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bunnysbrainrot · 7 months

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But I’m Better

Kintober prompt: Toys

Relationship: dbf!Joel Miller x fem!Reader

Content: explicit sexual scenes, praise kink, guided masturbation, dom/sub (kinda) dynamic, size kink (kinda sorta). No outbreak AU, age gap (Joel is around his mid-40’s, reader is early/mid-20’s).

Summary: When something breaks, you always know who to call. Your dresser is broken, and you’re left hopeless. But what happens when Joel finds something peculiar in your drawer?

A/N: Y’all. I am so pissed right now because i wrote so much on my drive home, and it deleted because of a bad connection. i can’t recall everything i wrote, so i did the best with what i could remember. i hope it’s up to your liking!

“Shit,” you grumble as you stare blankly at the clothes strewn across the floor. The knob of your dresser drawer sat stupidly in your hand, the mangled wood and metal mocking you. It looked completely ruined.

You thought about messaging your dad about the repairs, but chose against it. He was never exactly notorious for making these things simple - it would be a question of ‘So how did this happen?’ or ‘How did you manage to break it?’, and it really wasn’t worth the effort for you.

The knob sat in your hand, the screw that held it in the drawer was bent to the side, and incredibly dull. No surprise there, you thought.

To be fair, it was an old ass dresser, given to you by your grandmother when you were younger. It was weird to think that you’d had this dresser for over twelve years.

You bent over the pile of clothes and hoisted the hefty drawer in line with the empty space, grunting in frustration as you tried to shimmy it in. It was settled haphazardly and tilted backwards. Completely screwed up. You took your phone from your pocket and snapped a photo of your mangled dresser, sending it to Joel.

Dresser finally gave out, I guess. Knob fell clean off when I tried to open it

Almost immediately, Joel haha reacted to the image and began to type. He was unlike any other man you’d talked to before. Joel was timely and consistent, and he was always reliable. Even if he didn’t have the time to help, he would instruct you on how to solve an issue, but typically he helped you in person.

As much as you tried to deny it, your feeling for Joel had warped over the past few years. It began as a silly childhood crush - those early days where you and your friends joked about what older men were sexiest. Your friends had given you teasing looks when you mentioned Joel, and even more shocking was how long you’d liked him. It was a simple, harmless, childhood crush.

Until it wasn’t.

You were freshly eighteen and readying yourself for college when the realization hit you. After all those years having crushes on older guys, it would be considered okay. Weird and taboo, sure, but still allowed now that you were legally an adult.

Joel had come to your graduation dinner at the end of senior year. You remembered that night in vivid detail. More particularly, Joel’s presence set your skin ablaze with a new type of anxiety. At long last, you could freely crush on Joel, except that there was now a chance he could like you, too.

That night he’d passed you a small velvet box, tied neatly with gold ribbon. You opened the box to reveal a gold, oval-shaped locket with a simple clasp. Inscribed on the face of the locket were whorled spirals, breaking off as flowers scattered over the gilded surface. Gazing up at Joel, you couldn’t contain your joy as you gave him a quick hug. He briefly wrapped an arm around you, holding you close by the small of your back.

He broke away, smiling proudly at you below him.

“You did a great job, baby girl. You keep that up in college, and you’ll get by just fine.”

You were thankful dessert had arrived in time for you to turn your attention away, hiding your rouged cheeks. Joel probably didn’t remember that night, but you remembered every little thing.

—

You’d done your four years of college and after the endless nights with little to no sleep and hard work, you were finally graduated, and taking a gap year before considering anything further. You worked hard, and didn’t want to burn yourself out with more school immediately.

But now you were back home, and your sights were set on something else. It was a golden opportunity to spend time with Joel - time that you’d lost by being away for so long. Holiday visits and summer break was hardly generous enough to give you any alone time with Joel. You left for college as a timid girl, developed yourself as a whole, and came back a woman. A woman who knew herself and her wants.

And you wanted him, ached for him in a way you could neither define nor justify. He was almost twice your age, a wholly developed man with his own complex past and unsteady dating life.

Mr. Miller.

He had lived in the next neighborhood over for as long as you could remember. He and your dad met about ten years back at a ‘work thing’, as they described it.

Joel was kind and endlessly generous when it came to helping others. He was the first call when something broke, and the best person to have over when times were tough, despite his sometimes-rugged personality.

You’d gotten back in town over a week ago, and since then you’d seen Joel a few times, mostly to ‘inspect’ the furniture in your room - if anything had worn down over time and needed to be replaced, the whole nine. The both of you knew it was some bullshit excuse to see him at work, with those corded muscles flexing under his tanned skin, sending shivers down your spine.

That day, the two of you had enough bravery in you to flirt. It started out lightly, you gave more emphasis on Mr. Miller, until Joel requested you call him by his first name.

“Makin’ me feel like an old man, darlin’,” he teased. You remember how he sounded saying it, with a voice as thick and sweet as molasses.

Before he’d left he’d held you by the waist, staring a little too closely at your face, watching your eyes grow wide when he leaned toward you. He fixed your hair with a gentle hand, said your name, and trailed off, his eyes never leaving your lips.

He refused to kiss you that time. Though the time after that you’d decided to break the boundary, drinking him in like someone dying of thirst. You memorized his scent, the softness of his skin and rough, eager hands across your chest, between your thighs, your throat. You both had been greedy that night. It was a high that coursed through your senses. You needed him, more than you led on.

I’ll get my toolbox, looks like it could be some old hardware. Be over in 10.

You picked up around your room in the meantime, your heart fluttering in your ribcage with each passing second. The room had become stiflingly hot. Suffocating.

A knock at your bedroom door startled you out of your anxious stupor. You reached for the door and now faced a smug Joel Miller in the doorway.

“I could’ve met you at the front door, you know,” you chastised him playfully. Joel shifted his weight of his feet, pulling something from his pocket.

“Helps that I have a house key. Means I can help you even faster.”

You rolled your eyes at him and turned on your heels without a word, striding toward your broken dresser. Joel followed casually, craning his head to look around your room, at the decorations that covered the walls and ceiling. This was no longer the bedroom of a the kid he’d met all those years ago. No, you were fully your own woman now.

“Yup, the screw’s shot to shit,” he muttered, holding out the drawer’s knob to you. “See the end of it? Shouldn’t be that dull - gotta have it replaced every now and then.”

“Do you have the right screw for it?”

He nodded, popping open his toolbox and assessing the different screws in each compartment. His hands flexed with each movement, the veins branching across them shifted with every twitch and roll of his thick fingers. Your legs clenched while the most intrusive thoughts filled your head. Specifically those hands, and what you could imagine them doing to you.

Procuring the right screw, Joel handed it to you. You looked at him in innocent confusion.

God, those eyes. If he had the chance, Joel would look into them all day, to let himself get swallowed whole by their beauty. And when you looked at him all pretty like that, as if you had no idea what you were doing to him, it drove him wild. You knew exactly what you were doing when you’d flirt with Joel, but couldn’t gauge his reciprocation, or if he was even okay with the weird ‘relationship’ you had.

It had been confusing for long enough. Someone needed to make a move, and Joel wasn’t sure if you had it in you to do it. Neither were you.

“I wanna see you try it for yourself,” he explained.

“If it’s so easy, why can’t you do it?” you quipped with a smile, but still taking the knob in your hands. Joel gave no reply and waited patiently for you to back down and do it yourself.

It was far easier than you thought. You handed it back to Joel with a proud smile. His eyes thoughtfully scanned your face before finding home in your eyes.

“Smart girl. I knew you could do it.”

Heat rushed across your cheeks like a harsh sunburn, completely taken over by the brightness in his honeyed tone and brown eyes. Joel laughed at your reaction before he worked on the drawer knob, fiddling it into place. His hands rummaged through your drawer as he worked, and paid no mind to the clothes, though you just realized. This was your underwear drawer - full of lacy underwear, bras of all varieties, and one final item you prayed you hid well enough.

Joel’s hands pushed through your panties as you held your breath. After the drawer had fallen out you’d lazily threwn everything back in the drawer and paid no mind to its organization. Since it wasn’t on the bed or the floor, by accident, you were certain that Joel would cross paths with a toy of yours.

He struck something solid amidst the clothes. The material was solid and heavy, with a bit of give from the silicone. At that moment, he could’ve left it ignored, but there was no fun in that, he thought. Joel gripped the dildo at the base, pulling out of the tangle of clothes and handed it to you, flashing you with a smirk.

“You should find a better place for this,” he drawled. “Never know who could find it.”

You quickly grabbed it from him and scanned your room for another hiding spot, but nothing came to mind. Instead you plopped it back in the drawer, on the opposite side.

“Most people don’t get to go through my underwear, so you can’t give me shit for that,” you grumbled. Joel stood, groaning at the strain on his joints. You giggle at the noise, and gave him your usual teasing, “Old man.”

Ignoring your jab, Joel leaned against the chest of drawers, arms crossed over his chest in a stare down.

His voice was dark. It had become devious, knowing, and more stern than you’d imagined.

“You use it on yourself?”

You choked on your spit harshly, not expecting his question to be so direct. Joel placed a wide hand between your shoulder blades and gave you a pat, coaxing you back to normal.

“Joel,” you pant, catching your breath, “you can’t just- just ask me that.”

“And you wouldn’t be curious if the roles were reversed, I’m sure,” he said coolly.

The redness had returned to your cheeks while you debated on your answer, but your hesitation told Joel everything he needed to know. In the smallest way, you’d let it slip that you imagine him in your free time, not that it wasn’t the same case for him. If anything, it’d been worse. Every text you’d sent him set him ablaze; at night he thought about you in detail and palmed himself through his pants, or pumped his cock in a fervent hand as he thought of you, squeezing himself inside your tight pussy. Countless nights he’d stained himself with his own seed, wishing it was inside of you instead, where it belongs. That toy should be him, it always should’ve been.

“Do you?”

You huffed and turned away from him, striding toward the bed to adjust your pillows - any sort of casual distraction from the question.

“Why do you want to know?” you countered.

Joel’s hands brushed against your hips from behind, his feather-soft fingertips brushing across the skin above your jeans. You drew in a breath as Joel whispered next to your ear.

“Because I’m a selfish old bastard, and I’m wondering what it looks like.”

“What what looks like?” you ask softly. You knew precisely what he meant but you wanted to hear something from him anyway.

He burrowed his head at the crook of your neck, gently kissing your skin up to the soft spot below your ear. His breath flew over your skin hot and heavy, sending a new wave of heat to your core.

“I want to see your face when you’re all filled up. I gotta see what your little pussy looks like when it’s all stretched out.”

You pushed your hips back flush with his to find a growing bulge trapped in his jeans. Joel rolled his hips into your ass, groaning at the constraint of the rough denim.

“Joel,” you breathed.

He mumbled against your neck, “What is it baby girl?”

Shoving your ass against his crotch, you whined, “I need you. Please… need you so badly.”

His hum rumbled against your skin, sending goosebumps rolling across your arms. A hand wound up to your hair and tugged a good handful back toward him. You gazed up at him with those beautiful glossed over eyes he dreamed about. He pictured this look on your face for a few years now, and he finally had the joy of seeing it, of causing it himself.

“Not givin’ it to you yet, baby,” he tugged once more on your hair when you whined in protest, “Gonna try something different first.”

In one movement you were facing him, finding two dark eyes staring you down, pupils both blown in lust. Joel gripped the back of your head carefully now, cradling you like something precious, something coveted. This was exactly how he saw you. You were someone to protect and take care of, and now it’s shifted to something far more intimate. Joel vowed to himself that he would make you feel every ounce of pleasure you’d been missing out on. All those nights where his hand replaced your pussy built up a frustration only you could truly fix.

Joel crashed his mouth to yours, as he’d done twice before this, and the kiss sent the same heat through your body. You clenched your thighs in a pitiful attempt to gain pressure against your swollen clit, nestled sweetly between your soft folds, soaking your underwear with your slick.

He pressed you backward until your knees hit the edge of the bed. The kiss was no short of pure ecstasy. The way his stubble scratched against your cheeks, the way his breathing grew heavy when you bit at his lower lip, the way his tongue edged into your mouth to explore every inch.

You gasped when Joel pulled away, watching him step to your dresser and draw out the dildo you’d hidden back inside. He turned to you with the toy in hand, wobbling slightly in his grip.

“‘S a pretty big one, sweetheart, you actually use all of it?” his voice was far too casual for a man holding your dildo.

You offer him half a nod, “Kind of. I’ve been trying to get… all the way in.” Joel assessed your words before he joined you on the bed, holding the toy against your stomach, at the base of your pelvis. He let out a low whistle when he saw where the toy’s length ended at your tummy, past your bellybutton.

“All of that inside you… felt pretty daring getting one so big, huh?”

That wasn’t the case and it was the most embarrassing part. The truth is, you chose the size based on your image of Joel. You didn’t even know how endowed he was, but you let your fantasy of him take over. That, and the time your hand brushed against his erection during your last kiss.

“I wanted to see if it would feel like you,” you admitted.

Joel’s eyes crinkled with his laugh, “Darlin’, a toy don’t compare to the real thing. Not really.”

You jabbed his arm at his teasing, “Listen, I’m doing the best with what I got, okay?”

“Yeah, but it’s not the best you could get, now is it?” he purred, pushing forward to plant a kiss on your neck. You shook your head, knowing he was exactly right. The toy would never really feel like the real thing.

You glanced up at him with a nervous expression, furrowing your brows, “What did you want to do?”

Joel looked at you coolly and leaned back onto his elbows. He eyed you, then the toy in his hand, then back to you.

“You gonna make it fit - take it all the way - and I’m gonna help.”

Crimson shaded your cheeks at the thought, staring nervously at the toy. Surely you were wet enough to take it, but the action of pushing further, to get it in completely, had been a challenge. In hopes to boost your bravery, you hunched over him, kissing him harshly as your hands flew to your pants. You fumbled with the waistband and slid them off of you, until you were stark naked, laid and bare before Mr. Miller.

He simply drank you in as you sat nervously in the lamplight. Joel eyed you darkly, his eyes raking from your quivering thighs, your slightly hidden sex - masked by your censoring hands, to your perk nipples atop each soft breast, and to your face, eyes half-lidded in pleasure adjoined with your soft panting.

“Jesus.”

You ducked your head sheepishly, shaking slightly to decline the compliment. Joel looked you over fondly as his hand found your cheek, brushing a thumb over your cheekbone. You glanced down at him, still giving you that goofy smirk and a excited glint in his eye.

Joel kept eye contact as his hand traveled down your body - through the valley between your breasts, down your tummy, to just above your slit, daringly close to dipping between your wet folds. You pushed yourself into your knees and knelt at his side, your aching cunt exposed to him in the dimly lit room.

He trailed his hand up each thigh, halting just before he reached your pussy. Each touch was carefully light in a way that made your whole body shudder against him. A single finger slithered up your thigh once again, finally finding its way through your slit, nestling comfortably against your clit and drawing lazy circles.

You cried out against a hand held at your mouth. Joel’s hand smelled of metal and bourbon, mixed with pine and lemongrass. He smelled smoky and fresh and completely warm against your face. You bestowed your face into his palm as he gained a rhythm on your clit, drawing out the smallest cries against his skin.

“Nice and wet for me already, darlin’, that’s good… that’s such a good girl. Drippin’ and ready.”

Another dumb nod has him chuckling while his finger skirted lightly across your clit, teasing the bundle of nerves until your stomach grew tighter.

“Gonna cum, baby? You gonna cum for me already?” His comment draws another moan from you, falling like a melody past your bitten lips, a chorus straight from heaven, just for Joel.

“It’s okay, baby doll, go ‘head. Cum for daddy,” he said sweetly, the Southern drawl thick through his words.

You unravel around him, jolting your hips as your orgasm takes over your senses. A soft cry sounds through your gritted teeth; you gently grind your hips onto the pad of his finger to ride through the shockwaves. Joel leans up to kiss your shoulder, his lips warm and supple.

“Just as beautiful as I imagined,” whispered Joel. His tongue skirts along your skin to your neck, fully sitting beside you to bore his eyes into yours.

You glanced back at him with lust-blow pupils, steadying your breath as his hand slowed its tempo. Joel gave you a lazy smile, the lamplight catching the salt-and-pepper hairs of his scruff in a soft display of his rugged features.

“Can,” you started, “you be… inside me?”

Joel’s hands found your hips and gripped snugly. The look in his eyes was nothing short of affectionate. Even still, he shook his head.

“Not tonight darlin’,” he replies, “I want you to show me how you look using this-“ he points to the dildo on his opposite side, waiting. “Since you think a toy could be so much better than me-“

“That’s not it at all,” you protest, “I needed something, Joel.”

He holds up a hand to stop you mid-sentence, “You could’ve asked me, but ya didn’t, did ya?”

You gave him a scowl, “I didn’t think this would happen, Joel.”

Ever since you hit eighteen, he wanted you to practice calling him by his first name purely out of comfortability, and since you’d grown up, it seemed more fitting.

He doesn’t reply, but his smirk grows when he brings the dildo over to you, sitting between your thighs. It was embarrassing enough with how little of the toy you could handle this far, and to do it in front of Joel seemed doubly humiliating.

Joel gives your ass a small smack to lift you up. You rise, letting him set the toy between your thighs and beneath your throbbing entrance. He cleared his throat, daring your attention back to him.

“Go at your own pace, but get it all in, sweet girl.”

All thought had left you - your only reply being in an eager nod. You started off slowly, notching the toy in at your tight hole, and slowly bounced yourself along its length. Your legs shook with each movement as you filled yourself more and more, every gyration sent shockwaves of pleasure through every inch of your being.

It took a few moments to ease yourself fully, now bouncing on the dildo’s length until it became glossy with your slick. Joel eyed you affectionately. Your face twisted in ways he couldn’t imagine, and your cunt wrapped around the toy in ways he could only dream of.

Joel patted your thigh as you bottomed out at the hilt of the toy. He pawed at your hips, kneading at the tender flesh of your ass, and pulled you into a grinding motion, setting the dildo ever deeper into your cunt. It struck a new spot deep inside of you, pushing against your cervix. A low moan fell from you as you moved your hips absentmindedly, solely following Joel’s command.

The tightness in your stomach only grew as his praises flowed through your head.

“Such an obedient lil’ thing.”

“That’s a dirty girl, gettin’ all needy like that. Wishin’ it was me in your sweet pussy, don’t you?”

“You have no idea how badly I want to fill you right now, baby doll.”

You mewled softly as another orgasm crashed through you, your hips sputtering as you ground onto the toy. Joel’s hands caressed you through your high, though he didn’t stop tugging your hips. He beamed lazily when you cried his name once again, shuddering around the toy nestled inside of you.

“Attagirl,” whispered Joel, “so fuckin’ beautiful..”

You shook your head at him like before, but he showed no signs of backing down from his stance. Joel peppered your thighs with kisses and he lifted you off the toy, listening to your whines as you were left feeling empty. His cock twitched in his jeans, eager to play.

But not yet. He needed to see this first.

“How was that, sweet girl?”

A beat of silence said every unspoken thing you’d come up with. It was good, but not mind-boggling. Not the ‘fucked til you’re dumb’ pleasure you’d expected from tonight.

Joel patted your ass, “That’s the thing. Toys… they feel nice. But-“ He plants a kiss to your cheek, then your lips, grazing over the swollen skin.

“I’m better.”

The next few minutes consisted of cleaning after yourself and settling back into your clothes. Joel fixed your hair neatly before looking you over.

“Cant stay long tonight, darlin’, gotta get back home.”

You sighed dramatically at him, to which he scoffed away the gesture. On his way out, he gave you a far more longing look - a loving, thoughtful gaze that told you one thing.

You were his. Completely and wholly. It was clear he saw you differently now, as you did him.

Joel fucking Miller.

MDNI spacer is by cafekitsune!

hi everyone! thank you for so much incredible support on this fic!

Just FYI: Blood Flow, and Daddy’s Girl are now up as parts 2 and 3! have fun, lovelies

#fanfiction #fic writing #smut #smut writing #joel miller x reader #joel miller #dbf!joel #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #bunny writes #kinktober

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retrievablememories · 1 year

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lady cab driver | seulgi (m)

pairing: chauffeur!seulgi x celebrity!fem!reader genre: smut, pwp word count: 2.1k warnings: car sex, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, slight power play? (employee-boss dynamic) a/n: don’t let me listen to prince songs past 12 a.m. or this is what happens. also, hurray for the first (completed) gay fic on this blog despite my years of posting...how embarrazzing. this was fun to write

sequel to this fic is here!

---

you don’t know how you’ve currently found yourself crawling between the legs of your attractive new chauffeur in the backseat of a limousine, both your clothes disheveled and hair already out of place.

or maybe you do know. all of her flirting and subtle moves over the past few months have paid off, surely, for the both of you. the way she smirks at you now as you peel up the hem of the pencil skirt that fits her so perfectly, exposing her underwear, says it all.

her chauffeur's hat has long slipped off, landing somewhere on the floor for the both of you to forget until your tryst is over. the first few buttons of her blouse are loose and bare the cleavage underneath. her blazer still hangs off one arm, forgotten in the middle of your earlier make-out. you had thought of the whole chauffeur getup as a bit silly and on-the-nose when you first hired seulgi. your past drivers hadn’t bothered with the formality of a uniform, instead wearing whatever business casual clothes they desired. but, seulgi seemed to know what effect this uniform had on women—including you—if the glowing praises from the other stars she’d driven around said anything, and so it stayed.

it all began about a half-hour earlier, with a fairly simple statement.

“if you’re often lonely, i’m more than happy to provide you with any company you desire,” seulgi says. you stare at the back of the headrest as if that will make her see you, and when it doesn’t, you look right into the rearview mirror, but she keeps her eyes on the road. convenient for your safety, but annoying in every other way.

“do you think i’m lonely?” you ask, unsure whether you should feel offended. you’d made an off-hand comment about your frustration of not knowing who to take as a plus-one to an upcoming event, but you didn’t think it would inspire this reply. plus, you’re pretty sure this statement couldn’t be considered professional—though you could guess many of your past interactions with seulgi weren’t exactly professional either, with the barely-veiled flirting.

“you seem lonely, if you’ll forgive me for mentioning. i’ve noticed there are always other people accompanying you on your rides, but you don’t seem very moved or engaged by them.”

you sit back further against the cushy seat, like it could envelop you and shield you from view if you simply tried hard enough. “i don’t know.” you shrug. “i don’t care. i just don’t like being bothered much. i interact with people daily because i have to. nothing else to it.” seulgi hums and nods to your answer, apparently not going to push her assertion—which is fine with you. you are relieved to have quickly shut down that line of conversation because you aren’t in the mood to be psychoanalyzed today, but something inside of you is still curious. “but what kind of company are you offering, anyway, that would be different from theirs?”

“any kind you’d like. the way we’re talking right now and have been doing for months now, if that’s all you need. or anything else.” her eyes flick to the rearview mirror to look at you when she says or anything else. it’s a quick glance, but you see the rise of her cheeks as she smiles subtly, and you suddenly feel exposed.

you let a stretch of silence settle in the air between you after she says that, wondering if you want to go there—if you want to change things in this way between the two of you. a moment of cold apprehension creeps into your chest when you wonder if maybe you’re misinterpreting her meaning, but there have just been too many signs to say otherwise. the gentle way she holds your hand when she helps you out of the car, how her palm settles on your lower back to steady you when you’re balancing in those wretched high heels, the knowing glance she gives when she catches you watching her adjust her hat or the collar of her blouse in the limo’s mirrors.

