yes. Is the rule enforceable? Yeah, if you're the woodshop manager, you can easily walk around and see if someone isn't wearing goggles and ask them to either put them on or step out of the shop. Does this rule disproportionately affect certain people? No, anyone who is able to use power tools should also be able to wear safety goggles. They make ones that go over glasses too. Does this cause unreasonable/unnecessary stress? As long as you keep some spares on hand for people to use (which pretty much every woodshop does), no one should be stressed by this. Good rule.
Now here's an example of a rule that I determined to be bad and what I did about it: My college science department has a policy that if you don't show up appropriately dressed for lab (i.e. long pants, lab coat, goggles, and close-toed shoes) and can't change and get back within 20 minutes of the lab start time, you will get a zero for that lab. There are only 10 labs per year, so that's kind of a big deal. Issue: People often just forget they have lab in the afternoon, especially during the hot months and come to lab in shorts. They rarely forget to bring their lab coat and goggles or wear close-toed shoes, but people frequently forget about long pants. What does this rule seek to achieve? Making sure everyone comes dressed properly for lab. Does it achieve this? Nope. You can't disincentivize forgetting, so no matter how extreme the punishment is, students will forget from time to time. You can't punish forgetfulness out of a person. Is the rule enforceable? Yeah, people do get turned away from lab if they're not wearing long pants. Does it disproportionately affect a certain group of people? Yep! Students who live off campus have no hope of getting changed and getting back in 20 minutes, but people living in the dorms across the street can. Does the rule cause unecessary stress?Yep! People used to regularly cry, panic, and beg to trade pants with someone in the big college group chats to avoid getting a zero for lab.
My solution: Take away the rule's power to stress people by accommodating instead of punishing. I got six pairs of pants in sizes XS to 3XL, wrote "Emergency Lab Pants" on the thighs, and established a box for them in the student common area that anyone could borrow from. This helps people get to lab safely dressed and it provides a safety net that removes the stress of making an easy human mistake.
The reason I went that route was because 1) Breaking the rule and getting away with it was basically impossible and also unsafe. 2) I figured arguing with the department about the policy wouldn't get anywhere. They'd just ignore that you literally can't disincentivize forgetting things and go on about people needing to learn to be responsible for themselves or whatever.
And something interesting happened: the department got completely behind this project. They realized it decreased lab absences and provided a change of clothes if someone spilled something on themselves during the lab. Professors put the Emergency Lab Pants box in their syllabi, and the department invested in another set to be kept on hand in the lab offices.
So even though that very harsh rule still exists, it has been divested of its ability to cause people stress and panic - all because somebody analyzed the rule for the first time and determined that it stressed people out while failing to achieve its goal.
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the-cimmerians · 2 months
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It's 2024. I have been participating in fandom for 40 years. This is a ramble commemorating some history I've experienced along the way.
In 1984, I attended my first convention, and made a beeline for the one long row of covered tables in the Dealer's Room that was, according to the whispered lore of my friends, 'the one'. "um", I said, very suavely and coherently, except for how it was totally the opposite of those things, "I'm here for the... for the, uh. For-"
"Come around here," the man behind the table said with exhausted ennui, so I went around, and he lifted up the table skirt next to him and pointed to rows and rows of boxes underneath the line of tables. "It's all under here."
It was all under there. Along with about five older ladies with glasses, graying hair, cardigans. Flipping through slash zines and chatting in whispered voices like old friends (which of course they were). I noticed one of them had the good sense to be wearing kneepads. I was still too young and ablebodied to need kneepads when crawling on a carpeted floor, but I immediately found her preparedness skills to be both impressive and hot. "You're new," one of the ladies whispered to me--a bit warily, which made sense. "Are you sure you're in the right place?"
In the faint light (the kneepads lady had also come prepared with a flashlight, additional practicality hotness points for her) I grabbed a comb-bound book with a heavy line art piece on the cover, featuring a musclebound Captain Kirk getting righteously and enthusiastically plowed by a stern-yet-ebullient Spock. "This," I said, pointing helpfully at the cover, like I was trying to make myself understood in a language I had only the vaguest knowledge of. "I'm here for this."
Outside at the convention, most of the attendees were wearing large homemade circular pins that shrieked 'K/S is BS!!!'1. But underneath the table, we reveled in the forbidden.
***
In 1985, I fell very hard for Starsky & Hutch fandom. Which was simply referred to at the time as 'the other fandom', because there were only two. We were upstarts. Many fannish elders predicted that it was just a phase.
***
The 'circulating library' was a massive stack of barely-legible pages that smelled strongly of mimeograph ink. When you were on the list, you would write stories while you waited for your turn, and when the big box was mailed to you, you would read everything (new finds, old favorites), add your own sloppily-typed or hastily-mimeographed stories, and then mail the whole thing to the next person. For me, at the time, it was an extremely expensive indulgence--but my favorite one.
***
By 1990, slash fandom had grown enough that I no longer knew everyone in it, which was both thrilling and a bit daunting. A young woman at a convention waited for me after a panel I was part of (I think it was 'writing impactful smut' or something like that), and said she had a question she didn't want to ask in a group setting. I'd heard that before. I said that's fine, go ahead and ask; and she came out with: "Why do you have to be gay?"
I blinked. "Is... that a problem?"
She looked annoyed. "Yes, because your stories are on all the recommendation lists and in all the top zines, but if you're gay and I read something you wrote and I get hot from it that makes me gay, and I'm not gay."
"Wow." I grinned, I couldn't help it. It probably made me look very predatory-dyke-about-to-score-a-toaster. Whatever, it was enough to make her back away from me fast.
When I thought about it later that night, I wondered what it would be like not to be the only queer person in slash fandom.
***
By 1997, slash started appearing on the internet. Many fannish elders claimed it was the death knell of slash fandom, or dismissed it as 'just a phase'.
***
Anyway, I wrote all this for myself as a commemoration of sorts, but if you took the time to read it--thank you. Love you, fandom. I always will.
1 In those days, m/m fandom was known as 'slash', which grew from the fannish shorthand where 'K&S' meant a story of Kirk and Spock having adventures or tribulations or what have you, and 'K/S' meant a story of Kirk and Spock getting it on (Kirk divided by Spock or Spock into Kirk--it was mathy fannish humor and I was into it then and I still am now). Slash was decidedly unpopular in the fannish world in 1984, and there was a concerted effort to force slash authors, artists, and fans out of 'mainstream' fannish public life. Hence, under the table.
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starkettes · 10 months
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😖(<- made the horrible mistake of listening to music that provokes emotion)
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gaspshichat · 1 month
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can i just talk about one of my favourite pearl images?
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technically two BUT I LOVE THEM. why?
aimsey is 4'11, and pearl is 6'0. in the first picture, aimsey is leaning on pearl's shoulder. either aimsey is standing on a box [sadly, i doubt it] or pearl is just CROUCHING DOWN ?????
also the second picture looks like pearl is once again crouching down to be level with aimsey, WHO SHE'S OVER A FOOT TALLER THAN 😭😭😭
they're just generally silly PLUS THEY LOOK SO HAPPY and i love their duo sm. like genuinely such an underrated duo and i wish we could get more interactions
my favourite pearl and aimsey interaction has to be valentine's day. pearl was streaming and it was late night for her [usual stream time] but for aimsey it was more late afternoon
aimsey comes into chat and xey just shout to pearl how they're going to do pottery with guqqie and pearl got so excited for him and asked to see it iirc
it was just such a genuinely sweet moment !!
--------------------------------
this part is unrelated to aimsey but pearl is just such a sweet person. i've extremely active in her chat and give bits every stream. my first stream i gave bits i talked about my unexplained chronic illness
do you want to know what she did?
she gave me a minute long message that still makes me cry to this day. i genuinely can't watch it bc i just instantly start crying
also yes she called me gaspie chat which is so funny to me. nowadays she calls me gasp or gasps but i do miss the gaspie chat day /hj
anyway, during last night's stream i talked about how i'm FINALLY going to get answers. after two years of constant sickness, i'm going to potentially get answers soon
she was so happy for me and hoped that i could finally get my answers soon before asking to give updates if i was comfortable
pearl is genuinely the nicest person i've ever seen in this community and her community shows that too. everyone is so kind to everyone that it's like taking a breath of fresh air
sorry [not really] for the big, rambling post, but i needed to say this
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whatifyoulivelikethat · 2 months
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trouble, m | jjk
... aka, jeon jungkook’s dick is so good and your pussy is so heavenly that faith in humanity is restored.
pairing(s): jungkook x reader
warnings: rated M (18+) for language; a hookup turned awkward meeting at a goddamn McDonalds of all places; smut (fem reader, hair pulling, heavy making out, m-receiving oral, doggy, penetrative sex, fingering, m-masturbation); non-idol!BTS – ft best friend!Park Jimin being a wingman little shit classic
--
“Oh, I’m in trouble.”
Panic coursed throughout his veins.
“I can’t be here.”
And maybe a little bit of arousal too.
“Jungkook, this is a public place,” Park Jimin corrected him. “Anybody can be at McDonald’s.”
He almost got up from his seat, except he was boxed in a corner of a crowded fast-food restaurant and Jimin shoved the tray full of food right in front of his face. The other side of the table held various shopping bags full of things that Jimin thought his mother would like for the upcoming new year. Why did Jeon Jungkook have to be here? Well, he was the one guy from Busan who happened to be Jimin’s close friend and Jimin’s mother’s favorite friend of her son’s. Therefore, Jungkook obviously had to select something for Jimin to buy just so Jimin could say, Jungkook thought you would look nice in this cream sweater, thus gaining maximum best son points.
Yeah, Jungkook didn’t really get it either, but he was told that he was getting free food out of it.
Didn’t think it was going to be McDonald’s, though.
Also didn’t think that his fuck from last night was going to serendipitously appear, standing in line looking drop-dead gorgeous as she pushed the fur-lined hood of her coat back. Her lush hair spilled out in soft waves over the shoulders of that the black suede long-line stunner, far too much luxury for the city mall. And then there was her face. What god thought it would be funny to allow someone to look that effortlessly pretty bare-faced? Who put such sexy eyes on such a cute face? One glance and one would think, how cute with those dimples and pillowy lips, and then do a double take when the shape of those foxy eyes sunk in, holy shit, fuck me right now. Or, at least Jungkook had thought that. Still thought it, looking at her again in the daylight. Tight white top, heather gray sweatpants that didn’t match the lavishness of the jacket, and easy black-and-white sneakers, clearly everything thrown together to grab some food quickly while being a goddamn snack herself.
Jimin was carefully positioning Jungkook’s meal in front of him – fries, massive sandwich with both a beef patty and fried chicken patty, tall Coca-Cola and all, chatting away, and all Jungkook could do was gawk like an idiot.
Like he said, he was in trouble.
Tomorrow.
The ghost of her hand slid up his chest, caressing his skin while her voice curled by his ear, soft lips kissing down his neck.
I hope your friends ask about me.
The image entering his mind, the way she smiled above him, her skin alight from his mood lamp with specks of red light playfully dancing over her jaw, her fingertips tracing his muscle making his heart race, her soft thighs against his, smooth and sleek and making him insane.
The devil was in the details.
“Hello? Did you space out again?”
Jungkook jumped, startled that Jimin was glaring at him. “What?”
Those small hands stiffly pointed to the food spread before them. “Eat? Come on, it’s busy and we don’t want to take up too much time.”
“R… Right.”
He had about two seconds to take a bite out of his sandwich before Jimin casually asked in between bites of curly fries, “Oh yeah, you ran off last night with that sexy lady. How did that go?”
Jungkook choked.
-
That’s all I am, sex and shallow feelings, tch, what an idiot, acting like it was ever anything else, I don’t need anyone and I won’t need anyone, go ahead and act all high and mighty in front of your friends during the day, we all know you’ll be begging to crawl in my bed at night.
Mind a billion thoughts a minute.
You tilted your head and found yourself not that hungry. Still, some fries and a drink sounded good, so you picked that. Reached into the fur by your chest and pulled out your cardholder, tapping it to pay as you continued scowling in your head, trying not to let it show in the form of resting-bitch-face.
Ten minutes before this moment had been an annoying confrontation. You considered if you could have handled it better.
Or more savagely.
You should have pulled up all those messages you had left on read.
Sigh, but, no, you hadn’t thought of it. Ultimately, it wasn’t worth your time. It would have been a childish move. Why was that anyway? Why was it that you needed to be the “bigger person” and not be petty when some guy got all up in your face about you not wanting a relationship as his supposed friends crowded around in a circle around you two, clearly silently intimidating you? In public! Fuckin’ bum-rushed you on the street as if the showy dramatics would illicit shame or obedience. Yeah, because you were a woman who would just kill to be in a relationship, right? You scoffed internally. ‘Cause it was just so important to be in a relationship, more than, oh, I don’t know, actively not being in one that was definitely, absolutely gonna make you miserable?
Also, he hadn’t even been that good in bed.
“At least I am sex. You couldn’t even be that for a slut with as low standards as me,” was your frigid reply before walking away.
You couldn’t understand it. What was so great about relationships anyway? People only got into them for easy sex. A lotta work for a shitty time. You could get laid without the emotional baggage of another, thank you.
Although, sex probably wasn’t easy for people who acted like little bitches.
Hah.
You thanked the employee and accepted your food, wandering over to the drinks fountain with your paper cup. A basic day of running errands on your off-day now ruined by this bullshit. Nothing a little McDonald’s couldn’t fix though. Something about the nostalgia of hot, simple, cheap fast food made it more delicious. You probably should have gotten a sandwich or something, but you didn’t want to be too full and not want to do your errands after. Fried potatoes it was.
Hey, people called you sex, not the epitome of health.
You notched your finger on the tab and watched the honey-sweetened black ice tea pour out of the nozzle, which was the exact moment your intrusive thoughts popped up.
You avoid making deep relationships so that no one will notice when you die.
Thanks, brain.
Funnily enough, no one had ever said this to you. You would think someone would have noticed by now but, no, this was a revelation you made yourself once you were old enough to understand yourself better, and it came randomly while showering. Hmph. Goddamn showers. You slipped past a lovey-dovey couple to sit by the window counter, plopping down on one of the stools to munch on your fries for a bit. Alone. Some people wanted a lot of people to surround them. A sense of community and togetherness. Some people wanted a chosen few, valuing the quality over quantity. And some people were like you, loners who accepted who you were and that was NSFS – not safe for society – patiently waiting for the one that really understood you.
Or maybe there wasn’t anyone like you and you were just delusional about that.
Anyway, didn’t really matter. This kind of thing simply ended with thinking in circles. Sure, you could dwell on the whole question of existence, the why, but you had determined the more important was the who, the self within, and that wasn’t driven by the why. The who was driven by instinct.
If your instinct was to eat, fuck, sleep, repeat, then so be it.
Oh, and occasional responsibilities, like getting your tires rotated. Hence why you even outside today in the first place.
Hah, what a bother.
You munched on your crispy, hot fries and didn’t bother anyone. You learned not to expect too much out of people. They talked a lotta talk and didn’t walk much walk. I want this, this, and this, you heard a whole lot and nobody did it. A speech was all well and good, just not nearly as half as interesting as doing. And if you didn’t want to do it, you didn’t waste time beating yourself up over it. If that resulted in you only hooking up and avoiding relationships that you didn’t feel like committing to, then at least you weren’t disingenuous or fake.
Yup.
Looking out the window, you watched the people rush past with their shopping bags, linking arms with each other to avoid slipping on the sidewalk. Snow flurries falling down, down. The glass was clean enough that you could see inside the restaurant too. Tables with families and friends sharing simple, cheap fast food and turning it into a collective memory. Laughter and conversation echoed around your silence.
The looking glass showed you two ways.
You didn’t mind it, but it was evident you weren’t part of it too.
Hmmmm.
Your gaze stopped at a pair of guys. One of them was wearing a big black bucket hat. You noticed him because large brown eyes were actively staring back at you. Ogling, even.
What the–
You turned slightly and sat up straight with alarm as Jeon Jungkook stiffened and shifted, scooting closer to the person next to him, sneaking a not-so-subtle glance at you. You continued to look back in stunned confusion.
At goddamn McDonald’s?
Is no place sacred?
It was only less than twenty-four hours ago, but last night felt like another world.
-
Your fingers framing your face.
You licked your lips. Staring into his eyes, everything dark except for the mood lamp he left on. Cycling lights slowly drifted on the ceiling in a colorful haze. It was easy to remember all the shit people liked to say about you when you were alone, she’s so pretty but I hear she’s only into casual sex, what a shame, but you found solace in knowing that they had one fact wrong, because casual sex was for casuals and that was the wrong adjective to describe what you did.
Definitely the incorrect one to describe what transpired between you and Jeon Jungkook last night.
Your hand slipped from your cheek, and you touched his skin, bringing his face close to yours, keeping the whispers only in the air that you shared with those trembling lips.
“You’ve got cute eyes, but I bet you can be sexy when you want to.”
What was wrong with this? What was wrong with your comfort zone being someone else’s hands on your waist, pulling you closer? What was wrong with accepting the surge of power you felt licking the side of his mouth, adding slippery friction to the harshness of the metal rings pierced there, drinking in his moan as you teased him? It was just so annoying caring about all that noise trying to get to you, telling you to tone it down, telling you to stop, and, for what, don’t you have shame, that’s not how women should act, no. What they really meant was that was not how they would act. The consensus was to strive to be the respectable audience, always strive to fit in and be the quiet ones.
You envied their desire for silence.
Because you had to be loud.
You tangled your fingers in his long black hair and pulled his head back, running your tongue over his neck, tasting that skin and the anticipation vibrating in those muscles underneath. Admired the shivers under your body as you rolled into him, nice and slow and agonizing, whispering dirty things to him, things you wanted and none of it safe for work, finally bringing his head back down to nip at those gasping lips, intending on turning them pink and prickling with want, kissing him softly in contrast to the way you tugged at his hair every time he tried to intensify it.
“P-Please…”
His hands on your bare ass, hiking your dress up, digging his fingernails in, trying to keep his breathing even as desperation bled into it.
“You said to show you what I like,” you murmured. “I like teasing you.”
You pressed your body to his so your perfume would cling to his clothes, his bedsheets, his skin.
-
This was going to sound dramatic, but Jungkook was pretty sure last night she saved his life.
Actually.
That sounded very dramatic.
And kind of pathetic, so Jungkook kept that thought to himself, but nevertheless he kept that secret close to his chest, next to his racing heart that couldn’t seem to slow down, especially when her nails raked down his back while her tongue snaked around his, sucking on it lightly compared to the force behind her hands, the contrast between kiss and touch causing unbearable levels of arousal. He hadn’t expected a casual conversation to turn into this. He liked to think he was maybe charming, perhaps suave in some cases, occasionally daring, but he didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.
Casual sex could only stay casual if both people got the memo.
And Jungkook knew he didn’t want to get in too deep unless he was sure and the truth was that he wasn’t sure if he was ever going to want someone that much. It was fucking terrifying to be that vulnerable. How could he ever be “sure”? If he failed at his own goals, the only one he was letting down was himself. If his plans didn’t go as planned, well, that sucked but it was okay because it was only himself and he could do something about it. But getting his heart broken by someone else – ugh, what could he do about that? Worse, everything became so complicated when people didn’t say what they meant and didn’t mean what they say. It would be nice to experience the good stuff without the chance of getting his heart broken.
