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atlabeth · 2 months

Text

pretty boy

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: spencer walks in one day with a new look. you handle it pretty well.

a/n: im in the opposite of a writing slump right now (will prob fall into a writing slump right after i say this) probably because im procrastinating on essays for school and i can only write when im meant to be doing work. but tiny little fluffy spencer one shots are very good for the soul right now. i think it's my way of healing from my hotch fic

wc: 1.8k

warning(s): one slightly sexual joke from emily. all fluff

You usually don’t get to the office this early, but you don’t exactly have a choice. The BAU’s last couple cases have all run one after another, barely leaving you any time in the office, and now you’re paying for it.

You’ve got a mountain of paperwork to get through and not nearly enough time to do it all—if you’re lucky, you’ll be writing reports for a few days straight. If you’re not, you’ll be putting in some overtime.

“This is the most focused I’ve ever seen you this early,” Derek comments.

You shake your head with a sigh. “These reports are government mandated torture.”

He chuckles, and he nods at Emily as she walks over to her desk. “Are you this busy?”

She shakes her head. “I’ve still got a report to get through, but nothing that bad.”

“I get it,” you say wryly. “You’re all more organized than me. Just don’t come to me asking to go out tonight—you know I can’t say no.”

“But don’t shots taste better when you’re supposed to be doing work?” Derek asks, and you roll your eyes with a laugh.

“Not when I’ve got this much work I’m supposed to be doing.”

You hear the elevator ding and glance up—Spencer’s walking through and fixing his tie. You look back down at your report as you greet him.

“Hey, Spence,” you call. “Why’re you late?”

“I’m not late,” he says, and you can see him checking his watch out of your peripherals. “I’m two minutes and thirty-three seconds early.”

“Really?” you muse. “I guess I’m just so used to you being here before me.”

“You can’t judge my timeliness on yours when you’ve been here for an hour already,” Spencer says.

You frown, tapping your pen against the paper. “How do you know?”

“You’re settled in already. Your coat’s on your chair, your stack of unfinished files is smaller than it was last time we were in the office, your coffee isn’t steaming, and your mug has a chipped handle—when they were put away last night, that one was set in the front, so you’d have to be here early to get it.”

“Touche,” you murmur. You’re not sure why you ever ask your team of profilers how they know something.

“You also look like you don’t want to be here,” he comments. “That’s pretty typical of agents who have to be here before their regular hours.”

You chuckle and tilt your head in admission. You don’t really want to be here, especially running on so few hours of sleep.

“Why aren’t you as early as usual?” Emily asks.

“My neighbor knocked on my door this morning to ask me for something,” Spencer says. “It threw off my whole routine. I picked the wrong tie, I couldn’t pack my bag properly, and I had to toast my bagel for two minutes instead of three and a half to make it out in time.”

“How terrible,” Derek says with mock austerity.

“It is terrible!” he exclaims. “It’s scientifically proven that a morning routine makes you happier, more energized, and ready to seize the day—carpe diem.” Spencer sets his bag on the floor next to his desk and looks at everyone else with a smile. “Did you know that phrase was actually coined by the Roman poet Horace in his Odes? It comes from the first book out of four in the eleventh poem—the full phrase in Latin is carpe diem, quam mini—”

“How was your bagel?” Emily asks to interrupt him, and he pauses.

“It was good,” he says. “Could’ve been toastier.”

You look up, a teasing remark on the edge of your tongue, but the words die in your throat when you actually see him.

Spencer’s started combing a hand through his hair to fix it—must have been another part of his affected morning routine—his lips set in a pout as he tries to see his reflection in his dark monitor. He always looks good, even without trying, but now—

“You’re wearing glasses,” you say dumbly.

“My contacts dried out,” he grumbles, still focused on his hair. “We got home so late last night I forgot to put them in their solution, and I had no time to fix them because my neighbor messed up my whole morning.”

You nod, still unable to tear your eyes away from him. “Are you gonna keep wearing them?”

“I don’t know. Contacts are better for cases because I’m not worried about them falling off or fogging up, but I usually sleep on the jet on the way back, and sleeping with contacts in isn’t good.” He smiles a bit as he fully turns to you, seemingly satisfied with his hair. “It reduces the amount of oxygen that gets to your cornea, which damages the cornea’s surface and makes it harder to regenerate new cells. Sleeping with contacts actually makes you six to eight times more likely to get an eye infection.”