“anything…else?”

“you’re the boss here, aren’t you? i merely do what you ask of me,” seulgi replies, her voice low, the words delivered emphatically.

that simple statement makes you throb, your crossed legs tensing. the promise of seulgi letting you take control of the situation… surely, over these past few months, she’s picked up on your need for having control of everything all the time. which is often framed as a major character flaw by most, but you don’t really care as long as you’re getting what you want.

you’ll be arriving back home soon, and you feel like you’ll miss your chance if you don’t respond now. If you don’t—she’ll just let you out of the car, letting her hand linger the slightest moment in yours, and you’ll go inside your big empty house, slumping onto your bed and fishing your vibrator out of your drawer once again. perhaps there will be other chances later, but this one feels like it needs to be grasped immediately.

finally, you unglue yourself from the seat, shuffling forward so you can look through the window where the partition would otherwise be raised. you lean your arms against the seat backrest and try to sound casual.

“stop the limousine, please.”

seulgi is silent for a beat, then says, “anywhere?” like she’s trying to hold back a smile you can practically hear in her voice.

“anywhere.” then you consider this. the car has blackout windows, so it shouldn’t matter, but… “okay, maybe look for a back street or something?”

back street secured, engine cut off, legs spread. you look up at seulgi with her body sprawled across the seat where you were just sitting, legs askew and face painted with anticipation. you laugh quietly at the blended stain of your brown lipstick and her own red shade on her lips; your mouth must look similar. her eyebrows furrow intensely as she watches you press more kisses up her inner thighs, leaving stark traces of lipstick on her flushed skin.

“i’ll admit, this wasn’t quite how i imagined it happening,” she says, voice already a little breathless and catching on certain words.

“how did you imagine it, then?” you ask, pressing yourself closer between where her thighs meet and pushing a thumb against the dampened seat of her underwear. you rub your thumb slowly over her clit, eliciting a low exhale from her.

“that i’d be doing all the work of pleasing you. which i still wouldn’t mind, you know.”

“what a cute way to say you’re eager to taste me, but you can have that later,” you reply, circling the pad of your thumb steadily. “right now this is how i want to solve my loneliness, since you’re so concerned about it.”

“i only want to…” her voice trails into a low moan, her body slouching when you push her underwear to the side to make room for your fingers and mouth. you delicately spread her open with one hand while pressing your mouth against the throbbing bud in a kiss. “...make you happy.”

you feel one of seulgi’s hands slide across your back, which is freely exposed to her touch from the barely-there halter top you’re wearing. the sensation sends a shiver up your spine as you push your tongue against her entrance, only teasing and not entering.

you want to ask her why, but you’re unwilling to separate your mouth from the warm and inviting space between her legs to do so. that may also be too much emotion for what’s supposed to be a quick and dirty fuck in the back of a limo, so you let the question rest and focus on finally slipping a finger into her, ears perking up at the gasp that follows. smirking at the sound of it, you allow your tongue to circle around her clit a few times before you pull your finger back out, and seulgi’s hand stills on your back.

“why’d you stop?” she asks, and it sounds like her voice is edging into petulance but she’s trying very hard to keep it from reaching that destination. you shift away, and your hands go to her hips so you can hurriedly pull her underwear down, leaving it in the growing array of strewn clothes on the floor.

“better access,” you mumble, pulling her closer by the hips and putting her legs firmly over your shoulders. her moans bounce off the interior of the limo when you bury your face back in between her thighs, pressing your tongue flat against her clit and using your finger to search for the spot that will make her scream.

you know you’ve found it when her thighs tense and twitch around your head, her voice pitching up in a new way you haven’t heard yet. you crook your finger into that area a few more times to recreate that sound, smiling to yourself at how easy it is to get a reaction. then you slide in another finger to intensify the effect, still suckling her clit all the while like it’s a sweet little candy made just for you.

“oh–y/n–” she lets out another quavering, desperate moan before biting the sleeve of her shirt, seemingly remembering you’re still technically in public and not wanting to make too much noise.

with your free hand you tug the sleeve away, stopping your actions on her increasingly sensitive core to speak. “no one’s around to hear,” you murmur, “and if they do, it doesn’t matter.”

she makes a sound that’s something like a scoff or a whine but doesn’t attempt to cover her mouth again. rather than being preoccupied with quieting herself, other things are busy calling for her attention, like the mounting tension throughout her body. the restlessness of her legs increases as she nears the precipice, and you must go back to trying to hold at least one of her legs still while your other hand asks her for more with the hurried strokes of your fingers stimulating her g-spot.

her head lolls back onto the seat and her body tightens even more, and you feel an abrupt shiver of pain from her nails raking your back—not enough to be injurious, but enough to make their sharpness known. you watch every one of her reactions, both miniscule and overt, as that glorious electricity running through her expands until it can no longer be contained, and you feel a sudden sense of pride that you’re the one responsible for it all.

she comes with a moan that, if someone were to ask you later, sounds like the personification of “overjoyed.” it’s pure pleasure concentrated in the form of her voice, and it provokes the heat between your own legs, but you ignore that to guide her through her orgasm. you continue kissing her lower lips sweetly and fingering that spot as she comes in your mouth, her hands grasping onto you for dear life and her thighs posing the continuous threat of closing entirely around your head.

it ends when seulgi cries out that she can’t take anymore and you finally pull away from her, easing up your tight hold on her leg and sliding your fingers out of her. you’re satisfied, especially when you study her wetness sticking to your fingers and subsequently suck it off, but you’re already beginning to miss the experience.

seulgi presses her hand against the window to steady herself, her chest heaving as she tries to stabilize her breaths. you sit back on your heels, your hands trailing away from her thighs, and push back some misplaced strands of your hair. you know your silk press must already be sweated out by now. “did you enjoy the ride?” you ask. you scoff at your own silly joke, rolling your eyes when you realize how corny it sounds as soon as it’s said.

seulgi sits up and places her hands on your shoulders for balance, pressing her lips on yours in the next second. you readily accept her kiss, your tongue slipping against hers as she tastes herself on you. your embrace deepens as her hand settles on your neck, the other hand finding itself at the back of your halter top and finally pulling the strings holding it together apart.

when she separates from you, her hand still on your nape and her lips a pale pink from the mere memory of her red lipstick, she says, “i’d tell you yes, but it’s not over yet.”

#red velvet smut #seulgi smut #red velvet fic #red velvet imagines #seulgi fic #seulgi imagines #red velvet reactions #seulgi reactions

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tacticalhimbo · 2 months

Text

Howdy hey @pheedraws , I'm your bloody valentine for this year's event held by @carlosoliveiraa !!

I had a really fun time learning about Ilona and her tense history with the rest of the family, but especially that with Heisenberg. I hope I managed to capture their push-and-pull kinda dynamic, and I hope you enjoy this! <3

Let me know if you'd like a more permanent copy of this, too! I'm always happy to provide a PDF version of the writings I do :3

Under the cut for length! (this ended up being almost 2k words hehe)

The coldest of the winter months had finally approached, thickened blankets of snow encapsulating the quaint village and its surrounding wilderness. Winds howled through the distant trees, sinking low into the narrow pathways between buildings, carrying a flurry of snow with it. Crystalline sculptures shimmered in the sun's overcast light as they fell, drawing attention to the way they'd gathered in a nearly blinding landscape. Dark stonework was accentuated by the vibrant snow, just as the flourishing pine needles were. Gnawing as the chill that lingered in the air was, there was, too, an odd comfort to its overwhelming presence. A comfort that, as the sun eventually began to settle behind the horizon and the village began to grow quiet, encouraged a few intriguing residents to take in the stillness of it all. To wander through the sparse lantern glows and out into the moonlit wilderness, abandoning the set paths for something more organic; less explored. Distant lycan howls set the boundary for it all, warnings of what may happen if one were to straggle too far away from the epicenter.

Yet even that comfort did not explain how, or why, Ilona found herself in the fields adjacent to the run-down, albeit functioning, factory on the village's outskirts.

There was no comfort in the metallic whirs and groans. No comfort in the prospect that, should fate decide to be a particularly cruel mistress, Ilona run into the factory's owner—or one of his creations. It was still up for debate which would have been worse, frankly. The hostility of the mechanical beings was simple in its nature. Programming kicking in as rusted mechanisms sputtered to life. A mere reflection of their created purpose: Defense. Lord Heisenberg's hostilities, on the other hand, were bred of arrogance. Full of malcontent. It was intentionally designed to get under the skin of whatever poor soul ended up on the other side of that wolfish grin. Yet that, too, proposed another discussion of whether it would have been better to be maimed physically, or walk away with a wounded ego. Regardless, the answer was lost as well-placed speakers crackled to life. As that grating, smug voice rang out across the field.

"Well well, what do we have here? A late night visitor, all the way from her mighty home in the comforts of the village. And what do I owe the pleasure?"

Dark eyes narrowed. "You don't. I was just leaving."

"Is that so? I don't know, might be dangerous to head back so late. Heard there's lycans about." The fact was spoken as if it were a rumor, words shadowed by a low purr resonating from the man's chest as he teased. It earned nothing more than a scoff and the roll of the woman's eyes, back turning to the building as she began to make her way down the field.

That was, until a series of rustling in the treeline created a pause. Brought Ilona to a stop as her annoyance only grew. There was no proof of it, and it was something so unlikely to consider, yet she couldn't help but clench her jaw at the prospect that—by some account—Karl had set something up to lure them. Or was it so simply as him setting up his fancy little radio, and daring to open that mouth of his? Whatever it was, two paths lay before her: Take her chances and throw herself to the 'wolves', or begrudgingly wait out the pack's hunt in that cursed factory. While the first option was infinitely more tempting, there was a weariness beginning to weigh on her shoulders. The biting cold that began to properly creep under the layers of cloth and tug at her skin; it was enough for her to begrudgingly turn herself back up the path. And hearing the static of the speakers was enough for Ilona to almost consider turning back once more. Instead, she simply glared to the closest one, sat upon the corner of the decrepit brick.

"Don't even. Just shut up and open the door already."

And, as instructed, the rustled mechanisms groaned as the factory's doors slid open, allowing the warm air from within to bleed out across the shrinking distance. Allow the whines and creaks to overwhelm the immediate landscape alongside it, subtly encouraging a quickness in the woman's steps. The lycans had heard it, too. Paused their consumptions to perk their heads toward the sound, feral eyes fixated in wait. Yet no meal came to them, and they'd simply returned to the chilled leftover at their claws' end as Ilona found herself walking right into the hands of her…

Adversary? Acquaintance? Whatever it was Heisenberg was today. And, based on the way he'd sauntered out of the distant shadows, allowing the dim light in the entry to illuminate him, it was leaning toward the former.

The brim of his worn hat concealed his features from the light, yet there was a subtle sort of glow to those fixated eyes of his. A near-clear view of the wolfish grin that stretched his skin and scrunched his nose.

"I would ask what pleasure I owed, but something…" his voice trails as he steps closer, leering at Ilona, "Something tells me it would be a wasted attempt at conversation. What could possibly have your petals so ruffled, buttercup?"

He knew. She knew that he knew. And yet, he pressed. Instigated. Ilona sighed and waved off the idea of giving him fuel. Of airing her grievances. 'It's because I'm stuck here. With you of all people.'

"It's not important, Karl." But there was no harm in a little nudge. A subtle jab that would get just far enough under his skin to keep things calm enough for the time being. Just far enough to cause his lips to curl and teeth to bare. Still, he did well to conceal the bitter feeling at being referred to so… personally.

"Oh, I'm sure it isn't. Surely it's nothing, if that pout of yours is anything to judge by. Or the little furrow of your brows." It seems he, too, is returning the nudge. Both in the metaphorical sense, and in the literal, especially as a gloved finger comes to roughly jab at Ilona's shoulder before he draws back.

It brings a more prominent scowl to the woman's features as she sighs, head shaking as she looks around for something—anything—else to preoccupy herself with amidst the mess. Piles of unsorted scrap are all that await her, and the prospect of scraping her hands against the rough metal isn't exactly appealing. So, instead, she simply pretends Heisenberg isn't there. Walks past him to, with some hesitation etching into her muscles, find a different area to plant herself in. Perhaps somewhere with a piece of proper furniture. With something less grimy to entertain her as the moon traverses the night sky and leads the sun along with it. It'd be too much to ask for a corner of the factory without Heisenberg, or his influence, especially as he trails along behind her, but at this point taking her chances with (another) Soldat would be preferable to the grating voice and smug laughter. Thankfully for both of them, much as neither would admit it, it doesn't come to that. Rather, through some rather subtle corralling on Heisenberg's part, the duo has found themselves in his personal alcove. Amidst the messy workbenches, scattered papers, and a rather intriguing wall of connections between the ragtag group. Red strings illuminating the relationships between their fucked up little family. Stiffened pieces of scrap that appear to have been thrown, and with quite some force, to decorate the spaces around Miranda's portrait. And, amidst the others, a smaller portrait of hers. A recognition that she was, willingly or otherwise, an important part of the dynamic. One that sat unmarked, highlighted by an uncertain air.

Friend, or foe? Ally, or enemy? To spare, or to tear down with the rest of them all? In a way, there was almost reassurance in that hesitation exhibited by Heisenberg. Something about the fact these waxing and waning feelings were, in a way, mutual. An intriguing series of questions echoed in her head as she'd stepped over to unpin her visage from the board. To allow her fingers to trace the weathered edges of the film as the candlelight found them. Heisenberg watched, biting his tongue for once and simply opting to bring himself back to organizing the remnants of his current project.

"So you do like me?" A tease, highlighted with an essence of genuine curiosity.

"Alive, perhaps. Jury's still out on if it goes any further, or if that's where the answer stays." Too, a tease, though there was a lingering bitterness in his voice. A seriousness that betrayed him. As it stood, he had no idea whose side she would fall on. And, albeit deep, deep down, that lack of clarity made him uneasy. Still, he did well to mask it, turning to lean with his back against the workbench, wrench twirling between gloved fingers. "For now, I suppose I could say yes."

Ilona's arms fold across her chest. "It never is quite a straight answer with you, is it?"

"Of course not. How else do you expect I keep everyone on their toes?" That wolfish grin of his spreads across his features once more, his own arms mimicking the movement of hers. "Especially now. With so many hours to kill. You wouldn't want things to be boring, would you?"

"I'd almost prefer it." Still, there's a subtle shift in her tone that betrays the minute enjoyment she receives from their bickering. A hint of potential for missing it, should things lead them astray from one another's path. "Fine, keep me on my toes all you'd like. Just don't be surprised if it grows tired. After all, not everyone is as devoid of basic manners as you are."

"So you've said, and so I continue to ignore."

Neither would expect any less from him. From one another. And as the hours passed, it remained just as so. Ilona attempting to mind her business while perusing the various work-in-progress projects scattered about. Karl finding himself particularly itchy with the urge to bother her, remind her how unfortunate the circumstances were to be stuck within his domain. A few back and forths. A few nudges and prods. Little things that ultimately left the two ever envigorated as the sun rose and the woodlands cleared, allowing for Ilona to return herself to the Village.

And for once, the two had parted on fairly decent terms. How long that lasted, only time would tell.

#txt #my fics #resident evil #karl heisenberg #ilona melnyk #heisenberg x oc #pheedraws #mybloodyvalentinesday24

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mysecretlittlelibrary · 9 months

Text

Battle Of The Knights Alt Ending 2: And The Winner Is Jake

Pairing: Moonknight trio x Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: nothing really

Genre: fluff

Summary: "So let me get this straight, you all like me, so you each want to take me on a date and let me decide what to do after?" You can't believe the words you're hearing even as you repeat them back.

What happens when the relationships you've built with Marc and his two alters are turned on their heads by a proposition that is anything but simple? How can they expect you to risk blowing up the carefully crafted dynamic you've worked so hard to create? And why do you agree to such an insane suggestion?

***

You don't reach out to any of them for almost a week. Not for lack of decisiveness. You knew very quickly who you wanted to pick. It was pretty obvious to you the moment you started to really think about things. I mean you love Marc and Steven and always will but there's always been something about Jake. Sure he can be a bit frantic and oftentimes severe but he is also spontaneous and charming in ways you never saw coming. Your date with him left you dying to spend more time with him, ready to go anywhere he wanted to take you, scary as that thought may be. So no, it wasn't that you didn't know who you wanted, you were just apprehensive about having the conversation. Eventually, though, you no longer feel like hiding away from the encounter so you text them.

Hey, I've made a decision. We should meet up and talk. Let me know what works for you.

It takes a while for them to respond, well, not actually, it just feels like a while waiting for their response.

Wanna grab dinner tonight? - Marc

Tonight. Tonight is- sooner than you were expecting, but you can't put this off forever so you agree.

Sure. How's 7?

Their next response is quick.

Sounds great. We'll come to yours and go to that place around the corner that you like. -Marc

You check the clock on the wall and send them a reply.

Okay, see you then.

You have three hours to prepare for this conversation. You're not sure if you're necessarily nervous about speaking to them because you feel confident in your choice but you know this needs to be handled gently. You, of course, can't necessarily avoid hurting Marc and Steven but you want to be mindful of their feelings when you're addressing things with them this evening and that's the part you're not sure of. Not that you've ever really had a hard time being empathetic toward them you just worry that there's no kind way to rip off this bandage.

By the time 7 o'clock finally comes you've changed your outfit 3 times and spent an annoyingly long time trying to decide on what to do with your hair and makeup. You're barely ready when you hear the knock at your door. You quickly pick a lipgloss and put it on as you walk to the door, tossing it into your bag just before pulling open your apartment door to reveal, you'd guess Marc since he signed off the text messages, but a once over of the man in the hallway makes you think otherwise.

"Hola Tesoro."

"Tesoro? That's a new one." You smile trying to ignore the way your body stiffened when he spoke.

"It is, do you hate it?" He asks. You hum, considering the question as you step into the hall with him and lock your apartment door.

"No. I like all of the names you use." You tell him with a shrug.

"No favorites?" Jake's hand settles at the small of your back as soon as you start walking a curious look on his face at his question. You take a moment to consider all the names he's called you since you've met him.

"I think muñequita might be my favorite. You're the only person I've ever heard use it." You tell him.

"It means little doll-"

"I know what it means. I think it's cute but I like that you vary them the way you do." You say.

"Don't worry I have no intentions of changing that." He winks at you. You roll your eyes even though the smile on your face totally ruins your attempts at feigning annoyance. The two of you make it to the small shop around the corner from your apartment and pick a table after ordering.

"Alright. Before you ask, because you always ask, I'm here because Steven's a nervous wreck right now- and to be transparent so is Marc although he would never openly admit it." Jake says once you've sat down.

"And you're not nervous?" You ask.

"It's my job to handle things they can't or won't. I'm not allowed to hide away." Jake shrugs.

"That's not the question I asked. I asked if you were nervous."

"What difference does it make?" Jake's face pinches in confusion.

"None I guess. I'm just curious. Trying to pick your brain a bit." You muse leaning forward to rest your chin against your hand over the table.

"If you must know that badly, no. I'm not nervous." He relents.

"Can I ask why not or will you bite my head off for inquiring?" You tease with a smile. Jake lets out a sigh before he answers albeit reluctantly.

"Steven's the optimist and Marc can't help himself when it comes to you but I know better than to get my hopes up in life." He says.

"You know better than to get your hopes up? So you're not at all interested in, for lack of a better word here, winning?" You ask. It would certainly change the course of this conversation if he was no longer interested in being with you.

"I never said that princesa. I want what we all want but I know we can't all come out on top." Jake says.

"Well I could prolong this process by asking more tiptoe around the subject questions but now feels as good a time as any to tell you who did come out on top. If you're ready to hear that." You say. It's mostly for the benefit of Steven and Marc, even though you can't hear them right now, you're sure they're listening.

"That's why we're here." He nods.

"Well, I don't know what it says about you that you basically resigned yourself to losing but-"

"Uno momento I did not 'resign myself to losing' wow you are- something else." Jake cuts you off to defend himself.

"It really doesn't matter Jake the point I was trying to make before you interrupted, is that I'm picking you."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm picking you. You absolute cynic." You shake your head.

"There's nothing wrong with cynicism first of all." Jake says and you scoff because of course that's what he's focused on. "Secondly, you're really picking me?"

"Yes, it shouldn't surprise you. You are deceptively charming when you want to be." You muse.

"How could I not pull out all the stops? I had incredible motivation." He smirks.

"Yeah I guess you're right about that, I deserve only the best." You say with an intentionally dramatized pose that makes Jake laugh.

"Indeed you do mi amor." He says after a moment and you can see in his eyes, even though you were joking that he truly feels that way and it's that look he's giving you that makes you more sure than ever that you made the right choice.

***

Taglist: @queerponcho @avengersinitiative2012 @stressed-cherry

#marvel #marvel fanfiction #marc spector #marc spector x reader #steven grant #marc spector fanfiction #marc spector fluff #steven grant fanfiction #jake lockley fluff #moonknight #moonknight x reader #moonknight fanfiction #steven grant fluff #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader

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sweet-beezus · 9 months

Text

Ohhh yeah we delving into the sweet treats this fine day of @khoc-week!

These are the kind of fun little ditties that rot my brain day in and day out, so I'm thrilled to get to indulge in some fun, albeit short, writing about it!!

One day I will fully indulge and the world will implode-

Erm. Anyway-

*scribbles out that 'or' and shoddily writes in an 'and' in its place*

Day 3 - Friends (and) Lovers

While they are all super close to each other in one way or another, they each have their own unique relationships they make outside the Heart Hotel dynamic!

I'll still touch on their relationships with one another, but it's also what's outside the clique that counts~

Iris:

Her only big relationship is with Alto, their dynamic being "innocent baby man and grumpy keeper of the brain cell."

Despite that, Iris sees him in a best friend sort of way, the two were super close when they got separated, after all. When they reunite, it's almost if no time had passed, and perhaps Iris learns to... loosen up?

She made teammates and brief friendships, but nothing seemed to come close to their dynamic. Maybe if she had more time, that wouldn't be the case, but the world may never know!

Iris sees Iliana and Reixen as her older sisters, in a way, even though the two of them get on her (and each other's) nerves most of the time. She looks up to them despite their somewhat brainless way of handling things, and it gives her role models she hadn't gotten back in her actual time.

Irene gets the special privelege of being her mother figure! Because in all honesty she doesn't recall having a mom, so Irene is her next best bet. She's too much of a steel wall to admit it, but Irene is her favorite of the others.

♡♡♡

Irene:

Irene up until now really only interacted with castle staff, so her closest relations were really only a coworker dynamic in full. She enjoys tea time with Aeleus and Dilan, at least!

Aside from that, she started collecting adoptions in town, starting with Ienzo and Kairi, and moving on to Lea and Isa, Ventus, even, until finally any random stranger with children who frequently visited was not safe! Specifically Iliana-

She ended up collecting two others in the form of Iris and Reixen! Both reluctant at first but gave up and settled into it like a pair of stray cats. Reixen is far more open about it, but Iris is still touchy. Eventually, she will cave and accept her fate...