Cut out all that risky business.
It was a bit strange that this situation hadn’t felt like a risk. Of course it was, how was it not risky bringing a woman you barely knew to your apartment with the intent to make out and who knows what else, but, hey, the moment had felt right.
Or maybe it was the gods playing tricks on him.
But, anyway, her tongue wrapping around his balls felt amazing.
She pressed her soft lips to the sensitive skin and sent shivers through his legs as her fingernails dragged down his tense thighs. He hoped they left marks, or at least lingered for a few hours. Looking down, and those sly eyes were gazing back, like they knew exactly the effect they had on him. Sparkling when her name escaped his lips in a pleading whisper, glinting in the low light as her head tipped back and her tongue curled underneath his balls to lick that thin skin behind him, making him gasp and almost fall over, his palm smacking into the wall to hold him up. A jolt of radiating pain shot up his forearm, and then her hot, wet mouth surrounded him and swallowed his cock as deep as it would go.
He wanted to say he had made a sexy moan, but he was ninety-nine percent sure his neighbors were awake, so instead Jungkook whimpered and rested the crown of his head against the wall, feeling his hair stick to his face. Apparently, his embarrassing vocalizations didn’t matter though, because her head started slowly moving back and forth. Her eyes closed, humming steadily in satisfaction. His breath caught in his throat, forgetting all about the pain and instead drowning in the pleasure that rose like scalding steam. Ecstasy shimmered through every blood vessel in his body. Soft lips, swirling tongue, tight throat that closed in around the swollen head and pulsed, pulling him in deeper, and Jungkook could feel it, his cock twitching and getting harder, the insistent softness on the cusp of not enough, and yet so much was happening. Flexing wet muscle under the head every time she backed up, trapped in that warm sleeve, her cheeks sucking inward and drawing him deeper every time her lips pressed into his crotch, her graceful fingers fanning over his thighs and ass, stroking his tingling skin in time with her tongue.
Holy fuck.
Maybe it was dramatic that last night she saved his life by blowing his dick with such incredible skill, but Jungkook was sticking to this drama.
Wasn’t casual sex supposed to be wham, bam, thank you, next. Not, holy shit, my cock is so fucking deep in her throat I can feel her neck muscles flexing, but perhaps he had done some good deeds or this year was going to be extra prosperous in the sex front (it wasn’t a question that came up much among those elderly fortune tellers his mom visited, how odd). It had to be something like that, because how was he supposed to know the friend of a friend was going to be, one, hot, and, two, down to fuck, and, three, actually good at it?
And, four.
Readily manhandle him. But not in a threatening way. In an unafraid-to-say-and-get-what-she-wanted way. The direct, forward assertiveness was sexy as hell, but Jungkook wasn’t going to tell other people that he liked it when a woman took charge. That wasn’t exactly small talk. It didn’t come up naturally. He didn’t even tell the women he had previously slept with. It hadn’t felt like the right atmosphere. And, well, the sex was just okay. He figured he had to be careful in what he said when he wasn’t sure if they were going to be long term.
He had to cover his ass.
Speaking of.
Her fingernails sank into his ass and dragged down harshly as she tilted her head back. His throbbing cock slid down along the back of her throat, sending uncontrollable tremors up his chest and down his legs, pain and pleasure and perfection.
Jungkook slapped a hand over his mouth and let out a muffled half-scream.
She started focusing exclusively on the head, back and forth, running her tongue over it with her plush lips constricting the base, holy shit, and his eyes rolled back in his head, his hand falling, exhale thin and thinning out even more as he was reaching the end. It was too unexpectedly good, fuck, it made the muscles in his back tremble and his blood boil, o-oh, fuck, made his heart race and his calves strain with tension, I’m gonna c-cum, made his scalp tingle and his mind go blank with pleasure and he never thought an orgasm could be this intense unless he was the one getting himself off, but he was wrong, he was so fucking wrong, because he could feel the tightening in his core spiraling a bit too much and he was going to lose his fucking mind.
He gasped and screamed under his breath.
The high hit him like the sudden violent snap of elastic, so sharp that he was winded and able to feel the muscles of upper thighs spasm, shooting a rather impressive amount down her throat, almost regretful he didn’t pull out so that he could see how much it was, but none of that mattered, ensnared in wave after punishing wave of indecent, gratified lust flinching through his shaking, hard muscles as he felt his cum fill her mouth.
She swallowed.
Jungkook almost punched the wall, the oversensitivity almost painful, his hoarse voice on the verge of cracking.
“C… Careful…. P-Please…”
Those eyes flickering up, and she seemed to understand. Gently, pulling back just a little. He almost buckled at the sensation of the sucking lessening, such a good feeling but overwhelming in the afterglow, and then it was cloud-nine bliss, achingly perfect in the way she carefully slid his cock along her tongue, his twitching length gliding in the puddle of saliva and cum, repeatedly, soaring high like the moon, the thick viscosity creating a slick friction that was wicked heaven.
He wanted to say, oh, yeah, I lasted a long time after that.
He did not.
I’m in trouble.
He realized that the second she got on her knees on his bed, raised her ass, and turned her head back to smirk at him. Made direct eye contact as he tried to hide his gulp and put on the condom, keeping his hands low so she didn’t see them quiver. He was staring a bit too much, but she simply reached over and took his right hand, caressing his tattoos, and then he gasped as his fingers touched slippery wetness, looking down, and was he allowed to fall in love with a beautiful pussy at first glance or not allowed? Fuck, she even had a cute asshole. Was that too dirty to think or what?
Jungkook didn’t contemplate it too much as she slid his fingers into her, the soft, firm walls wrapping around him.
“Ready?” she hummed.
“Y- Yeah…”
In hindsight, he could have said much sexier things other than, yeah, but that was the least of his problems. Getting on his knees, sinking in, and he nearly blacked out with how good it felt. A steady controlled pulse surrounding him. Somehow, his cock became even harder, his fingers splaying out over the juicy curve of her ass, deeper, so tight, and it was all her, that cute face smiling back at him with the tip of her tongue tracing her upper lip. Naughty smirk widening, captivating foxy eyes filled with mirth shining in the darkness of his bedroom.
Jungkook didn’t even care.
He was just trying not to bust a nut at this excessive amount of sensuality that he hadn’t been prepared for.
“You look very sexy with your hair over your face like that.”
He hadn’t even noticed the strands of black covering his vision because he had been too busy looking down.
“Your back looks… oh, f-fuck… looks so beautiful…”
She grinned and lowered herself on his sheets to push back against him.
He had stuttered because her pussy had squeezed him in between his words. There wasn’t any time to be eloquent anyway, not with the sudden need surging through him at this improved angle, his grip on her hips tightening and thrusting his hips forward, wincing at how loud that smack was, surely someone outside heard, but there was nothing he could do about it, didn’t want to stop, couldn’t stop, sinking his teeth into his lower lip and trying not to add any additional noise, wanted to slow down but it felt so good when he was so deep, so tight and choking his shaft, the sensitive head of his cock rubbing against her walls and swelling. Even with the condom he felt so much, pressure and power and intensity, placing a palm on her lower back and groaning between clenched teeth, the arc of her ass so obvious and the bounce so visible that he would dream about it, all of it, the slaps of body to body, thrusting hard, rough, his ears tingling with her low, sexy moans, too good, felt too good, and he wanted to last longer but just couldn’t.
Threw his head back and yelled under his rushing exhale, straining to contain his cry in his chest.
Didn’t last much longer with a new condom and in missionary position either. He kept staring at her pretty face and perky tits, feverish desire racing with every slap of hips-to-hips, his hair falling into his eyes, struggling to see her hands clutching his pillows, and then she arched her back to give him a full view of those perfect, tasty-looking, hard nipples. Honestly, he was proud of himself for lasting the ten minutes that he did. Five minutes. Er, at least he hoped he lasted more than five minutes.
He was sweaty and gasping but he asked anyway.
“Sorry, I… Are you upset at me?”
She tilted her head, confused. “For what? That felt amazing.”
His face burned as he mumbled under his breath.
“I… I usually last longer…”
“Oh.” Blink. “Oh!” She grinned at him, and it was so devious that Jungkook realized this must not be the first time she had heard that. “I don’t care about things like that. But, uh…”
Her sex saved his life.
Her next words murdered him on the spot.
“You know, when you came, uh… I’m sure you were trying to be quiet and all that, but you sounded a bit like one of those faraway screams that happen in movies. You know, when someone gets thrown far away mid-battle. A very tiny, aaaaaaa…”
Not the best sex of his life comparing his orgasm noise to the Wilhelm scream.
-
You could admit it.
You shouldn’t have said that.
But also shouldn’t people be told of such things so that they became more self-aware? It took everything in you not to burst out laughing in his presence (although you did laugh a lot when you arrived home). And it wasn’t as if you were going to see him again. For a while, anyway. Definitely not the next day at goddamn McDonald’s.
Right?
Wrong.
You gawked at Jungkook until the other guy with him noticed and started staring at you too. Oh, jeez, it was Park Jimin, another one of the guys who had been there last night at the birthday party. You remembered him and his distinctive, bubbly giggling all night. He had a great voice too, making listening to karaoke actually bearable. He was, however, the kind of guy that wanted to be in the know about everything and everyone.
Aw, shit.
You weren’t ready for another repeat of this morning.
Jimin’s round, discerning eyes recognized you immediately even in your casual clothes and lack of makeup. You snapped your head back to your empty paper packaging. Snatched up your cup, pushing away from the window counter and stepping down, winding over to the drinks machine to top off on tea before sprinting it. Hey, McDonald’s wasn’t that cheap anymore. Inflation was a thing. Better get as much as you could before leaving.
You tossed the oily packaging and your napkin before turning around, immediately nearly colliding with Jeon Jungkook.
“Gah!”
“Oh!”
And he grabbed your waist.
Of course, he did.
Your bare waist, because you were wearing a crop top under your heavy coat.
You kept your drink-holding hand out of the way and gasped into his chin, your other hand landing on his left upper arm and squeezing, suddenly tense all over. It was hard and solid under your grip, twice as tense as you were.
“S-Sorry, Jimin pushed me…”
You vaguely heard Jungkook mumbling but you didn’t have time for this, didn’t have time to be let down again by humanity. Didn’t have time for Jeon Jungkook getting into your face about you fucking and dipping, scolding you about being too blunt, and possibly even directly calling you a bitch. Not that you didn’t deserve it. You just didn’t want to find out that cute-faced, criminally-undercover-sexy, surprisingly-a-very-good-fuck Jeon Jungkook could maybe be a shitty person.
Didn’t want to know.
Better not to know.
“S’okay. Let me get out of your way,” you mumbled back, turning your head away.
“You’re not in my way.”
You heard him say it, didn’t believe it, and yet his hands were still around your waist.
“Actually… Please be in my way.”
You froze.
Snapped your head back and found yourself centimeters from Jeon Jungkook’s face.
Oh, I’m in trouble.
He let go of you, slowly, his touch hovering as if you would make a break for it in the middle of this crowded McDonald’s, as if you would bowl over small children and their Happy Meals to escape, sending plastic toys flying in your wake. But you did no such thing, instead holding your breath, realizing how upset you would be if this was another you’re an insensitive whore moment. The truth was that you didn’t care until you did, or at least until you fully comprehended that you were glad to see Jungkook rather than completely indifferent. Why? He hadn’t said anything special. Just, please make it home safely. You had thought that was weird, please. Brushed it off as him being polite or even maybe trying to entice you with that light touch of submissiveness, anything but the possibility of him actually, honestly, straightforwardly caring about your safety.
You learned to expect people not caring for much except for themselves.
“I… Good afternoon,” you managed to get out, stepping closer as a crowd of kids squashed themselves against the drinks fountain, clambering over each other with their paper cups, yelling about how you snooze, you lose even though there was plenty of soda in a fast-food restaurant.
An adult, presumably a guardian, ran over to tell them to quiet down.
“Y… Yeah…” was Jungkook’s strangled reply, startled at you attempting conversation.
You held your sweet tea and tried to lightly bow, but realized that you could hit him in the chin if you did. You stepped aside to avoid that, and then his hand darted out. Stopping. Suddenly aware of what he was doing, stuck on what to do, looking at you helplessly for instruction. This was some love song or romcom movie shit.
No.
This was a goddamn McDonald’s, not awkward-sexual-tension meeting grounds. You grabbed his hand and pulled him along, spinning to find yourself crammed into the table with a grinning Park Jimin and too many shopping bags.
“Oh, hey. Funny seeing you here.”
Jimin was stifling his giggles.
You immediately let go of Jungkook’s hand, your face frozen and expressionless.
“Ah, Jungkook, can you watch my food?” Was it your imagination or did Park Jimin just bat his eyelashes? “I’m gonna go put the gifts in my car.”
Oh no.
“Stay right there!”
Jungkook looked mortified. “Jimin, wait–”
But he did not wait. Ruffled fluffy black hair, mischievous smile, and a whoosh later, those crinkly paper bags gone like a disappearing act, leaving you and your fuck of last night with a half-eaten sandwich and cold fries.
“I… He… I’m sorry,” Jungkook sputtered, jerking erratically.
You clutched your tea like a liquid social safety net. “Sit down. Children are staring at us.”
Sure enough, a small crowd of curious peepers were climbing the low half-wall and peering at you and Jungkook. They were being plucked off one by one by a pair of exasperated ladies who looked like they desperately needed a nap. As soon as one child was removed, another climbed up to take their place. Inquisitive little bundles in brightly colored jackets, pom-pom beanies, and sipping soda from paper cups. Jungkook whipped his head back, exposing his red ears under his bucket hat for half a second, saw the kids, and sat down beside you, turning his back to them.
Now even bigger peepers were directed at you.
“Uh…”
You cleared your throat. Drank some tea. “Erm.”
“I... I didn’t expect to see you here.”
You almost choked on your chuckle. “Yeah, uh… same.” You ticked your head to the outside, in the general direction Jimin had run off too. “Shopping for new year stuff?”
Jungkook shrugged. “Mostly for Jimin’s family. I usually shop online.” He scrunched his face with a little bit of dismay. “It’s too much on the weekends sometimes.”
“Yeah, I’m the same.”
Your knee touched his.
He looked at you.
Don’t look at me like that. I’m gonna want to kiss you.
“And we’re in the middle of a McDonald’s.”
“What?”
You could see stray strands of black brushing against his cheeks. Could see those starry brown eyes under that big bucket hat, those pink lips parted and that small mole underneath them trembling, something you had noticed last night even in the low light because you had been licking up his neck and watching his open mouth, savoring the way his whine travelled by vibration through your insistent lips from his throat.
“I don’t want to make out with you in front of all these children,” you clarified, letting out a slow, concealed breath. “But if you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to make a bad decision.”
People only get into relationships for shitty sex.
Right?
I want to be around him.
“Um… I think Jimin wanted to get an air fryer and who knows what else… I’m supposed to carry the big stuff,” Jungkook grumbled, sounding like he wanted to abandon his current adventure for a different kind of adventure. Still, he begrudgingly remained a good friend. “But tomorrow…?”
You weren’t sure if he was aware that he was getting closer to you, practically thigh-to-thigh and shoulder-to-shoulder, but then you put your hand on his coat sleeve. He froze up, holding his breath. He smelled good. Fresh and clean, like laundry from the dryer. He was close enough for you to clearly discern his scent.
Close enough for you to remember.
“I need to get my tires rotated,” you finally remembered. “I’ll call you.”
His cheeks flushed pink. “C-Call me?”
“Yeah, give me your number.”
-
She asked for it like it was easy.
Who cares? Jungkook determined, after all, that he was easy. Or at least his hands were hurriedly fumbling with his phone as he blurted out the numbers as calmly as he could, which was probably not that calm, but who cared? Not him and definitely not his dick.
“Thanks. Don’t forget to answer or I’ll feel dumb.”
“Wait, give me your number.”
She paused, glancing at him. Shivers all over when their eyes connected, and he was sure he saw a guarded flicker in those eyes, but then it was let go, her lashes lowering, casting away the unknown reservation that he hoped she could tell him one day. And yet she stayed silent, turning her phone over in her hand.
“I want it,” he breathed.
Her eyes shifted back up. Ghost of a smirk on those lips.
Like she was trying to hold back.
“I’m going to give it to you,” she whispered to him, and he had to lean in, no, wanted to lean in and the scent of her perfume caught him, sweet and smokey, all those memories flashing back, in the dark with fistfuls of his sheets and breathing in, his pillows, his blanket, his clothes, heavenly and arousing. “Just saying I come with a warning label.”
“What kind of warning?” Jungkook found himself asking even though he was desperate to indulge in this risky business.
“I’ll never let your last that long,” she purred with a smug smile. “Don’t give up, okay?”
Jungkook felt his cheeks burn as he typed down the number and kept his retort to himself because Jimin suddenly appeared and the conversation was abruptly over. He jerked his head away quickly as she mouthed a tiny aaaa under her breath, teasing him, and this was a bad decision but he answered the call anyway when it came.
-
What are you doing? You don’t do relationships. People don’t like the way you do things. They’re complicated and full of secrets. They can’t be honest. You’re too honest. It doesn’t work.
Your intrusive thoughts had worked the graveyard shift and were now doing overtime.
They don’t like you.
You weren’t that surprised at these thoughts. You also did the absolute most when fucking and probably not enough outside of fucking. Some would call this karma. You would call it a nuisance. Shut the fuck up, brain. You already knew all this. You knew and you muted all that sound, all that excess noise that warned of tomorrow being ruined, chose to shut it all out until there was nothing but the melody of Jeon Jungkook’s bated breath.
You could listen to your head and let those thoughts fuck everything up.
Or you could place your fingertips on Jungkook’s lower lip and feel his gasp travel through your nerves, feel the way your blood shimmered in your veins and raced faster. Caress that pink curve to stop at his lip rings, tangible, hard and soft juxtaposed. Breathe out, your eye line lifting, up, finding those large dark brown orbs surrounded by wispy black tendrils.
Jungkook wanted you.
That was pretty obvious, especially from his hands trying to slide up your skirt.
He was just waiting for you to start it off.
You could listen to your head or choose to feel and listen to your instincts, dangerous as it was.
I’m in so much trouble, fuck.
You knew it, and yet you leaned in and kissed him anyway. Something about him, the way his eyes instantly closed when you came close, the way he trusted your eyes wouldn’t stay open, the way his lips gave in to your insistence, no, yearned for it, his fingernails sinking into your hips and yanking you close, onto his lap and into his heat, and then it was darkness and tongue and breathing into his mouth, hot and unnerving and addictive.
You hadn’t even noticed you had closed your eyes until you felt your hands sliding into his hair. Barely even perceived how you held your breath when your chest pressed against his, gasping, too many clothes in between and all the anticipation, dancing your nails over his scalp and sucking on his tongue, his melodious moan melding with your heartbeat roaring in your ears.
What is this?