You nod again, your brain still not quite working at full power. You always love listening to Spencer’s fact dumps—it gives you a lot of material to impress your non-BAU friends with on the side, and you’re eternally thankful for that—but right now, you seriously cannot focus.

You’d never really thought about him in glasses, but that’s probably a good thing if this is how it makes you feel.

You were valedictorian as an undergrad, and you received stellar feedback from your professors during your masters program. You’re an excellent profiler, a valued member of the BAU, and you’re a goddamn FBI agent.

And yet you can’t find a single thought in your head because your coworker showed up to work wearing glasses.

He’s still rambling about other common causes of eye infection and how nobody seems to take them as seriously as they should, when Derek, not even trying to hide his grin at your turmoil, speaks up.

“Reid. Wanna cool it a bit?”

Spencer’s eyes dart over to him for a moment before he stops. “Uh— sorry.” He frowns as he looks back at you. “Why do you ask? Do you not like them?”

“No,” you blurt out, and you shake your head a multitude of times. “No. They look great. You look great. They’re—” You dig your nails hard into your palm as you try your hardest to smile like normal, and this time you nod. “They’re good, Spence.”

“Thanks.” Spencer does that little smile-nod combo of his, and he pushes his glasses back into place with his thumb by the bottom of the frames. “That’s nice to know I’ve got another option.”

You thank whatever god may be out there that Hotch and Penelope are busy in their offices and JJ is busy with some other case, because you think you would die if anyone else saw you like this.

“Hey, Reid,” Emily says, also not doing a very good job of hiding her amusement. You hate your team sometimes. “They’re almost out of sugar in the breakroom. If you want coffee the way you like it this morning, you should probably get in there.”

“What?” Spencer shoots up, his brows already furrowing into a frown. “That— that’s ridiculous. I can’t mess up my morning any more.”

“You’d better get in there, then,” she remarks.

“We’re an entire office of agents running on coffee,” Spencer complains as he starts walking. “How are we almost out of sugar?”

“Because half of ‘em drink it black,” Derek says, and Spencer shakes his head with a sigh as he leaves.

“That’s ridiculous.”

You bury your head in your hands the moment he’s gone and Derek laughs. “I wish I could’ve gotten that on video.”

“Don’t talk to me,” you groan. “It is not fair of him to walk in like that.”

“And that is why I call him pretty boy.”

“He needs them to see,” Emily says with amusement as she leans against the side of your desk. “You just can’t control yourself.”

“I need to transfer offices,” you say, shaking your head. “I can’t do this.”

“You should ask him out!” Derek encourages. “He’d probably say yes.”

“Absolutely not,” you insist. “I doubt he likes me like that. A— and even if he does, that’s the last thing either of us need right now.”

“I don’t know,” Emily muses. “It looks like you clearly need something.”

You let out a frustrated noise as you screw your eyes shut. “I’m doomed.”

You hear Spencer say your name, and when you look over at him, one hand still pressed against your head, you see he’s got two cups of coffee in his hands. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you say weakly. “I’m great. Why?”

“I got you one too,” he says, holding one of the mugs out to you. “The one you have is probably cold by now, and it looks like you need an extra kick to get through all those reports.”

“Thanks, Spence. That’s sweet.” He nods as you take the proffered mug, and you swear your cheeks are as warm as the coffee. He is really testing your strength today.

“You— you have a lot,” he says, and you huff a dry laugh and nod. “I’m not trying to be sarcastic. I could take half of them if you want?”

Your grip tightens on the mug and you can feel Derek’s eyes on you. “I couldn’t make you do that, Spence.”

“You’re not!” Spencer exclaims. “I can get through mine really quickly—we worked together for almost the whole last case so I can do all of that anyways.”

“...You’re sure it wouldn’t be an imposition?”

“I’m sure,” he nods. “Besides, I offered. I wouldn’t if I didn’t want to.”

And god damn him, because he nudges his glasses back into place again, pushes a strand of loose hair back into place. You’re dying over here.

You set the mug of coffee on your desk and pick up the top half of your pile. “All yours, Spence.”

He takes the bottom half and smiles at you, and you smile back before he walks back to his desk. You are dying over here.

“Let me know how I can pay you back,” you say, and he shakes his head.

“You don’t need to pay me back.”

“Really?”

Spencer nods. “I mean, Morgan invited us all out on the jet last night, and I don’t think I can do it alone. If you can get out of the office in time, I don’t have to. I think that's enough of a payback.”

“Yeah,” you say. “I’ll be there.”

He smiles again and nods, then he picks up a pen and focuses in. You turn back to your desk, your face burning.