More came in after the events of KH3. No one was safe from her love and support, especially after the war-

She doesn't have very many parental rivalries, most of the group's parental figures tend to be in united agreement about the children, but she does have some tension towards Ansem the Wise and Even just based on prior experience. Mickey? It's a work in progress. Donald and Goofy? Her besties.

Eventually, she finds a fine companion in Iliana's uncle, Russell, and mayhaps... the two have a silly romance?

After a post-KH3 meetcute when everyone is hunkered down in recovery, they stay at his shop for a few nights, so the two have time to get to know each other. They mostly talk about their experiences with their little arsonist, but it eventually evolves into more personal territory, something they resolve after a few very simple and cute dates.

Finally, a time where Irene can truly get out of uniform...

Also he's one of the stoic types that she just KNOWS she has to break eventually. She will get this man to smile no matter the cost!

Oh yeah it's all coming together~

They've earned it considering all the stress they go through with their collective adopted charges-

♡♡♡

Iliana:

Iliana out of all of them makes the most connections, but only a few of them stuck because she struggles to allow herself to make friends. Allies, sure, but friends? Naaaah~

She started out in her home world with a friend group in the form of Enya, Harlow, Rinée, and Tobias. They were all super close up until their teen years, sticking by each other through thick and thin! And they involved her little brother at times when her parents were out of town.

Her little brother, Mandorian is, like, THE most important person to her. He's just a little guy who loves frogs and hanging out with his big sis when she's not busy training. The two are so often left unattended that it's not hard to believe they spend most of their time together. Wherever she goes, he's close behind!

But whenever they're not together, she's hanging out with Tobias!

She and Tobias were two peas in a pod, completely inseperable most of the time. Tobias was her (secondary) light, and her brother's personal favorite person aside from her, so you can understand how soul destroying it was when they got murked (by her mortal enemy, she doesn't know this until way later though) in order to kickstart and send her on her hero's journey-

She fell out of touch with the others by the time she left due to the loss bringing out the worst in all of them, but Enya seemed to be the only one who continued to cling to what was left of their friendship...

Anyway-

After suffering a horrible death and was subsequently resurrected, she got pulled into Sora's goofy family along with Alto, which filled in a gap left behind by her other (temporary) loss of her younger brother.

It's like she gained two new dads and two lil' bros all in one day, what a world-

Being parentified at a young age meant she knew how to handle keeping Sora and Alto in line, but that doesn't really stop her from doing her own very stupid stuff when they aren't looking. The hypocrite-

She kind of develops a dad dynamic with King Mickey as well, but it's not terribly definitive considering how absent he is...

Over time, the Guardians of Light end up being her found family DLC add-on, it's very wholesome! She's touchy about it, but like Iris eventually she will cave in to the love and affection.

Irene, Reixen, and Iris are like her chill aunt and weird siblings that irritate her, and that's very cool of them. They were there first, so no one can top that. They're like the only family she had most of the time aside from her uncle, so there's a distinct boundary of trust between them that others can't really match.

Along the way, she also has many unrequited crushes on princesses or side characters of sorts, but the only romance in the timeline she persues (even if she's unaware of it half the time, she's very dense) is with Ienzo! Because a certain porcupine is now part of a polycule with a grape and an electric beetle- It would have never worked out, tbh.

She didn't settle, she just had a sudden and very real realization that she fell for probably THE dorkiest person possible. So many characters to pick, so many pretty princesses, handsome princes, teammates with more screentime, and it had to be a basement dwelling rat (affectionate)...

Considering her prior heartbreak at the loss of her childhood bestie, it does take a while for her to come to terms with the fact that it's okay to move on. She holds on to so much that you may need to pry it from her very warm, still alive hands-

Luckily, the two did know each other well enough since they interacted a bunch when they were kids, she did visit Radiant Garden quite a bit after all, it only made sense they may have some chemistry later down the line. Her grandma would joke about it with Ansem the Wise, but little did she know that it would become very real and very cute actually-

I dunno what it is with her and nerds, but if you can talk her ear off while all the info leaks out of her hearing holes, you have most certainly won her heart. Ienzo also partially fits the bill for her morosexual side, depending on the situation that isn't science related. Like cooking or something. Equal parts smart and dumb, just the way she enjoys them-

They're both t4t brainless nerds and in love, love wins etc etc.

♡♡♡

And there you have it! It's not much but it's honest work-

They all deserve the love and respect they get along their journies, and I'm happy to say that they do find it all eventually!

Enough on that though, we're indulging in angst this next day. See y'all on Day 4!! >:3c

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kumidark · 1 year

Note

So question, have you ever considered a Dark Choco/Kumiho role swap au, where Dark Choco’s the kumiho (I call him Dark Kumiho), and Kumiho’s the lone warrior (her name then probably has something to do with marshmallows)? Because male kumihos do seem to exist in mythology, just very rarely (like I’ve only heard of one story with a male one, but still), and also the idea has been stuck in my mind for a good long while, I’ve just never gotten around to fleshing it out

I actually have before, though it was only in passing! I think roleswap!Kumiho would be the banished princess (/warrior) of a kingdom, though I'm not sure what she was banished for. Maybe like;;; not taking her duties seriously to the point someone got severely hurt?? Or maybe she was set up......Either way, she now roams Earthbread just vibing; she makes a lot of friends along the way, but she never settles down and is always searching for something to peak her interest.

Okay wait, what if instead of being banished, she ran away from home in order to get out of her duties (being a princess and all). Maybe she'd had enough of playing niceities and was already always told she wasn't perfect enough (she was too rowdy, too flirty, too strong) to be a princess. So she said "aight" and just dipped out haha. Yeah I like that more, let's go with that.

Meanwhile, roleswap!Dark Choco would be very similar to Werewolf in the fact that he was often alone and self-isolating. He'd probably have a huge distrust/dislike of normal cookies due to some sort of trauma from his past (maybe his father, who was also a kumiho, was injured/killed/kidnapped by cookies, so he holds a grudge). Regardless, he goes out of his way to avoid cookies, until one day a runaway princess stumbles upon him and she's actually really nice?? Idk where to go from there, but I can imagine their dynamic being similar to their non-roleswap selves.

As for names, I think roleswap!Kumiho would be called something simple like Blue Marshmallow Cookie. I tried to find blue-colored things to incorporate into the name, but they were all too long or didn't fit. So just "Blue" it is! On the other hand, I think roleswap!Dark Choco would be called Chocolate Fox Cookie or Dark Fox Cookie. The only reason I didn't put "Kumiho" in his name is because it makes me think of the OG Kumiho too much.

Sorry for rambling, but this ask was a lot to think about (in a good way)^^ I might eventually draw what I think their roleswap outfits would look like, but for now I shall simple rotate these thoughts in my head like a rotisserie chicken haha <3

#ty for sending this!!!!#this was a breath of fresh air for me since ive been sick and not super inspired by anything lately^^#kumiho cookie #dark choco cookie #kumidark #kumiho x dark choco #dark choco x kumiho

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kailali · 2 years

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Levi Ackerman x Changeling!Reader

- for @kinjuutsu's monsterfucking collab.- beta'd by @heroesfan101 (thank you!)

WARNING: DUBCON - may be considered dubious consent - While Levi does consent to each encounter, reader presents as an entirely new person each time, and does not disclose their true identity. more warnings: reader changes form – at different parts of the story, is f!reader, m!reader, and gn!reader, reader’s ‘true’ form is genderless, but the form they take most often is female, pronouns/descriptions/physical features adjusted as needed, reader wears all sorts of clothing – pants, shirts, heels, skirts, reader wears makeup, reader is called doll, cute, pretty, reader drinks, reader gets drunk, levi drinks, one night stands, handjobs, oral – levi and m!reader receiving, facefucking, spit, cum play, fingering, unprotected sex, light choking, light dynamics, biting, marking, miscommunication and misunderstanding between levi and reader, deception, rejection, some seriously unhealthy dynamics overall, monsterfucking in that reader is technically a type of monster but I really dropped the ball here and it's all human, okay, I'm sorry!… please let me know if i missed something.

WC: 8.1k

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“Surprise me.”

It’s the same order you’ve been making every Friday for years – ever since you’d first stepped foot into this bar. You’d been at a low point in your life at the time, and the bartender had been the first friendly face in a new city.

“What’ll you have, doll?”

It was a simple question, and one you obviously should have expected as you settled yourself in at the bar. But something in your brain had refused to click at that moment, and you’d merely gaped at the woman speaking to you.

She was young, her style a blend of elegance and grunge, with intricate tattoos snaking out from under her sleeves, collar, and skirt. Her dark hair framed her face as she leaned in closer to you to peer at you. She was beautiful, and confident – everything you’d felt you weren’t.

“I’ve got just the thing for you, I think. It’ll surprise you for sure!” she’d exclaimed, winking at you before busying herself making a cocktail.

Her kindness had broken a worn down soul, and you’d drank until closing that night – and for several nights after that. Each night, she’d walk with you the short way back to your apartment, making sure that you were safely home.

After about a week of this, you’d broken down in front of your apartment building, drunkenly demanding to know why she was so nice to you when nobody else was. Without even waiting for an answer, you’d continued, spilling your life story – and your deepest secret.

She’d never lost her composure, instead going even further that night to help you into your apartment and to your bed. Even when you’d shifted in front of her, she’d just stroked your hair and murmured reassurances to you, tucking you into your bed.

You’d been too ashamed to return to the bar after that. Until one day, you’d found a note tucked into your door.

‘Stop by again sometime, doll. When you’re ready, of course. I’ll make something extra special that’s sure to surprise you.’

And so, “surprise me” had become your go-to order whenever you’d step into the bar. And every time, she’d smile at you and chirp “You got it, doll!” before busying herself making some concoction behind the bar.

As you settle into your usual seat, you spot a familiar figure sitting at the quietest end of the bar – a man who’d only just moved into the same apartment building as you a few days before. He’d introduced himself as Levi, but had more or less resisted any conversation beyond that. It was a shame – he was attractive, and you had managed to weasel out of him that he was single. You’d definitely tried to flirt with him, but…

Suddenly, as if he can feel you staring, Levi’s gaze meets yours and your heart jumps, suddenly racing in your chest. You smile at him, but he simply nods in return before breaking eye contact, his whiskey apparently a far better sight than his new neighbor. You barely have time to feel dejected before the bartender places your own drink in front of you – something a gorgeous gradient from deep amber to golden honey. You take a sip as you contemplate your new neighbor.

Levi Ackerman. Single. From his clothing, you assume he does something related to police work. And though it’d only been a few days, he seemed to have already settled into a schedule – he always left early and returned late, giving you very little time to “accidentally” bump into him again.

And… that was all you knew about him. But, for some reason, you hadn’t been able to get him out of your mind since you’d met him. And you hadn’t expected to see him here.

You stare absentmindedly at your drink as your mind continues to wander, tapping one finger against the edge of the bar as you debate whether or not to try you should try to strike a conversation up with him.

But when you look up again, he’s gone.

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“Ah – Levi!” You try – and generally fail – to contain your excitement at bumping into your newest neighbor at the mailboxes.

“Oh. It’s you.”

“Ouch,” you grimace. “Um, okay then, no problem. I’ll just -”

“No.”

That one word from him stops you in your tracks, but you can’t hide the confusion on your face. It doesn’t seem like he has anything more to say, so…

“I’m sorry. I… I don’t really understand,” you admit.

“You’re the neighbor. And I saw you at the bar.”

“Yep, that’s me.”

This conversation is definitely not getting less awkward. Lamenting your own ineptitude, you scramble to salvage it – if there is anything left to salvage.

“Um… is that tea?” Admittedly, it’s a weak attempt, but it’s the only thing that you can think to say in the moment.

“Yes. It’s a new blend from a shop I regular. I’m on my way home to try it now.”

Your eyes light up. Not only are you pretty sure that statement alone has more words than Levi has said to you in total, but –

“I have just the thing to pair with tea.”

The only sign that Levi has heard you is his brow quirking slightly, but you take that as good enough to continue.

“I can bring it to your apartment, if that’s okay with you?”

“That’s fine,” Levi nods, before he turns and is gone. You hum happily as you head back to your own apartment, choosing the most attractive of the freshly-baked shortbread cookies and placing them carefully on your nicest plate. Once you’re satisfied with the arrangement, you check your appearance in the mirror before delivering the cookies to Levi’s apartment.

When he opens the door, he’s wearing lounge clothing instead of his usual attire. His collarbones peek out from under the v neck of his black tee, and the way it hangs on his frame accentuates his muscles much more than his usual button up.

“Whoa. You look… different.” As soon as the words have left your mouth, you wish you could take them back. What is wrong with you?!

Levi’s brow quirks again – you really have to figure out what that means – before he steps to the side, allowing you entrance.

“Thanks,” you mumble, hoping that your desire for the floor to open up and swallow you whole isn’t too obvious – you exist, so magic sinkholes definitely aren’t out of the realm of possibilities. That cheers you up a little.

“Still waiting on your furniture, huh? That sucks.”

Levi’s apartment is barely more furnished than it had been when it was vacant. There is one chair and a side table near the living room window, with a small collection of books tucked away on the bottom shelf, and a single plate, bowl, and cup stacked neatly beside the sink.

“No.”

Damn it. That sinkhole really can’t appear fast enough for your liking.

“I… ugh. I’m sorry. I brought the cookies.” You basically shove the plate into Levi’s chest. “I’ll go now.”

“I only have one teacup.” The statement is concise. Apparently Levi is thinking the same thing that you are – that you can’t be out of his apartment fast enough.

“Yea – that’s fine. I’m going anyways,” you mumble before you turn and flee.

You almost slam the door to your own apartment, leaning back against it and letting yourself slide to the floor, burying your face in your knees.

That really couldn’t have gone worse. You consider yourself a person of at least average intelligence and eloquence, and the very nature of your being had taught you to be adaptable and able to easily converse with any type of person, as any type of person. So why, when it came to this singular person, did you become a bumbling and incoherent mess? Sure, you liked him, but it’s not like you’d never had a crush before, and butterflies in your stomach had never affected your brain to this extent.

Knowing you’ll only drive yourself crazy thinking in circles like this, you groan and lift yourself off your spot on the floor.

Your apartment is clean and generally modern, overflowing with natural light and potted plants, with some of your favorite trinkets tucked away here and there. It feels worlds away from the baffling void of Levi’s apartment.

With your thoughts already circled back to your neighbor, irritation rises in your chest and your sights settle on those infuriating cookies. Fighting the urge to verbally assault the baked goods, you settle on physical assault instead, tipping the plate into the trash. Seeing the cookies in the trash makes a content feeling bubble up inside of you, cooling the heat of your annoyance. You’re smiling smugly at the contents of the trash when the buzzer for your door goes off.

Ignoring the intercom, you throw the door open, grumbling an annoyed “What?” at the person who dared to intrude on your shame.

“Seriously?!” you groan exasperatedly, earning yourself another of those previously cute and currently mortifyingquirked brows.

“I brought your plate.” He’s as calm and collected as always, as if your distress, and even your rudeness, has no effect on him whatsoever.

“Yes, I see that,” you mumble, taking the plate from him. “Thanks.”

You wait for him to leave, but he just continues to stand in your doorway.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” he asks, holding up the bag of tea he was carrying as if it clarified his question somehow.

It’s entirely unfair that when he’s awkward, it’s cute, but when you are, it’s mortifying. Nonetheless, you feel your irritation giving way to another warmth, something softer, as you invite him in.

He makes his way inside, but stops just short of the kitchen, staring at the contents of the trash can.

“What happened to the cookies?”

Fuck.

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Over the next several weeks, your brain tried to convince your heart to give up on Levi, that it was a lost cause. You’d run into him and embarrass yourself thoroughly, leaving you feeling bumbling and incompetent, and usually ending with you fleeing the scene, face burning.

He’d never gotten any more talkative, and he’d never spoken to you with any more familiarity or warmth than he had that first day. And every Friday, you’d see him sitting at the same spot in the bar. He’d barely acknowledge your presence before he just… ignored you, still more interested in his whiskey than you.

If it was only that, perhaps you could have moved on more easily.

But once a week he’d show up at your door, holding onto the new blend he’d bought from his favorite shop, asking if you wanted a cup of tea. And once a week you’d invite him in, and, though he never added much to the conversation himself, he didn’t seem unhappy to just listen to whatever you had to say.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough to allow your heart to convince your brain to hope.

It’s Friday again, and you’re agonizing in front of your closet, trying to pick an outfit. You’d mixed and matched your favorite pieces for weeks now, taking a little extra time on your appearance each day, but by this point you were pretty sure Levi wouldn’t so much as quirk his brow if you wore a burlap sack – or nothing at all.

You finally settle on your outfit, and after agonizing in front of the mirror a while longer, you decide to head out.

“You got it, doll!” the bartender chirps at you sweetly, and you settle into your usual spot at the bar. Levi is already seated in his own usual spot, sipping at the same drink he orders every week. You smile, and he nods. The two of you are nothing if not creatures of habit, you suppose.

You barely even look at the drink placed in front of you before it’s gone and you’re ordering a second, and then a third.

“You okay, doll?” the bartender asks you at some point, concern shining in her eyes.

“Mhm,” you mumble. She seems unconvinced, so you meet her eyes. “I’m fine, I promise. But thank you… really.” Your voice is softer now, more earnest, as you attempt to convey the sincerity of your gratitude.

There’s still a hint of doubt in her smile, but she busies herself making your drink.

You tap your finger soundlessly against the bar before making use of your liquid courage and making your way across the room.

Levi eyes you as you sit next to him at the bar, but doesn’t say anything, and you immediately begin to doubt yourself.

“I can go, if you prefer to be alone,” you offer, carefully keeping your tone light, trying not to sound as rejected as you feel.

“No, you can stay.”

The bartender places your drink in front of you, and the first sip brings a smile to your face. It’s not overly sweet, and it tastes of tea.

For the rest of the night, Levi listens as you talk, not speaking much but always answering patiently as required by the conversation. You’re not sure how long the two of you spend like that, but at some point, you realize that it feels comfortable and familiar by now, and warmth spreads through your chest at that revelation.

And when Levi offers to walk you home, your heart and brain are finally on the same page – maybe this could be something after all.

The night air is brisk as summer fades into autumn, and you shiver as the cold kisses your skin. Wordlessly, Levi strips off his jacket and drapes it over you, and you pull it tighter around you, embraced by the scent of him as the two of you begin the short trek home.

Even though your apartment is only two doors away from his own, Levi walks you to your door, waiting quietly as you fumble with the keypad. Once the lock clicks, you begrudgingly pull his jacket from around you and return it to its rightful owner, who immediately puts it back on.

“The collar is flipped wrong,” you mumble, reaching out instinctively to straighten it.

You freeze, Levi’s charcoal eyes seemingly impossibly close. Your heart races in your chest as his eyes search yours. He makes no effort to move away, and, perhaps bolstered by this, you lean in to kiss him.

At the last moment, he steps away.

“Good night. Please, get inside safely.”

And he’s gone, leaving your blossoming hope shattered into a million pieces.

You don’t show up to the bar the next week, and Levi doesn’t show up at your door with his tea.

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Your appearance in the mirror shifts in front of your eyes, and you take a moment to examine your new features before humming contentedly. There’s hardly a single part of you that resembles your previous form. While you do likethe form you’ve been taking lately, there’s something exciting about being someone entirely new. It’ll be impossible for him to know it’s you like this.

You’ve been avoiding the bar – and Levi – for quite a while now, but tonight, that ends. You’re not going to let his mere existence chase you from your favorite bar. You smooth your skirt with your palms and slip on your heels at the door before heading across the street, feeling confident.

“Surprise me,” you smile at the bartender, and charcoal eyes raise to meet yours before lowering back to the whiskey glass set in front of him.

“You got it, doll!”

You start to make your way towards your normal place at the bar before changing your mind – that might not be the best idea, all considered. But if you’re not going to sit there, that leaves your options open to -

You steel yourself and settle in next to Levi, carrying yourself with an air of confidence that you’re definitely not feeling inside.

The bartender presents your drink with a friendly smile, something vibrant red served in a martini glass with a single cherry at the bottom. You sip at the drink, fruity and tart, tapping a finger against the bar as Levi sneaks peeks at you from the corner of his eye.

So maybe this is his type?

You flash him a kittenish smile, and for what might be the first time in any of your interactions with the man, he speaks first.

“I haven’t seen you here before.”

“Hm, it’s been a while,” you reply coyly, beginning a game of cat and mouse that continued throughout the night, drink after drink, and ended with you, well, here – on your knees, with Levi’s head rocked back and him staring down at you with a heavy expression, admiring the way your lips wrap around his cock.

You experiment a little at first, seeing what noises you pull from him as you lick from the base to the tip, or when you suck gently on the head. But the groan that spills from him when you first take his length into your mouth sends a bolt of electricity down your spine, causing you to moan around him, and suddenly his hand is on the back of your head, forcing you to take more of him while he huskily demands that you look at him.

Something dark burns in his eyes, his hand tangling in your hair. His movements are slow at first, watching you carefully, as if to gauge your reaction. But when your nails dig into his thighs another groan escapes him, and a dam breaks.

His fingers tighten their grip and you struggle to adjust to the sudden change in pace, relaxing your throat as you desperately try to take all of him without gagging, tears pricking at your eyes. He doesn’t ease up, continuing to fuck your pretty face, mascara running and lipstick staining his skin. The small, desperate, strangled noises you make when his cock slips into the tightness of your throat only seem to edge him on, and the moments when he pulls back to allow you to be able to breathe more easily are short-lived.

He settles into a relentless rhythm, reminding you, “look at me.”

It’s been uncomfortably long since your last full breath, but just as you’re about to signal this, you can feel him start to lose his composure. Spurred on by the rapid rise and fall of his chest, and the slight hitch in his movements, you dig your nails into the backs of his thighs, pulling him even closer, nose pressed into his abdomen as he comes undone, breath catching and hips jerking, a final groan spilling from him as you feel his cum spilling down your throat.

You pretend to care about straightening your appearance before you leave his apartment – it’s not like you really care – you can just shift into something more presentable, and besides, you’re not going far anyways, but he doesn’t know that. You don’t exchange numbers, and there’s no promises to meet again.

As you make your way towards the front door, the small set of dishware Levi keeps on the counter catches your eye, and a bolt of pain pierces your heart. Sat next to it is a delicate white teacup.

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Avoiding your neighbor for a few days is hard. Avoiding your neighbor for a few weeks is nearly impossible, especially when his own door is directly across from your own terrace.

Sure, you could shift your appearance permanently, and he wouldn’t know that it was you coming and going, but weren’t going to sacrifice everything you’d built up for yourself just so you could avoid Levi. Turning into somebody new for an extended period of time was infinitely more complicated, requiring all types of falsified documentation. You had documentation for the last persona you’d used, but…

‘This’ll do for now.’

Your apartment isn’t decorated to accommodate your new height, and you have to duck to avoid several hanging plants on your way out.

You feel a little smug as you entered the bar. Not only is your appearance today something that you’re particularly happy with, the bar is a little less crowded, and you’re able to secure a seat that is neither your usual or near Levi.

The drink placed in front of you today is simple, served in a whiskey glass and so dark it appears black under the dim lighting of the bar. You nurse the drink, absentmindedly tapping your finger on the countertop while carefully looking anywhere that isn’t at your neighbor.