You rolled your hips into his lap and Jungkook groaned, breaking the kiss and tipping his head back, his hardness twitching between your legs, insistently pressing up through his sweatpants as his neck became exposed. And there was nothing you wanted to do but press your lips to that mole on his neck, tasting that tan skin and inhaling his scent, wanting to be covered in it, drenched in it, dancing kisses up his jaw and catching his ear with your teeth, tugging on his hair and rocking your hips back and forth, turning hot friction into hot, damp friction.
“I c-can’t…”
His moan rang in your ears, his fingers pushing up the sides of your panties and driving them into the crevice of your ass, creating a damn thong with too much fabric.
“Can’t t-take it anymore…”
Pulled hard and you gasped, feeling the slinky fabric slip in between your folds, soaked and soaking, strong hips knocking into that dug-in fabric and practically bouncing your pulsing pussy on his rock-hard erection.
You curled your arm around his head and tipped his face to yours, seeing his glassy eyes and open mouth, his shaking breath feathering against your chin, and if Jeon Jungkook was a liar, then he was a damn good one, one of those liars so deep in the lie that it started becoming truth.
He whispered your name in the shared air, between his and your trembling lips.
He’s too desperate to be a liar.
You closed the distance between lips and tangled your tongues in the tango, lifting your hips at the same time, smiling at his whine before silencing it by pulling his hand between your legs, pushing the thin fabric aside, and then the collective sigh. Yours, shivering satisfaction. His, driven desire, fingers exploring and sending shivers through your legs. Wet and slippery and soft. Pressing his face into your neck and then gasping when his soft lips pressed to your throat, light kisses and wanton need, his other hand sliding up your sweater, pushing it up.
I want you.
He slid two fingers into you and moaned into your skin, slow, pressing his touch into your clenching walls, his eyes closed under you. In, out, building pleasure, your hips following, riding his hand, deeper, intense, hard, his tongue licking your collarbone and your lashes fluttered, suddenly overcome by shivers.
“I w-want you…”
He gasped against your throat, almost a whimper, those pleading eyes half-opening. Pulling out slightly and rubbing slow circles that made your hips flinch, his fingertips brushing against your slick clit, and those brown eyes darkened, tipping his head back to watch your face. His fingers on your waist tightening, holding you in place, shifting his fingertips, and you bit back a hiss, locking your knees, staring back into his starstruck eyes that showed you everything he was as he stroked your clit, igniting all your nerves and scorching your skin in passionate flames.
You saw what Jungkook was saying.
He wanted you so bad, not just a little, not just for a couple orgasms, not just for every night but also every day, even every afternoon and every twilight and every dead of night. Every kiss, every touch, every look into the eyes telling you this meant more to him than casual and for some reason it didn’t feel like a burden.
Casual sex could only stay casual if both people got the memo.
Suddenly, you realized neither you nor him were getting the damn memo.
You leaned forward and breathed in his exhale, squeezing his hips with your thighs, harder, yes, so good, fast and harsh and closer, closer, pulsing sensitivity escalating, your fingers tangled into his long black hair, entangled moans slipping out, fuck, yes, I’m close, Jungkook, fuck, and he was good but this was more than skill, more than half-lidded eyes and your hand falling, tracing his jaw, biting back your orgasm until…
Until.
“I could stare at you forever,” you breathed.
Closed your eyes and moaned into his mouth, the high crashing down, leaking all over his fingers and causing his touch to slip, dripping down, everywhere, all over the front of his pants and down your legs, and there was no time to care, dragging Jungkook into kiss after kiss, driven by snaking pleasure coursing through your veins. His wet fingers grasped your thigh, kneading the softness, his whines trapped by kisses, begging for your legs against his naked chest.
How could you refuse him?
You just couldn’t.
-
I’m so fucked.
Truly, madly, deeply fucked.
Past in trouble and actually in danger, danger, you’re seconds away from cumming, clenching his jaw and grinding his teeth so he felt something else, anything, please, clutching fistfuls of his sheets and wondering why the fuck the condom wasn’t reducing any sensation because, holy fuck, his cock was trapped in a hot, slippery, tight sleeve that pulsed around his twitching, hard length every time he descended. He couldn’t think, could barely breathe, could do nothing but follow that carnal instinct to thrust over and over, deep as possible, the angle so good he closed his eyes so they didn’t roll back into his head even though he was hopelessly losing his mind at the sensations of her, so soft, so intense, so good his legs were shaking with tension, the rhythmic smacking obscenely loud, rattling bedframe echoing throughout his bedroom.
“H-Harder,” she gasped breathlessly.
Harder?!
Was she trying to kill him?
She lifted her hips and Jungkook knew he was fucked.
He threw all of his energy into his hips and sunk his teeth into his lower lip, his lip rings hitting his teeth. Metal hitting bone. Screaming in his head and tightening his vocal chords, thankful to see her eyes closing, her head tipping back, low satisfied moan of his name travelling to in his ears and then all that he was keeping together shattered and slammed into him, heat rushing and mind-numbing, euphoric high punching all the air out of his lungs, visceral tension snapping at his hips and now he was pumping the condom full, o-o-oh, fuuuuck, her walls shivering and amplifying the good feeling of sexual intoxication, his vision a blur, only now realizing all the sweat sliding down his back and forehead, his damp hair swinging down over his eyes, and maybe lasting a only a couple minutes but it was a damn good couple of minutes if Jungkook was allowed to say so himself.
He was panting, hardly able to catch his breath.
It wasn’t enough.
Fuck, he was so horny and he was barely recovering from his first orgasm. Didn’t know what came over him. A wave of insanity? Inconsolable craving? Willful sacrifice of his soul to the sex goddess in his bed right now? Dramatic, sure. Casual, no, pushing his palms against the bed, shuddering as he pulled out of that tight warmth, almost regretting it, but then he looked down. At the shiny slickness, his white cum swollen at the end of the condom. He gripped the opening and pulled down, peeling it off with a whine, and Jungkook was pretty sure he was overwhelmingly crazy or overwhelmingly horny or both, because why else would he scoot his knees up and start jacking his spent dick like a madman, whimpering at the sensitivity and the slippery friction and the scene before him – her legs lowering from his shoulders, those curious eyes glinting under him, her soft, bouncy breasts rising and falling rapidly in her heavy breathing, fuck, so sexy, so fucking sexy, faster, tighter, staring at those hard nipples he wanted in his mouth right now, so fucking bad.
He let his eyes flicker up.
Gasping, baring his depravity.
She smirked, her tongue tracing the edge of her upper lip.
“Cum on me, Jungkook.”
Words so simple that they could be said by anyone, but this was different, this was too much intensity, too much irresistible pleasure, too much too sure about this feeling, this moment, this connection, and then her fingertips slid up his hard, tense, trembling thigh, sinking her fingernails in and dragging down, those stings of pain sending him over the edge.
“A-Ah, fuck!”
His eyes rolled back and his hips pitched forward, flinching powerfully and shooting cum over her stomach, up her cleavage, sudden streak of white glistening against her skin, jolts of aching bliss penetrating his quivering muscles. Shared gasp, everything smelling like sex, his bedsheets, his clothes, his skin, mixing with her perfume. Sweet like candy and heavy like lust.
Jungkook wanted to douse himself in it.
Her cum and her perfume.
He pressed the dark, purple-red, swollen head of his twitching cock to her cum-covered stomach and moaned, dragging it across and slipping further and further into blinding oversensitivity, on the edge of too much but he liked it, fuck, he liked it more and more as he saw her sly smirk and foxy eyes sparkle, savoring his reactions. It made him want to give in to this side of him more.
Her hand lifted, fingers curling around his chin, stroking his lower lip with her thumb.
“You’re so sexy, Jungkook. I love the way you look at me.”
Something about the way she said it, making him feel that she really meant it.
No, know that she really meant what she said.
His heart fluttered. Took flight.
No.
Soared.
They really were such simple words, nothing complicated at all, and that was how Jungkook knew.
He was sure.
--
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night-raven-tattler · 3 months
Text
Love beyond spoken words - part 2
Summary: Everyone has a way of saying "I love you" without using those three words.
Characters: Jamil, Rook, Idia, Sebek × GN!Reader (separate, romantic)
Other parts of the series: Ace, Jack, Azul
Warnings: none
By opening the document, you agree to Mx Tattly's terms of source confidentiality.
-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
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Jamil was going through his personalised version of the stages of grief while stacking away the boxes of expensive fabric Kalim brought from Silk City that he promised to give to Professor Crewel
Without his knowledge, as always
But this time wasn't too bad, since you were there to help him with the boxes
And he quite enjoyed your company, so the opportunist in him simply refused to deny himself of you when you kindly offered to lend him a helping hand
He even offered you one of his hair ties when your hair kept falling on your face
You knew Jamil had a certain possesiveness over his personal belongings, so you couldn't help but feel a bit flustered at the offer
You still accepted the hair tie, however
After your finished putting the boxes away, Grim came into the room looking for you because the Headmage requested your help with some errand
And you didn't get the chance to hand Jamil his hair tie back
Jamil was surprised by how little it bothered him that his hair tie was with you; instead of being upset you took something from him like he expected he'd feel, he was somewhat glad you had something of his with you
...Maybe it was silly, it was just a hair tie after all
Yet, it almost made him feel like he was claiming you in some way-
A thought so embarassing he had to cover his whole face with his hoodie
He was walking in the hallways with Kalim as his Housewarden talked about The Great Seven know what, when Kalim suddenly stopped himself mid-rant and fished something out of his pocket
"I totally forgot! Reader bumped into me today and told me to give this to you!"
It was a small paper bag with a snake doodled on it
Jamil snatched it from Kalim, not wanting him to hold something from you any longer, and opened the bag
Inside he found a little note and two hair ties: the one he gave you, and another one that had a small charm with your favorite symbol on it
"I know you don't like when people use your things, so I wanted to give it back. I also gave you one of mine so take care of it!"
He didn't understand the logic behind you giving him your own hair tie, but he took the bag from you and hid it carefully in his pocket, where he occasionally let his hands rest throughout the day
Jamil was very curious about your little offering, so he asked you about it over text
"I wanted to offer it to you as an apology for holding onto your stuff for too long so you won't be mad at me."
Your goody-two-shoes silly logic made him chuckle
As he was about to playfully scold you for your thinking, he saw another chat bubble coming from you that made him drop his phone
"...besides, is it really that bad that I wanted you to have something of mine too?"
Cheeks burning with fluster, he texted you a quick goodnight before he put his phone onto his nightstand, face down so not even the inanimate object could see him like this
Jamil struggled with the idea of you wanting to leave your mark on him, the same selfish idea he carried in his heart
Yet, he didn't mind either of your selfishness
That's why you found Jamil's hair tie under your desk first thing in the morning, a small note attached to it
"If I will have to carry something that belongs to you with me, it wouldn't be fair if you didn't do the same."
『••✎••』
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You were enjoying your break outside when you heard a sharp object hit the tree you were leaning against, and based on the piece of paper attached to it, someone special wanted to tell you something
"My love, a whisper
My arrow, a listener
A most blessed messenger
It'll seek your heart to alter
For your blush I'm after."
Your degree in the language of Rook Hunt told you several things: 1. He was on a mission to live up to his name and hunt for your heart... or something
And 2. He really liked his "arrow of love" metaphors
Rook also was likely very amused by how on the nose he was being by sending you love poems via arrow aimed at your surroundings
It happened often enough for you to become unable to differenciate between the quickening pace of your heart from the spook and the one from knowing your boyfriend wanted to remind you of his love for you
Rook had some questionable ways of making your heart skip a beat, and it was borderline annoying how good he was at getting what he wanted
Something about the message itself was a bit off to you
Wasn't counterproductive for a hunter to let its prey know that he was after it?
You never knew what Rook was about to do next, and your heartbeat quickened once again with anticipation for his next move
...which happened soon enough
If the Headmage knew of the arrow currently stuck to your door and damaging the school property, you'd be in trouble
You just wanted to rest peacefully after your classes, but it seemed like Rook had other plans
"My eyes give gentle kisses to your heart
I want to read you, I want to learn you
The world in your chest, your own flow of art
Painted in the loveliest of hues."
You looked around, suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling of being watched
At this point you were convinced he was toying with you, like a cat after it caught a mouse
But Rook had plans other than to harm you...
He enjoyed the chase, maybe a bit at the expense of your heart, which would jump out of your chest at every over the top declaration of love
You could think of only one way to somewhat get back at him
The vice housewarden was scribbling in his notebook at his desk when he heard footsteps nearing his room, followed by a knock at the door
He smiled and opened the door, revealing your flustered self, fidgeting with a piece of paper in your hands
"Roses are red
You look very merry
I'm not good at writing poems
So just kiss me already."
Rook's eyes widened for a few seconds before he burst into a delighter laughter as he wrapped his arms around you
You thought his over the top affection was what affected you the most, but you were so wrong
All along, it was the little things that made your heart explode
His laughter and the beating of your heart were the only melody echoing in your ears, while your face was being admired by Rook's lovesick eyes
"As you wish, mon amour."
『••✎••』
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When you and Idia started dating, you knew he was a peculiar guy
He texted you "good morning" at 5 P.M., he liked to tease you about your grades and wishing the school system was digitalized so he could hack into the school and modify your grades, and he liked gifting you small, cute robots that he built during his sleepless nights
You were dedicated to peel off every layer of your angsty, dramatic, onion of a lover and try to understand his ways of showing he cares about you
Unfortunately, the first obstacle you had to face was his way of texting you
Idia was both a genius and a smartass: he liked sending you secret messages through emojis, but he'd never give you any hint to help you decode them
You rolled your eyes as his favorite combo of emojis popped onto your screen through the notification of your messaging app
"➡️👤🛠️👆💙➡️🤪"
You suspected he either liked testing your abilities to decypher his code, or he was to afraid to outright say what he felt
It's not like Idia was shy in his affections, as peculiar as they were
It was more like he was... hesitant
Afraid, even
"I will take that as a compliment"
You watched as the chat bubble appeared on your screen, carrying Idia's reply
"whehehe did you really look at a code with unknown meaning and assumed it was positive? lmaooooo"
Both of you knew he wouldn't do that
Not because he wasn't capable of it, but because Ortho would threaten to scratch up his P.E. gear again
"Not my fault you sent me code instead of telling me how pretty we both know you think I am"
"oooooo someone's confident 💘💘💘💘"
Well, at least that one was easy enough to decypher
The code Idia sent to you always came out of nowhere, like a sudden stream of thoughts that he couldn't keep to himself
It was sweet, really, and it wasn't like you disliked his little codes
Being a gamer at heart, Idia loved games, and they were an important part of him
If Idia needed some sort of puzzle to express himself, you decided to play along
You were determined to wait until Idia became able to tell you outright how he felt
Maybe one day
That's what Idia also told himself as he stared at the sentence he kept typing and deleting over and over in your conversation
"you make my heart go wild"
Maybe one day...
『••✎••』
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"And, because of General Zephyrus, royal green has become a color in Briar Valley that represents sentiments of love and affection for your beloved. It was historically used in clothing during duels by the partner that was not participating..."
You had no idea what you did to receive a special history lesson from Professor Zigvolt himself, but you loved Sebek so you listened to him attentively
It was one of the rare occasions in which he was not talking about Malleus, and it was almost cute to see how worked up he got for topics outside of his guard duty
Not like he wasn't always cute
"Are you even listening, human?!"
...You were not stupid enough to admit you kind of spaced out a little
"Yeah, you were talking about, uh... Something about green clothes?"
Sebek raised his eyebrow and watched you suspiciously, while you were trying not to avoid his piercing gaze and tell on yourself
"... Well, yes. It was a tradition for unmarried partners to express their love through green accessories, such as scarves and..."
Even if he seemed upset on the surface, Sebek was more than eager to share part of his culture with you
The way he'd get so animated about his homeland, his liege, his passions...
You could watch him all day
Unfortunately, the bell indicating the end of your break had the both of you part ways
Before Sebek walked away, he reminded you of the equestrian club's upcoming show jumping competition against Royal Sword Academy
And before he could shily request your presence, you told him you'll be there, and sent his blushy self back to his classes
You didn't want to just be there and attend, however: you wanted to show your appreciation for Sebek
And you remembered his little rant about green accessories as showcases of love in Briar Valley
Which brought you to Sam's the next day, where you bumped into Lilia
Lucky for you, since you couldn't remember which shade of green was the one Sebek was talking about...
Your eyes fell upon a light green scarf, resembling the trademark Diasomnia green, and asked Lilia if this color was good to wear
Lilia's eyes widened before his face twisted into a mischievous grin before he agreed with your choice
So you wrapped it around your wrist the day of the competition and made sure it was as easy to spot as possible
Sebek was warming up with his horse when he spotted you in the growing crowd...
...And you watched him as he almost fell off his horse when he saw the scarf wrapped around the hand you were waving at him with
You watched how he debated between going to you and resuming his warmup for what felt like an eternity, but the beginning of the competition was announced so he settled on talking to you later
On his first break, he marched right to you, red as a tomato and vaguely resembling a broken traffic light
"HUMAN! I can't believe you would do this in such a public setting without telling me first! In Briar Valley it's custom for the knight to wrap the scarf around their desired partner after the duel to signal their engagement! Was my lecture not clear enough?!"
You were used to Sebek getting randomly agitated about stuff but-
-Wait.
"ENGAGEMENT?!"
Sebek turned even redder, something you thought was impossible
"YES?! Light green is a sign of engagement!"
You head was full of questions upon questions
Did you just publicly more or less propose to Sebek?
And he was mad because you didn't tell him beforehand, not because of the accidentally proposal itself?!
Now you wanted a horse to fall off of
849 notes · View notes
beskarandblasters · 2 months
Text
The Gunslinger
Boxer!Abby Anderson x F!Reader
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Main Masterlist | Abby Anderson Masterlist
Author’s note: From the results of my poll! Next up is Gym Owner!Abby and an Abby x Reader x Ellie roommate threesome!! (。◕‿◕。)
Summary: Your friend, Tyler, drags you to your first boxing match one night. You're expecting to not have any fun at all until you lay your eyes on The Gunslinger also known as Abby Anderson. She spots you during the match but you chalk it up to random eye contact she makes with her fans. What happens when she finds you alone after the match?
Word count: 2.7k
Warnings: reader is able-bodied, no outbreak au, idk if the boxing rules + the match are accurate I am but a simpleton, soft dom!Abby, dub con (reader has consumed alcohol), semi public sex, oral sex (reader receiving), strap sucking, strap fucking (reader receiving), Abby refers to the strap as her cock, reader is shorter than Abby but than that no physical descriptions used, nipple play, pet names (good girl & pretty girl), slight degradation (whore), no aftercare, no use of y/n
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You’re not going to enjoy yourself. No one in their right mind wants to spend their evening sitting shoulder to shoulder in uncomfortable stands, surrounded by drunk assholes screaming their heads off. And yet here you are, sitting shoulder to shoulder in said uncomfortable stands, holding your overpriced beer in one hand and covering your ear with the other. You’re wearing a skirt and the itchy wood is irritating the back of your thighs. This was all a mistake. Why did you agree to this?
Oh right, it’s because your friend Tyler convinced you to come. 
“Can you at least act like you’re having a good time? We’re right in the front row,” he says, pulling your hand away from your ear.
“I’ll try but no promises.”
“You’ll change your mind once you see the Gunslinger, trust me.”