“What was that about him not liking you like that?” Derek says.

“Quiet!” you whisper-yell, swatting him with the pile of files in your hand. “He might hear you!”

“He’s not hearing anything while he’s focused on that,” he says. “That just means you can ogle him more.”

You groan again, letting your forehead fall into your palm. “I’m pathetic.”

“I think you’re right.” Emily chuckles as she stands up. “You are doomed.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fluff #x reader #sadie writes

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rachel-614 · 2 years

Text

Okay, let me tell you a story:

Once upon a time, there was a prose translation of the Pearl Poet’s Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. It was wonderfully charming and lyrical and perfect for use in a high school, and so a clever English teacher (as one did in the 70s) made a scan of the book for her students, saved it as a pdf, and printed copies off for her students every year. In true teacher tradition, she shared the file with her colleagues, and so for many years the students of the high school all studied Sir Gawain and the Green Knight from the same (very badly scanned) version of this wonderful prose translation.

In time, a new teacher became head of the English Department, and while he agreed that the prose translation was very wonderful he felt that the quality of the scan was much less so. Also in true teacher tradition, he then spent hours typing up the scan into a word processor, with a few typos here and there and a few places where he was genuinely just guessing wildly at what the scan actually said. This completed word document was much cleaner and easier for the students to read, and so of course he shared it with his colleagues, including his very new wide-eyed faculty member who was teaching British Literature for the first time (this was me).

As teachers sometimes do, he moved on for greener (ie, better paying) pastures, leaving behind the word document, but not the original pdf scan. This of course meant that as I was attempting to verify whether a weird word was a typo or a genuine artifact of the original translation, I had no other version to compare it to. Being a good card-holding gen zillenial I of course turned to google, making good use of the super secret plagiarism-checking teacher technique “Quotation Marks”, with an astonishing result:

By which I mean literally one result.

For my purposes, this was precisely what I needed: a very clean and crisp scan that allowed me to make corrections to my typed edition: a happily ever after, amen.

But beware, for deep within my soul a terrible Monster was stirring. Bane of procrastinators everywhere, my Curiosity had found a likely looking rabbit hole. See, this wonderfully clear and crisp scan was lacking in two rather important pieces of identifying information: the title of the book from which the scan was taken, and the name of the translator. The only identifying features were the section title “Precursors” (and no, that is not the title of the book, believe me I looked) and this little leaf-like motif by the page numbers:

(Remember the leaf. This will be important later.)

We shall not dwell at length on the hours of internet research that ensued—how the sun slowly dipped behind the horizon, grading abandoned in shadows half-lit by the the blue glow of the computer screen—how google search after search racked up, until an email warning of “unusual activity on your account” flashed into momentary existence before being consigned immediately and with some prejudice to the digital void—how one third of the way through a “comprehensive but not exhaustive” list of Sir Gawain translators despair crept in until I was left in utter darkness, screen black and eyes staring dully at the wall.

Above all, let us not admit to the fact that such an afternoon occurred not once, not twice, but three times.

Suffice to say, many hours had been spent in fruitless pursuit before a new thought crept in: if this book was so mysterious, so obscure as to defeat the modern search engine, perhaps the answer lay not in the technologies of today, but the wisdom of the past. Fingers trembling, I pulled up the last blast email that had been sent to current and former faculty and staff, and began to compose an email to the timeless and indomitable woman who had taught English to me when I was a student, and who had, after nearly fifty years, retired from teaching just before I returned to my alma mater.

After staring at the email for approximately five or so minutes, I winced, pressed send, and let my plea sail out into the void. I cannot adequately describe for you the instinctive reverence I possess towards this teacher; suffice to say that Ms English was and is a woman of remarkable character, as much a legend as an institution as a woman of flesh and blood whose enduring influence inspired countless students. There is not a student taught by Ms. English who does not have a story to tell about her, and her decline in her last years of teaching and eventual retirement in the face of COVID was the end of an era. She still remembers me, and every couple months one of her contemporaries and dear friends who still works as a guidance counsellor stops me in the hall to tell me that Ms. English says hello and that she is thrilled that I am teaching here—thrilled that I am teaching honors students—thrilled that I am now teaching the AP students. “Tell her I said hello back,” I always say, and smile.

Ms. English is a legend, and one does not expect legends to respond to you immediately. Who knows when a woman of her generation would next think to check her email? Who knows if she would remember?