And perhaps that’s your mistake, because it only means that you don’t see when he approaches, settling in the spot next to you.

Your smile feels stiff, but it must look fine from Levi’s perspective, because he introduces himself and, much to your surprise, even offers to buy you another drink.

“Are you trying to pick me up?”

You hadn’t meant to say the words aloud, but there was no taking them back now.

Levi doesn’t smile – you don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile, actually – but he doesn’t mince words either.

“If that’s where the night leads.”

It’s a bold statement from the usually composed man, but considering how demanding he had been during your last encounter, never letting you take your eyes off of him, you supposed that maybe it wasn’t so out of character as you would have expected.

You feel a little dejected at the realization that you know so little about him, but you quickly push it down. The person that you are now has no reason to feel that way, after all. And just because he flirts with you, doesn’t mean anything has to come from it.

Though maybe you can’t keep your personas as separate as you’d hoped, because despite what you tell yourself, you can’t help but get lost further in his eyes as the night goes on.

You definitely had not intended to end up in Levi’s apartment again, but that doesn’t seem to matter anymore – not when his tongue is pressed to your collarbone in a hungry kiss, the two of you entangled as he leads you towards the bedroom, making quick work of removing your jeans before he’s pushing you to the edge of the bed and kneeling in between your knees.

He presses another kiss to a particularly sensitive area on your hip, and you suck in a breath, which seems to encourage him. With one hand unbuttoning the top button of his shirt, he wraps the other around your cock, giving it a few experimental pumps before he hovers over it, tantalizingly close, eyes locked on yours as his tongue peeks out of his mouth and spit drips from the tip.

With less friction, he tightens his grip and begins languid strokes up and down your length, almost teasingly slow as you resist the urge to buck your hips into his palm. Your hands are tangled in his sheets, unable to take the eyes off the man between your legs, who never breaks eye contact as he jerks you off.

Your eyes roll back as he takes you into his mouth, the moan spilling from him sending vibrations through your core.

Apparently Levi doesn’t demand anything from others that he can’t set the example for, because it feels like mere moments before he’s taking your entire length, his the tight sensation of pushing into his throat nearly causing you to come undone. Every time your breath hitches and hips start to jerk, he pulls back slightly, slowing his pace and letting the heat that’s built up recede before he’s pushing you to the edge again. It’s not long before you feel the tightening in your core again, and this time Levi doesn’t shy away. Your cock pops out of his mouth with a lewd sound, and he’s pumping it with his hand again, gazing up at you with pupils blown and mouth slightly agape. You cradle his cheek with one hand and he leans into it, looking so fucked out that just the sight of him pushes you over the edge, painting his pretty face with ropes of cum.

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Another Friday night, another mask you hide behind. You’re not sure why you keep doing this – the last two times it’s ended the same way, and… that can’t be good for your mental health. You’re supposed to be trying to move on from this crush you have. Levi didn’t want you as… well, the persona that was currently closest to being you. So why did he seem to always want you as somebody else? The thought made your heart ache, but still you find yourself as the moth drawn to the flame.

“Are you… okay?”

It’s an odd question to ask a stranger, but you can’t let yourself react to that fact. You take a sip of your drink – something pink and yellow, served over crushed ice – and smile sweetly.

“I’m good, thank you,” you reply. “But… why would you think I’m not?”

The look that Levi gives you betrays nothing, but you get the feeling that he’s unconvinced.

“Never mind. I’m sorry for bothering you.” He turns to leave, and you know that you should just let him go, but you can’t help but ask.

“Are you?”

“Can I sit?” he answers your question with one of his own, and you nod. He looks at you, gray eyes seemingly searching for some answer in your own, and whatever he sees causes him to reach out and gently brush a strand of hair back from your face.

He leans forward, pausing a breath away, giving you the chance to reject him. When you don’t, he ghosts a kiss on your lips, letting the touch linger for the briefest of moments before he’s pulling away.

You feel as if something inside of you is cracking, something that you’ve tried so desperately to keep pieced together. And though you’re not sure what it is, you feel as if it will shatter if you let him walk away now.

“Don’t go.”

It’s an odd thing to say to a stranger, but Levi doesn’t seem to react to that fact. He’s still so close that you can feel the shaky breath he takes warm your skin before your lips crash into his.

It’s not long after that he has you pressed against the wall of his apartment, your panties shoved to one side as he slides his fingers through your wet folds, rubbing soft circles against your clit as you whimper under his touch.

His chest presses into your back, cock nestled in the curve of your ass as he slips one finger, and then two, into your dripping cunt. The way you moan so prettily for him as his fingers slowly dip in and out of your core makes his cock twitch impatiently. As much as he tries to restrain himself, he’s not able to resist for long before you’re suddenly left feeling very empty.

Before you can whine over the loss, his fingers are pressed against your lips. You open your mouth obediently for him, tasting yourself on his skin as his free hand drags his cock between your folds before lining himself up with your entrance. You moan sinfully around his slick coated fingers as he presses into you, starting with slow, shallow thrusts that allow you to adjust to the stretch of his cock before he hilts himself within your warmth.

“Suck,” he commands, shoving his fingers deeper into your mouth as his now free hand wraps around your throat, his breath in your ear as he fucks you from behind.

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You feel like your life has been turned upside down and shaken by the arrival of one Levi Ackerman. He was just supposed to be a new neighbor. And, when he wasn’t, he was just supposed to be a crush. So why are thoughts of him constantly pulling you in two directions at once?

You can’t bear to see him, but you can’t bear to stay away from him either. You had seriously started to consider moving, shedding your current persona and starting new somewhere else.

But Levi wasn’t the only thing keeping you tied to this city. You’d created a home, a life, a social circle – everything that you’d never really believed you’d have.

Your fingers clutch the edge of the sink as you glare at your reflection in the mirror. You’ve had enough. You’re not going to let your life be turned inside out, to keep letting him – even unknowingly – yank you around.

You’re still stressing, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth when the bartender sets your drink in front of you. Served in a tall glass, the drink is almost blood red at the bottom, with the next layer starting smoky gray and slowly becoming clear at the top.

And, speaking of gray – you don’t even have to look across the bar. You can feel his eyes on you. You down your drink, pay the tab and leave the bar.

You’re not surprised that he’s followed you out. How could you be, when he seems to gravitate towards you every time? You spin around to face him before he can say a word, pushing him against the wall and trapping his lips with yours. You expect some resistance from him, but he gives you none, returning your kiss with the same fervency.

Your hand is on the back of his head, fingers tangling in his dark hair as his hands grasp at your hips, pulling your body against his. You refuse to let him take the lead this time, though. You grab his hair tightly, close to the roots, yanking his head to one side and ripping a pleasured groan from him as you feel his hips rock into you. Your free hand works the top button of his shirt, sucking roughly at the skin that peeks out.

The two of you make it to his apartment, but you allow him no reprieve, pushing him down into the chair and straddling him, carding your fingers through his hair before grabbing a handful and forcing his head back, exposing his already marked throat. You clamp your mouth around a bruised bite mark, causing a sinfully delicious noise to spill from the man underneath you. With one hand in his hair and one grabbing his hip, you roll your hips against him, trailing bites and bruises down his neck and across his chest until he’s bucking underneath you, his cock begging to be touched.

You rock back, your hands grabbing his knees to keep yourself balanced, and he just stares at you, looking more compliant than you’d ever seen him, like he was just waiting for you to tell him what to do next.

“If you want me to touch you,” you murmur, leaning forward to press a kiss to one of the more tender looking marks, circling your tongue on the marred flesh, “beg.”

“Fuck,” he groans, hips trying to rock into you, his body begging for your touch even if his mouth won’t.

“Hmm?” you hum, palming him through his clothing, pulling your hand away when he tries to press into the touch.

“P-please… fuck. Please, touch me.”

Your lips capture his, your fingers working his belt buckle as he grabs your hips roughly, impatient to feel you. You make quick work of the zipper, pushing his clothing out of the way as much as possible in the position the two of you are in, letting his cock spring free.

Your teeth sink into his shoulder as you wrap your fingers around his length, and buries his face in your neck, groaning your name.

The world comes to a screeching halt before you’re scrambling off his lap and fleeing his apartment.

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The buzzer goes off in your apartment – again.

You ignore it – again.

This has been going on for days now. You haven’t left your house once, refusing to even chance the possibility of running into him. The one time you’d dared to open your door, you’d noticed a small bag of tea that had been left just outside. You hadn’t been heartless enough to leave it there, but you’d tucked it away in a cabinet, tears threatening to spill whenever you looked at it.

What was wrong with you?

You can’t bear to face him anymore. You’d been so selfish – so… fucked up. This entire time, you’d been convinced that Levi had been unknowingly yanking you around, heart first. But it’d been you all along, dragging the both of you through hell.

Several more days pass, the buzzer sounding at least once a day, sometimes more. When the sun sets on the first day without the sound, you’re unsure if you’re more depressed or relieved.

Three days of silence pass before you feel like, maybe, it’s time to start picking up the pieces. You still feel shattered, but you can’t hide from the world forever.

You open the blinds, water your neglected plants, load the dishwasher, and gather the laundry before taking a shower. The hot water takes the edge off your tension, leaving you feeling little more than emotionally wrecked.

Judging by the person staring back at you in the mirror – the person who’d started all of this – you look exactly as exhausted as you feel.

Fighting the urge to tumble onto your bed and not get back up, you pull on jeans and pick out a top. Then, sighing heavily, you make your way towards the front door.

You crack the door the tiniest bit, peeking out to see if the coast is clear. Your heart aches when you see a delicate white teacup set just outside the door. But the pain becomes almost too much to bear when you see the dejected man settled next to it, knees to his chest, looking as worn out as you feel.

“What are you doing?” you manage to choke out. “And how long have you been sitting out here?!”

Levi scrambles to his feet, picking up the teacup and holding it out.

“This is yours.”

“No, Levi, it’s not,” you rebuff him firmly. “This – whatever this is – it’s fucked up. It’s not healthy. For either of us. We can’t keep doing this.”

“We can do whatever we want to do.”

“Levi – I can’t keep getting pulled around like this! And you – you can’t keep -” you stop yourself mid-sentence. You can’t keep, what? Fucking strangers? How could you admit to him that you knew about his one-night stands – or that you were his one-night stands – all of them.

And anyways, it’s none of your business who Levi Ackerman fucks.

“I can’t do this. It hurts,” you admit instead, your voice raw and vulnerable.

“I know -” he replies, and pain spreads through your chest.

“Then, please, Levi, just leave me be. Whatever this is, whatever this was, just lay it to rest,” you beg, cutting off whatever he was going to say.

“You didn’t let me finish talking,” he says, taking another step towards you. He’s so close, and the lump in your throat threatens to block your airway as he leans forward and his warm breath brushes across your ear. “I know – that it was you.”

“Wh -”

“What?” is what you’d like to say, but you can’t make the word materialize. As he takes a step back, all you can do is gape at him, his tired gray eyes earnestly searching yours like they have so many times before.

“It was you.” It’s not a question. “I don’t know how, and I know I sound crazy – I feel crazy, too, but… I know it was you.”

“What… what do you think was me?” you manage to choke out.

“All of them.”

His gaze is unfaltering.

“I didn’t know at first. How could I have?”

You’ll give him that much.

“The first woman... I took home in a moment of weakness.” Levi scoffs a little, seemingly at himself. “She made the same order as you when she entered the bar. And she had the same impatient tic. I know it isn’t much, but it reminded me of you, and I was… hurting.” The admission feels wrong in his mouth, but now isn’t the time to hold back. “The second… well, it’s almost the same story every time. The same order, the same nervous tic. I knew it was too unlikely to be a coincidence, but what else could it have been?”

He pauses, composing his thoughts. You say nothing. You’ve never known the man to say more than two or three sentences at a time, and definitely nothing as vulnerable as he was saying now.

“I could feel it by the third time. I knew, but I couldn’t accept it. It was too far-fetched. Not only was it the same thing again – the same order, the same tic, but… when I looked into her eyes – your eyes – it felt like you.”

“By the last time, I’d accepted it. It was too much to be a coincidence. There was nothing else it could be. You were never there when they were, and yet I was drawn to them the same way that I’m drawn to you. The same order with the bartender giving the same reply – I have some questions about that, by the way – and the same tic – tapping your finger every time. I know a lot of people do that, but not a lot of people do it with the middle finger of their left hand… it’s usually the right index finger.”

The way that Levi looks at you is raw, as if everything that usually makes him him has been stripped away, leaving someone vulnerable and desperate. Usually calm and collected, you have the unsettling feeling that all it would take now is one word from you to break him.

“What I did to you was wrong, Levi.”

“You don’t deny that it was you.”

“No,” you sigh.

You could lie. You could lie and convince him that he’s delusional – it wouldn’t be that hard. Somebody claiming that one person could be multiple, clearly distinct individuals? Not only would everybody else doubt him, but he would start doubting himself. But he’s shared the most vulnerable parts of himself with you, and the least you can do is the same in return.

“It was me… every time.” You know the next question – how? And so, you don’t give him a chance to ask. “I can show you… if you’d like.”

Levi nods once. The teacup is still held nestled in his palms as you step aside to allow him entrance to your apartment. You make a motion towards the kitchen but he ignores it, holding it out towards you instead. You accept it, placing it gently on the kitchen counter yourself and motioning Levi towards the living room instead.

“You can sit,” you offer, seeing as he’s just standing in the middle of the room.

“I’ll stand.”

You shrug, trying not to freak out over what you’re about to do. You take a deep breath, summoning every bit of your courage, before slipping your skin.

It’s as easy as breathing for you. You see what you want to be in your head, and you become it - almost instantaneously.

You go from what you currently consider to be yourself, to looking at him through somebody else’s eyes, somebody he’s never seen before.

“You can be anybody?” He seems to be regaining his composure, at least.

You shift again, and this time Levi is staring at a perfect copy of himself, dressed in your clothing. His eyes widen almost imperceptibly, and he reaches out to touch your cheek, stopping just short.

“Which one is really you?”

“They’re all me. I am… I can be any of them. I can change the way I look, and even my voice, but… I’m still me inside.”

“Then, what do you really look like?”

Your eyes widen and you take a step back. You’ve never shown anybody your true form before.

“I don’t want to show you.”

“Why?”

“Because…” you swallow hard, forcing the truth. “I’m afraid.”

Levi takes another step forward, closing the small gap you’d created between the two of you.

“Don’t be afraid.”

He’s so close. You take a shaky breath, knowing that if you do this, there’s no turning back. If he thinks you’re a monster… well, there’s nothing you can do about that besides accept it. You’re both silent for a few moments, before you slip your skin again.

Your breath shudders as you watch the color drain from your skin. In your true form, your hair and skin are paper white, with no pigment whatsoever. Your features are human-like, but vague, eyes faded and lacking pupils. You tremble, waiting for him to say something – anything – but he merely stands there, his eyes searching yours.

And then, his lips are on yours, his arms around your waist, pulling you into him. Wrapped in his embrace, you realize… he’s trembling.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“I know what questions come next.” You’re emotionally exhausted, having bounced from one extreme to another over the course of such a short time, but you know that Levi deserves answers.

“You don’t have to tell me anything that you don’t want to. I won’t ask.”

“You deserve to know. Just… give me a minute to gather my thoughts, please.”

“I’ll make tea.”

You nod, a smile ghosting your lips as he busies himself in your kitchen. Levi could easily come across as cold, disinterested – you knew that better than anybody. But you’d come to understand that he shows affection in his own way… and one of his love languages is tea.

He gingerly places the white teacup he’d brought you on the coffee table, and you stare at it, pieces of your history with Levi Ackerman starting to fall into place.

“This all started with tea,” you murmur, touching the edge of the teacup gently.

“And cookies.” Levi pauses. “Why were the cookies in the trash?”

“I felt stupid after I came back from your house that day. It made me irritated at myself, and… I took it out on the cookies,” you admit. “Why did you tell me you only had one teacup?”

“I wanted to invite you in for tea. But I only had one teacup.”

You groan. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. That is absolutely not how anybody else would have phrased that, but it sounded just like Levi Ackerman.

“I bought another so that I could invite you in for tea the next time, but…” Levi stares at the liquid in his cup for a moment before meeting your eyes.

“There wasn’t a next time,” you finish for him, flatly.

“So I brought the tea to you instead.”

“Every week, you came with tea. I mean, sure, you didn’t talk as much as I usually expect from somebody, but you seemed happy enough to just listen and… I’d thought that maybe the reason you kept coming was because you liked me.”

“That was the reason. I did… I still do.”

“But if you liked me, why did you turn away when I tried to kiss you? And… why did you stop coming over after that?”

“You were drunk. And I needed to know that it was really you that wanted me, and not the alcohol. If something had happened between us that night, and you’d regretted it after… I don’t know that I’d have been able to take that.”

“And the reason you never came back?”

“You didn’t come to the bar, and I didn’t see you around. I thought you were avoiding me, and I could only assume that it was because you were trying to make it clear that you weren’t interested in me.”

“I just… thought that you weren’t interested in me.”

Levi doesn’t say anything further, and you assume that’s your cue.

“I’m a changeling… I think. I mean, you can google it, but I’m not the ‘faeries replaced my baby’ kind. Or, at least… I don’t think I am. I honestly really don’t know where I came from. And the shifting… it’s always just come naturally to me. I didn’t know, at first, that other people couldn’t do it. But I figured that out really quickly. I can shift into anyone, any appearance, any gender, it doesn’t matter. It’s as easy as just… focusing. I can only shift into people, from what I can tell. I can’t become, like... a cat, or a chair. It doesn’t hurt, and I can do it as much as I want. I don’t have to focus to stay in one form, once I shift, I just… become that person. And, as you saw earlier, my clothing doesn’t shift with me. And… that’s about it, I think? That pretty much covers the usual barrage of questions.” You catch your breath, having pushed all of that information out as quickly as possible. You had been worrying about his reaction, but he didn’t seem to be reacting at all.

After a moment, he nods.

“If you don’t drink it now, your tea will get cold.”

This man can be… infuriatingly hard to decipher. You just spilled your guts to him, baring literally everything about yourself, more than you ever had to anyone before, and all he has to say is ‘Your tea will get cold.’

You pick up the teacup and level a glare at him, not breaking eye contact as you take a sip from the cup, the warmth of the tea spreading through your belly.

He merely watches you, brow quirking.

You set the teacup back on the coffee table, leaning closer to him and narrowing your eyes. “And that! What does that mean when you do that?!”

Levi’s brows pull together almost imperceptibly.

“You’re always quirking that one eyebrow at me!” you insist, as if he’s been doing something to purposely antagonize you.

“I didn’t realize that I did that, so I don’t know what it means.”

“Fine, then what were you thinking just now?”

“I was thinking,” Levi states, setting his own cup back on the table and leaning towards you the same way that you had towards him, “that you’re very cute.”

He’s so close now that if he spoke again his lips would brush against yours, but he doesn’t close that gap. For the first time since you met, the two of you have to meet each other halfway.

You press your lips to his, and this kiss isn’t like anything the two of you have shared before. It’s not desperate, demanding, or uncertain. His kiss is soft and reassuring, and tastes of tea.

Settling into a relationship with Levi feels as easy as breathing. You both maintain your own apartments, but it’s not long before most nights, one of you is sleeping over at the other’s.

The white teacup is returned to Levi’s apartment, kept next to his, and the two of you pick a new set from his favorite shop to keep at your apartment.

Levi never gets much more talkative – that’s just part of who he is – but once you were paying attention, it was easily apparent how deeply he cares about people – and about you - and the ways that he shows it.

And though he knows your deepest secret, he never judges you. He doesn’t ask you questions often, but when he does you answer truthfully, vowing to yourself to never be less than honest with him again. Each time, he listens thoughtfully before accepting this new part of you, embracing it.

Slowly but surely, he opens up to you as well, exposing the darkest parts of his soul, still not expecting the way you accept every part of him in return. You don’t try to comfort him, or convince him that it’s not his fault, you take him as he is.

Maybe neither of you knew that’s what you needed, because for the first time in what feels like forever, you both feel more whole, more human.

Nothing feels more perfect than when you open to your eyes to bright sunlight streaming through the window and Levi’s arms around you.

He pulls you closer into him, burying his face in your neck, and you hum contentedly. Days like these, waking in his arms knowing neither of you having anywhere else to be, are your favorite.

“What do you want to do today?” you ask.

You can feel his small smile against your skin, and the husky edge to his voice sends a tingle down your spine.

"Surprise me."

#Levi x Reader #Levi Ackerman #AOT #dubcon tw

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dreamgaze · 3 days

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the bare minimum

It might be a grand gesture or a simple habit, a recent relationship or a marriage: everytime social media hears anything about love, the comment section is immediately flooded with “that’s the bare minimum” or (its dramatic version) “the bar is in hell”. When we judge something, we’re usually comparing it to something else; it failed to meet our expectations because we believe in the existence of something superior. So what is the superior type of love? What does the ultimate relationship actually look like?

I should point out that this type of comment is a lot more common when a heterosexual relationship is being portrayed, which makes sense: any imbalance in a relationship between a man and a woman seems very palpable. That is, even if a heterosexual couple is aware of and rejects sexual hierarchy, they might have to spend their whole lives learning new ways of relating to each other.

But I’m afraid that, just as we had started analyzing these dynamics, we have been dragged to another inflexible way of thinking — the fact that our current way opposes that previous (more conservative) one creates only an illusion of progress. There was no radical change, and so the neoliberal approach to relationships mimics the neoliberal approach to beauty.

The collective notion of what a normal relationship looks like went from completely settling (i.e enduring an unhappy marriage for 50 years) to expecting the other person to seamlessly transform into whatever we view as an ideal partner.

And so, as it has done to our faces, social media deforms our relationships through the same never ending pursuit of perfection. There’s an acute anxiety about seeming the supposedly best, which has ironically turned everyone and everything into the same distorted simulacrum.

Love, as well as beauty, is a delicate symmetry crowned by the unexpected. Both of them must flow in their own unique way. It’s evident if we look for it in nature: we’ll notice that there’s a synchronicity rather than flawlessness. In our current ways of maintaining relationships, however, there hasn’t been any room for sensibility or authenticity.

In these conditions, how can there be actual love? We fall in love because there’s a spontaneity that is inherent to it. Anyone that has fallen in love knows that it’s the exact opposite of having control, which is why the pain of unrequited love is known to be gut wrenching: because even through loneliness, one can’t help but continue to nurture the feeling. On the other hand, few experiences compare to the bliss of falling in love with someone that is simultaneously reflecting back the same infatuated feelings.

Unfortunately, most people are not willing to be vulnerable enough and fall in love. The perfect partner cannot be met, it does not exist beyond a perfectly curated list of physical and psychological attributes. Eventually one becomes attached, but it’s really not the same as developing a relationship through reciprocal infatuation. Nonetheless, it’s simply impossible to love and feel loved without it happening naturally.

Of course, during a long term relationship, love matures. The initial infatuation is changed into deep intimacy and comfort. The couple will build and rebuild what they consider the foundations of their relationship. But that initial flame can always be rekindled: because of that initial synchronicity, the tacit agreement of being open and completely vulnerable, a relationship will feel naturally resilient, adapting through various life phases.