“What’s so special about her?” you ask, chugging your beer so you don’t have to hold it any longer. 
“One of the best sluggers I’ve ever seen. Seriously, her uppercuts are devastating.”
“Whatever you say,” you respond, rolling your eyes. 
“Do you wanna know why they call her the Gunslinger?” he asks. After every response he turns his gaze across the ring, staring at something but you can’t make out what. 
“Sure.”
“Because she’s got the fucking cannons, man.”
“Cannons and guns are two different things.”
“You know what I meant. Seriously, the biceps on this woman are insane.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“You’ll be eating your words later.”
He turns his gaze away from you again and this time you see what he’s looking at– a woman sitting in the front row on the opposite side of the ring. She notices him and smiles. You recognize her as the woman he was chatting up when he was in line grabbing your beers.
“You’ve been making eyes at her since we got here.”
“I have not.”
“Yes, you have. And I’d be willing to bet she’s into you, too.”
“...You really think so?”
You open your mouth to respond but Tyler interrupts and so does the crowd, your ears ringing from their boisterous shouts. The announcer steps into the ring, microphone in one hand and the other raised in the air. He’s wearing a black suit and a wide grin, just admiring the way the audience cheers for him, not even one of the boxers. 
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen! And welcome to tonight’s match. Tonight promises to be a classic with the lineup we have for ya.”
“First up we got a rookie in the ring. Fighting out of the blue corner is the Iron Fist, Fiona Finster!” 
You turn your head towards the hallway the announcer is pointing at where you see the silhouette of a woman; tall, bulky, a fucking unit. She steps into the ring and sheds her silky white robe, embroidered with The Iron Fist in royal blue lettering. She’s wearing a black sports bra, royal blue shorts, and gloves to match the lettering on her robe. The audience cheers for her but you’re stuck staring at the sheer size of her. If this is a rookie… then what does the Gunslinger look like?
“Next up we have a legend entering the ring. You know her. You love her. Fighting out of the red corner. It’s the Gunslinger, Abby Anderson!”
Entering the ring is a woman who makes the Iron Fist look like a wimp. She’s taller and absurdly muscular, wearing black boxing gloves. Her robe is also black and on the back, in shiny silver letters, it reads The Gunslinger. She takes it off and hands it to who is presumably her coach. Once the robe is gone you can see everything much better and Tyler was right. She really does have the fucking cannons. Her skin is shiny, the bright lights reflecting off her muscles, and her dirty blonde hair is pulled back into a braid. She scans the crowd, mouth curled into a smirk as she watches how the audience cheers for her. She’s confident, well-liked and she knows it. You feel no better than a man the way you’re ogling her, admiring the way the muscles in her back stretch out the fabric of the charcoal gray sports bra she’s wearing. She’s just… impressive in every way and with a body like that the nickname Gunslinger feels earned. 
Before she’s finished showing off for the crowd her eyes land on you, meeting your gaze and flashing you a smile. Your cheeks heat up in… embarrassment? No, that’s not right. Flattery? Maybe. 
Or it’s probably because you just formed a strong attraction to this woman. And it’s probably the look on your face that gave it away. Your eyes go wide as you stare at her, your mouth falling open in a soft O. 
Whatever, the eye contact probably didn’t mean anything. She probably does that with lots of people in the audience; her fans. Unless…
No stop right there. She’s a professional and you’re just a spectator, nothing more. That meant nothing. 
The referee enters the ring and goes over the rules with the two women. And once again as she’s listening to the ref she looks past his head and glances at you again. The eye contact is intense, almost too much to bear but you can’t look away. It’s the type of eye contact one would show someone if they’re trying to assert their dominance. As far as you’re concerned, she can dominate you all she wants. 
The boxers bump gloves and the first round begins. It’s one of the most enthralling sporting events you’ve ever witnessed. Tyler hands you his beer, too focused on the match to worry about drinking it. But you’re not about to waste the shitty, overpriced beer so you down it, setting the plastic cup on the floor. Despite being an absolute unit, the Gunslinger is quick on her feet, evading most if not all of the Iron Fist’s punches. Every blow the Gunslinger delivers is powerful, making you wince just from observing them. You’re actually enjoying yourself but you don’t know if it’s from the riveting match or if it’s because you’re a little tipsy. Regardless, this is the best turn of events. And the Gunslinger is easy on the eyes. 
The match flies by round after round until it’s the final one. You’ve never been to a boxing match before but supposedly the judges don’t announce the score until the match is over. 
But that wouldn’t even matter. 
Because the Gunslinger delivers a devastating blow to the Iron First– a knockout, right in her jaw. The opponent is off her feet for more than ten seconds. And once the referee finishes his count to ten the match is over. The crowd erupts into overwhelming celebratory cheers. 
“And the winner is Abby The Gunslinger Anderson!” the announcer exclaims. 
Everyone rises from the stands, hands in the air and cheering loudly. The Gunslinger is presented with a gold belt, throwing it over her shoulder like a sash. She raises her gloved hands in the air, basking in all the applause. She makes eye contact with you again for the third time. This has to mean something, right?
Before she exits the ring, she winks at you, smiling once more. And with that, she’s gone and while you’re left reeling from the intense eyefucking the crowd starts to leave, moving as a large hoard. 
“Fuck, Tyler! Go find that girl before she leaves!” you say, elbowing him. 
“Really? You’ll be okay?”
“Yeah, I’ll meet you out front. Just go talk to her before she leaves,” you say, urging him to go. 
You remain on the bench, waiting for the crowd to dissipate before moving. The night’s events replay in your mind and you’re amazed you had any fun. Though, it’s hard to tell if you had fun because of the boxing or because of subtle flirting from the Gunslinger. Either way, you’d come back for another match. 
Eventually, the crowd disperses and you start to leave, heading to the parking lot to meet Tyler. You’re about to push the door open when a hand on your shoulder stops you in your tracks. Expecting it to be Tyler you turn around and ask, “Did you get her number or what?”
“Whose number?” 
Except it’s not Tyler. It’s the Gunslinger. 
“Oh, I’m sorry! I thought you were my friend.”
“It’s just me.”
You’re stunned, mouth opening to speak but no words coming out. 
“Abby,” she continues. 
“Right! That was a good match,” you say, struggling to form a coherent sentence. 
“Thanks,” she chuckles, “I’ve never seen you here before. This your first one?”
“Yes,” you admit. 
“Did you like it?” she asks, raising her arm above her head and leaning against the wall, inching closer to you. She towers over you but you catch a glimpse of what’s behind her— people who are still lingering around, just like you. 
She catches you looking past her and looks over her shoulder. She exhales and says, “Don’t worry about them. Focus on this.”
“Right,” you say with a shaky breath, painfully aware of all the eyes on you. She turns her gaze back to you, blue eyes staring into yours. Now she’s closer you notice the freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose and her cheeks.
“Or I can take you somewhere that’s more… private?”
You pause for a moment, thinking about Tyler before quickly deciding that he’s still talking to that girl. You didn’t get a text from him either. 
“Please,” you say. 
She stands up straighter, removing her arm from the wall and grabbing your hand. She leads you away from the exit doors and towards the hallway she entered, walking right past the group of people who noticed you two in the first place. She holds her head high, not caring about the stares as she brings you to her locker room. 
She shuts the door behind you and immediately presses you up against the wall. She palms your thigh, hand inching up closer towards the hem of your skirt. 
“You didn’t tell me your name,” she says in your ear. You don’t need to see her face to know that she’s wearing a smirk. 
You tell her your name with a shaky breath and she repeats it to herself before saying, “Are you gonna be my good girl?” 
“Fuck,” you curse under your breath, a shiver running down your spine. 
She grabs you by the waist, dragging you to the bench and forcing you to sit down. She kneels on the floor, one hand rubbing your inner thigh and the other pushing you so you’re lying down on the bench. You hear her reach for her bag and out of the corner of your eye you spot her grabbing a pair of trainer’s scissors, like the kind used to remove gauze and tape from wrapped hands. She hikes up your skirt and you feel the cold metal slide across your skin as she cuts off your panties.  
“Shit,” you breathe out, feeling her muscular hands pull the fabric off of you. 
“Look at you, already dripping for me,” she says, pulling your thighs apart. “Did you get wet watching me fight?”
“Fuck… Yes, I did,” you admit. 
“Eyeing me up and down like a whore in my own ring?” she says, getting closer to your pussy. She goes to eat you out, mouth hovering over your clit and warm breath sending a shiver up your core. 
“Eyes on me or you don’t get cum. Got it?” 
You rest on your elbows, propping yourself up to get a good view of her face buried between your thighs. Her tongue laps at your pussy, swirling around your clit all while her eyes are on you, watching the way your mouth falls open and the way your chest heaves. Her tongue circles your entrance, nose grinding against your clit as her strong arms wrap around your thighs. Fuck, her arms. The veins bulge from her muscles as she keeps a firm grip on you, keeping you flush against her face while she eats you out. The pleasure builds and for a split second close your eyes. But that just won’t do. 
She stops, pulling her face back slightly and saying, “What did I say, pretty girl? Eyes on me.”
You open your eyes again, meeting her stern gaze before she goes back to licking your cunt. She squeezes your thighs tighter as she flicks her tongue around your clit before sucking it. A loud moan escapes your lips as she brings you to the edge of orgasm. You cum hard against her face, pussy clenching around nothing and thighs shaking under her grasp. She laps up every last drop of your release before letting you go, rising from the floor and reaching for her bag again. 
“Strip for me,” she commands while searching for something. 
You pull yourself off the bench, legs shaking underneath you. As you strip your clothes you watch her grab a black strap-on from her bag. 
“Do you do this with all your groupies?” you tease. 
“Just the pretty ones,” she says, shedding her clothes and putting on the strap, “Now, back on the bench.”
You sit, waiting for further instructions, but instead, she grabs the back of your head and brings you to the tip of her strap. 
“Be a good girl and suck my cock,” she says, stroking your cheek lovingly. 
You open your mouth and take the tip of the strap in your mouth, wrapping your hand around the base. You bob your head up and down, making sure the strap gets nice and slick, all while maintaining eye contact like you know she likes. Her hand continues to caress your cheek as you suck her off, putting effort in like it’s a real cock she can get pleasure from. 
But once she’s decided you’ve done enough, she pulls out of her mouth and pushes you down on the bench. Her strong hands pull your thighs apart again, the tip of the strap aligning with your entrance. Her hands grip your waist as she thrusts into you in one swift motion. You gasp at the sudden length and girth but she brings a hand to the outline of your breast, caressing it before pinching your nipple and saying, “You can take it.”
You nod, looking into her piercing eyes and spreading your legs even wider to accommodate how broad she is. She pinches your other nipple as she draws her hips back and slams into you. Off to your right, you hear people outside the door, shuffling down the hallway. But you’re unable to hold back your moans, not with the way she’s fucking you. 
“Abby, what if someone hears?” you manage to choke out.
“Let them,” she says, thrusting into you harder. 
“Oh, fuck,” you curse, stars dancing in your vision. 
Her hands move to your waist and her strong arms hold you down, her fingers sinking into your skin as she grips you tightly. She pulls you into her all while she thrusts into you. And with one last slam of her hips, you come undone around her, pussy clenching her cock while she fuck you through your release. 
“That’s right. Cum on my cock, pretty girl,” she says, her jaw slack and watching how pretty you look when you cum. 
Once you’re done, she pulls out of you, standing up to take off the strap and get dressed again. You lie there trying to catch your breath and once she’s clothed she kneels by your side, handing you your clothes and saying, “Come to another match sometime.”
She kisses you, hand gripping your grin before she rises from the floor and grabs her bag, leaving you there in the locker room; a naked, shivering mess. 
You sit up and reach for your phone, hastily texting Tyler to tell him you’ll be out front soon. While you wait for his response you notice that your shredded panties are gone, meaning that she must’ve taken them, another kind of trophy for her from this evening. He responds with a thumbs up and you collapse back down onto the bench, giving yourself more time to recollect yourself and replaying the night’s activities in your head. 
Maybe boxing isn’t so bad. 
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th0ti-th0ts · 9 months
Text
just desserts
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hobie brown x reader, miguel o’hara x reader (implied)
summary: leave it to the big guy to be so damn obvious. if only it wasn't this fun for hobie to mess with him.
or: hobie exploits miguel’s one weakness for some shits and giggles (but also to stick it to The Man).
cw: fluff but hobie makes some innuendos. jealous!miguel, miguel who can't admit his feelings, hobie who knows this and knows he has more game and takes full advantage of this
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You’re talking to Hobie when his attention is captured by something behind you. His gaze shifts as he raises a brow challengingly, mouth pulled into a cocky slant. It’s quick, quick enough that most people wouldn’t catch it, but you’re not most people. Not with your reflexes.
“—And I was—Hobie? Something wrong?”
You’ve got his attention again. “Yeah, luv? Sorry ‘bout that, got somethin’ in my eye.” He wraps an arm around your shoulder, and gives you a lazy grin. "Distracted me fro' your beauty for a minute."
You roll your eyes as you continue to tell your tale, Hobie listening to you with the kind of careless intensity that only he could pull off. While his flirtatious comments could be construed as something more, he says them with such a dry wit that it's hardly anything more than friendly. As the the two of you meander down the line of the cafeteria, grabbing whatever food spikes your interest, his arm remains a steady presence around you. Again, you don’t think much of it—Hobie's a touchy guy with his closest friends.
“Ya’ ever wonder 'ow these futuristic blokes come up wit’ some o’ these pop flavors?" he asks you, holding a can of soda in his hand as he languid reads off the label. "‘Sparkling orange cream cider with a 'int of lime...'" He pulls a face. "Sounds mad.”
You laugh. “It’s actually kinda good. Peter recommended it to me last time.”
He looks at you, surprised. “Huh." And then, with a hint of suspicion, he asks, "...Which Peter? Ya' can't trust all ov' their taste buds...”
With his arm around you, Hobie steers the two of you around the cafeteria, and you end up accidentally bumping into the person next to you in line. The two of you continue to chat--that is, until you hear someone clear their throat meaningfully. You glance behind you, unaware of the challenging glean in Hobie's cool gaze.
"Oh, hi, Miguel! I don't think I've ever seen you out here before."
He raises a brow. In his hand is a box of the empanadas he loves so much.
"I do... eat, you know."
Miguel's usual dry and blunt manner of speaking has hardly deterred you before.
"Yeah, but I don't think you really leave that dinky, dark room of yours," you say thoughtfully, to which Hobie snorts next to you. His body shakes with the effort to contain his amusement. Your eyes widen. "I—I didn't mean it like that!"
"I know what you mean," Miguel cuts you off. He jabs the empanada before him with tongs, puncturing its shell. His irritation is palpable. Maybe he's having a bad day? "I..." He sighs heavily, surveying the two of you, his gaze lingering on your shoulder. "Just felt like a change of scenery."
"Or at least I did," he mutters, but you don't quite catch it.
"Sorry?"
"Nothing."
"'Ey, 'ey. Look wha' we got 'ere." Hobie, the ever keen observer, steers you around Miguel, to direct your attention to today's dessert on the menu. Your eyes widen at the various flavors of cupcakes before you. You fucking love cupcakes.
"Lemme guess," Hobie says. "You're a chocolate kinda gal?" He snags a cupcake for each of you. Just as he hands it to you though, you're distracted by the sound of tongs clattering.
You glance to your right, only for Hobie to end up smearing some of the cupcake's icing across your cheek. You blink in surprise.
"Hey!"
"Oops." An amused smirk stretches Hobie's face. “Made a mess o' yourself, looks like it."
"You're the one who did it!"
Hobie puts his palms up, stating solemnly, "All's wort' it in pursuit of something sweet."
You glower at him, rubbing your cheek. "Did I get it?"
He shakes his head. "Nope." You rub again. "A lit'le to the left. Nope… Is a bit like finding a needle in a 'aystack for you, innit? Lemme help.”
Hobie’s thumb comes up to your cheek, swiping the suspect away. You scrunch your nose up, to which he makes a satisfied noise in his throat.
"Almos' regret doin' that. Ya' pull off the 'cream on ya' face' look."
You roll your eyes at the obvious innuendo, smacking his chest. “Hobie. Not in public!”
He shrugs unapologetically.
CRCKK.
The sound of cardboard crumpling meets your ears. The both of you turn around.
“Ay, chingados,” Miguel curses at his crushed box, meat and veggie filling from his empanadas splayed across the ground. He kicks the box away, before slamming his hand onto the counter. Hunched over, a hand tensely massaging his brow as he mutters, “Maldito sea. Estoy harto de ver esta mierda amorosa."
You raise a brow. You think you hear Hobie mutter something to the effect of, "Stickin' it to the big guy one step a' a time," and you're certainly not sure what that means. Miguel stops only when he notices you and everyone in the cafeteria watching him. He straightens up, and clears his throat before summoning his AI.
“Lyla, just have someone bring food to my room,” he grumbles.
"Roger that," she says.
And then Miguel is stalking away before either of you know it.
You watch his retreating back curiously. "I wonder what that was about..." you think aloud.
“No idea,” Hobie drawls. Of course, it's a lie, or as Hobie likes to think of it, a covert truth. He salutes in Miguel's direction.
Leave it to the big guy to be so damn obvious. If only it wasn't this fun to mess with him. And... Hobie glances down at you. If only you realized how much power you held over him.
Both of them, really.
translations:
estoy harto de ver esta mierda amorosa = i'm sick of seeing all this lovey-dovey shit
the other phrases are just a bunch of cursing lmao
1K notes · View notes
bagopucks · 4 months
Text
J. Drysdale - Orange, Orange, Orange
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✄————————————
Jamie Drysdale x Fem!reader
Word Count: 2.6k
Warning(s): cuss words, reader wanting to strangle Trevor✨
—————————————
Everybody has their own playoff traditions. For most teams, it’s the beards. And every stadium also has a different approach. For the Anaheim Ducks and Honda Center, it’s ‘Paint It Orange.’
Jamie and Trevor go all out. Their apartment gets decorated completely. Orange throw pillows, orange plates and cups, orange shower curtain. Anything that can be replaced for cheap during the playoffs. It’s atrocious. I love seeing my boyfriend and his clingy bestie, but god I hate seeing that orange. It’s too much.
Do I tell them that? Absolutely not.
The boys love it. They love getting into the playoff spirit, and I’d even venture to say it’s a ritual now. A superstition that they add to every year. This year I was anticipating orange drapes or maybe even an orange carpet.. but I couldn’t have been farther from the right idea.
Trevor and Jamie had been radio silent all day. Both in our group chat and in individual texts. It was unlike them. Especially Jamie, who always texted me in the morning. I was suspicious, but I didn’t think too much into it. We were coming up on the first playoff game. Two days away. It was likely that they were only anxious. Antsy.
I thought maybe a quick box of donuts might be nice. I swung by a local donut shop and picked up two dozen before making the drive to their place. Jamie always enjoyed the jelly filled and chocolate covered ones, but Trevor had so many things he enjoyed that it was hard to remember all the flavors. And knowing these boys and their appetites, it was safer to get two dozen.
When I got to their place, I gently kicked their door with my foot a few times, seeing as my hands were full. I heard a faint, ‘coming’ from Trevor. I eyed the orange wreath on their door while I waited. It was new. That must have been the addition for this year’s playoff run. They hadn’t had one in a while. I would have expected something more drastic to celebrate.