The bare minimum mindset leaves very little space for a relationship to develop in a genuine way. One thing is to expect that your partner will be attentive, respectful, romantic even. Another thing is, instead of reflecting on what would be your own set of non-negotiables, to follow flimsy parameters someone else set when starting a new relationship or evaluating an existing one.

I find it absurd that personal expectations have lost priority to collective expectations. In a healthier social environment, the bare minimum should naturally vary from one person to another. For example, a collective expectation is that your significant other should remember your birthday. But if you feel weird about your own birthdays, a personal expectation would be that your significant other be aware of that as to not plan a surprise party. There’s no consensus around surprise birthday parties, it should only be considered the bare minimum for a specific person, as a personal expectation.

The idea of an ultimate relationship cannot be a set of rules prescribed by others, it has got to be imagined and built by two people in love.

There was this video of a woman who felt grateful about her husband taking the time to watch Barbie (2023) with his two daughters; she had realized how the discussions present in the movie sparked new conversations between them. A lot of people commented that it was the bare minimum, completely missing the point.

Through a new light, he better understood his role as a husband and as a father of two girls. They had bonded as a couple and as a family, in a way that was new to them. The point is not that it should have happened before, but that it had finally happened (considering it might never have).

Because the ability to create, improve or reestablish balance comes from observing and communicating imbalance, this kind of experience means finding space to build a new and more elaborate type of closeness — which is exactly what sustains love in long term relationships.

Besides that, I find it very contradictory that people expecting men to be better were actually not impressed by a man exercising empathy and feeling touched by a movie made for women. It might have something to do with it having been considered “feminism 101” — which is something I also disagree with, as I have been studying sociology and feminism for at least a decade and was still very moved by how Barbie examines girlhood.

We used to look for social media as an outlet, a way of portraying ourselves in a flattering light. Now we aim to create a life worth posting, a relationship worth posting, even if there’s nothing behind it. A lovely cardboard life, a thoroughly curated nothingness. Everything is the bare minimum, so fulfillment is completely out of reach. How sad, that by constantly looking for something superior we have been left with a blank space.

#thebareminimum #writing #essay #feminism

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micarowsoncpd · 3 days

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Major Study Proposal Research #2: A dive into games.

For my pitch idea in relation to the upcoming Major Studies assignment, I had been wanting to create a concept of an upcoming game. I have taken a look at a plethora of video game catalogues, which involve a variety of potential styles to take forward with. While studying certain products, I had envision a style of narrative that I wanted to take forward with into my production: The 'first person' storyline perspective was something of interest to me.

The Last of Us (2013) was a game product that focused the perspective of its main characters as the 'pinnacle' of gameplay; the story fixates on the lives of Joel and Ellie, and how their relationship bloomed as many values are explored throughout both their character arcs.

This kind of gameplay allows its players a chance to connect to the characters in a more meaningful way - a way which ensures that they are even more immersed in the environment of which revolves around said characters, thus giving a more insightful approach to the aspects of 'world-building' that the game establishes within itself.

In relation to realistic gaming graphics, this also brings out the best of its high resolution elements; the often over-the-shoulder gameplay involved throughout not only brings focus on seeing through the lens of its characters, but also makes it easier for the game's audience to engage with the environment which surrounds said characters. Nashville Film Institute (NFI) states that the purpose of using over-the-shoulder shots is to "scene more dynamic", as well as offer a "connection or a level of intimacy to the viewer, specifically when two or more characters are having a conversation" (NFI, 2024). With the game revolving around its two main characters, this use of shot works best.

Fig 1.: The Last of Us (2013)

From this refreshing viewpoint, The Last of Us left me mesmerised with its overgrown environments and spurts of nature. While I ran through the potential ideas of what my pitch product would be, I wanted to get started on establishing possible environment settings.

To hone my artistic skills, I want ahead to start a new canvas and painted a forest environment. One tip I took while on this course was from freelance background painter Milica Mastelica, who heeds beginners on the risk of over-detailing; "achieve the most with the least amount of brushstrokes" (2023). She also points out to prioritise the biggest shapes first before branching out any relevant details.

I followed Mastelica's advice and stuck to adding a bit of detail to the objects in the front, as opposed to the solid shapes kept simple at the back.

This is mainly just to help me settle with my new brush pack, provided by my tutor. The specific plant brushes allow me to shortcut certain fauna and so enables me to have more time to focus on shaping up the trees all around.

Additionally, I wanted to try some colouring in Photoshop. Since my first assignment, I have stuck to colouring advice from BAM animation’s environment artist Brent Noll in discussing the theories behind colour combinations and tones; colours within art featuring 'cool' tones and 'warm' undertones can tell a viewer of how an area is "safe, healthy and living" (Noll, 2023).

That said, I also wanted to play around with painting a scenery with bright daylight. Regarding the advice provided to me, I experimented with both cool and warm tones in my piece to see what colours would work well together.

Granted, this could still use some improvement and perhaps more testing of perspectives, though this piece helped me consider if I would like to take the 3D route of a game idea at all - the fictional style within this work appears nice, as well as the simplified forms behind the foreground. This will be something I would need to apply more research in.

Sources:

BaM Animation (2023) Painting Backgrounds for TV Animation! Photoshop. 14 Jun 2023. Available at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MKtcsF5IUF0 (Accessed: 26 April 2024).

Mastelica, M. (2024) Instagram. Available at: https://www.instagram.com/milicamastelica/ (Accessed: 26 April 2024).

Nashville Film Institute (2024) Over The Shoulder Shot. Available at: https://www.nfi.edu/over-the-shoulder-shot/ (Accessed: 20 April 2024).

Naughty Dog, Iron Galaxy (2013) The Last of Us [Video game]. Available at: https://www.playstation.com/en-gb/games/the-last-of-us-part-i/ (Accessed: 16 April 2024).

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hauntedstarfishbanana · 1 year

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No Time? No Money? No Problem! How You Can Get producent skarpet With a Zero-Dollar Budget

Just about the most typical inquiries I get with regards to the matter of Sophisticated male chastity is regarding how fascinating can it be to have a chastity piercing, such as a Prince Albert, to make certain the safety of the gadget.™

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So, this raises a few queries.

Initially, why would any one do this?

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It really is feasible there are some units for which this is not correct but I've nevertheless to run into a single.

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In a significant proportion of interactions where they exercise male chastity, Section of the dynamic is the girl "owns" The person's penis, or at the least has every one of the "legal rights" about it.

In these scenarios getting the penis pierced, if the gentleman really desires to have it performed or not (bearing in your mind he constantly has the choice In fact, and so It truly is just part of the game) is symbolic of the power-Trade.

Needless to say, you needn't be pierced to take pleasure in chastity, and you don't even need a tool.

The concept you are doing is simply A further fantasy propagated by numerous Individuals who have their own individual agendas for seeking you to order into their strategy for thinking.

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Elastic is a small slim loop of rubber or identical product useful for tightening, gripping, and holding of items without difficulty purposes. It's the quality of being stretched then returning back again to its authentic form. Elastic has distinctive names like rubber bands, gum bands, binder, and lacquer band.

The history of elastic has its roots again to thousands of several years. The modern elastic band goes back again into the mid 19th century. From your pretty beginning, male understood there were specific objects that would spring back again to their authentic form when the strain used on them was taken off.

At the beginning, this issue aggravated gentleman but Along with the invention of hearth and making the wheel, person also thought of employing elastics in his existence. This assets of elasticity was commonly showed by the animal pieces, which male ate. Hence, the primary elastic strings had been born, which ended up made out of animal gut to carry matters with each other. Using the passage of time, person realised that these strings of elastic is also employed as weapons. When a bullet was loaded in to these elastic strings, they ended up thrust throughout the air at an incredible velocity. This resulted inside the invention of bow and arrow.

Rubber is a highly regarded elastic substance. A lot of the items constructed from rubber are bounced all-around, stretched, and pounded, and because They're elastic they return for their original form. For this reason property, individuals use rubber in a whole lot many ways. It was named rubber mainly because men and women learned it could rub the pencil stains. Rubber was used by the Early American Indians before Columbus even set his foot there. They called it Caoutchouc derived from your word cahuhchu which means weeping wood.

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Other elastic elements have also many takes advantage of. Rubber has several uses in the present globe. Rubber is used for tires, elastic bands together with other bouncy and stretchable objects. Elastic supplies are Utilized in sporting activities. Insulated, elastic balls are necessary to a lot of sports activities as non-elastic balls would deform when used. Basketballs, volleyballs, and soccer balls should be elastic to allow them for their ordinary condition.

Elastic is Utilized in apparel in addition largely for fitting functions. Elastic supplies a place for stretch skill and recoverability of clothes. The elastic waistbands are especially very much in use. They assist you select trousers, trousers, and so on of dimension smaller than your original waistline, As a result generating you look slimmer. In addition, they are often employed for a longer time period, considering the fact that they do not get wasted if you gain or reduce weight. They may be adjustable. Elastics are employed for upper body equipped gowns or shirts. Additionally they act as an accessory to develop numerous types on the shirts. The elastic laminated sheet can also be Utilized in quite a few content articles of clothes. These kinds of content articles include shirts, trousers, skirts, dresses, socks, athletic don, swimsuits, shorts, clinical and surgical clothes et cetera. The stretch capacity and recoverability in these clothing due to elastic sheet allows movements easy and make outfits much more tough because they do not get torn or ruptured.

youtube

#Youtube

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bibbykins · 3 years

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Double Date

A/N: Hello my dears! I'm not done with the Jin and/or Hobi confession yet but I did write this little flashback last week and think I'm finally ready to post it! This is the situation in which Jimin discovered MC's reaction to yelling, just to clarify. As always, please hop into my ask box and give me some of that lovely feedback!

Note: This is a flashback as part of the drabble series The Household's Bunny, which I recommend reading the installments of prior to this one

Word Count: 4.2k

Pairing: Soft Yandere! Jimin x Chubby! Reader

Warnings: Lying, fatphobia, usage of the word "fat" as an insult, talks of sex, yelling, vomiting, implied previous trauma, bad friend, loser date, verbal argument, implied stalking, yandereish behavior

Summary: On a double date was not how Jimin imagined your first date with him going. Let alone, a double date in which you both are with someone else. The torture of sitting next to his ex and watching you with another man was well worth it to see you up close. He could only hope you and his "date" don't mind his blatant staring at you.

Jimin often wondered how he ended up so stupid sometimes. From prodigy orphan to absolute idiot. It was a little tragic. Here you were, back from the hospital, a smile on your face, sitting across the table from him… and he was on a date with your friend Yoora.

Sure, Yoora was fine, but she wasn’t you. That’s why they had broken up in the first place. He just… didn’t like her. Of course, he omitted the fact was that he liked someone else.

You, on the other hand, were on a date with some lowlife he hadn’t even bothered to remember the name of. Yoora had begged Jimin to go on a date, to which he vehemently denied. He had dated Yoora and things fizzled out quickly, so he saw no value in going on a date again. He only budged with her begging when she said it was for you, who was apparently too nervous to be on a date alone with this other guy. He sprung at the chance to see you outside of class, something he could only hope Yoora didn’t notice. Although, Jimin couldn’t help but wonder why you would go on a date with someone you weren’t comfortable being alone with, but maybe he was just bitter you were going on a date with someone that wasn’t him.

You flashed Jimin a brief smile in between your chat with Yoora, making his mind go blank. Fuck, you were so pretty. You wore a simple white turtleneck with a brown plaid skirt and brown loafers with white socks to match. You looked unbelievably cute, even against the aged neon fabric of the chairs at the bowling alley. Not that your date appreciated just how divine you looked, hardly paying you any mind, instead looking around constantly and only really responding to Yoora.

Not that Jimin was being much better to Yoora. His eyes were constantly fixated on you, but both you and Jimin unaware of this blatant fact. He hadn’t been this close to you outside of the classroom in… well, basically ever. He watched with hearts in his eyes as you bowled your second gutter ball. He laughed as you bowed cheekily before returning to the table right as your date went to bowl.

“I’m so full!” Yoora exclaimed as you sat back down, the pizza you both agreed to share only having two slices out of it as you reached to make it a third, “I don’t know how you can eat more than one slice, y/n! Good for you.” She giggled obnoxiously as your moves faltered in setting the pizza on your plate.

Jimin’s eyes landed on Yoora’s form for the first time in the whole night with a displeased look. Her form shrunk under his sharp glare and any future taunts she had planned died on her tongue as you searched for the words to say, “She’s just keeping herself nourished for me, aren’t you babe?” Your date spoke with a slimy voice as he slid in the booth next to you and Jimin watched confusion fill your face. Jimin’s smile noticeably dropped.

"It's a little silly to imagine everything she does is for you, no?" Jimin gave your date a pointed look, all with a smile on his face, as your date also shrunk, nodding awkwardly.

The most input your date ever gave to you directly was about how hot you were or to chide at your poor bowling skills. It was a little painful watching your smile fade throughout the date, and Yoora joining in to try and make you feel even worse wasn’t helping. Jimin couldn't imagine a scenario in which any of this would make you happy, and he just couldn't hold his tongue the entire time.

“I’m just hungry.” You shrugged, figuring Jimin was just being a gentleman in lightly scolding Jihoon, “I eat when I’m hungry, hence the pizza.” You spoke simply as you took another bite. You knew what Yoora was doing. Passive-aggressive slights to your weight in front of romantic partners were not shocking to you in the slightest.

This was why you didn’t want to go on a double date with Yoora. Sometimes she was nice and funny, but other times she was like a mean girl straight out of a teen movie. This was why you considered Yoora more acquaintance than a friend since she only talked to you when she had no other friends around. This dynamic was fine enough since you hadn’t made any friends in college, so having someone to interact with was nice enough, but you drew the line at her getting this intimately involved. However, she insisted she should bring herself and Jimin along for your safety. You had joked you’d like to see Jihoon try to carry you away to kidnap you, but she didn’t laugh.

It was ironic that your weight was only funny when she was making the joke.

Yoora shrunk a bit as she watched a smile grace Jimin’s features again while you ate, “I’m gonna use the bathroom.” She spoke hurriedly out of nowhere and you gave her a small wave.

Your date resumed his survey of the building before his eyes caught sight of something and went wide, “Shit, a friend from my bio lab is here.” He murmured quite loudly before turning to you, “I’ll be right back.” He spoke in a similarly rushed tone as he made a bee-line to the restroom.

You gave Jihoon a weak smile, waving him away when you realized he didn’t even look at you for a response before getting up. Well, there goes another liar. Last night it was, “Baby, you’re so beautiful. I could see myself marrying you. Let me take you on a date and then we can come back to my place and seal the deal.” You were no longer so naive as to think a simple handjob would make Jihoon a romantic, but you did hope it would be enough motivation for him to reciprocate with skill. You hated liars, especially liars who do it to get into your bed. On top of that a horny liar with no skill.

Jimin noticed your date dodge the line of vision of his friend and sneak to the bathrooms and frowned, “Why is he going to the bathroom if his friend is right there?” He mused to himself.

“To hide.” You sighed, making Jimin jump, shocked you heard him. You looked up and saw his confusion before sighing, “He doesn’t want to be seen with me, so he’s going to the bathroom.”

Still short-circuiting from the direct eye contact he was making with you, he sputtered, “Wha- Why would-”

“Look at me.” You poked the sliver stomach between the hem of your top and the top of your skirt. Jimin admired the plush skin before snapping himself from the trance.

He shrugged, “I am, and it makes even less sense.” He finally had the determination to hold eye contact with you without his mind going into overdrive and right as you opened your mouth to respond, your phone vibrated.

You looked down at it with a frown, “Yoora wants me to meet her outside.” You mumbled, before looking up at Jimin, “I don’t think I was supposed to say that to you.” You looked at him with a sorry look, “I’ll be back.”

You pushed the front doors open to see Yoora standing with her arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently as she looked around, as if she didn’t send you the text message a mere minute ago. She caught sight of you and her eyes went wide before settling into a smug gaze, “Ah, there you are!” She smiled and it was sickly sweet, “I wanted to tell you Jihoon and I are leaving.”

Ah, she must have been looking around for his car to come around. Well, that’s saving you the awkward conversation of rejecting him, so you shrugged, “Okay.”

Evidently not wanting the nonchalant reaction you gave her she scoffed, “Seriously? You have nothing to say?” For some reason, Yoora would sometimes make it her mission to push your buttons, usually, this was by making you flustered, so you’re not sure what happened to spur on such unadulterated malice.

However, you didn’t really have the energy to dissect it so you shrugged a little more incredulously, “What is there to say? No?” You scoffed, “You guys are consenting adults, you both made a choice-”

“God, you’re so annoying!” Her increase in volume made you jump and also caught the eyes of fellow students and unaffiliated customers just trying to have a night out.

Nevertheless, you blinked wildly, “Me?!” You guffawed, “You’re the one that brought me out here to tell me you’re ditching me and your date?” The whole thing felt so ridiculous.

“Yes, you!” Her hands gestured to you wildly, “My date is oogling you and so I decide to seduce yours and you just say ‘okay’?!” Her volume was increasing and you could feel a familiar nausea pooling in your stomach, “Let me be pissed at you for stealing my date!”

“It’s not my fault I’m hot, nor does that make you less hot.” You countered, not really believing it was you Jimin was interested in, but more so Yoora he wasn’t interested in, “He just doesn’t like you. You said you knew that.” You pointed out, making her falter because you were right. Yoora told you Jimin wasn’t interested in her but she was trying to change that despite your words of caution.

“You? Hot? You’re fat!” Ah, there it was. She was evidently running out of sound reasons to be mad at you but was still not ready to just face the fact that she felt shitty her date looked at the fat girl more than he looked at her.

You couldn’t contain your laugh, “Oh, no shit? I am?” You mockingly looked down at your form, which only seemed to fan the flames.

“Just get fucking mad at me!” She shouted, wiping the smile off of your face

You sucked your teeth, “Stop yelling. You know that yelling makes me-”

She rolled her eyes before losing her mind, “What do I know about you?! You won’t even tell me why you were in the hospital-”

Now you were getting really queasy and annoyed, wanting this to end because at this point she was just yelling at you to feel like less of an asshole, “Because you’ll just tell everyone, and it’s not their business- or yours for that matter!” You felt a little bad criticizing her gossipy nature, but you knew you were going to puke any minute now.

“I’m your friend!” She spat, ironically, in a rather unfriendly manner

You scoffed, “You’re going home with my date!”

This seemed to catch her off guard, almost, almost, making her realize she was simply being an asshole, but she stuck to her guns, “He-He doesn’t even like you!”

“And yet, if we’re such good friends, you’re still going home with him to what? Prove a point to me?!” You were exasperated as you heard his obnoxious car pull up behind you, “I know now he doesn’t like me, that’s what the date was for!” You were beyond tired as you watched her eyes dart between you and the red Mustang, “But now I know that you don’t really like me either.” You sighed and this made her sight settle on your form, her gaze significantly softer.

“Y/n…” Her voice was lower, surrendering.

“It’s fine. You’re not required to like me.” You insisted, “I just wish you wouldn’t lie about it.” This time, you felt a little hurt at your own words, but the bile in your throat wouldn’t give you much time to reflect on it, especially as Jihoon honked his horn, like the gentleman he was, “Well? Go on.” You gestured to the obnoxious car as Yoora got in with her head down.

Not even bothering to wait for them to drive away, you ran to the alley on the side of the building with a hand clasped over your mouth. The moment you made it to the dim-lit hallway of brick, you puked your guts out. The bile burned your throat, but you could still feel a careful hand pulling your hair back ever so gently as another hesitantly rubbed your back. The touch was calming and void of judgment. You figured someone assumed you were drunk and was used to being a hero. However, when you were finally done and stood up, you were faced with the most sought-after man of the Arts department.

“Are you… okay?” Was the first thing that came out of his mouth and you had no real energy to be all that embarrassed. Vomiting took all the life out of you almost every time.

You simply turned back to look at the mess you made and cringed, “Oh shit.” You spoke slowly, “I should clean that up.” You sputtered.

Jimin merely smiled and shook his head as you turned back to him, “It’s an alleyway, come on, someone will just make a worse mess in an hour.” He handed you a water bottle, “Go ahead and rinse.” You looked at him with pleading eyes, his looks were more than enough to make you feel flustered. He seemed to read your eyes as he turned around.

“Thanks.” You spoke up after you rinsed, “But-”

“Let me drive you home.” He waited to hear your footsteps behind him before pressing onward.

He ignored your protests the whole way to his car, brushing them off with a wave of his hands. You had figured it was just him being cool, but the reality was that he was mentally hyping himself up. Now with his anger at Yoora and your date dissipated, he was back to a bumbling mess when it came to you, even if the nagging worry of what could have happened to you to make you throw up at yelling was an ever-present weight he took on his shoulders. The girl of his dream would be in his car, sitting right next to him, and that was enough to make him short-circuit. His face was getting redder and redder just thinking about it. Not that your polite and melodic voice insisting you can just take the bus helped any. Surely you had to know how beautiful you were? He never doubted you knew until today, and the notion made him frown but also, thankfully, calm down.

By the time he opened the door for you, any hints of redness on his face were obscured by the cloak of night over the sky and the dim street lamps. You gave him a short smile and he had to fight a squeal in his throat. Instead, you were met with a strained look, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he even liked you or if he was just being kind. You entered your address on his phone and he feigned looking at the route as if he wasn't familiar with the area. He then texted one of his housemates a name and a license plate number for information and wordlessly began driving.

You simply looked out the window as he seemingly studied his phone, not wanting to make his possible dislike of you worse. Although, you would prefer him not to like you at this point. You were kind of over people “liking” you by now. Jihoon had done no less than confess his undying love for you mid-orgasm and you were ashamed to admit how excited that had made you feel despite the emptiness that could be felt in the air. You had convinced yourself that could just be how love felt. How would you know any otherwise? Part of you knew you were deluding yourself, even if you would never know what love felt like, you knew it wouldn’t feel like that. It wouldn’t feel like the bittersweet taste of settling for less than you deserve in exchange for an escape from the all-consuming loneliness that surrounded you no matter who you hooked up with.

“I’m, uh, sorry Yoora did that to you. Jimin blurted out, making you look to him and making him clench the wheel.

“It’s not your fault.” You reassured him, “The whole point of the date was to see if this guy actually ‘loved’ me, or even liked me for that matter.” You couldn’t stop yourself from talking, “That post nut clarity must have made him realize he’s a huge liar.” You couldn’t hide the bitterness in your words before you took a breath, “So, how much did you hear?”

“I walked out when I heard her calling you fat.” He stumbled against the words, clearly uncomfortable even repeating Yoora.

You hummed, “Yeah, well, I guess you’re all caught up.” You looked back out the window and Jimin could relax ever so slightly, “I don’t know how I can make her feel threatened. She’s so… loveable.” He frowned at this, “I know I’m pretty, but that doesn’t make me loveable.” He wanted so desperately to say you are loveable. If you weren’t, what had he spent the last year doing? He wanted to slam on the breaks and finally tell you how captivating you are in more ways than one, but the fear of misstepping caged him into his spot as you continued on, “If there’s one thing I know, it’s that no one is obligated to love me.” You seemed to be letting all the exhaustion hit you, not even bothering to stop yourself, “It’s okay. I have the next best thing, sex.” Even you seemed to be unconvinced, “Maybe if I ask everyone for sex I’ll feel as content as Jihoon.” You seemed to be getting more and more upset as you dwelled on the topic.

“Why haven’t you asked me for sex then?” Jimin wanted to slam his head on the wheel and call it a night when he heard his voice speak what should have been an offhand thought.

You giggled a bit at this, relieving Jimin a bit, before shrugging, “I don’t want to use you like I let people use me.” You blew a breath, "You called my bluff. I don't wanna use anyone."

“Why do you let-”

“I, too, get horny and lonely.” You laughed bitterly, “People just lie to me that it’s something more when it’s not. Thank goodness I’m a psych major, or else I might believe them each time.” Judging by the melancholy in your words, Jimin doubted you didn’t not believe some of them, and the notion tore his heart in half. However, he was so pinned down by his fear, he couldn’t conjure the words needed.

“I mean, there are people out there who would like you and not just your body.” He spoke and he swore he was breaking a sweat by now.

You shrugged again, unconvinced again, “I’m glad you never asked me for sex.” You murmured and he glanced at you.

“Why?” Was he not your type?

“Because I think you’re a good person,” You gave him one more smile as he pulled up to your apartment complex, “and I’d like to keep thinking that.” You placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, “Thank you, for everything tonight.” He merely nodded in acknowledgment, throat strangled with a million emotions as he watched you go into your apartment.

Jimin let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding and drove, as if on autopilot, and let his head plop lightly on the wheel, “Pathetic display, Jimin.” He scolded with a strained voice. He hated this about him. He hated that each time emotions got too real, each time he could not hide behind a charming smile and playful banter, he would choke up. He had been a dance prodigy since birth, since getting scouted by a private school, since Mona adopted him for his career to go even further. And yet, he couldn’t confess to the girl he’s liked for over a year. Instead of staring, he wished he had just asked if you were okay.

He had never imagined you would be nearly as lonely as you felt. Anyone on campus would look at your smile and assume you were doing peachy, but by now, with his observations, he could see when you were faking. Why had he never approached you more to make you smile for real? Why did he remain complicit in fuckers like Jihoon and Yoora’s plight to make you feel less than the perfect girl you are? Who had instilled such an intense reaction to yelling in you? How many times have you thrown up in an alley alone because of the people who knew how to use someone as caring as you? Maybe if he had sat down and eaten that cookie with you, he would be driving the both of you home together.

He wondered if he would ever get the chance to do so at this point.

-------

“...Jimin?” Your voice snapped him from his thoughts as he looked at you, all dolled up and a little sweating from performing your final for the class he was your TA for, “You still here?” You giggled as you waved your hand in front of his eyes. You had been the last one to perform, so you figured his brain was fried from watching dozens of dance performances.

His smile grew with yours as he caught your hand in his, interlacing your fingers, “Yeah, I’m here, just got swept away in your performance is all.” He responded cooly and you rolled your eyes mockingly, “I’m serious, it was beautiful.” He brought your hand up, placing a kiss on your palm.

“Well, I had a wonderful training buddy.” You interlocked your fingers behind his neck as he laced his fingers on the small of your back. The PDA made you feel giddy, like a girl in her first relationship showcasing her wonderful boyfriend to the world, “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

He studied your face, your form, your everything for a moment. He basked in the glory of having someone as beautiful as you within his reach at long last. He thought back to each practice session and each kiss that came with it and couldn’t help the glee that spread in his chest. The glee was only further amplified by the very emotion on your face and he couldn’t fathom how he ever lived with himself seeing a fake smile on your face most days.

“You know I love you, right?” He blurted, making both of your eyes widen. Had he seriously just done that? Had he seriously confessed his love to you while the rest of your dance class waited to be dismissed? The air was still before he spoke again, “Could you do me a favor and beat the shit out of me?” He asked, making you giggle. Your joy was contagious and he found himself laughing too, in spite of the millions of emotions at confessing his love so suddenly.

You couldn’t fight the smile on your lips even if you tried. There was something so weightless about Jimin’s love, yet so meaningful. Where Yoongi had been intense and passionate, Jimin was bashful yet honest. It was this floaty feeling that made you lean up to his ears and whisper, “I love you too.” You beamed at him with a genuine smile and his heart soared.

“You do?” He asked excitedly, “You don’t have to, you know?” He reassured you and you could only chuckle.

“Oh well, if I don’t have to…” You joked as you moved to pull away from him, but he pulled you closer.

“I take it back- You have to.” He hurriedly spoke, “If… If you mean it.”

You nodded, a blissful smile on your face as you leaned up to kiss him, “I mean it, and it’s really nice being able to know you mean it too.” You whispered in his ear and in a moment of pure joy, he lifted you and spun you around, not caring about who saw or stared. You squealed at this, enjoying the moment of careless affection. He set you down with a slow kiss and you couldn’t help but melt into his form.

“You ready to go home?” He asked with a gleeful tone. You nodded excitedly and watched with hearts in your eyes as he dismissed the class with his hand in yours. He was always happy to display your relationship, even telling the professor in case he didn’t want Jimin grading your work. He announced it to the class with a blissful look and posted you all over any and all social media accounts he had. He had never been more proud to have someone by his side, and it made you emotional more than once. He held your hand in his as you walked to the car, swinging your arms just to hear your melodic laugh.

You checked your phone as Jimin closed the car door when you got in, “Oh, Hobi’s flight got delayed until tomorrow and Jin has to stay late tonight.” You mumbled, deep in thought for a moment, “And everyone else has something going on, so I guess it’s just me and you for dinner. One last night of freedom before you have to be busy too.” He placed a hand on your thigh as he drove and he'd be lying if he said he didn't have to mentally hype himself up to do it each time.

“Do you want to pick up dinner or just cook at home?” He asked cooly, masking his sheer glee at the domestic implications in his question.

You hummed, “I can cook something if you want,” You noted before a mischievous smile grew on your face, “My love.” You teased the pet name, making Jimin brake abruptly as he was getting out of the parking spot, his arm holding your body back from pushing forward. You gasped before you dissolved into laughter.

“Hey! Are you trying to make me crash?!” His face was beet red as he lectured you about car safety and how words can shake his whole world the whole ride home, and you had never been more enchanted by a flustered lecture in your life.

Eventually, he was finished lecturing you and the car was filled with laughter and light quips. He wondered how he ever lasted this long without you by his side, but he was glad he would no longer have to.

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tempenensis · 3 years

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Fushiguro Megumi: the protector

One of the things that makes jjk very interesting is how Gege writes the characters in a way that freed them from a number of stereotypes usually found in shonen manga in relation to how their appearance are. And that makes the character in this manga feels more layered. One of the example is our deuteragonist himself, Fushiguro Megumi.

Fushiguro is one of characters that make you thought of certain stereotype - but as the story progresses and his character is explored more, he is actually different from the stereotype of dark brooding rival of the protagonist his appearance is based of.

On his first appearance, Fushiguro is shown to be someone serious, seemingly a stickler for rules and formality, as he speaks in honorifics to Gojo in the phone -- even if it’s him saying that he will punch Gojo. When he speaks to Gojo, there’s a strange mix of formality and familiarity, which is a given considering their long history.

He even cites the law of jujutsu for the reasoning of Itadori’s execution right after Sukuna incarnates even though Itadori eats the finger because he is also trying to save Fushiguro. However once Gojo appears and asks what he should do to Itadori, his answer is right on the opposite direction.

And from this point on, we know that he is never ‘just a simple rival’.

1. Not even a rival

Itadori and Fushiguro’s dynamic is one of the focal point that drives the story of jjk, among others.

but who’s to say that someone you save won’t kill anyone in the future?

Fushiguro and Itadori share the same fixation on saving people. While Itadori wants to give “proper death”, or save as many people as he can from curses, Fushiguro rather listens to his own conscience, where he want to give good people what they deserve. And this believe of his rooted from the ‘undeserving’ situation he feels is granted to his sister in this life. This different ideals made the two of them clash during Cursed womb arc, but they settles their difference pretty quickly out of respect for each other, and this connects the two of them closer than them to other characters.

For Fushiguro, Itadori has become someone as important as Tsumiki despite only knowing him for a short time - and likewise, Itadori also thought Fushiguro as important. Fushiguro, in addition, also feels that he bears the responsibility of keeping Itadori alive and shoulders the consequence of every action Itadori and Sukuna does, since Itadori consumed Sukuna to help him in the first place. That is the reason his first fight with Sukuna happens after all; him staying behind out of feeling responsible.

And this responsibility develop into the necessity to protect Itadori, both from literal harm (the Kyoto students trying to assassinate him) and from metaphorical one. Likewise, Itadori not telling Fushiguro what Sukuna told him is also to protect Fushiguro from the guilt that will consequently arise.

While there is a bit of rivalry, it doesn’t become something that the two of them fixated on. It does feed on their growth, but this rivalry mostly takes a backseat - it will, when he lives in a world where everything, even the authority, is trying to kill his closest friend and someone he is trying hard to protect.

2. To die or not to die

Fushiguro’s nature as a protector is rooted in his personality. Because of his upbringing and precociousness, he has his own view of what he think to be ‘good’ and ‘bad' that is very personal to him.

Fushiguro has certain degree ‘sense of justice’ based on his notion. During this flashback, he picks fight with the delinquents not because they attacks him personally and not because anyone asks him for help, but just because he thought that they are wrong in bullying their classmates.

At first he is not inclined to be a jujutsushi because saving people doesn’t fit into that notion of his. The work of a jujutsushi is in its heart is to save people and it’s tailored for not only the one who has the ability, but also the compassion to do it. Something that is unthinkable for junior high Fushiguro.

It’s Tsumiki’s curse that change Fushiguro. He is started to driven to save people like Tsumiki. And also, if there is someone that can solve the case of Tsumiki’s curse, it will be a jujutsushi.

He feels that a lot of people he thought to be ‘good’ given unfairness in life. Like his sister who was cursed and fallen into coma, and Itadori who ate Sukuna then received death penalty.

I will save people unequally!

His personal sense of justice drives Megumi to help and save them in his own brand of heroism stemmed from his ego of choosing who’ll he save and who won’t. ‘Good people’ affects Fushiguro deeply that out of respect for Itadori who had died, he does something that usually he doesn’t do.

While he sees both his sister and Itadori to be the same good kind, he judges himself to be different from them and he doesn’t care if he is ‘not right’. He doesn’t feel that he deserves the salvation as deserved by ‘good people’ and this reflects mainly in his... um... suicidal, sacrificial tendency.

Every single time he is cornered in battle, he used to resort to summoning Makora - which essentially means he will die. He doesn’t think that his death is matter at all for anyone else as long as his purpose in winning the fight is fulfilled - which actually not necessarily true.

It’s a good thing that after his training with Gojo, Megumi starts to realize the importance of him not resorting to ‘winning by dying’. This point in Shibuya actually marks a significant development of his character - even if he still summon Makora after.

3. Blood does not necessarily run thicker

One of the most surprising aspect of Fushiguro is how he readily discarded the identity that comes with his bloodline. A contrast from Kamo and a point that makes their clash during Goodwill event arc very interesting. For Kamo whose mother left him so she doesn’t get in his way to be the family heir, the way Fushiguro easily deny his bloodline of course offends him highly -- it’s almost like Fushiguro does not care about his mother’s sacrifice.

Well, it is understandable that he deny his bloodline. Regardless that the tradition of the Three Great Families just reek of shit, Fushiguro never experiences normal blood-related family bond since he was born. Everyone who should be his family based on blood never give him the bond other people experience. His biological mother had died, his father left him (and died unknowingly), Tsumiki’s mother also left the siblings. The one who took care of him was Tsumiki and Gojo to an extent, both of whom has no blood relation to him. Gojo even bought him from the Zen’in. And the Zen’in who is supposed to be his blood-related family trade him off easily with money, so it is understandable if he does not feel a strong bond with his own bloodline.

This is ironically (but in a positive way) very contrast with Fushiguro’s technique; Ten shadows jutsu. One of Zen’in’s most prized inherited technique is manifested by Fushiguro who deny his blood and passed down by his father who the family refused to acknowledge as one of their own. The technique that also made Fushiguro coveted by the head family that they readily forked over 10 million for him. It’s a very ridiculous situation.

4. Next ‘strongest sorcerer’

The growth of a jujutsushi is never easy.

Fushiguro’s growth as a jujutsushi is a difficult matter, way more than Yuuji. Compared to Fushiguro who is already familiar with jujutsu from a very young age, Yuuji is like a child whose growth is still in exponential phase. Since his main weapon is his cursed technique, Fushiguro’s growth as the more settled jujutsushi in this case should mainly come from inside himself. But it’s been a rocky way for him.

First, his mindset is working against his growth -- because he has Makora to rely on, he tends to summon it readily than try to explore his technique more. Then as fundamentally Fushiguro is someone compassionate, he puts cooperating and matching his level to people around him first -- which actually hindered his growth of ability, because his nature as jujutsushi is on the opposite side.

As a jujutsushi, Fushiguro’s nature is the same as Gojo and Sukuna; a lone wolf who is the strongest on combat when he is alone. Gojo even implied once that Megumi’s cursed technique has the potential to be on par -- even beat his.

With not one, but two strongest jujutsu users invested in Fushiguro’s growth, I think it’s not an overstatement to say that he will be an incredible jujutsushi in the future -- if his growth does not fail him. And going by the current story development, it is more required out of Megumi to be stronger than ever, both as the person that he is and as jujutsushi.

5. The future is as uncertain as ever

Now that Gojo is gone, the burden Megumi shoulders will be exponentially rising. More than to stabilize Tokyo back, it is the responsibility that he always feel over of keeping Yuuji as Sukuna’s vessel alive that probably will demand a lot out of Megumi. In addition to losing Gojo and the waking of Tsumiki as one of the Brain’s victims, Megumi needs all the strength he can muster, literally and figuratively, to be able to survive the coming of near future -- even though ironically he is one that is readily dying anytime.

#jujutsu kaisen #character analysis #fushiguro megumi #jjk manga spoilers #brain vomit #jjk meta

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haikyuucute · 4 years

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Untamable (Ushijima Wakatoshi) [Omegaverse AU]

Pairing: Alpha!Ushijima x omega!reader

Summary: You seemed like an untamable omega to Ushijima

Warnings: Sexual themes, implied smut

Word Count: 5.6k

[A/N]: So I’ve been rlly iffy about posting this bcuz I know that this au isn’t everyone’s favorite. But I rlly like this au and I have fun writing for it, so I figured if someone doesn’t like it then they can scroll past it or blacklist the tag ‘omegaverse’ anyway, so I decided to go ahead and post this

Ushijima Wakatoshi liked order and he liked things that made sense. He was a simple man and he would call it like he’d see it.

And what made sense to him was the dynamic system. Alphas were placed at the top, then betas, then omegas.

He believed this was right because it was ingrained in everyone’s genetics to follow this order.

It was why Hinata Shouyou had affected him so deeply. He was small, his volleyball technique was a mess and yet he and Karasuno beat Shiratorizawa.

Ushijima considered himself to be a very strong alpha— possibly the strongest in Shiratorizawa. His presence commanded every area he was in and omegas would fall silent at his scent, waiting for him to speak first. He had even been dubbed the alpha of alphas in school.

So it didn’t make sense for Hinata to have so much baseless confidence. It annoyed him and got under his skin to the point he thought about it quite often and how he could win next time.

Another thing that got under his skin was the little omega he shared a couple classes with— only she annoyed him far more than Hinata did.

Because while the little orange haired boy was a weak alpha, he was still just that. An alpha.

And yet, you walked around with the confidence of an alpha.

You were definitely the outcast, most omegas found you annoying and most alphas didn’t like to bother with an omega that didn’t know their place. Your scent wasn’t sweet and delicate like an omega’s either, it was tangy and citrusy (not at all a bad smell, even Ushijima would admit it was nice, just not that of an omegas). And worst of all, if you stepped out of line and an alpha tried to put you back in your place, you’d stick up your nose, turn the other way around, and continue with what you were doing in the first place.

This behavior always sat wrong with him but he never had to come into close contact with you, he’d just catch instances of this in class or in the hallways. Always hating the way you demanded to be seen.

And Ushijima knew he wasn’t in the wrong because everyone had found you strange. You didn’t even have any friends until your third year of high school when you shared your first class with the renowned Guess Monster.

Tendou, Ushijima, and you all shared a science class your third year, and though Ushijima had prior knowledge of you, it was the first time Tendou ever really noticed you.

And being dubbed a freak himself, Tendou immediately wanted to befriend you and it was only a short while after that he noticed how much you got under Ushijima’s skin.

So as a fellow freak and probably the only person other than Hinata that could get a rise out of the usually stoic alpha— well, Tendou just had to become your best friend.

Thus it began.

Tendou inviting you to work on group projects with him and Ushijima.

Tendou then inviting you to watch practices.

Tendou invited you to games.

And worst of all— Tendou invited you to hang out in his and Ushijima’s dorm.

And you quickly became someone Ushijima had to endure all day, every day.

You knew right from the beginning when you started hanging out with Tendou that the great Ushiwaka didn’t want anything to do with you. If you tried to talk to him he’d answer with four words at most or blatantly ignore you all together (then again he did that with everyone, but with you it just somehow felt different). And that was because although he was a strong alpha, he had better things to do than put an omega back in their place.

So he put up with you for days— weeks— months— until suddenly he couldn’t.

In what Tendou liked to call the “staring contest of the year” you had outwardly challenged Ushijima. But!— in your defense it was on an outrageously ridiculous subject that you believed you had the right to believe and that Ushijima should’ve respected that regardless of his own biases.

It was an argument that took place in their dorm while the two of them were there. You had casually walked in, an agitated look on your face, exclaiming:

”I hate alphas!” You yelled, pushing their door open. You ignored Ushijima who sent you a slightly irritated glance from where he was seated at his desk, reading a volleyball magazine or something, and went immediately over to the giggling Tendou.

He was up on his bed on the top bunk and you climbed the ladder, seating yourself next to where he was sprawled out, with a pout on your face.

”Should I be offended~” he laughed.

”You don’t count.”

”That’s more offensive than your last statement.”

You rolled your eyes, “Fine, you’re the exception— but alphas suck.”

He moved closer, throwing an arm around you with a large grin, “Did something happen? Do tell, (F/N)-chan~” he sang.

“Well... I may have gotten into another fight with an omega.”

”Ohoho~ did you win?”

”I guess. She pulled my hair so I punched her and... found out she has a mate.”

Tendou burst into another fit of laughter, and started poking your side, “Did you try fighting an alpha again?”

You swatted his hands away, “I just stood up for myself.”

”And how’d that go?”

”Stupid. He came up to me and did that dumb alpha thing where they stand up straighter and puff their chests out with the expectation that I’d be a cowering little omega in their presence,” you scoffed, “He told me that I shouldn’t step out of line and start fights with mated omegas, which is total bullshit because she pulled my hair first!” You yelled, falling back against his bed. “I hate alphas!”

“You punched his mate,” Ushijima who usually ignored you whenever you were over spoke up for the first time.

You furrowed your eyebrows, propping yourself up on your elbows, “Yeah, cause she pulled my hair.”

”She was wrong too.”

You scoffed, “So what? The alpha was in the right?”

”You punched his mate, he was protecting her.”

You shot up and glared at Ushijima who was still reading his magazine. ”Well I was protecting myself.” You practically hissed out.

Ushijima finally stopped what he was doing and turned around to stare up at you from where you were seated on Tendou’s bed.

Tendou’s eyes flitted back and forth between the two of you, seeing how pissed off you were, and at how Ushijima was taken aback at the tone you used with him, and Tendou’s grin slowly widened.

”You speak as if you’re an alpha,” Ushijima said, eyebrows slightly furrowed.

”I speak like an omega who’s fed up with alphas,” you spat back.

Ushijima slowly stood up and you could smell his scent had changed. It was stronger and more powerful— definitely covering up yours and some of Tendou’s scent. And you could pretty much smell how annoyed and pissed he was with you.

And as a result you felt the omega in you want to apologize and take everything back, bowing your head down, too weak to make eye contact. It was a feeling you had become quite accustomed to with how often alphas did this to you, and you became quite good at ignoring those instincts.

But Ushijima was stronger than all those alphas, and Tendou watched in awe as the most strong willed omega he’s ever met started to shrink in her seat, eyes glued to her lap.

Ushijima stood in front of you, and due to his height he was nearly eye level with you despite you sitting up on the top bunk.

“You’re careless,” He spoke lowly, as blunt as ever, “You speak the first thing that comes to mind with no regard if you offend someone, and you’re surprised when an alpha tries to put you back in your place. You’re an omega.” His voice loud and firm, “Power does not lean in your favor. Learn your place.”

You bit down on your lip hard, finding it difficult to meet his eyes but with everything you had in you, you forced yourself up straight and looked him dead in the eye.

Tendou’s eyes widened at your display but he kept quiet, glancing at how the usually stoic Ushijima looked slightly thrown off guard.

“I will never settle for being submissive,” you spoke slowly, never breaking your eye contact, “And I will never stop striving for independence. You like this power system because it’s all you’ve ever known— I’ll show you that you’re wrong and I’ll do whatever it takes.”

From there the two of you stared at each other for what felt like forever, Tendou holding his breath to see who would give in first. Until it was finally time to go to volleyball practice and Ushijima was forced to look away, making you smile triumphantly.

And so it began. The start of an overly exhausting plan that you were committed to executing.

And if Ushijima thought you were a nuisance before it was nothing compared to now.

A few days after the incident you acted as if it never happened, putting on a cheery and energetic façade. And you actually spoke to him in that same friendly manner you spoke to Tendou and others on the team.

He soon realized there would be no end to your chatter. You’d go on and on about your day, shows and movies you liked, hobbies that you were into, and you’d ask him tons and tons of questions that he’d just ignore but you wouldn’t shut up, forcing him to answer your questions— you even started calling him Waka-kun while you remained (L/N)-san.

But you didn’t care. You vowed that you’d force your way into his heart until he finally saw you as an equal instead of an overly obnoxious omega.

It took months but somehow, by some kind of miracle, Ushijima came to the conclusion... you actually weren’t that bad.

Of course you were still loud, kind of annoying, and spoke out of turn most of the time. But he guessed that some of your better qualities started sticking out the more you hung around him.

For one, you were always happy.

Happiness wasn’t an emotion Ushijima felt often, he knew the feeling of victory when he defeated a difficult opponent in volleyball but that never lasted that long because, well— Ushijima always won...(for the most part). And he knew what it felt like to be satisfied and generally content.

But the happiness you exuded. This absolutely boundless amount of energy and cheerfulness you walked around with despite being put down by practically the entire student body, it made you slightly more admirable in his eyes.

And then he saw your loyalty and devotion towards the team and specifically Tendou. By definition, Tendou was technically your best friend and you made sure to prioritize him in your life because of how grateful you were to call him a friend, this meant inviting him out places and never turning down an invitation he made. You let him talk to you when he was down and comforted and supported him appropriately. And when it came to the team, you were kind of an honorary manager (you didn’t actually have the title because the coach would never trust an omega to do the job) but you gave them water bottles and towels during practice and made sure to attend all their games and cheer for them. So even the team who had been kind of cold to you in the beginning, ended up growing rather fond of you, and you were just as happy to consider them your friends.

But he supposed what stuck out to him the most was how determined you were to be more acquainted with him. You’d ask about his day, his childhood, volleyball, anything really. And you somehow had the ability to pull more than a couple words from his mouth as time went on.