When the door opened, I was met with a shirtless Trevor. His long hair was pulled back in a ponytail -no doubt one I left behind at some point- and his shorts were covered in orange. His arms had a bit of the orange substance on them as well. My brow furrowed.
“Hey! You brought us donuts. That’s awesome.” Trevor smiled, “can you bring ‘em inside? Just toss them on the counter.” He stepped aside, letting me in before he shut the door and locked it.
“Trevor, what’s going on?” I asked as I walked through the house, greeted by the ugly oranges of their decorations. I set the boxes of donuts on the counter, opening one to pull out one of the jelly filled treats. I took a bite out of it as I turned to look at Trevor.
“Stuff.” He answered, nodding a little too dramatically for me to believe him.
“Where’s Jamie?”
“Out.” I didn’t like or believe that answer either.
“Doing what?” I pressed on.
“Hey! Who’s that?” I heard Jamie shout, his voice echoing from a room I could only assume was the bathroom. Trevor’s face fell the moment he knew he’d been caught in his own lie.
“It’s your girlfriend! She brought us donuts!” Trevor called, the volume of his voice irritating my ears. I winced.
“You’re such a liar, Trevor.” I scoffed out, shaking my head at him.
“Tell her to come here! She can help!” Even yelling, Jamie’s voice sounded soft.
Trevor looked at me with a cautious gaze, and I narrowed my eyes at him.
“Why don’t you want me here?” I immediately asked, accusation in my tone. Trevor refused to answer right out.
“Oh boy…” he mumbled. Clearly, he knew whatever I was about to see, I was not going to like. “Come on.”
I followed incredibly close behind Trevor, contemplating a few times, simply pushing him out of the way. But once we got to the bathroom, I was glad we’d taken our time getting there. It gave me time to brace myself.
The gasp I drew in was second to none, horrified and surprised in the worst ways.
I stood there in shock for maybe a total of ten seconds. A ticking time bomb.
“So… you like it?” The optimism in Trevor’s voice set me off.
“What the fuck?” I shouted, staring down at my shirtless boyfriend and his lathered orange hair. “Jamie! What the fuck?”
Trevor was standing behind me, and I could tell the boys were looking at each other when my boyfriend’s eyes drifted past me.
“This is why I told you not to invite her.” Trevor mumbled. I spun on my heels.
“Because I don’t want my boyfriend looking like..” I paused, looking back at Jamie. He flashed me a nervous smile. “Like the Lorax?” I wasn’t necessarily angry.. just.. caught off guard. Nobody informed me of this. Nobody told me I was going to have to look at Jamie like this for possibly months.
“So you don’t like it?” Jamie’s smooth voice piped up, causing my tense gaze to move from Trevor back to the once dark haired man. I pursed my lips, trying to calm myself as I noticed the concern in Jamie’s features.
“I’ll be honest with you J.. I don’t. No.” His face fell. I shook my head as I kicked my shoes off and stepped onto the dirty towels on the floor. I glanced at him in the mirror, then back down to his figure sitting on a foldable chair. I immediately reached for a silky lock of wet orange hair, still covered in fresh dye. “Oh my god…” I mumbled, feeling like a mother with her child.
“That bad, huh?” Jamie inquired, eyeing my reflection in the mirror.
“I love you.. just.. not your orange hair.” He was slow to nod. Jamie never liked knowing I didn’t like something. I always tried to tell him that it didn’t matter. Just because I didn’t like something, didn’t mean he needed to change it or throw it away. But he always wanted to make me happy. I could tell though, that this stressed him out. Because he couldn’t easily fix this.
“It’s not that bad.” Jamie tried to reason.
“No it’s pretty bad.” I wanted to card my hands through his hair, but I couldn’t. These idiots. God knows what this would turn out like. “Jame- your hair is so dark.. what if this turns out looking like shit? Like actual shit? Did you guys even bleach it enough?” Jamie, nor Trevor had a good response. So instead, my boyfriend opted to change the topic.
“Trevor‘s gonna do it too.” I looked back at Trevor while Jamie’s eyes were fixed on himself in the mirror.
Trevor shook his head with a snicker. My brow furrowed at his amusement, and the lines connected when I noticed Trevor was not worried about his own perfect hair.
I realized quickly that this was not a playoff ritual. This was Trevor tricking his best friend into something embarrassing. I would have considered it a prank if I didn’t know how humiliated Jamie would be once he found out.
I wanted to strangle him. I wanted to yell at him. I wanted to grab Trevor by the hair and throw him off the roof. Instead, I came up with a much less hostile approach.
“Thats really sweet of you Trev. At least if it ends badly Jamie won’t look… orange all alone.” I cooed. Trevor looked confused, but I let him off the hook for a moment.
“I don’t like this look.. I really don’t, but if it’s for playoffs, I understand. How much longer does this have to sit, J?” I asked, watching him reach for his phone on the stained counter.
“Thirty more minutes.” I nodded gestured for him to move and sit on the edge of the bath tub. He did so with ease.
“You want this?” I presented the donut I took a bite of to him, and Jamie quickly reached for it. He mumbled a sheepish, ‘thanks,” in return.
“Trevor,” I immediately turned to him. “I’ll help you with your hair.”
It was Trevor’s turn to be concerned, shaking his head and laughing anxiously.
“No.. no.. J’s got it.” He took a step back to escape the bathroom.
“No, I insist. I’d rather it not get anywhere else on Jamie anyway. His arm hair doesn’t need to be orange too. Come on.” I grabbed his arm, pulling him a bit forcefully back into the bathroom.
“I think it’ll look so good on you, Trev.” I taunted as I pushed him down into the chair. “J, can you go get me a drink from the fridge?” Jamie looked up from his phone and nodded, slipping out of the bathroom.
“Fuck you Trevor,” I hissed quietly, “you know how embarrassed he would have been? He probably would’ve chopped all his hair off.” Trevor’s eyes quickly found the floor. I wondered if he even thought this idea through entirely.
“I wish you wouldn’t be so rough on him sometimes. He’s not you, Trev.” My tone softened -though the annoyance remained- as I glanced down at all of the items on the counter. I reached for the bleach and prepped it before grabbing a spare pair of gloves, slipping them on.
“This one was pretty bad, huh?” Trevor muttered, right before Jamie returned with the water. I flashed him a smile as he set it on top of the toilet.
“Getzlaf‘s gonna love this look on you guys.” I was quick to change the subject, beginning to lather the bleach in Trevor’s hair. He may not have even needed it, but I decided to go with it for safe measure. I peeked over at Jamie, who was watching with curious eyes. I realized he already had another donut in hand. I also realized, that the poor kid’s eyebrows were still as dark as can be.
“He’ll support us.” Trevor reasoned.
“I’m sure he will.” Sarcasm laced my tone.
“I think we’ll look pretty cool.” Jamie’s excitement made me feel bad for knowing what I did about Trevor’s plans. And it made me feel bad for disagreeing in my head.
“The coolest, J.” I responded, trying to sound genuine.
It took me around ten minutes to get Trevor’s hair covered well. At that point, it was a waiting game for Jamie. Another fifteen minutes went by where I sat by my boyfriend on the lip of the bath tub, leaning on him as he scrolled through his phone, occasionally moving an orange lock from his eyes that kept falling astray. His mother didn’t like it when his hair got too long, I could only imagine what she’d say when she saw it was a whole new color.
When Jamie’s hair timer had gone off, I made Trevor go and grab me a cup. I helped Jamie sit on the floor and lean his head back into the bath tub, sighing to myself as I turned the bath tub on and found a comfortable temperature for the water.
When Trevor returned with the cup, I took it from him and filled it, resting my hand over Jamie’s eyes as I poured the first round of water through his hair, pushing my fingers through after. This was gonna take a while.
“I’ve seen you blonde.. but this is something else..” I mumbled. I did find momentary joy in the way Jamie’s eyes were closed, enjoying the feeling of having someone wash his hair. His orange hair.
“If this comes out bad, I’m taking you both to the local salon.” I added, getting to a point where the orange didn’t completely stain the water as it went down the drain. I turned off the tub faucet and asked Trevor to get me a towel, which he came back with faster than the cup.
“It’s not Carla,” Trevor shook his head. I glared at him.
“I don’t really care who it is. You’ll go unless you want to look like an off brand red head.” Jamie’s eyes opened, worriedly looking between me and his best friend.
I grabbed the towel from Trevor and turned back to my boyfriend, wrapping the towel around his hair and squeezing it a few times before I helped him sit up, and draped the towel over his shoulders.
“Move.” Trevor didn’t look very pleased that I was kicking him out of his seat, but he did nonetheless. Jamie slipped back into the foldable chair, and I bent over to search the cabinet beneath the sink for my spare hair dryer. When I spotted it, I was quick to pull it out.
I eyed the cord for a moment. “I don’t wrap my hairdryer cords like this.” I glanced between both boys, curious as to who had used my dryer while I was away.
“Sometimes my hair doesn’t dry fast enough before I go out.” Jamie’s gentle confession made my gaze soften.
I plugged the cord into the outlet and opened the medicine cabinet to grab one of the combs inside.
“Wait that’s mine!” I glared over at Trevor before putting the comb back and grabbing the other. Part of me wanted to snap his in half. Torturing Jamie and he still thought he could sit there and make requests.
I turned the hair dryer on, pointing it down at my lover as I slowly ran his comb through his hair. He looked pleased with all the attention. I didn’t mind it.. I just wished I could have given it to him under other circumstances that didn’t involve orange hair.
As his hair dried, the orange took on a much lighter look. Still hideous, but it looked like it would match the jerseys. Jamie took a few pictures of it.
When I had his hair mostly dry, I turned the dryer off and set it on the counter with the comb. I ran my fingers through his hair a few times, ruffling and fixing the part, before I leaned forward to press a kiss to his head.
“Do you like it now?” Jamie spoke softly, his eyes searched my expression in the mirror.
“It’ll grow on my eventually.” I tapped his shoulder. “You wanna help me finish Trev?”
“Oh! Yeah!”
“Trevor sit on the floor and lean your head over the bath.”
I repeated the process of washing hair with Trevor, this time with the help of Jamie, who really just handed me shampoo when I needed it.
When I had his hair washed and towel dried, I had him and Jamie switch places again, and I began to dry Trevor’s hair- with his own comb. After I was sure every strand was no longer damp, I put my dryer away and set Trevor’s comb aside.
“I think when we’re done, you guys should send some photos to your mothers.” I advised, smiling to myself at the thought of either woman’s reaction.
Jamie’s head shot up from his phone. Had he not considered his mother as a factor before agreeing to this?
“She’s gonna flip…”
He hadn’t.
“Oh my god, Jamie-“ I hid my face in my hands to mask my frustration.
“Can you call her with me?” His request was met with a reluctant no from myself.
“You made your bed, lover. And this one you have to lay in alone.” I chuckled. “Good luck.”
✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾
596 notes · View notes
luvyeni · 5 months
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MY SHY NEIGHBOR ( chapter 3. )
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— CHAPTER THREE: lovestreams …
— 𖦹 warnings? 18+, cursing, masturbation, jeongin is down bad ( this is told in jeongins pov )
previous chapter - next chapter - my shy neighbor masterlist
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jeongin genuinely was gonna go to sleep, but han jisung put the thought into his head. “fuck it.” he got up — sitting at his desk, opening his laptop. “oh that’s right.” he grabbed his headphones, sitting back down.
after plugging his headphones in, he typed in his favorite sight, scrolling through the main feed, searching for his favorite cam girl. “shit.” he cursed realizing she wasn’t streaming that night. should he just go to bed then? but he was already hard.
he was about to head to twitter, when he got a popup ad. “hm?” he read the words on the screen. “love streams?” he never heard of it, he shrugged, clicking the ad — what’s the worst that could happen.
he rid himself of his jeans while waiting for the page to load. his eyes widened at the new selection of girls, this sight was much bigger than the previous one, his cock twitched at the all the content.
he scrolled down, palming himself until he came across the top streamers selections. he scrolled over searching for the best one until he stopped at one. “lovergirl?” he clicked the screen, your body coming into frame, the camera off your face — you must want to keep your identity hidden.
“hi everyone!” your voice low and seductive, but also had a sweetness to it — that was what he liked the best.
“did you guys miss me?” you asked, your white robe hanging off your shoulders along with your bra strap. “yes? good i missed you guys to.” you chuckled, his cock was begging to be freed. “oh you want me to take it off?” you pulled at the robe, he nodded his head, like you could see him.
“if i do something nice for you, doesn’t that mean you have to do something nice for me?” he knew what that meant, so did the other viewers, because soon your tip jar was filling up. he reached for his card, typing in his credit card information.
he typed in $50 without flinching, you smiled at all the donations. “you guys are too kind.” you said, coming closer to the camera, he could now see your plump lips, your boobs about to spill from your bra, he bit his lip. “i guess i owe you guys something.”
you slowly undid your robe, letting it fall, your bra was next, you slowly pulled down the straps, undoing the latches, watch the bra fall into your lap, your boobs bouncing from being freed, he could hold it anymore, he stood up, pulling his underwear down, he cock sprung from his boxers, hitting his abdomen. “shit, he hissed.”
“is this what you guys wanted?” you chuckled , squeezing your boobs together, they looked so soft, he could only imagine what they felt like. “fuck.” he squeezed the base of his cock, teasing himself.
“no? this isn’t what you want?” your lips formed a pout, he thought about what they would look like covered in his cum. “well what is it you want?”
he quickly typed into the chat box. ‘your pants, take your pants off.’
“my shorts?” his heart fluttered, he knew there was thousands of comments saying the same thing, but it felt like you were personally answering him. “don’t you like them?” you teased, pulling at your waistband, a whimper emitting from your lips as you let it go, the elastic snapping against your waist.
“i wore them especially for you.” for him? that made him squeeze his cock, he for sure found his new favorite streamer.
“i guess you have to do something else for me.” he quickly typed in $100 dollars, he knew he shouldn’t have spend that much, but he was desperate — clicking the send button. “oh? 100 dollars, you must be really eager.” he froze, you were talking about him.
“what’s your name?” you said. “thank you FOX.YJN, everyone say thank you to FOX.YJN.” he smiled, the way you said his name, fuck he was gonna cum, he had to stop himself, you hadn’t even done anything, yet you had this hold on him.
you sat back, your legs fully on display, as you took off your shorts, revealing your white matching lace underwear, a wet patch in the middle. “shit.” he whispered, as you rubbed yourself through your underwear. “fuck.” you whimpered.
he seen the tips go up, and the comments telling you to remove your underwear, he didn’t hesitate to type in another $150, hitting send. “o-oh, YJN seems to want it more than any of you tonight.”
you slid your panties down your leg, spreading your legs, your wet cunt on display. “i’m so wet right now.” you moaned, rubbing your folds slowly. “f-feels so good.”
jeongin began to move his hand up and down his cock, moving slowly with you. “fu-fuck please speed up.” he groaned to himself, but it seemed like you answered his prayers, your fingers slowly entering your cunt, you moaned.
the noises from your pussy filling up his earbuds, as you sped up. “fu-fuck my fingers aren’t enough.” you moaned. “i wish it was yours.” he moaned, probably louder than he should’ve, but hearing you say that, in that whiny tone drove him crazy.
“fuck i’m gonna cum.” you whimpered. “m-me too.” he sighed, squeezing his tip. “fuck, please cum with me, cum with me please.” your begging really pushed him over the edge.
“fuck, i’m cumming!” you screamed, cumming all over your fingers. “shit.” he came right after, cum spurting from his tip, covering his hand and shirt. “oh fuck.”
you were talking to the camera as he came down from your high. “wow you guys tipped a lot tonight.” you giggled, your lips swollen from biting them.
“i should show my face next time?” you read the comments. “i told you guys already, maybe one day, but not right now.”
you interacted with a few more comments before, you slid your robe back on, covering your body. “i have to go now guys.” you pouted. “i know, i wish i could stay with you guys longer, maybe next time.”
you blew a kiss to the camera, before the stream cut off — leaving jeongin to sit with his thoughts, fuck it was his first time watching you, yet you left this impact on him, he had to see more of you.
he closed his laptop, grimacing at the sticky mess he created. “i guess i should get cleaned up.” he got up from his chair.
it hadn’t even hit him that he spent 300 dollars.
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— ( taglist. OPEN ) @soulsbbg @k-poplv @yourmomscuntis2tighy @bbokarimenu @enczen @queen-in-the-shadows @thesweetesttattoo @ririlinoriri @aloverga @ashiitex @ddazed-lhs @heartsforhyunjin @chlodavids @simp4myself @surefornext @lostwonderwall @xxr-s4sha @charmer-c @vixensss @frobin4ever @bmnyy @semi-semiisbae @m111nho @i2innie
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©LUVYENI
549 notes · View notes
aureatchi · 4 months
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⛇₊˚ʚ₊˚✧ SANTA TELL ME IF HE REALLY CARES ft. dazai, chuuya, ranpo, fyodor, nikolai, sigma
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the pm is hosting a christmas party for yokohama! everyone is encouraged to bring a gift for the people they love…so what do the bsd men get you?
info. fem!reader. sm fluff. profanities from chuuya ofc LOL, them trying to outdo each other for you. pm hq has a rooftop floor here. implied reader is in the ada. wc. 3.1k
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You walked inside the lavish lobby of the port mafia headquarters to be greeted by DAZAI, who immediately embraced you in his arms.
“Bella! You made it!” he exclaimed, pulling you in. You could feel the heat of his body warming you up, relieving you of the chilly weather outside.
“Of course, Osamu,” you giggled. “Wouldn’t want to miss something super special as this.”
Still trapping you in his hug, he led you down the hallway, one hand moving to playfully pat your head. Security guards parted to let the two of you through, entering the room where everyone was.
“So many people!” you exclaimed when you entered the headquarters’ formal dining hall decorated in Christmas festivities. Everyone was either chatting about or gathering by a table to get sweet desserts or hot chocolate.
“Want some hot chocolate to warm up, angel?” Dazai asked, looking towards the line.
“No thanks,” you replied. “You’ve warmed my heart up already.”
He gave you a smug smile in response, but you didn’t miss the light pink that also flushed his cheeks.
“Come over here.”
You followed Dazai as he made his way to a different table filled with wrapped presents and bags alike.
Dazai took one of them—the gift bag in your favorite color and handed it to you.
“For the gift exchange,” he smiled. “Merry Christmas, bella. I hope you like it.”
Your eyes lit up in joy, grateful and excited to see what he had gotten you. “Thank you!”
The first thing you pulled out of the bag was a custom heart pendant in your preferred metal—Dazai knew whether you liked silver or gold better. When you unclasped the locket, you saw matching pictures of you and Dazai inside, both bundled up in the snow. It was a good memory to look back at.
“This is so cute, Osamu.” You closed the locket and let the brunette place the jewelry around your neck.
“It looks even better on you.”
The second thing inside the bag was a box. Pulling it out, you saw that it was a Lego flower set.
“As much as you love flowers, they don’t last forever. However, these do!” You grinned widely at the thought and matching gift—Dazai always easily recalled your favorite things.