And all from the shadows, the Guess Monster was watching. Observing how a very odd friendship grew between the two of you. And although Ushijima rarely let any emotion of any kind show, after three months Tendou made an educated guess.

Ushijima Wakatoshi was actually falling for you.

From a surface level no one could really tell, but Tendou started picking up on the way Ushijima’s scent would change whenever you were near, it’d grow softer, and slightly more non threatening than his usual scent. It was a small detail but spoke volumes. Other than that, he noticed more and more how he grew comfortable around you, letting you talk his ear off and he’d answer your questions with more than three words. But what gave it away for him was when he had stepped into one of your fights where an omega started yelling at you for acting too much like an alpha. It was the first time he had ever done it and although you told him you could fight your own battles, he doubted it would be the last fight Ushijima broke up for you.

With you it was actually harder to tell if you were starting to like Ushijima back, and this was based off of all your rants he’s heard about you never wanting to mate with an alpha and that you’d much rather mate with a beta. It was hard to picture you with an alpha and even harder to picture you with an alpha as strong as Ushijima.

But he, figured out that yes— you did reciprocate those feelings when he caught a certain sight.

You went out with Tendou and Ushijima one night and stayed up late, you were absolutely exhausted so Ushijima ended up giving you a piggyback ride back to your dorm. And that’s when Tendou noticed the way you nuzzled your face into his neck. He couldn’t tell if you were trying to scent yourself or if you just found his scent soothing enough to fall asleep to— but either way there were definitely mutual feelings there.

The only problem was that the two of you were too dense to acknowledge those feelings.

So as usual Tendou decided to take it upon himself to get the two of you closer.

He came up with a fairly simple but hopefully effective plan.

Not that long ago you came to Tendou and asked if he’d been willing to give you volleyball lessons every now and then after you came to really admire the sport after watching them play for so long. And he agreed of course.

So now it was just a matter of getting Ushijima to take his place—

“I won’t be able to make our volleyball lesson (F/N)-chan,” Tendou suddenly spoke up from where he laid on the floor.

He watched as your head poked over the top bunk where you lay, a pout on your face, “What? Why not?” You whined.

”I’ll be busy this weekend, but!” He suddenly exclaimed, looking over at Ushijima, “Maybe Wakatoshi-kun could take my place.”

”No,” came Ushijima’s answer, from where he sat on his bed.

Tendou frowned at how dense he could be.

You pouted further, “Waka-kun would be mean about it if he helped me anyway.”

”Don’t be silly—“

”I’m not! I can picture it now!” You suddenly made a very serious face, mimicking Ushijima’s, “(L/N)-chan you have awful technique. (L/N)-chan you understand nothing about volleyball. (L/N)-chan you suck.”

Tendou giggled at that, seeing your point, “You’d also be getting taught by a top player in the nation~” he sang.

You paused for a moment, thinking it over, “... We’d probably get in a fight though and I hate arguing with him.”

”You hate it because you lose,” Ushijima spoke up.

”Shut up!” You yelled, moving to hang over the edge of the bed to see him.

He glanced up at your upside down form, “l’m right.”

And since he was always painfully blunt and honest, you knew he actually was right, so you settled on pouting further.

”Y’know people would kill to have someone like Wakatoshi teach them volleyball,” Tendou said, continuing to convince you, “He’s the best of the best, don’t you want to be the best~”

”I’m not that passionate about volleyball,” you deadpanned.

He faltered, until a thought struck him, and he grinned, “Remember that time you tagged along with the team to the beach and we were short one person for volleyball and asked you to play?”

You glared darkly at him for reminding you about that humiliating incident— they were a powerhouse school after all, why the hell would they ask you to play when you had barely any experience. “Yes,” you muttered.

”Well what if Wakatoshi-kun taught you a few of his tricks and you got to show off next time we play together.”

He knew he had you when your eyes widened in realization.

You looked back down at Ushijima from where you hung upside down, “Waka-kun teach me volleyball.”

”No,” he replied, looking down at his homework.

”Please.”

”No.”

”Please.”

”No.”

”Please.”

”No.”

“Ugh— why notttt,” you whined.

”Because you don’t play volleyball.”

”Well I want to show off to the team the next time you guys force me to play.”

”You still wouldn’t be as good as them.”

You frowned, “I already know that, but you don’t always have to say the truth.”

Ushijima couldn’t help himself when he looked back up at you, something in your tone bothering him. And the pout and look in your eyes really bothered him for some reason. But he didn’t like being the cause of it and he really wanted to see it leave your face.

“Fine,” he gave in. He watched as your face instantly lit up, a smile gracing your features and it admittedly made him feel weirder than when you were upset.

You flipped off the top bunk to Ushijima’s bed and threw your arms around his shoulders in a hug, “Thank you Waka-kun~” you sang.

And Tendou grinned from ear to ear, watching as Ushijima’s face tinted the lightest of pinks.

——

“You’re late,” Ushijima grunted as he watched you burst through the gym doors, trying to catch your breath.

”I know!” You panted, “I got held up by a teacher.” You said, throwing your bag to the ground. You made your way over to Ushijima who was previously practicing by himself as he waited. “Now, you can’t be mean remember, this is just for fun. It’s not like I’m gonna be using this in any actual tournaments, this is just to shut the team up the next time they make fun of me for sucking at volleyball.”

He nodded and the two of you started.

You quickly figured out that playing volleyball with Ushijima was very different than when you’d play with Tendou. Tendou was always goofing around and joking with you but with Ushijima he was unsurprisingly very serious, so it was up to you to lighten the mood. But you had to admit he was a pretty good teacher and kept the rude comments to a minimum, which was a feat on its own because he very rarely censored himself and you knew you weren’t doing to well.

It was well into the hour when shit finally hit the fan.

Ushijima asked you to toss him the ball to demonstrate him hitting a spike. So you did and as usual because of his strong spikes, the ball ended up rolling off, landing by your bag on the other side of the gym.

You offered to go get it, and in hindsight you really wished you did. But Ushijima said it was fine and went off to grab the ball.

When he went to pick it up, he noticed the zipper of your bag was opened and something inside caught his eye. He glanced back at you to see you looking down at your phone, before he brought his attention back to the object and pulled it out. His eyebrows furrowed.

It was a pill bottle and the label told him they were heat suppressants. But that wasn’t what caught his eye.

The date said they were prescribed about a month ago and the bottle was already three quarters gone.

He stood up straight and turned, “What are these?” He called out to you, making you look up.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “Idiot, are you going through my bag? Put those back and get back over here.” You rolled your eyes.

He only listened to half of what you said as he held the bottle and walked back, “(L/N)-chan, what is this?”

You looked at him confusedly, “They’re heat suppressants or did you forget that I’m an omega and go through heats?”

”More than half of them are gone.”

You faltered, realizing he checked the date on them. But you played it cool and shrugged, “So?”

”It’s dangerous to have that many suppressants in a month.”

You rolled your eyes, “What? Are you suddenly an omega now? They’re my pills, I can use them how I want.”

You could see Ushijima getting frustrated now, “The side effects of this many can be harmful to your body.”

”I’m fine— I’m more than fine. I haven’t had to go through a heat in a while and I’ve been functioning just the same, only it’s better now because I don’t have to deal with heats.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “What do you mean by ‘a while’?” He asked worried to hear just how long you were putting your body through this. Suppressants were meant to make heats easier, not stop them all together.

“Nothing, it really doesn’t matter,” you said in an attempt to brush it off.

”How long (L/N)-chan?”

You clenched your jaw, looking down at the ground, not answering.

”How long,” his voice became darker and firmer.

You hated it but when he used that tone, you found it difficult to deny, “A....a year.” You muttered.

Ushijima’s eyes widened in shock and horror, and it was probably the most emotion you’ve ever seen from him, “You missed four heats?”

”Well.... yeah.”

”You can’t do that to your body—“

”Why not?” You snapped, looking up at him, “It’s my body isn’t it? And my heats are my business. I’ve been completely fine up till now anyway.”

”What about your next heat? You have to have one eventually and if you’ve missed four, your next heat will be unbearable.”

”That’s only for some people,” you scoffed, “I could be completely fine.”

”And if you’re not? You don’t have a mate.”

”Why do you even care!” You huffed.

”Because—“ you’re my omega.

Ushijima completely stopped as the thought popped in his head. He was caught so off guard by that he forgot his argument.

But he did his best to compose himself before stating, “I’m keeping these.”

You scowled, “Like hell you are!” You yelled before leaping for the pill bottle, but he just held it over his head and out of your reach. You grabbed his arm and tried to pull it down but he would barely budge, “Ushijima this isn’t funny!” You yelled out in anger and slight panic.

He ignored the slight sting he felt at hearing his last name, but he didn’t give in, “This is for your own good.”

”Fuck my own good! I need those pills— I can’t go through another heat!”

”You’re an omega,” he snapped, “You can’t keep pretending you’re an alpha. Heats are necessary, learn your place already.”

And there were those words you absolutely despised, ‘learn your place’.

You blinked back the frustrated tears, “I’m leaving,” you scoffed. And with that you quickly ran out, grabbing your bag and leaving a very pissed off alpha behind you.

—

Tendou had no idea how things could get so screwed up the one time he got you two alone together.

You ended up avoiding Ushijima at all costs and Ushijima being who he was was definitely not going to approach you first when he believed he was right.

But Tendou could only handle so much of this stupid fight before trying to convince the two of you to make up.

But you said you’d only forgive him if he gave you your pills back and Ushijima said he wasn’t going to. So when Tendou got you to swear to Ushijima that you’d use them properly was he then able to sway Ushijima into giving them back.

So he did and you forgave him.

Of course there was still some resentment and animosity about the whole thing, but after a couple weeks things were back to normal more or less.

That was until that inevitable day approached.

You hadn’t come to class which wasn’t unusual because you liked to skip every once in a while, so Ushijima and Tendou didn’t think much of it at first.

That was until they overheard a conversation between two omegas not too far from them.

”The entire history hallway literally smells like omega.” The one girl complained.

”Really?” Her friend asked, “What happened.”

She shrugged, “Dunno. I think some omega went into heat, but my god is it strong. I think they locked themselves in a supply closet, there’s a group of as alphas just outside the door.”

”I feel kinda bad. We should tell someone to go help them. Do we know who the omega is?”

”Everyone’s pretty sure it’s (L/N) since the scent is pretty citrusy. Her roommate also told me she takes suppressants like they’re candy so it makes sense.”

Suddenly Ushijima had stood up. Tendou looked up at the alpha with a questioning gaze, but as he watched him just head straight for the door, a grin grew on his face as he knew where this was headed.

—

You were a mess as you hid away inside the supply closet. The heat had randomly hit you out of no where without a single warning. The most you were able to do was quickly lock yourself in the closet. And now you were left trembling in a curled up ball in the corner of the room.

You were hot everywhere and covered in a layer of sweat. Your chest rose and fell in breathy pants and the uncomfortable pool of wetness in your panties was getting really distracting.

And on top of all that, there was a group of alphas just outside calling out to you. You couldn’t make out what they were saying because of how overwhelmed you felt but their scents were definitely accelerating the heat.

And dread filled you at the thought of Ushijima being right. All four heats that you missed just hit you all at once.

This was the most helpless you’ve ever felt.

...Then you smelled it.

A scent far more overpowering than the alphas scents combined. And a scent you knew all to well. Heavy and woody— a scent that made your head spin and squeeze your legs together as a broken whimper left your throat.

The others had scattered in fear, soon leaving you alone with Ushijima Wakatoshi’s scent.

Ushijima walked in, easily breaking the lock. His gaze was intense as usual but there was also something else in his eyes as he found you curled up on the ground of the supply closet, in heat.

And even in the presence of an omega in a heat extreme as yours, Ushijima showed an incredible display over his instincts as he barely seemed bothered by it. The only thing that gave him away was how his breathing slowed, taking in deeper breaths as what was probably the prettiest and most mouth watering scent he ever smelled flooded his senses.

His presence commanded the area and the air reeked of his scent, and as tough as you were, even you fell weak to the presence of an alpha while in heat— and the so called alpha of alphas no less.

Your legs were squeezed tight as you buried your face in your knees, covering your nose from his scent.

”(L/N),” he said, voice deep and a touch of anger in it.

You whimpered, trying to fight back the tears that threatened to fall.

”Waka-kun,” your voice came out weak, broken, and muffled, it had even made Ushijima falter for a second, uneasy seeing you act so helpless. “I-I can’t— I can’t do this,” you shook your head, the tears running down your face now. “I-it’s barely even started and— and th-this feels worse than m-my worst heat.” You sniffled, body trembling and shaking now.

”I told you not to take those suppressants.”

A broken moan came out after hearing his rumbling voice and you squeezed your legs tighter— how embarrassing.

In truth, Ushijima greatly disliked seeing you like this, especially after developing such a fondness over the tough and fiery omega that used to drive him mad (and still does from time to time.) But there was still something he greatly enjoyed with seeing how submissive you were being in front of him— as long as he was the only one that got to see you like this. So what you said next, sparked something in him.

”D...do y-you know an a-alpha that... can help?” Your words were broken up with sobs and stifled moans.

And a strong sense of possessiveness washed over him at the thought of another alpha possibly aiding you through this heat.

”That won’t be necessary,” he spoke curtly, “Stand up,” he said, walking forward.

You clamped your hand tighter over your nose, suffocating on his scent, and you shook your head furiously, “I-I don’t know if I c-can—“

”Stand,” and there was no arguing with the Alpha tone in his voice, your body wouldn’t let you.

So on trembling knees you shakily stood up, holding your breath as you used the wall for support as you leaned against it.

Something wild was overtaking Ushijima’s senses at seeing how fragile and delicate you looked, and he stalked forward, eyes heavy with an intense gaze on you.

And he was now in front of you as you stared down at the ground, waiting for what he’d do next as you tried your best to stay composed by attempting to ignore his presence.

Suddenly, he raised his hand to cup your jaw, his other hand gripping your wrist to pull it away from your nose. And the absolute predatorial look in his eyes would’ve knocked you to your knees if the wall wasn’t there to support you.

He stroked your cheek with his thumb, wiping a tear away. “From tonight onwards you’re mine.” He growled before lifting your jaw up further.

You moaned at that and quickly nodded, “I-I’m yours.”

”I don’t care if you always want to fight back as long as you understand that right now, I’m in charge.” He said as his thumb traced your bottom lip before tugging down on it. And the second after you nodded, he crashed his lips against yours in a bruising kiss.

Your resolve immediately crumbled and you easily melted into the kiss, collapsing into him. A cry left your lips which was promptly swallowed by Ushijima. Your arms wrapped around his neck tightly as you tried rutting against his thigh. But he quickly grabbed ahold of your hips, stilling you.

You whined into his mouth, “Please Waka-kun.”

”Patience,” he commanded, making you quickly shut your mouth. “I’m going to take care of you,” and with that he picked you up.

He walked with you in his arms through the deserted hallway, making his way towards the dormitories, specifically his.

And as he walked through the school building, classes having been just let out, he ignored the stares and stunned silence from his peers as they gawked at the sight of the Alpha of Shiratorizawa Academy walking with the little annoying omega of the school in his arms, who was clearly in heat.

But right now all that was on his mind was getting you back to his dorm safely so he could spend the next how ever many days fucking you until all you could possibly remember was his name.

Ushijima unlocked his dorm door, seeing an already grinning Tendou sitting upon his bed, “Well didn’t this work out nicely?” He teased.

”Tendou I need the—“

He raised his hands in surrender, “I know, I know,” he said getting up, his eyes landing on you for a second, “Definitely a sight I never thought I’d see,” he mused at seeing you so submissive in Ushijima’s arms, before practically singing, “Have fun~” on his way out.

Ushijima kicked the door shut before walking over to his bed and dropping you on it. You were sprawled out on your back, absolutely breathless.

His own breathing was beginning to become more and more labored as your heat was pushing him into a rut.

”You’re going to behave?” He asked.

You nodded, a mewl escaping your lips as you rubbed your thighs together.

”Use your words.”

”Y-yes alpha,” you managed to get out, a glint reaching his eye at the title.

”Good. Now....bare your neck.”

You scrambled to do as he said, and a slight smirk grazed his lips at the sight, a sense of pride, similar to when he won tournaments, washed over him.

You kneeled up on your knees, titling your head to the side for him.

He smiled, cupping the side of your face, before leaning down to mark you.

So yes, Ushijima would put up with your fiery attitude and need to go against everything everyone tells you to do, as long as he’d be the one to get to see you like this.

Because for the first time since he’s known you.

You were finally listening.

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #ushijima #omegaverse #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #omegaverse au #a/b/o fanfic #a/b/o #alpha #beta #omega #alpha beta omega #alpha!ushijima #alpha!ushijima wakatoshi #omega!reader #haikyuu omegaverse #hq!! omegaverse

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spencers-renaissance · 3 years

Text

you know that a boy who likes boys is a dead boy

Summary: Spencer's gay. He joins the BAU and befriends the team, but it is 2003. It's a secret he has to keep. He just didn't expect it to be this hard.

Tags: gay!spencer, coming out, hurt/comfort, insecure!spencer, misunderstandings, angst with a happy ending, dad hotch, protective!hotch, protective!derek, childhood trauma TW: one instance of explicit homophobia, but it is referenced a lot, as is Spencer's internalised homophobia at the start of this fic. A shit ton of heteronormativity but tbh that's just canon lol

Pairing: Spencer Reid/OMC, Spencer Reid & Derek Morgan, Spencer Reid & Aaron Hotchner, The BAU Team & Spencer Reid

Word Count: 6k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

Consider this my contribution to pride month 😌 I've waited so long to post it and I'm so glad I'm finally doing it because it's definitely one of my all time favourites <3 Gideon is here somewhere but just like with all my early season fics he's not really part of the plot I combined my moreid and gen taglists bc it was hard to know the audience for this, but just ignore it if you're not interested!

you know that a boy who likes boys is a dead boy, unless he keeps his mouth shut, which is what you didn’t do, because you are weak and hollow and it doesn’t matter anymore. — richard siken, a primer for the small weird loves

Spencer has only told one person in his whole life.

His mother guessed. For as long as he can remember, she’s used gender neutral pronouns when talking about his future partner, read him all the gay literature she could find, promised him that he’s perfect just the way he is.

The trouble is that Spencer only believes her until the first grade, when Ryan Sampson shoves him over in the playground and calls him gay. His mom had only ever used that term in a sweet, loving way, taking care to associate such words with positivity, as long as his dad wasn’t around to hear. When that word comes out of Ryan Sampson’s mouth, it is not said with sweetness and love; it is said with venom, and Spencer learns quickly that his mom is wrong. He is not perfect just the way he is.

And so, he keeps it a secret. When his mom notices him getting uncomfortable at the mention of future partners, she stops bringing it up, though she refuses to give up the diverse education she provides for him outside of school. His dad tells him that one day he’ll be a strapping young man and marry a nice girl in a church, and Spencer nods along. He ignores the way his stomach turns with anxiety at the thought. Ignores the screaming match his parents have that night. Ignores the fact that it started because Diana chipped in with ‘or boy’.

He’s in high school by the time he’s twelve, and the only part he’s grateful for is the absence of pressure to get a girlfriend. His dad’s out of the picture now, and Spencer tries not to let himself think that maybe if he wasn’t like this he might have stayed. Diana’s so out of it most days that she doesn’t remember what she noticed about him when he was a child, only recalling the last few years of shoving himself so far back in the closet he can hardly see the door anymore.

It feels like he’s lost his last ally.

(He hates that a small part of him feels relieved she doesn’t remember; that he almost feels assured by the fact that the last person to know who he really is has forgotten. There is only this version of Spencer Reid now. No other exists.)

He makes the mistake during his second undergraduate degree. He’s just turned eighteen but he is already a doctor and, fortunately, this alienates him from most of his peers, but someone manages to slide past his defences. Ethan Miller is twenty, in the second year of his (first) undergraduate degree in Chemical Engineering, and he’s nice. Spencer doesn’t have a lot of experience with friendship, but they get on well and Ethan makes him laugh. For the first time, he feels comfortable in the presence of anyone other than his mother.

They slip into an easy friendship: waiting for each other after class — Spencer back in the undergraduate buildings now he has his first PhD under his belt — and going out for ice cream and pizza and Thai food. Ethan goes to parties while Spencer studies, and then they reconvene to watch Doctor Who and play cards.

For almost a year, Spencer keeps his secret carefully locked up, hidden behind the mask he’s perfected after so many years. Even though he’s eighteen, nearly nineteen now, he doesn’t try and explore that side of himself. No, that’s far too risky. He doesn’t try and pretend any other way either, he just stays silent and lets people’s assumptions lie for him, but he can’t help the longing that claws up his throat when he locks eyes with a passing guy on campus. One time, he’d seen two men kiss on a bench in the city, and he’d run back to his dorm and had a panic attack. Why couldn’t he have that?

The feelings don’t stop, and he doesn’t know how to make them. He hates that he isn’t normal, but still longs for the touch of a man, the feeling of being wrapped up in strong arms, of being kissed by dry, chapped lips, and falling asleep to a heartbeat approximately 11% slower than that of a woman’s.

It’s a constant battle inside him, emotions raging, and he struggles to control it, suppress it, tame it.

He pays a sorry price.

Ethan makes him feel comfortable, and that turns out to be a detriment. He relaxes around the other boy: he tells him about growing up as a pre-teen in a high school, about how a child feels living 260 miles away from home, even about his mother’s illness.

And one day, it slips out. They’re on the beach, lying on towels as they look up at the blue sky, talking about what their futures will look like: Ethan will be a successful chemical engineer in Berlin, and Spencer will work for the FBI, profiling serial killers.

“You’ll have to marry a German girl,” he tells Ethan. “It’ll be tough to convince an American girl to move all the way to Germany as soon as you graduate.”

“Yeah, and what about you? You’ll be off fighting crime around the country, not much of a life for a family.”

“Oh, I imagine my husband will be the type to—”

“Husband?”

Spencer freezes. It shocks him as much as it shocks Ethan. He doesn’t even pay much attention to Ethan’s disgusted face and his outraged tirade. He hears slurs and insults, hears him say that he can’t believe Spencer tricked him like this, that he was probably waiting to make a move on him, that he was never to look in Ethan’s direction again, but Spencer is frozen in time.

He’s never allowed him to think much about what his personal life might look like in the future, but he’d said ‘husband’ on instinct, without thinking, and it’s clearly something he actually wants. Ethan’s words sting, but the moment brings about a realisation Spencer is thankful for; it instigates a journey of self-discovery and self-expression, of the joy of living as your true self.

He loses his first and only friend, but he gains something much more valuable. He visits gay bars — nervously sipping a non-alcoholic drink in the corner at first, before soon becoming confident enough to respond to the men who sidle up to him and ask for his name. He lets go and dances the night away, sometimes going home with one of the many dance partners he acquires during the night, sometimes heading back to his own dorm happily alone.

Makeup and dresses and skirts and heels make their way into his wardrobe, and he befriends girls and drag queens and other gay men who encourage him to be exactly the way he is. And the best part is, he never has to come out to any of them. All of them know, and that’s good enough for everyone.