“We can build them together, too,” he continued, and you gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I love them. You’re amazing at getting gifts.”
“I wouldn’t expect that at all.” Your attention was brought to the ginger-haired who had his arms crossed beside the both of you, a cheeky grin on his face. CHUUYA had a mug of eggnog in his hand, though you knew for sure he’d rather have a glass of red wine reserved for the evening party instead.
“Chuuya!”
“What’s up, doll?” he smiled, a different, sweeter tone entirely, as he strode towards you.
“What do you mean by that?” Dazai asked, referring to Chuuya’s earlier comment.
“Thought your taste in gifts would be shitty, just like you,” he chuckled as you greeted him with a hug.
“Hey, that’s a bit rude,” you whispered.
“Oh really?” Dazai responded with his own sarcastic laugh. “I’m not sure you could do any better.”
“You really underestimate me! Come with me, baby…we’re going to prove to the-thing-that-comes-with-the-discounted-bandages who really knows what to get a lady for Christmas!”
Dazai stood, jaw dropped, dramatically offended as Chuuya pulled you away.
You two walked to the other side of the room, where there were even more gifts under one of the many Christmas trees in the hall.
“Bastard,” Chuuya sulked under a scowl, picking up a box wrapped in crimson red, his statement color.
You chuckled in amusement. He riled up so easily, over something so trivial. “Don’t worry about him, Chuu. I already know I’m going to like what you got.”
“Ya better,” he replied, but cheered up from your words. “Are you able to hold it?”
He handed you the box, hovering his arms below for support in case you dropped it. Though it was a larger package, it was still a bit heavier than you expected.
“Yeah, I got it.” You then raised an eyebrow. What could be inside this gift?
You set it down on the nearest table, undoing the pretty bow of ribbon and wrapping paper that kept the mystery intact.
Inside, you were received with a record player.
“Oh, wow!”
You loved music, and you’d always wanted to start collecting vinyls as it looked cool, but everyone knew it was an expensive hobby.
Not only had Chuuya gotten that—a very nice one, too—he also got the records of your top ten favorite albums.
You looked through the covers, smiling with each new one you saw.
Chuuya explained a few things—how he was setting you up for good because he made sure you got a turntable player instead of a suitcase one, how you should replace the black slip mat with the white one he bought instead so your vinyls look prettier, how to not damage the records…you could hardly pay attention to him though because you were overjoyed at how thoughtful he was for that.
“You seem passionate. Do you collect them too?” you asked.
“No, I just wanted to research to find something good enough for you.”
You could feel your heart melt. He had really spent time picking this out after you’d only mentioned you finding record players vintage and cool twice, and you’d never even pointed out you’d want it as a gift.
“Thank you, Chuuya,” you said, leaning towards him, burying your face in his neck. “I love it…especially how you recall my favorite albums, too.”
“Of course doll,” he replied, running his hands through your hair. “Merry Christmas.”
You could’ve stayed like that, but your little moment with the port mafia executive was ruined when Chuuya glanced over at one of the snack tables to find all the food had just disappeared.
“Now what the fuck?”
You followed, looking at what he was looking at. Then, you realized the man standing by the table with a piece of cake—the last piece of cake.
RANPO caught your gaze and jumped, hyper from all the sugar he consumed. “There you are!” He ran towards you and shoved you on the ground, away from Chuuya.
“Hey man, what the hell is wrong with you?!” he shouted in annoyance.
Ranpo acknowledged the ginger-haired only then, looking up from where he had you suffocating in his arms. “Huh? Oh, sorry, didn’t see ya there.”
Chuuya grew even more infuriated at the provoke.
“You tryna pick a fight?”
“You still want to after knowing how last time turned out?”
Ranpo was referring to their last encounter, where Chuuya had embarrassingly lost against him from a single blow. But you didn’t need to know that.
So, Chuuya used all his willpower to keep silent under an outraged glare as he watched Ranpo drag you away to make sure he didn’t bring up any details about it.
“I got you a gift too!” Ranpo exclaimed as you walked back towards where the other agency members were hanging out. “Wanna guess what it is?”
“Hm…some sort of treat, that’s for sure,” you replied.
“Partly correct!” he replied. “That’s not all that I got you though.”
“Oh? How generous!”
“No!” his response was stern. “A princess like you deserves more…as the world’s greatest detective, noone would know that better than me.”
You smiled. “You’re right, Ranpo.”
With that, he handed you one of the cutest gift baskets you’ve seen. The actual basket was snowman-themed, and inside was everything you wanted that could fit in it—that pajama set you had in your online shopping cart, the new skincare products you’ve wanted to try, your favorite candle—you hadn’t even ever mentioned it to him before. And, of course, a lot of chocolate. Of course, Ranpo would also be the best gift-buyer, using his knowledge to his advantage.
The one thing that really stood out to you, though, was a jar of Hershey kisses, with a note on it that said:
KISSES WHEN I’M NOT AROUND.
It even had a chibi-fied face of the cute brunette on it.
“This is my favorite thing in this gift,” you said.
“Of course, because I know you always miss me when I’m not there to kiss,” Ranpo confidently stated. “Which is why I came up with a solution! They’ll never be as sweet as me, but it works.”
You laughed in delight. It was a very creative idea. “This is amazing; thank you, Ranpo!”
Never knowing how to respond to thankfulness directly, he answered it with something else. “Hey, there’s something on your nose.”
“Really?” You moved a hand to feel what was on there, but Ranpo grabbed your wrist to prevent you. Instead, he bopped your nose with his lips.
“There was frosting,” he said, probably from when he excitedly greeted you earlier.
“You enjoyed those desserts, huh?” you asked, glancing at the depleted table once again.
“Yup! It was just lying there, and noone said anything about how much you could take, so…!” He paused, trying to remember something.
“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”
You chatted with agency and port mafia members alike a while after. Everyone was having a good time, even when Chuuya started bickering with Dazai and challenged him to a duel.
“Shithead!
“Mackerel!”
“How about you talk once you grow another two inches?”
As everyone was being entertained by Chuuya breaking an entire wall by throwing Dazai through it, your eyes were distracted by an elaborate bouquet of roses and baby breaths that you hadn’t noticed before.
Curious because it wasn’t by any other gifts, you left the crowd to inspect it.
You were surprised when you picked the arrangement up and saw that it was addressed to your name on a note. However, there was no name to say who it was from.
You looked around to see if anyone was nearby that could’ve placed the flowers there. But everyone else was watching the fight.
You flipped the note over, seeing a sketch of an elevator and a four-number code on the back.
An elevator?
You scanned the hall once again. The only elevator there was the one at the corner, restricted to the port mafia. The guests weren’t allowed to use it, and a security pad was guarding it.
You hesitated but then decided to approach the door. If someone gave you the code they wanted and were permitting you to use it, right?
Once again, no one protested because they were all distracted watching Chuuya on the ceiling, making sure Dazai couldn’t touch him. You pressed the four numbers into the pinpad and were congratulated with a correct ding! sound and the elevator sliding open.
You stepped inside and realized there was only one button—to go up. You pressed it, and the doors closed, moving you up.
Luxurious as always, the elevator had a glass window, the entire city of Yokohama coming into view as you went higher. A few seconds in, you realized that the elevator wasn’t going to stop until you reached the top.
You still weren’t sure who had mysteriously invited you to meet them. You hoped it wasn’t the boss—the doctor in charge creeped you out, if you were being honest. But you figured it couldn’t be him because he was also downstairs, chilling with the agency’s president.
Your heartbeat raced as the elevator stopped and the doors slid open, adrenaline surging in anticipation of the surprise, coupling with the chilly breeze outside. You had reached the rooftop.
“You’re so easy to tempt; those flowers drew you in faster than a blind mouse to a piece of cheese laid in a trap.”
You smiled as you heard the foreign accent of the person near the edge riddle you while admiring the entire city below. “Hi, Fedya.”
FYODOR turned around, violet eyes meeting yours.
“I should’ve known.” Of course, the enigma was him—conundra was the Russian’s signature.
“How in the world did you even get here?” you asked, though you already knew the answer. He always had his ways to infiltrate anywhere—through deception, through hacking, anything goes.
“I invited ourselves,” he smirked, and only then did you notice his two subordinates on the other side, one in fear as the other tried to trip him over the ledge. “Didn’t want to miss out on the gift-giving either.”
Fyodor took out a jewelry box. “I hardly get to see you. So I thought to get you something that you could wear everyday.
“And this one is special, to remind you of my presence even more.” He opened it, revealing a bracelet, and like Dazai, he also knew what color jewelry suited you best. It was nothing too showy—it was simple, but it was classy, timeless, just like him.
And you noticed what made it special. There was no clasp. It was made to be welded on the person’s wrist—a forever bracelet.
“Choose wisely,” Fyodor said as you looked in awe. “Which wrist, milaya?”
You quickly contemplated and held out one of your wrists towards him as he took out tweezers and a small laser. You watched as he delicately fastened the bracelet around your arm, making sure it sat on your wrist perfectly.
“Finished, fine with it?” he asked when he was done, and you lifted your hand toward the horizon.
“It’s perfect, thank you,” you responded candidly. Then, Fyodor lifted up his own sleeve under his coat, revealing a matching one. You were almost stunned, because you didn’t think he would be the type to wear anything other than a necklace.
“Merry Christmas, dorogaya,” he softly said, pressing you against his chest in a hug.
“WAIT, WAIT! Dove, there’s still me! Don’t seal away your heart just yet!”
“Huh?” You both turned towards NIKOLAI, who kindly but quickly moved Fyodor away from you.
The next thing you knew, there were foil snowman and reindeer balloons in your hand, white confetti popped over you, acting as snow, and the jester standing in front of you presenting a large gift.
“To be honest, I’m scared,” you admitted, knowing his chaotic, playful nature.
“Why?” he giggled. “Think I’m going to scare ya, baby? You can take my word, there’s no jumpscares in this one.”
“You better not be lying,” you said and removed the lid of the black box that reminded you of a magician’s top hat.
And he was being truthful because you were greeted with the exact opposite of remarkable. He had gifted you plain, white socks.
“Wow, Kolya. I never even knew you were capable of being mundane.”
He laughed once again as he just set the box in front of you, not saying anything more as you stared at him in confusion.
You took the socks out. Surely, there was a catch. He was acting too suspicious. And the entire gift was odd. You found nothing tampered with on the socks, though. And there was nothing else in the box. So why was it so big? And why did it look deeper than where the bottom stopped?
You nervously looked at Nikolai before sticking both hands in. You felt your way around the level until you realized the entire package floor felt like paper machete, something used in piñatas and things like that.
By instinct, you lifted a fist and punched through the box. You immediately punctured through the false bottom, uncovering your true gift.
He celebrated. “Smart girl!”
There was an assortment of plushies—many of them. You always asked Nikolai to help you get some whenever you found claw machines at amusement parks, so he knew you loved stuffed animals.
Then, there was a large, fluffy throw blanket, perfect for winter.
“I got that because I know you’re probably so cold when I’m not hugging you.” True. Nikolai encapsulated you like a blanket whenever he came over.
“The thought of having this didn’t even cross my mind,” you said. “Well, that goes for everything you do,” you chuckled.
“That was really creative; I love it, thank you!”
Nikolai popped more confetti, this time in pink hearts. “She loves it! Happy, happy Christmas!”
He swung you off the ground, spinning you with ease until your own head started spinning the opposite way.
“Gogol! I think she’s dizzy!”
The two-tone-haired casino owner had a concerned look on his face, and you couldn’t tell if it was because your eyes were unfocusing or because Nikolai was throwing you around so easily. Strong guy.
Nikolai stopped, realizing he had gotten too excited. “Sorry, dove! Are you alright?”
“Y-yeah,” you responded, unable to keep your balance as you tripped over yourself. You landed on SIGMA’s torso, and he helped guide you to stand up properly again.
“Thanks, Sigma,” you replied. “How are you?”
“Good, now that I get to see you again.” He lightly blushed, breaking eye contact as you smiled. “I’m glad to see you too.”
“I got you something as well,” he replied, showing his own present. “I’m not sure what the people downstairs got you, and mine isn’t as fancy as Dostoevsky’s nor as extraordinary as Gogol’s, but I hope you like it.”
You felt warm, even in the icy weather. “Awh, just hearing that you got something for me is more than enough,” you replied. “I am so grateful no matter what.”
You took the present and opened it, first greeted by a new set of poker cards. However, this one was different because when you sifted through them, you realized it was the Decay of Angel’s custom set. You had been wowed by Nikolai’s Joker and Fyodor’s Jack when you first saw them, always using the set when you played a game with others.
But there was also a new addition to this stack. You were on it, taking your place as the queen.
“What? Sigma, this is so cool!”
There was one more thing inside. Your favorite lipstick in your favorite shade.
Sigma loved the color and even more how it looked on you. He loved how his cheeks would stain whenever you kissed him there—the pigmented contrast to his paler skin. You hardly needed restocking as you loved the lipstick yourself, but it was always good to have another extra.
“Merry Christmas,” Sigma said as you opened the container and swatched it on your face. You looked as beautiful as ever.
“Merry Christmas, Sigma,” you responded, kissing his forehead. Then, you pulled a cookie wrapped in a napkin from inside your coat and placed it in his mouth.
“Saved it for you,” you giggled. “There’s a lot downstairs. Maybe they’ll let you guys in if I say I invited you. Well, at least you.”
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i heard if u rb, u will receive x2 gifts this xmas from ur favs! reblogs are appreciated; they are your christmas gift to me! <3
tags : @kissesmellow21
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© AUREATCHI 2023. no reposts or translations. do not steal. support banner + heart lights divider by benkeibear.
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mutable-manifestation · 3 months
Text
Actual Scientists Jack & Maddie AU Part 3
Part 1 & 2
***
The lab is empty when they get to Fenton Works, his parents busy off helping the JLD wherever it was they were working from.
The journey the rest of the way to the Far Frozen passes relatively quickly under the weight of discussing how to reverse engineer the sarcophagus of forever sleep to make Naptime Box 2: Vlad Edition.
Could they probably just beat him up with the right plan and aid? Sure. But then they risk having to play royal hot potato (Danny doesn't want it and he doubts most of the allies he has would want the extra responsibility. Assuming there are responsibilities - Danny wouldn't know since there hasn't been a king, for all intents and purposes, since well before he became a halfa so who knows what the position even means in the context of the Zone).
Plus it would be way more satisfying to shove him in a box. Vlad gets a nice long nap and Danny gets to live the rest of his half-life without worrying about his Dad getting stabbed or something if Vlad starts feeling impatient.
It would also give Danny plenty of time to find some way to buy the Packers - not because he wants them, just because it would be really funny if Vlad eventually woke up to find that the only thing he wanted other than Maddie was now also very permanently out of reach.
The city of Green Bay could fold eventually, after all. But Danny? Danny would never yield, just to spite him, and Vlad would know that.
He probably won't actually do it, seeing as a) expensive and b) probably complicated.
But it would be really funny.
Their discussion on the ethics of using the Fenton Stockades as the base for the Box cut off as they land.
Without the distraction of their chat the adrenaline of panic comes rushing back, and he transforms as he steps out of the Speeder, nyooming to hover in front of Frostbite so quickly that the entire welcoming party - Frostbite somehow manages to have one arranged every time he drops by, and Danny is usually willing to at least try and indulge them since it seems to make them happy - jolts in surprise.
"Greetings!" Frostbite smiles wide, arms open in a grand welcoming, the only hint of lingering surprise the trails of slightly puffed up fur up his arms and the sides of his neck that has already mostly smoothed itself back out. "The Far Frozen welcomes the Great One and friends-"
"Hey Frostbite sorry for being abrupt but I'm kind of freaking out and you seemed like the best person - uh, ghost to go to because you always seem to know lots of things and I kind of need to know what's going on as soon as possible just in case it's a worst case scenario because the Justice League came to talk to my parents about some papers and I probably haven't mentioned them to you before because they're awful and I thought my parents made them but surprise I was wrong! Which is good! Except the League was mostly worried about them maybe causing the new ghost king to war with the human realm because apparently there's a supernatural branch of the Justice League and they think there's a new Ghost KingTM as in the Ghost King after Pariah Dark and I'm kind of freaking out because if there is a new ghost king there's actually a chance it's Vlad and oh ancients please tell me it's not Vlad or that the League heard wrong please."
Sam and Tucker had caught up by then, coming to stand on either side of him as Frostbite blinked.
"You are...asking me the identity of the current High King?" He asks, face scrunched in a bewildered expression.
"Oh my gosh Batman was right!?" He floats a bit higher at the news. "Please just tell me it's not Vlad! Uh, Plasmius."
"Plasmius?" Frostbite asks, eyebrows crawling higher. "Certainly not! What in the realms - do you truly not know?"
"Oh thank goodness," Danny sighs, sinking back to his usual level. "Not Vlad, okay, one less disastrous possibility. And whoever it is probably already knows they're the king and nothing bad has happened yet so it's probably fine, right?"
He looks back to meet Frostbite's eyes.
"Wait, nothing bad has happened yet, right? Like, is everything okay? I know Pariah caused you guys a lot of grief before; the new guy 's not going around causing trouble for you and you just haven't told me because you're worried about being a bother, right?" He frets, eyes flicking about, searching for fresh injuries on the various members of the welcoming party.
"...No, Great One," Frostbite answers, blinking away the surprised expression to be replaced by something soft. "Though I, and all the Far Frozen, are honored by your concern. While Pariah Dark is no longer the High King of the Infinite Realms, I can assure you, with utmost certainty, that you have nothing to fear from his successor. But I believe we have much more to discuss. Come, let us find somewhere more comfortable to talk - and get your human friends out of the cold."
***
It didn't take them long to reach a sitting room, and soon enough they were all settled into the enormous, fuzzy chairs in one of the warmer rooms available, Danny and Frostbite each with a cup of shaved ice tea while Sam and Tucker were offered beverages warm enough to steam in deference to their need for warmth.
Once everyone had taken a sip - or bite - Danny launched back into his questioning.
"So did Dark have a kid hidden away somewhere or did some kind of council finally decide on his replacement? Actually can ghosts even have - wait right Box Lunch, forgot about that on purpose but never mind. Or is there some fourth option that isn't those or trial by combat that we didn't think of?"
"Before I answer that, Great One, may I ask why you have already discounted trial by combat?" He returns curiously.
"Because if it was trial by combat it would be Vlad - er, Plasmius - and you already said it isn't him."
"Or it could be you," Tucker ribs, waggling his fingers at him.
"We already talked about why it couldn't be me, Tuck," Danny huffs, rolling his eyes and taking another bite of his... smoothie?
"Oh? And why do you think it would be Plasmius?" Frostbite asks.
"Because! I may have fought Pariah Dark, and sure I put him back in the sarcophagus, but I was running on fumes by that point, and he was still slamming around in there! Vlad, as much as I hate to admit it, is the one that turned the key and made sure he stayed locked away. It took almost everything I had to keep him pinned long enough. If...if he'd been even a few seconds later I probably would've died the rest of the way before he even had the time to break out a second time."
"But had you not put him there, no key would have mattered," Frostbite begins quietly. "Plasmius was no match for Pariah Dark; he was defeated in an instant the first time they clashed."
"Well, yeah, but so was I," he protests, not liking the direction the conversation is beginning to take.
"And yet, you alone went to face him a second time. You alone stood against the King of All Ghosts while your armies clashed."
"Our-!? I didn't have- you mean the ghosts that came to help me???" Danny sputtered, incredulous. "They weren't an army they were just-"
He pauses, searching for words that would not come.
"They were just a large group of ghosts who sided with you, who aided you in combat and kept the multitudes distracted while you went to face their leader alone. However you thought of them at the time, whatever they were to you up till then or are to you now, after, in that moment they were your army."
"Danny's totally the ghost king, isn't he?" Sam drawls after the brief silence that follows.
"Indeed," Frostbite answers her, but he looks Danny in the eyes as he does so. "You are the savior of the Ghost Zone, Pariah's Bane. And you are the High King of the Infinite Realms."
"I cheated!" Danny blurts out, shooting up to float above his chair.
"Cheated?" Frostbite's lips twitch as he fights down a smile.
"I had the Fenton Ecto-Skeleton! That's totally cheating! Don't combat trials have to be honorable or something?!" He begs.
Frostbite chuckles.
"I apologize, Great One, but I am afraid there is no such thing as an honorable war," he says, expression briefly turning solemn. "And even if it were, just as you had your "Ecto-Skeleton," did not Pariah have his ring and crown?
You issued a challenge and he answered, your armies clashed while the two of you stood against each other and each other alone; you alone put him back into the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep, and you alone held it shut long enough for Plasmius to turn the key.”
Danny drifts back down to his seat as Frostbite speaks, then continues slouching further with every word.
“I am given to understand that Plasmius likes to think of others as pawns on his own personal chessboard,” he says, “But at the time he was but another ghost, come to fight Pariah's army on your behalf - as a member of your army. A pawn, to paraphrase his own words, that you used to topple a king - not through any intentional manipulation, but through the sheer magnetic charisma of your willingness to stand against monsters like Pariah Dark and of your ability to do so. The confidence to stand alongside you that such strength inspires. 
He would not have approached if he did not believe you could win - would not risk endangering himself so. At best, you could consider him a referee, calling the match to a close once it was decisively in your favor.
Plasmius may think of existence as a game with himself as the only player, and he may have been acting in his own self-interest overall, but by every measure, in this instance, he was undeniably your piece.
The Zone itself acknowledges your right to rule by the way the crown of fire sits where you left it, unmoving on the floor of Pariah's keep until the day you finally choose to wear it, no matter how many hands may try to move it."
Frostbite's words are slow and measured, but as undeniable as the creeping of a glacier. And by the time they cease, Danny has sunk so far as to end up an undignified heap on the floor before his chair.
The trio remains silent as they absorb his words.
Minutes pass before Danny finally speaks.
"If the crown can't be taken, then how did I get it from Pariah?" He questions, a final hope that Frostbite may be mistaken.
"It will only remain unmoved until you first put it on. After that, it will be up to you whether it stays safe on your head."
Danny groans his despair, final bit of hope shattered.
"I must apologize again, Great One," he says solemnly. "Had I known you were unaware of your station, I would have informed you sooner."
He frowns heavily, looking into the distance thoughtfully.
"The Observants should have informed you long before now."
"Well, that explains it. The Observants hate Danny's guts," Tucker says.
"To neglect their duties for such a reason...," He trails off, his glower highlighting the inhuman nature of his visage. 
The trio fidget.
Danny coughs after a few seconds of tense silence.
“Uh, speaking of duties,” he begins, relaxing as Frostbite’s expression smooths back into something kind and polite as he listens, “What exactly does the Ghost King even do? Like. Pariah was locked away for… a long time? I guess. So does the Zone even need a King? Can’t I just, like, resign?”
“I suppose it might seem that way from a younger ghost’s perspective - Pariah has been locked away for millenia, after all, and the Zone is still in one piece.” 
Frostbite pauses, leaning back in his seat and taking another bite of his drink. 
“However. What you must understand, Great One, is that the problems caused by the absence of a king in the Infinite Realms are not the whirlwind that such a thing would be in the living realm - social order is affected, but the speed of bureaucracy is slower by orders of magnitude in the Realms, and there is not the same level of inter-reliance that the living tend to require - but rather, they are winds and waters sliding against a rock, chipping away at it bit by bit until it is either worn smooth… or the whole structure collapses under its own weight.”
“How does not having a king cause dimensional collapse!?” Tucker shrieks, clutching his cup like a lifeline.
“How long do we have before it collapses?” Sam asks urgently not a second later.
“Oh shit, how long do we have before it collapses???” he echoes, hunching over his cup enough that the steam adds a layer of fog to his glasses.
Danny sits bolt upright, whipping wide eyes away from his friends to join them in staring at Frostbite.
“Total collapse would take millenia more to truly begin,” he placates before taking a more grave expression. “This does not mean that there will not be issues before that point, however; the symptoms of the High King’s absence have begun to show this past millennium. But rest assured, there is time enough to heal the wounds that have been wrought. The only permanent damage would be the collapse itself, and that, as I said, is millenia away.”
“Is… is that why you never mentioned it to me before?” Danny asks, dropping back to the ground in relief. “Because it’s not urgent and you figured I’d just…get to it eventually? Actually, why did you think I knew if you knew that the crown was still in Pariah’s Keep?”
“It is the duty of the Observants to observe, but also, as you have experienced, to oversee - the timeline, trials, the general functioning of the zone. Without a king to report to, much of their ability to act is crippled, of course - their ability to interfere directly with the timeline has always been severely restricted, their options for sentencing are severely reduced, and there are some things the Realms require that only the High King can provide - but one duty remains unaffected: overseeing the ascension of new kings. 
Coronations have taken many forms in the past, from a quick swap in the battlefield to a formal ceremony to a celebration that lasted a decade. Given the dark era we are, at last, able to put behind us and the non-urgent nature of even the most severe problems that the Realms are currently affected by, I had assumed that the large delay was in preparation for that last form - the lead-up to a grand celebration.”
“Except instead it’s just them being petty,” Sam notes, sitting back up from her own relieved slouch. 
Danny groans, leaving his tea to float and covering his face with his hands.
“Why couldn’t it have just been as easy as shoving Vlad in a box,” he whines.
“I mean, we still can?” Tucker offers, prompting Sam to smack him over the head before pausing consideringly.
“OW!”
“He might be right, actually,” she says, ignoring his exclamation. “Given Vortex’s trial and sentencing, there’s clearly some kind of legal system in the Zone that isn’t just Walker on a power trip. No doubt he’s broken some kind of Actual Realms Law - I’d be surprised if breaking Pariah out like he did wasn’t some form of highly illegal - so you could probably send him to actual Ghost Jail. It’s certainly where he belongs, given all the….”
She makes a vague gesture with her hand in lieu of words.
“That doesn’t resolve the problem of I Don’t Wanna Be A King!” Danny exclaims, sitting back and throwing his hands in the air.
Then he turns to Frostbite, eyes pleading. 
“Can’t you be king?” he asks. 
Frostbite opens his mouth to reply, but Danny steamrolls over him.
“It makes sense! You already know how to lead people! And your people love you! You already know about all the king stuff too! You’ve beaten me in spars before! We’d just have to go to the keep, I put on the crown, you beat me, and problem solved!”
Frostbite’s smile is a mix of amused and pitying.
“I have only ever beaten you in training spars, Great One, and you and I both know that is largely because they were focused on improving your skill with ice and ice alone. Even if I could defeat you in a true all-out fight as you are, I believe you underestimate the boost granted by the crown of fire.”
“I can just put it on then take it off again before we fight! And we can stick to ice!”
“I’m afraid it is not so simple,” he shakes his head. “If you do not give it your all, the crown - the Realms - will not recognize the transition. The only way to “throw the match” successfully would require your opponent to fully End you: to crush your core and snuff your spirit from the very fabric of existence. I am unwilling to do such a thing, and I sincerely hope you would not ask it of me - or, indeed, of anyone.”
Danny paled enough that he nearly matched his human form in skin tone.
“Right. Let’s… let’s not do that, actually.”
“On the bright side, you can probably weasel ruling tips out of Aquaman in exchange for not declaring war on the Living Realm!” Tucker chirps, aiming to cheer him up.
“I’m not going to threaten the Justice League!” he yelps, scandalized.
“But you probably won’t have to threaten them,” Sam chimes in. “They’re already trying to summon you, you already know their goal is to avoid a war. As long as you don’t ask for anything unreasonable, they should be inclined to give you what you want in exchange for peace.”
“Once you offer peace, they will be invested in your successful rule of their own volition as a means of perpetuating said peace,” Frostbite corrects. “If you would like to set preconditions to an accord you should make them things that will not readily be given as a result of said accord. But before we discuss further, perhaps you can fill me in on why war was a concern in the first place? I believe you mentioned something about papers?”
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appleblueberry-pie · 2 months
Note
yandere miles 42 when a guys asks you out to prom yk like where they make a whole scene a cardboard box cut into a square and it has will you go out to prom with me 😭😭 and says the most cheasy thing making you cringe and a large group of ppl are surrounding you two but we reject them and they get mad and you tell miles all abt it ^^ i love your posts btw🙏🏽
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[Come back home to me.]
You knew something funny was gonna happen when people were smiling your way, giggling and whispering about you. And the further you trekked down the hallway, the more crowded it was. You tried to keep your eyes to yourself as you slithered through the crowd. Clutching your backpack straps harder. Phones were out and on you, you felt a little nervous. This day has been hard enough for you. Long, grueling hours in class, people chatting up a storm in your ears, a mind-blowing headache that you've had all damn day that you could only take medication for just 30 minutes ago. You were tired.
"Hey, Y/n!" You tense up before sighing, shoulders dropping. How much happier would you be if you just ignored the call of your name and dealt with the backlash tomorrow, instead? You recognized the voice, and knew that if you ignored him...you'd be dealing with the consequences forever. You decided to turn around.
There goes Travis. His dark brown complexion and well-maintained dreads make him stand out. They were pulled back into a low pony, probably because he knew these videos would be the talk of the school for a while. He always loved the spotlight. A junior, like you, giving you that smile that all of the girls bothered him to give to them. It's directed right at you while he holds a beautifully made sign. It's humongous. And pink. And purple. Colors that you don't remember telling him were your favorite. Your head begins to hurt again when you notice your name drawn in amazing detail and care, followed by something among the lines of "prom" and "love of my life."
Somehow in the time span that you scanned your eyes over the sign that determined your possibly inevitable doom, a perfect circle was formed by the students who stood and watched you two like hawks. The flash on phones made you calculate that these videos wouldn't leave the internet for at least a month. Great. A month of reminders. A month of prodding and picking at your sanity from a place you have to go to damn near every day for an education. And a month of replays of a rejection.
You're not telling him yes.
Travis's homeboys hoot and holler to encourage him. "Y/n..." He starts, taking a step closer to you. A fake smile wobbles onto your lips and you stare up at him. "......yes...?" Everyone suddenly goes silent as you two begin to converse.
The way he stares at you makes you feel like....what he's looking for in you isn't something you'd give up for any high school boy anytime. Because what he wants, you know it isn't genuine love. So it makes you nervous the way he seems to tower over you during his, so called, "profession of love".
"Your beauty and smarts is something I've always wanted in a girl." His voice is loud and clear. It echoes throughout the hallway, like he wants everyone to hear. You don't think the halls have ever been so quiet. "Everyday, I'd pass you in the hallways while you carry your textbooks and wonder what it'd be like talking to you every morning before class. What it would be like to love you the way you deserve to be loved." His vague explanation of his love towards you had you wondering if anyone else also realized how fake this whole thing was.
His dark brown eyes never leave your face and he's right in front of you now. "So, I made this sign...to show you how much I love you. And how much I want to be with you. So, if it isn't so much to ask," Travis slowly puts the sign aside and drops to one knee, taking one of your hands into his, holding it carefully. "would you please go to prom with me? And let me be your man?"
The longer he watched the live feed, the harder it was to not burn his work space to the ground. The longer he listened, the harder he tweaked his claw he was attempting to fix. He was trying. He was trying so hard to stay calm. Because it's not like you'd say yes. But at the same time, no matter how often he kills or beats niggas up, "They just keep fucking touching you, puto cabrón!" He swipes the table, his tools and broken claw flying to the ground. Miles takes deep breaths, holding his head in his hands.
He stands up, turning off his phone and begins pacing. He didn't wanna see the rest of that. Why does he have to keep doing this? Don't they understand your his? Just his??? Yes, you're the shining light that keeps Brooklyn alive, yes, yes, this isn't news. But he's always with you. So why do they keep bothering you?
It doesn't matter because he's gonna keep killing them until they get the message. The more roaches he brings into the light, the better. He suddenly rushes to his phone and quickly dials your number, chest heaving as he tries to calm himself.
Your phone silently vibrates in your back pocket and your heart drops. It had to be Miles. Because he wasn't at school today and this definitely wouldn't have happened if he was here. You're so fucked, you think to yourself as everyone cheers at Travis's speech. And it goes silent again as they wait for your answer.
Suddenly, Travis is so hard to look at. You didn't want to be stared at like that when he's gonna die in the next few hours. Miles was gonna get him and it'd be your fault. He always said it wasn't and would caress your face as reassurance, but there's no excuse when he only kills these guys at school because they talk to you. And not for any other reason. You always have to be where the line is drawn.
"No, I can't go to prom with you." You say, chest lifting of the thousand pound weight that held it down. Travis didn't even look sad, he still had that adoring look in his eyes. And you then knew that he was faking all of this. "Why not? Is it because of Miles?" He stands, still holding your hand and shakes his head. "If he's bothering you, I could....get rid of him if you want. Cause that nigga, he a fucking weirdo. And he clearly, like, has you hostage or something, cause he ain't nothing special. Any one of us is better than him." He scoffs at the mention of him and his friends laugh with him.
You shake your head and take your hand away. "No, sorry, Travis. I just....don't wanna go." He rolls his eyes and smiles at you, picking up his sign. "Whatever. That's aight." He tosses it in the nearest trash can. You wonder if he even made that himself with the way he tossed it with zero regards. He turns back to you one last time and nods. "I'll holler. Let me know when you get rid of yo little guard dog. He be stinking the halls anyway."
And everyone dispersed.
You let out the breath you didn't know you were holding. You think this city is going to be the death of you with how many times you've gotten unwanted attention based on your looks. You tense up once more when you remember that Miles was calling you. The sudden silence after multiple calls was never a good thing. You yanked your phone out of your pocket and saw the 20-something missed calls and whispered to yourself in fear.
Immediately, you began your journey to his place.
His room was dark and cold. Only the light from outside his window illuminated it. You softly dropped your backpack into the usual corner and backed up to sit on his bed, but your back softly collided with a warm wall that also wrapped it's arms around your torso. You flinched as Miles exhaled in your ear, his head resting on your shoulder. "Miles, what the hell...."
He squeezes you a little and backs you both up, until he brings you to sit on his lap on his bed. He shifts you, so that you're facing him, his hand caressing your face and rubbing your back. "Hermosa como siempre, mami. How was your day?"(Beautiful as always, mami.) He whispers it to you, to calm you down. You're visibly nervous at his actions, expecting him to explode any minute.
"Um...it was alright. I did my project in 3rd period and got a coffee drink with my lunch. And..... I got asked to prom." You stare down at him, watching him scan you up and down, and let him 'check' your pockets before resting his hands on your waist. "Yeah? Who asked?" He already knew the answer, but wanted to hear it from you.
You severely struggled to tell him it was Travis. You were tired of him killing people. You were tired of the apologies from men who were beaten half to death because of you. You scrunched your eyebrows as your throat began to close.
"Hm?" He asked. You hated how calm he was about this. How he held you so dearly as you fidgeted with your uniform skirt. Tears built up in your eyes and you shook your head. Miles pulled you closer, immediately wiping your eyes. "No, no, por favor no llores, nena. No estés triste. I just want you to tell me who did it, that's all."(No, no, please don't cry, baby. Don't be sad.) You break into full out sobbing and wipe at your eyes.
"I don't- don't want to because you're gonna kill him!" You stutter and manage to spit out your words, voice wobbly. Miles shushes you and rocks you back and forth, resting your head on his chest. His voice rumbles in your ears when he speaks. "You don't have to worry about a thing when I'm here with you, N/n. All I want is for you to drop his name, and everything else doesn't matter."
He kisses your forehead sweetly, letting his lips linger for a few seconds. "Okay?" You nod and try to take deep breaths. You couldn't win against him. He probably already knew who proposed to you, and Travis's fate still wouldn't be unavoidable. "Travis." You felt immense guilt and despair the moment you dropped his name.
"Travis...." Miles repeats. Just putting his name in the air made him pissed all over again. He stays silent for a few seconds before tilting his head to the side. "I just realized why that name is so familiar," He starts. "That's that nigga who robbed and threatened you last year, ain't it?" Miles scoffs and turns to look at you. "Is that why you didn't leave when he brought up that sign? Cause of what he did to you?"
You scrunch your eyebrows at his words and sit up. "How do you know about that?" You didn't meet Miles until a month after you were robbed by Travis in your sophomore year. So, him knowing about that was weird, especially since you never brought it up to him before. Miles ignores your question and continues. "I should've known some shit was off." Miles places you on the bed and gets up, grabbing some clothes to change into.
You rush to stand in front of him to stop him. "Miles, wait! Please- please don't do this. He didn't even do anything to me. All he did is ask me out. I said no. What's wrong with that??"
"What's wrong with that is that nigga is gonna keep fucking getting at you until he can get into your pants, baby. I'm not stupid. These niggas know what they doin' riling you up and sending you back home to me crying and shit. Ain't you tired??" Miles begins to size you up, backing you towards his bedroom door, clothes clutched in his hand as he stares down at you.
"I am fucking tired. And I'm also tired of you ruining my life by making more rumors for niggas to spread about me. Nobody wants to be near me because of you, Miles!" You jab your finger into his chest and he grabs your hand. "You don't need nobody else." You hear his breathing speed up and realized you should've kept your mouth shut.
It's too damn silent for your liking. All you can hear is him and your heartbeat in your ears. "When the fuck have you ever needed anyone else besides me?.....I take care of you. I feed you, I do your fucking hair every morning, I walk you to and from school, I protect you. Es que no es suficiente?(Is that not enough?)" You don't respond and stare up into brown eyes that glare down at you. "How 'bout I show you how good you got it?" You try to pull your hand back, but his iron grip isn't letting up. "What.....? Miles, let me go."
"What's wrong, mi corazón? Don't wanna see?" Miles almost jokingly asks about your sudden concern. He steps into your space once more and firmly grabs your face. "Look at me when I tell you this,"
He shakes his head. "You don't know how to protect yourself. I'm the only one who knows how to keep you safe in these fucked up streets. When was the last time you felt protected before you met me? Huh? Cause I know you haven't. I'm meant to be here with you! I'm protecting you from the horrible fucking things that are happening out there that could've been happening to you, baby. You heard?"
You struggle to remove his hands from your face and he makes no move to stop the distress he's putting you in. "Okay, okay, Miles. Just...please stop."