The fun comes to a sad sort of slow, however, when he joins the BAU. Everyone knows law enforcement’s relationship with the LGBT community is less than adequate — Spencer’s seen it with his own eyes: butch lesbians and men in dresses getting roughed up by angry police officers for ‘lewd behaviour’ or ‘drunkenness’ when they’re just being themselves. It’s not safe for him to tell anyone, so he doesn’t.

He still goes out with his friends when he’s in town and wears makeup and dresses and crop tops when he’s at home, but presents as rigidly straight Dr Spencer Reid to his team at the BAU.

The hardest part about it is that he loves his team. He’s known Gideon for years — and he wouldn’t be surprised if he suspects something after coming over to his house unannounced one night, only to have a man other than Spencer open the door — but he settles into a comforting dynamic with Hotch. He can’t help but see him as something of a father figure, and he knows Hotch has a soft spot for him, always looking out for him and taking him under his wing without a moment’s hesitation.

Elle, JJ, and Penelope all take a shine to him, too, teasing him without a hint of malice in their tones, only the kind of playful kindness that reminds him of his mother. He forms a special bond with Penelope and they spend hours watching Doctor Who together and geeking out on all the areas their interests overlap, and the comfort he feels with her matches the comfort he’s found with his new group of queer friends.

(She doesn’t hold a candle to Ethan, he decides one night, after he’d cried at a movie she’d made him watch and she felt so bad she made him hot chocolate and jam toast and cuddled him until he felt better.)

Derek becomes a brother to him. He puts him in a headlock at least once a day — which Spencer has been reliably informed by multiple sources is a very brotherly thing to do — and teases him relentlessly, while simultaneously being fiercely protective of him. Enough so, that Spencer sometimes wonders if he even has Hotch beat in that department.

He loves his team and his team loves him. It should be simple. It is still 2003.

He comes in one morning late for a briefing, his shirt buttoned wrong and his hair is a mess, and he’s fairly sure that his attempt to cover the hickey at the base of his neck with concealer has been ultimately unsuccessful. It’s obvious why he’s late. Gideon is too engrossed in the case file to notice, but Hotch raises an eyebrow, an amused look on his face as everyone else immediately takes to teasing him.

“Who’s the lucky lady, pretty boy?”

Elle raises an eyebrow to match Derek’s shit-eating grin, “Someone definitely got some strange last night.”

“When do we get to meet her, Spence?” JJ asks, smirking as he takes a seat.

He’s bright red — as if he needed to look any more debauched — and Spencer tries to ignore the hurt that seizes his chest at the reminder of his need to stay quiet. This team respects him, and he can’t throw that away just because Spencer gets too comfortable.

God, he wishes Penelope was here.

“None of your business,” he mutters, trying to keep his tone light. He fails.

Naturally, Hotch notices and swiftly moves the briefing on, and Spencer keeps his gaze locked on the case file, not missing the absence of a reprimand from his superior. He’s constantly thankful for the older man, but in this moment, he wishes he could hug him.

(A voice that sounds dangerously close to Ethan’s rises up and taunts him in his ear: he wouldn’t want a dirty homo like you anywhere near him—)

Derek doesn’t let up on the case, continuing to bug him about the special lady in his life. He does concede that it could’ve been a one night stand, which is one front he’s right on, but a couple more concessions are necessary before Derek comes close to the truth of last night.

Eventually, Derek stops, and Spencer notes that the cessation of comments comes suspiciously close to the last time Derek and Hotch were alone together. He doesn’t have it in him to feel angry at Hotch for stepping in when he had it handled; doesn’t have the energy to act as though his pride is wounded, because really, neither of those things are true, and he doesn’t need to add another item to ‘Spencer Reid’s List of Things He Pretends to Be.’

The situation is forgotten, and time moves on.

Things change when he finds his first proper boyfriend. He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t the giddying rush of emotions it turns out to be, and Spencer spends his days smiling as he daydreams his time away.

His name is Oscar Wilkins, a History professor at Georgetown University, and Spencer falls quickly in love with him. Ever since their mutual friend had introduced them at a gay bar one evening, they’d spent all their free time together. He’s kind and gentle and understanding of Spencer’s hectic and unpredictable job, and he finally has the chance to experience everything he quietly and shamefully longed for as a teenager.

The only downside is the silent breaking of Spencer’s heart that the most important people in his life can’t meet his boyfriend. He longs to show Oscar off, to hold hands in front of his team, lean up to press a tender kiss to Oscar’s lips. He wants to put a framed picture of the two of them at the Washington Monument on his desk to remind him of why he needs to get through the hard days; he doesn’t want to have to sneak out of the hotel room he shares with Derek to whisper hushed, loving goodnights over the phone.

But he’s too scared. Too cowardly.

It’s different being who he is with his gay group of friends littered with wlws and drag queens and other gay and bisexual guys. They understand.

But Derek and Hotch are two extremely masculine, alpha men: Derek’s a ladies’ man and Hotch is married to a woman he met in college with a baby on the way and both have a strong and dominant energy that still sometimes manages to intimidate Spencer even after all these years. And Elle and JJ are lovely — some of his closest friends, really — but sometimes they remind him a little too much of the mean girls he went to high school with.

The hardest person to keep his secret from, though, is Penelope. She’s his best friend and he desperately wants to give her all of him, but he’s so scared. He’s lost a best friend to this secret before, and even though he’s certain she’d be fine with it, what if she accidentally let it slip to Derek? What if Hotch found out and didn’t see him in the same light anymore? What if the girls started teasing him? What if Gideon didn’t want to mentor him anymore?

The fear paralyses him. And it’s a cycle he doesn’t know how to break.

Fear, though, doesn't stop everyone from noticing his daydreaming, his dopey smile when he checks his messages, his urgency to get home where he would’ve stayed until the small hours of the morning before. As excellent as he is at hiding his sexuality, he’s fucking terrible at hiding the fact that he’s in love: it was easy enough to pretend he was straight, but hiding something this all-consuming is an impossible ask.

Derek comes over to perch on the edge of his desk one afternoon, sighing as he sits down. “Pretty boy, this is getting ridiculous,” he says, snatching Spencer’s attention away from his phone. “You’ve been grinning like an idiot for the last twenty minutes as you’ve texted Future Mrs Reid. When are we going to meet her?”

(He hates the new nickname the team has given his mystery significant other, although Oscar had found it hilarious. “It’s funny because when we get married, we’ll hardly be able to tell,” he’d argued through his laughter. “Neither of us will change our name because of our academic profiles, and we’ll both still be ‘Dr’. Our wedding rings will be the only indicator.”

Spencer hadn’t argued back, because he’d been too tongue-tied and flushed pink at Oscar’s use of ‘when’ in regards to their hypothetical nuptials. It was only made bearable by Oscar kissing him gently and tucking him under his arm, not embarrassing him any further as Spencer had sort of anticipated, warmth settling over his chest at the thought of their future together.)

“You won’t,” he replies, perhaps a little too curtly.

Derek starts at that, clearly not expecting it. He definitely should’ve tried to play it off as a joke. “What— should I be offended, pretty boy?”

You wouldn’t call me that if you knew who I really am.

“That’s up to you, Derek,” he says calmly, although he still can’t meet his eyes, “but you won’t meet the ‘Future Mrs Reid, so I think it would probably be best if you left it alone.”

“Damn,” Derek mutters under his breath, clearly pissed off and probably more hurt than Spencer ever intended. “Suit yourself.”

And with that, he gets up and leaves his desk. Spencer’s only solace is the text message he sees on his phone when he picks it back up: I love you so much. You know that, right?

The light-hearted ridicule comes to an abrupt halt after the incident with Derek, and it’s clear that he had been the biggest contributor to the teasing. He’s thankful that the jokes have stopped, but he wishes desperately that it didn’t come with the growing distance between him and his team. Loneliness takes the place of his previous irritated anxiety, and he isn’t sure what’s worse.

It all comes to a head at the end of a case in Michigan. They’re stuck in the lounge of the small inn they’d stayed in the last few days, a snowstorm having blocked them in and grounded the jet, although Gideon had long since retreated to his room. The fire’s going and they’re the only guests around, so it’s cosy enough, but Spencer can’t help but feel sick at the idea of another night away from home.

It’s only been two weeks since he’d snapped at Derek, but the chasm between him and the team is only widening with each passing day. He knows it’s not a case of ‘pick a side’, but the team’s morale relies on light-hearted banter and teasing, and him not being a part of that anymore has only brewed awkwardness. Everyone’s trying to give him space when space is the last thing he wants.

Oscar’s keeping him company over the phone at least, but it’s not quite enough to quell the loneliness swimming around his stomach, and the 'discrete' sideways looks he gets from the team only make him feel worse.

“At least it’s nice and toasty in here,” JJ sighs as she takes a sip of the hot chocolate the kindly inn owner had made for them all.

Elle hums in agreement. “There are worse places to be grounded.”

“I dunno, man, I just wanna get home,” Derek says, not taking his eyes off the fire. Spencer can’t help but agree.

“Oh, come on,” Hotch muses, considerably more jovial now the case is over, “we’re here, and that’s not going to change any time soon. We should make the most of it.”

“It’s at least nice to be somewhere sort-of Christmassy now it’s December,” Elle points out. “We could be stuck in a dingy police station like we probably will be next week.”

“Ooh, I noticed that Jemimah and Kiran started planning the Christmas party last week,” JJ says, smiling at them. “I offered my help, but they seem to have it covered.”

Hotch raises an eyebrow“That’s probably a good thing. You don’t need more work on your plate.”

“Not gonna argue with that,” she murmurs, smiling as she brings her mug to her lips again.

Spencer doesn’t miss that Derek is still stewing on the opposite side of the room.

“Are you looking forward to the Christmas party, Spencer? Will you come?” Hotch asks, clearly trying to rope him into the conversation, which he appreciates. He’s been making a lot of effort with him the past few weeks, and it’s just about the only thing that’s getting him through each day.

Before he can reply, though, Derek erupts from the other side of the room; an already pissed-off man being pushed over the edge. “He won’t even let us meet his fucking girlfriend, Hotch, he’s not gonna want to come to the Christmas party!” he yells, throwing his hands in the air as he glares at Spencer with a stormy expression raging across his face.

Suddenly, Spencer can’t stay silent anymore, and his retort shocks himself just as much as it does everyone else. “I don’t have a girlfriend!”

It might be the loudest he’s ever shouted in his whole life. He’s always been quiet and restrained, the type to state his feelings as calmly as possible no matter how he’s feeling on the inside. Even in the biggest fight he’s had with Oscar, his voice was barely loud enough to qualify as a shout.

There’s a brief stunned silence, but Derek quickly slices his way through it, voice raising to meet Spencer’s fiery emotion, fierce and loud. “Oh, don’t even go there, Reid, you’re really gonna try and argue that? You’re gonna lie about her as well as not let us meet her? What a boyfriend you are.”

“I don’t! I don’t have a girlfriend!” he repeats, voice catching this time as tears rise unbidden to the backs of his eyes and all the emotions of the journey he’s taken with his sexuality over the years flood him in a wave of intensity he’s not prepared for.

“You’re fucking lying—!”

“I have a boyfriend!” he yells. “Alright? I have a boyfriend. I’m gay.”

The anger and emotion quickly dissipates, and he’s left standing alone in front of the team he’s put so much effort into hiding this from, watching shock spell out across everyone’s expressions. He’s never felt smaller than he does in that moment, and he quickly grabs his phone before running upstairs to his room, locking the door behind him.

“Oh God, Oscar, I fucked up so bad,” he cries over the phone as soon as his boyfriend picks up.

“Hey, hey, breathe, baby,” Oscar says gently, but Spencer can hear the anxious concern in his voice, “it’s gonna be okay, I promise. I’m here. Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“I just— Oh God, I just told the team.” A new wave of horror rolls over him as he realises what he’s done. Times might be changing, but it’s still only 2006, and he doesn’t know each and every nuance of his team members’ political positions and, fuck, he hates that his existence is a fucking political position.

Oscar’s been so understanding of his reluctance to not tell the team, even though Spencer’s met pretty much everyone in his life. He isn’t sure what he’s done to earn such a gracious and understanding boyfriend, but he’s not about to question it.

“Baby, I know it’s scary, and I know you’re really worked up right now,” he counsels, voice soft and reassuring, using the nickname he knows Spencer loves the most to make him feel as safe as he can from 700 miles away, “but it’s probably not as bad as you think. From what you’ve told me about the team, they love you so much, and even in the case that in the past they've had some issue with gay people, I can't imagine they’d ever actually think of you any differently when it comes down to it, Spencer.”

He’s crying too hard to reply, and Oscar understands immediately, gently transitioning into a story about his day that slowly starts to calm him down, and by the time he’s wrapping it up, his tears are starting to subside.

“Thank you, Ozzy,” he whispers into the phone, lifting himself up off the floor and making his way to sit on the bed instead.

“You know I’d do anything for you, sweetheart,” he murmurs warmly. “Do you want me to stay on the phone for a bit?”

“Yes please,” he whispers again, holding it as close to himself as possible, drawing all the comfort he can from his boyfriend’s voice.

He lies there listening to Oscar’s voice and trying not to think about the disaster downstairs for a good ten minutes before there’s a tap at the door.

“Oz, there’s someone here,” he says, voice panicked.

“I think you should probably speak to them, baby,” he urges. “I’ll stay on the phone with you while you do, if you like?”

“Please.” He gets up from the bed gingerly, keeping his phone tightly gripped in his right hand as he slowly unlocks the door with his left, revealing Hotch on the other side.

“Hey, Spencer. Do you mind if I come in?”

He’s riddled with nerves, but Hotch is smiling warmly, and he’s never said a harsh word to Spencer, so he steps aside and lets him into his room.

Hotch quickly notices the phone in his hand, visibly still on a call. “Is that your boyfriend?”

Spencer nods.

“Do you mind if I talk to him?”

His brows knit in confusion and his lips part slightly in surprise, but it’s all he can do to hand the phone over, watching Hotch carefully.

“Hi, Spencer tells me this is his boyfriend?” Hotch inquires politely into the phone, his tone still warm. “I’m Hotch, Spencer’s boss.”

He can vaguely hear Oscar speaking on the other end of the line, and he worries slightly that Oscar will somehow give away the familial feelings he holds for Hotch, but the conversation doesn’t last long enough for the anxiety to really take over.

“Everything’s fine here, I just want to have a conversation with Spencer, so is it alright if we hang up and I talk to him alone for a minute? He can call you straight back afterwards.” After a brief pause in which Oscar says something, Hotch looks back up at him. “Are you okay with that, Spencer?”

He nods hesitantly, and Hotch says a quick goodbye to Oscar before surging forwards and wrapping Spencer in a hug. It catches him off guard, but he doesn’t waste any time in burying his face into Hotch’s neck and soaking in the comfort and warmth that always radiates from his father figure.

“Come on,” Hotch says softly as they pull away a good minute or so later, “let’s sit down, shall we?”

“You’re not mad?” Spencer can’t help but ask, the question burning his tongue as anxiety — however quietened from Hotch’s hug — still swims around in his stomach.

“There are many things that could make me mad, Spencer,” he says earnestly, “but this is not one of them. I would never be angry at you for being who you are, okay? I might… I might be overstepping here, and if I am, then tell me and I’ll back off, but I’ve always seen you as a mentee, and over the years that’s developed— well, I see you more as a son these days. And part of that is wanting to protect and support you no matter what you do or say or who you are.”

Spencer wastes no time in diving back in for a hug, clinging onto Hotch for dear life as he hugs back, rubbing his back gently.

“I’m so sorry you didn’t feel like you could tell us sooner, Spencer,” he says in a voice soft with affection and regret. “But I’m so glad you’ve told us now.”

He only presses closer at that, tears springing back to his eyes. “I didn’t want to lose you.” He knows what he’s implying, and even in a roundabout way, he’s glad he’s telling Hotch.

“Oh, Spence,” he sighs sadly, “you couldn’t do a single thing to lose me. I’m in it for the long haul.”

“Really?” he asks, hating how insecure he sounds.

“Really,” Hotch promises, pulling away as Spencer does. “Now, you have a whole team of agents downstairs who are feeling very sorry for themselves and really want to see you.”

Nausea rolls in his stomach and panic springs back up as he looks at Hotch, desperate for some sort of grounding. “Are they angry at me? Do they hate me now?”

“No one hates you, Spencer,” he says firmly. “I promise you that. Everyone just wishes that they’d made you feel more welcome and comfortable. We all hate that you felt you had to lock up something so integral to who you are, and we can’t help but feel we played a part in it.”

“No,” he protests — the last thing he wants is family blaming themselves when it has nothing to do with them, “it’s not your fault, it’s just…”

Hotch nods. “I understand, it’s okay. Now, do you want to go down and see them? You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but it might help ease your mind to see that they really don’t hate you.”

Spencer pauses, taking a moment to think. “Can I see Derek first?”

“Of course,” Hotch says understandingly, and the comforting smile that crosses his face makes Spencer feel safe and taken care of. “I’ll send him up?”

Spencer nods and Hotch hugs him once more before leaving the room almost reluctantly. He wastes no time in picking up his phone and sending a text to Oscar. You were right. Hotch is fine. He’s just sending Derek up before I go and see the team but he says that no one’s angry and I think I believe him. Thank you, Oscar. I love you.

Not even half a minute goes past before his phone lights up with a text back. I’m so glad, baby. Call me later, okay? I want to make sure you’re okay before I go to bed. I love you more.

Before Spencer can argue that actually, he is the one more in love with the other, a hesitant knock sounds on his door. Nerves suddenly flip his stomach, and he clenches and unclenches his fists a couple of times before forcing himself to cross the room, revealing a very worried and regretful-looking Derek.

“Oh, pretty boy,” he says sadly, before crushing Spencer in a warm and tender hug. Immediately, he relaxes into the arms of one of his best friends, and relief courses through his blood at Derek’s reaction. “I am so sorry that I ever made you feel like you couldn’t tell me that you were gay or had a boyfriend. That’s completely on me. I don’t care who you love, Spencer, I just want you to be happy, okay? And if this guy makes you happy, then that’s fine by me. But if he ever lays a hand on you or—”

“Derek, Derek,” he laughs, “it’s fine I get it. Thank you, though, I’m… I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you earlier and for snapping at you in the bullpen that time…”

“I understand, Spence,” he promises. “It’s in the past, okay? And I’m sorry for pushing so hard. I mean, I’d love to meet him but if you don’t feel comfortable or you don’t want to, that’s fine, too. It’s your life, man.”

“No, I… I think I want you guys to meet him. It’s been so hard to keep him away from the people I consider my family, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. Maybe after Christmas, we can all have dinner or something.”

Spencer smiles shyly. “Well, Oscar’s a great cook, so I reckon we could work something out.”

Derek grins, throwing an arm around his shoulders as he immediately jumps back into teasing him as they make their way to the door to go downstairs and see the rest of the team. “Ooh, lover boy’s got him a chef, hey? What else does this Oscar have going for him?”

Spencer chatters eagerly about his boyfriend to Derek, barely skipping a beat when he joins everyone downstairs, his friends taking his cues and joining in with the conversation seamlessly. He’s had enough fuss for one night, and the warmth and understanding on everyone’s faces tells him everything he needs to know.

“Do you have any pictures of him?” JJ asks, raising an eyebrow with eager expectancy as they all settle back into their seats by the fire, a warm and unbelievably happy feeling settling in Spencer’s stomach.

He blushes, digging out his phone from his pocket and unlocking it. “More than a few, I think.”

He finds the most recent picture of his boyfriend — a candid shot of him cooking in the kitchen, spatula aloft, and a huge grin on his face — and hands the phone around.

“Oh wow, you like them buff, huh, pretty boy?” Derek teases as soon as he gets his hands on it, and Spencer’s stomach twists in a sudden bout of fear, expecting to see some hesitancy or even disgust on his friend’s face. What if he thinks that Spencer has a crush on him? What if he’s uncomfortable around him now?

But if Derek’s having any of those thoughts, they don’t show on his face. He’s smiling widely and openly, all the pent-up anxiety and frustration borne from hurt gone from his body language, and he looks completely comfortable sat next to Spencer, his arm stretched out behind him on the back of the sofa.

They sit happily around the fire for a couple of hours, settling into a happy, intimate familiarity Spencer hadn’t realised was missing when he was hiding something so integral to his being from his family, and he’s still smiling when they finally part ways to head to bed, the clock ticking closer and closer to 1 am.

He gets ready for bed quickly, brushing his teeth and throwing on the top he’d stolen from Oscar the first time he’d stayed at his place; a welcome change from his worn and wrinkled suit. As soon as his teeth are brushed and the lights are all off except for his bedside lamp, he pulls out his phone, knowing there’s one more thing he has to do before he goes to sleep.

“Spencer?” Penelope’s voice sounds down the line, clearly concerned. “It’s almost 2 am here, are you okay?”

“I’m gay,” he says, getting straight to the point. The main reason he ever kept it from her was because of his fear of it accidentally getting out to the team rather than fear over her reaction. After all, multiple of his drag queen friends are also hers.

“Oh my God,” she says in that small voice she uses when she’s not actually talking to you, before finally actually replying to me. “Spencer, I’m so happy you told me!”

He doesn’t miss her choice of words, or the way she says them and he tilts his head suspiciously. “You already knew, didn’t you?”

She sighs. “Yeah. I’m sorry, a couple of months ago I saw a text from Oscar on your phone when you went to the bathroom during one of our Doctor Who marathons, and it wasn’t hard to figure out the relationship.”

“And… wait, you’re not mad at me for not telling you sooner?”

“Spencer! Of course not. I was waiting for you to be comfortable enough to share it with me. I felt awful that I knew without your consent but I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want to catch you off guard or make you feel uncomfortable. It’s fine that you waited, baby genius, I’m just so happy you told me now. What finally gave you the courage?”

“Well, it might have slipped out in front of the team this evening,” he admits sheepishly, “and the only reason I never told you was because I was scared that it would slip out somehow — accidentally, of course, I didn’t think you’d tell anyone on purpose — and now everyone knows. It’s been killing me not to tell you, Penelope, it really has because I love you so much and you’re my best friend and I trust you with my life, it’s just…”

“Whoa, slow down, Spence,” she laughs fondly, “you don’t have to explain yourself to me, I understand. But I’m glad you finally told everyone and you can be yourself completely with us, now. We all love you no matter what, you know that right?”

“I do now.”

“Good. You should get some sleep, baby boy, it’s late and you’ve had an emotional evening.”

Spencer smiles. “Yeah, I know. You should, too, Pen. I’ll see you when we can finally make it home, okay? Love you.”

“Love you, too, 187,” she says softly, and Spencer can hear the smile in her voice. “Goodnight.”

As soon as he hangs up, he settles down into the bed, turning off the light and pulling the duvet up over his shoulders before dialling one more number.

“Hey, baby,” Oscar says, voice as gentle and caring as it always is, although thicker with tiredness now. “I take it everything went okay?”

“Yeah,” Spencer murmurs, already feeling tired as the safety he always feels at the sound of Oscar’s voice settles into the fibres of his being. “It went so well. I can’t wait for you to meet everyone.”

“I can’t wait either, sweetheart. Are you in bed now?”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Can you talk to me as I fall asleep?”

“Anything for you, Spence,” he says softly, before transitioning seamlessly into a story about the professors on campus, and his gentle comfort and the knowledge of the unconditional love his family has for him finally lulls Spencer into the best sleep he’s had in weeks.

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