Miles places a kiss onto your forehead before holding you in his arms. You sigh relief at the release of pressure and let him hold you. "Volveré pronto, okay? And then we can do whatever you want."(I'll be back soon) You allow yourself to relax and your eyes flutter shut. Sometimes you wonder how much it'll take for him to stop taking his obsession out on Brooklyn.
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pyr0-kai · 5 months
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Could you maybe write a mike x reader that the reader has a crush on Mike for a long time now secretly but dont dare tell him because she just can't is too shy and Abby helps reader and Mike to find together with her drawings since she noticed how they look at each other every time but no one says anything and maybe with just fluffy please. The reader knows mike a long time and knows what he is going through and Mike did become distance from the reader but the reader is still here for him when he needs it too.. And they kiss too :)
Hiiii, thank you for my first official request!! I hope you like it!
There shouldn’t be anything to spoiler-y just some tooth rotting fluff and bad writing!! (And one spicy reference ish? Nothing too bad)
Also So sorry, my art class was watching the little mermaid today so its been in the back of my mind.
Abby, The Little Matchmaker
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You had moved in next door to the Schmidt house a few years ago. Mike was watched out the window the day you moved in, while eating breakfast with Abby one morning. He saw you outside of the window, and he wasn’t trying to stare, but ended up staring at your driveway, watching you bring in and out boxes of stuff from one of those large moving trucks. Abby finished a little doodle before looking up, seeing her big brother staring. When Abby spoke up, he zapped out of his little trance.
As a lot of time had passed you had gotten to know him somewhat well. Sometimes he would talk with you from the other side of your fence, or you two would sit on the curb or one of your porches together and just chat about random stuff. As he became more focused on his work, trying and failing to keep a good few job, he slowly began to, unintentionally, become distant. No longer speaking to you directly. But he still would watch you from the window of his kitchen if he saw you pretty [hair color] flash in the corner of his vision. Often seeing you playing with your younger sibling, or younger family members.
Once he landed the job at Freddy’s, he knew he would need help. And you were the best and only person he could really think to ask. It was awkward but, you agreed. Excited to officially meet his little sister, and hopefully see more of him once again. Thats how you ended up watching over Abby once he started working late nights.
Abby was very shy at first, but as time past, and you spent more time at the Schmidt house, she began to open up a bit, talking more and inviting you to draw with her. She also noticed though, how awkward you were with Mike. How you two both seemed to like each other a lot, but it was strange.
One evening however, it was just you and Abby. One of her favorite movies, The Little Mermaid was playing in the background, and she was drawing. Not looking up from the paper, she spoke.
“Hey, [Y/N]?”
“Yeah Abby? Whats up?”
“Do you like my brother? I mean, Like-Like him?”
Your face flustered at that question.
“N-Not like that no… We are just friends really.” You replied, voice cracking a bit.
She turns her head and looks at you.
“Oh really? At dinner sometimes when I mention you, he always says you’re pretty and appreciates you being friends and taking care of me at night. Also, sometimes when i’m not asleep yet, I hear weird noises, and your name coming from his room.”
She notices your face and how red it gets from hearing her speak. She knew you had a crush on him, no matter how much you tried to deny it. Then she turned her head back, smirked to to herself and grabbed a new piece of paper, before heading back into her room, to plan.
Later, Mike invited you to stay for breakfast. He was cooking up some slightly burnt scrambled eggs while you were tapping your nails on the kitchen table. After what Abby had told you, it became even more difficult to talk to him.
Abby came out of her room a few minutes later, a piece of folded paper in her pj pocket. She sat at the table, across from you, wishing you and Mike a good morning. You 3 ate Mike’s slightly burnt food, as Abby told you about a project she’s excited to start at school. Once the food was done, and the dishes were put in the sink, Abby perked up again.
“I drew this for both pf you! Don’t open it until I’m back in my room please!”
You and Mike both nodded as she dashed off into her room to get ready for school. You stood next to Mike as he unfolded the sheet of paper. The inside revealing a picture of You, Mike, And Abby, all happily hugging. You and Mike looked at each other, admiring each other’s eyes. Before you both heard Kiss the girl, from The Little Mermaid start playing from the Cassette player in Abby’s room.
You two both looked at each other, the paper still in Mike’s hand.
“Did Abby tell you that I like you?” He asked.
“Yeah, did she say that I like you..?”
You replied.
But you’re dying to try
You wanna kiss the girl
Yes, you want her
The song played, while you and mike looked each other. He gulped before leaning in slightly for a kiss, and you met his lips halfway. The kiss was everything you both wanted, soft, loving and passionate.
“I love you…”
He spoke.
“I love you too…”
You replied.
The song ended from Abbys room, and you both heard her shout
“I KNEW IT!”
You and Mike both laughed before he pulled you into a tight hug. To this very day, the specific picture Abby drew is framed and sits on a shelf. She draws all 3 of you together much more, loving how happy it makes you all. This always ends with a group hug, as well as you and mike sharing a loving kiss.
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delusionaldeadgirl · 5 months
Text
Between me and you, our little secret
summary: you and spencer work together and have been dating in secret for 2 years. your coworkers have to find out at some point
warnings: smut, people being grossly in love lol
based on my character.ai chats but without those damn censors
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Looking away from his files of papers, Spencer asks “Do you have anything new?”. “Nothing yet. You?” (Y/N) replies. “Not really.” He stares at the page almost like if he looks hard enough something will change.
(Y/N) walks over towards Spencer’s desk, planting her feet right next to him. Seeing him looking so disheveled and stressed out, she quietly utters “I love you, Spence”. “I love you too” he responds as she grabs his hand, dropping it suddenly as they hear footsteps come up behind them.
“(L/N), Reid, it’s getting late. We should all head home. We have a big week ahead of us.” JJ says noticing the two are still there while she was on her way out. The three of them walk out together, (Y/N) and Spencer getting into their respective cars as well, heading to the same home.
They both walk in the door together. Spencer speaks up first. “So…” He smirks mischievously. “You know we have the weekend to ourselves”. “What is it, Spence?” (Y/N) asks. “Why don’t i make my beautiful girlfriend dinner?”. “That would be lovely” (Y/N) replies. “Great” he kisses her head “I’ll tell you when everything is ready”. “Ok baby!” (Y/N) says as she takes her shoes off and puts them by the door.
After a bit, he yells out “Dinner’s ready” and she walks towards the table. “Also… I have a surprise for you” Spencer says smiling. “A surprise?” (Y/N) asks. Without another word, Spencer walks away and comes back with a small box, handing it to (Y/N). (Y/N) opens up the box to find a necklace with both of their birthstones dangling from the chain. “It’s beautiful”. “A beautiful necklace for a beautiful girl”. He says as she stares at it in awe. He puts it on her from behind and kisses her neck as he finishes. “Are you ready to eat?” he asks and she nods in response.
After finishing dinner, the couple sits with each other on the couch and Spencer speaks up. “You’re the most beautiful person i’ve ever laid my eyes on.” “You mean it?” she asks blushing slightly. “Yes. i’ve never met anyone as sweet and beautiful as you”. He says as he puts his hand on her thigh. “I don’t know how I got so lucky.” “You’re the lucky one?” she asks before continuing. “You’re the smartest and most thoughtful person i’ve ever met. And you’re quite easy on the eyes” She says chuckling. “I’ve never seen someone so perfect”. He looks down at the ground and then back up at her before saying “You’re the best part of my day. God I want to marry you so bad. Spend the rest of my life with you and no one else”. “Then do it”. She responds. “What?” he asks, slightly caught off guard at her serious tone. “I said then do it.” She says. somehow getting more serious. “I will. Tomorrow?”. Now she’s the one caught off guard by HIS seriousness. “Tomorrow we’re going to pick out a ring and I’m taking you to the courthouse and marrying you.” “ARE YOU SERIOUS?” she asks. “Yes. (Y/N) (L/N)? Will you be my wife?” He asks with nothing but admiration and love in his eyes. “YES A MILLION TIMES” she says jumping up and down in excitement. He picks her up bridal style, kissing her with such passion. She whimpers slightly making him smirk while kissing her. “Why don’t we do some celebrating?” he’s asks, carrying her straight to their bedroom, not waiting for her response.
Laying her down, Spencer kisses her passionately. “You’re so perfect” he says in between kisses, making her blush. “I love the way you blush for me” Spencer announces as his lips go from her lips, to her jaw and all the way down to her neck. “You are everything to me.” he says looking back up at her. “You’re smart, you’re sweet, and you’re the most gorgeous person i’ve ever met….” he continues. “Shut up and kiss me, Spence” she cuts him off. “As you wish” he kisses her with even more passion than before.
Their tongues dance around eachother’s. “You know you drive me crazy…” He smiles softly. “You drive me crazy too” she declares. “Oh do I? What shall we do about that….” “You tell me”. Spencer kisses her neck making her breath hitch. “You like that?” he asks rhetorically. Not even waiting to hear if she responds, he bites down on her neck making her moan. “S-Spence?” “Yes my love?” “I need you”. “You have no idea how bad I need you too. Let me show you” He says grabbing her hand that was on the back of his neck down to the growing bulge in his pants. She gasps a little. “Want me to fix that?” she asks. “More than anything” he responds.
They rip eachother’s clothes off not caring where they end up. Spencer enters her with an almost pornographic moan coming out of her mouth, making him gulp in reaction to such a beautiful sound. He looks down watching the two of them connect together as if her pussy was designed perfectly for him. She runs her hands through his hair tugging on it slighting, making him groan at the feeling of that and her walls tightening around him. Spencer nearly abuses her clit with his thumb as he holds her hips down with his hands, making her see stars. He once again looks down. This time seeing the bulge in her stomach that his dick is making. He starts biting her neck, marking his territory before whispering “You’re doing so well, My good girl” causing her to close her mouth to muffle the loud moans and whimpers begging to escape. “Don’t do that, my love. Open your mouth for me. I want everyone to hear who you belong to. Who’s making you feel this good, (Y/N)?”. “You” she whispers. “No baby…that whispering shit isn’t going to cut it. Who do you belong to?” “YOU SPENCER” she can barely get out as the feeling in her stomach finally snapped and she came undone right then and there. Shortly after, Spencer finishes inside of her. They stay in that same position for a couple seconds before he pulls out. Taking his finger and pushing the mixture of their cum back into her hole as she whines in overstimulation. Licking his fingers clean. After cleaning up, they lay side by side in bed immediately falling asleep. Too tired to do or say anything.
The next morning they wake up entangled in eachother’s arms. The sun shining bright on the two of them. “Good morning, love.” Spencer says as he admires how beautiful is girlfriend looks as the sun rays from their window hit her skin. “Get up and get ready, we’re getting married today.” He says. Him having enough energy in his body for the both of them.
As (Y/N) walks out of the bathroom in her only white dress she owns, Spencer can’t help but tear up looking at his future bride. Although this isn’t the most traditional way to get married, neither of them have the patience to wait any longer.
Arriving at the jewelry store, Spencer opens the car door for (Y/N) and holds her hand as they walk in together. After looking through cases of rings, Spencer hears (Y/N) gasp as she stares at the most beautiful ring she’s ever laid her eyes on. A silver band with a small yet perfect diamond on it. “Is that the one?” He asks. All she can do is nod as it finally hits her that she’s marrying the love of her life within the next couple of hours. Spencer pays for the ring and as they arrive at the car, though it’s not the most romantic setting, he gets down on one knee, sliding the ring onto her finger.
Walking out of the courthouse hand in hand, the couple can’t help the almost painful smiles on their faces. Reliving the words “Congratulations! You are now husband and wife” over and over again. “You looked so beautiful during the whole thing, (N/N). I mean you look so beautiful all the time but specifically in that moment…” his rambles are stopped by the most loving kiss they’ve ever exchanged. “I can’t believe i get to call myself Mrs. Reid” she exclaims with a twinkle in her eye. Spencer has never been so happy than in this moment. “You are the most amazing wife i could ever ask for.” he says on the verge of happy tears. They reach the car as Spencer turns (Y/N) to face him, planting his hands on her hips. “What?” she asks. “Nothing. I just wanted to take a look at my beautiful wife that’s all.” he says. watching a blush creep up onto her cheeks. “Even though it’s not your typical wedding, and you’re not wearing a typical wedding dress, you still look like a goddess to me.” he exclaims. She doesn’t respond, the bashful blush on her face is enough of a response for him to dip her like in those cheesy romance movies and kiss her passionately as she giggles in surprise. “Ya know… I feel like seeing as though we both have rings on our fingers, our friends are going to figure out at some point. Once they do, we should totally have a late celebration surrounded by all the people we love.” she says. “If you want to do that, we’ll do that. I’ll do anything for you” he responds in a cheesy manner. “But i wanna keep this between us for a little bit longer to savor this moment.” she says. “Me too. Let’s head home and plan that celebration, my love.”
They did not get any planning done but they did do some celebrating. The newlyweds can barely get in the door without touching eachother. “I need you” she’s whispers in between kisses. “How bad?” “Really bad. I’ll do anything” she desperately responds. He smiles softly, slightly biting her lower lip. “Anything Mrs. Reid?”. “Anything.” she whines. Spencer gently pushes (Y/N) up against the wall and then brings both of his hands down to her hips. “So all I have to do is ask? You’d do whatever I’d tell you to do?” He says while leaning in closer, biting her right under her jawline. “Yes. I’d do anything for you, my love”. Spencer’s face turns slightly pink at the sound of her desperation. His hands gently lifting her shirt just enough so they can now rest on her waist. “Just do as I say. I want you to give yourself to me.” He says this in a deep quieter tone. “I will.” she whispers. “Good girl, Let’s not waste time Mrs. Reid” he says before grabbing her hand and leading her to their shared bedroom. He lays her down pressing his lips against her, more passionately than before. “Surrender yourself to me (Y/N)” he growls. She takes off her dress, “Is this what you want?” asking with a new found sense of confidence. Spencer’s eyes move down her body and then back up to her face, feeling himself get harder the longer he stares at her. “You’re perfect. That’s exactly what i wanted”.
He bites and sucks her perfect skin, leaving marks from her jaw all the way down her stomach. She makes a mental note to remember to cover those up before work monday. “You’re such a good girl for me” he whispers into her skin. He continues kissing down her skin reaching her thighs spreading her legs apart. “Tonight is all about my beautiful wife.” he says earning a whimper in response. He slid her panties off, admiring what is rightfully his. He starts to lick softly at first, teasing her folds before finally diving in. It didn’t take long for (Y/N) to be a moaning mess underneath him. Spencer worked his tongue inside her feeling her walls tighten. Spencer knew she was close. She instinctively grabs his hair as she came undone on his tongue. Leaving both of them a panting mess.
That monday, they couldn’t hold back their child like giggles when they both woke up for work. Reality struck when they were both standing outside the doors of the elevator to the BAU trying to act as though they have no relation other than coworkers. “I’ll go up first and you come in maybe a minute behind me okay?” Spencer says to his now, wife. Spencer gets there before her and sits down at his desk. (Y/N) walking in like it’s a regular work day, notices Morgan standing alongside Spencer talking about a case. Spencer slightly leans forward before making eye contact with his wife then looking back at Morgan. After their conversation subsides, Spencer walks over to (Y/N)’s desk, whispering to her slightly. “Have you noticed Emily has been eyeing us recently?” he asks her. “Yeah. she definitely clocked my ring as she walked by my desk a couple minutes ago.” (Y/N) responds. “Um..Spence? Don’t look now, but she’s walking over here.” she says behind her teeth. Spencer however, disregards her words and looks right at Emily, giving her a deer caught in headlights look. “No no no..” he whispers trying to race to his desk.
This falls short as the woman steps in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. Spencer blinks at her a few times, trying to think of something to say. “Emily…I-I…is everything okay?” he stutters. “Can I ask you guys a question?”. They both nod their heads in response. “Is there something going on between the two of you?”. There it is. After two years of being so careful, it finally happened. Spencer sighs “Y-Yes Emily, there is.” he says with a hint of defeat in his words. “She is..um..my wife”. Emily nearly chokes, not expecting that statement to come out of his mouth. She looks at (Y/N) for any kind of response, but all she gets from her is a nervous smile and the slight raise of a hand showing her ring. This catches Emily off guard. She looks between the two, back and forth, trying to process this information. “Oh my god you’re married? That means you guys dated and when did you have time for that? And how could we not tell?” She rambles on. “How did you mange getting married in secret? Why didn’t you tell any of us?”. “With this job comes danger and stress. You saw what happened to Hotch and his wife. We didn’t want the same for eachother.” (Y/N) says, finally speaking up. “Did you two plan on ever telling anyone?” Emily ask. “We didn’t think that far ahead” (Y/N) responds still slightly nervous. “You do realize at some point you’re going to have to tell Hotch seeing as though you need to change your name on legal documents and stuff. We do work for the government.”. (Y/N) laughs a little then actually registered what Emily said. “Oh Shit.” was all she could say before looking at her husband. Just then, Hotch calls the three over to the conference room. “We have a case”. Spencer and (Y/N) look at eachother, and then back at Emily, before looking back at eachother again. “I guess it’s now or never, (Y/N)” Spencer says breaking the silence.
With a sigh, (Y/N) walks ahead of the other two. Noticing all of her colleagues are already in the room, She mentally prepares for the bombshell she’s about to place on the whole team. Going up to Hotch she nervously asks “Hey Hotch, could you do me a favor?”. “What’s up, (Maiden L/N)?” he responds in his normal stern yet still welcoming tone. “U-Um..” she starts to stutter. “Is everything okay,” he asks, cocking an eyebrow waiting for her response. She looks at her colleagues who are all now staring at her with worried looks on their faces. “Um…I need..uh..mylastnamechangedonmyfiles.” she says the last part rather fast, almost trying to get it over with as fast as possible. Spencer is behind her, nervously tapping his foot, leaning against the door frame.
He looks at the girl, quite puzzled. “Is something happening to you we should be worried about?” he asked, taking into account what line of work they’re on. “Um. No. I got married”. He looks at her with the most emotion she’s ever seen on his face since she started working there. Her coworkers gasp at her statement. “You got married? Who did you marry?” he says to use, eyes wide. “S-Spencer.” she stutters, looking at her husband and then back at Hotch. He almost drops his case files as he looks between her and Spencer. “You’re married…to Reid?” his eyebrows raise as Spencer walks over to her, putting his hands on her shoulder. “So when did this happen?” He asks in a slow manner. “Saturday.” Spencer finally speaks up. “Saturday?” Rossi says rather loudly. “We’ve been dating for 2 years if that makes it any better.” Spencer says awkwardly. “How did we as profilers not catch this?” Morgan asks the congregation of people. They all nervous laugh and exchange a couple ‘I don’t knows’. Penelope runs over grabbing Spencer and (Y/N) in a group hug and starts happily giggling. “YES MY OTP IS REAL”. Morgan and Rossi look at eachother “What the hell is an otp?” Rossi asks Morgan as Morgan just shrugs.
After everyone settles down, the newlyweds get congratulations and hugs. “See? it wasn’t so bad!” Spencer says as he holds his new wife tightly.
A/N: if you got this far, i hope you liked it. this is my first time writing anything like this since like middle school. i’ve never written smut before but i feel like it adds more flavor to any fic so it was needed lol. feedback is always welcome just don’t be mean i’m fragile lmao. lmk if yall want more.
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