The day after I sent the email I got this response:

My friends, I was shaken. I was stunned. Imagine asking God a question and he turns to you and says, “Hold on one moment, let me check with my predecessor.”

The idea that even Ms. English had inherited this mysterious translation had never even occurred to me as a possibility, not when Ms. English had been a faculty member since the early days of the school. How wonderful, I thought to myself. What a great thing, that this translation is so obscure and mysterious that it defeats even Ms. English.

A few days later, Ms. English emailed me again:

(I had, in fact searched through both the English office and the Annex—a dark, weirdly shaped concrete storage area containing a great deal of dust and many aging copies of various books—a few days prior. I had no luck, sadly.)

At last, though, I had a title and a description! I returned to my internet search, only to find to my dismay that there was no book that exactly matched the title. I found THE BRITISH TRADITION: POETRY, PROSE, AND DRAMA (which was not black and the table of contents I found did not include Sir Gawain) and THE ENGLISH TRADITION, a super early edition of the Prentice Hall textbooks we use today, which did have a black cover but there were absolutely zero images I could find of the table of contents or the interior and so I had no way of determining if it was the correct book short of laying out an unfortunate amount of cold hard cash for a potential dead end.

So I sighed, and relinquished my dreams of solving the mystery. Perhaps someday 30 years from now, I thought, I’ll be wandering through one of those mysterious bookshops filled with out of print books and I’ll pick up a book and there will be the translation, found out last!

So I sighed, and told the whole story to my colleagues for a laugh. I sent screenshots of Ms. English’s emails to my siblings who were also taught by her. I told the story to my Dad over dinner as my Great Adventure of the Week.

…my friends. I come by my rabbit-hole curiosity honestly, but my Dad is of a different generation of computer literacy and knows a few Deep Secrets that I have never learned. He asked me the title that Ms. English gave me, pulled up some mysterious catalogue site, and within ten minutes found a title card. There are apparently two copies available in libraries worldwide, one in Philadelphia and the other in British Columbia. I said, “sure, Dad,” and went upstairs. He texted me a link. Rolling my eyes, I opened it and looked at the description.

Huh, I thought. Four volumes, just like Ms. English said. I wonder…

Armed with a slightly different title and a publisher, I looked up “The English Tradition: Fiction macmillan” and the first entry is an eBay sale that had picture of the interior and LO AND BEHOLD:

THE LEAF. LOOK AT THE LEAF.

My dad found it! He found the book!!

Except for one teensy tiny problem which is that the cover of the book is uh a very bright green and not at all black like Ms. English said. Alas, it was a case of mistaken identity, because The English Tradition: Poetry does have a black cover, although it is the fiction volume which contains Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.

And so having found the book at last, I have decided to purchase it for the sum of $8, that ever after the origins of this translation may once more be known.

In this year of 2022 this adventure took place, as this post bears witness, the end, amen.

(Edit: See here for part 2!)

#sir gawain and the green knight #translations #internet research #english literature #teaching things #dads are the best #long post #story telling #I STILL don’t know the name of the translator but I WILL find out #obscure books

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naomi-nana · 19 days

Text

first kiss?! . wind breaker

kissing ur man for the first time..

featuring : sakura haruka, hayato suou, umemiya hajime

cw : kiss kiss, fluff, gn!reader, bad grammar sorry, reader talks abt lip gloss(suou) but doesnt mean theyre fem i guess???

a/n : wow i procrastinate alot im so sorry anon ily thx for this request:3

SAKURA HARUKA

you sit besides a sick sakura, with food and medicines in your hand. you look down at him with a concerned face. from what suou told you, sakura had gotten sick after the fight with keel though, the fight isn't what made him sick. "you shouldn't push yourself too much, you know?" you pout at him while helping him to sit up to eat the food you brought.

"i know. but, i'm the grade captain so.." you punch him in the head(lovingly). "what do you-!" he looks at you with a glare but then widened his eyes after he realized that you were on the verge of tears. "i'm worried sick waiting for you, you know?" you clenched your fist really hard and you look at sakura with a pout on your face, which makes him froze in his place.

he wiped off your tears and stare at your face for a while. when you were about to open your mouth again to scold him, he brings your face closer to his and give you a quick kiss. "sorry, for..making you worried." silence fills the room as you stare at sakura who's slowly realizing what he had just done, and how red his face is right now.

HAYATO SUOU

"suou, which one looks better on me?" you point your finger at two pink lip gloss while looking at suou, asking him to choose for you. "hm, if you're asking me then i'd have to say both looks good on you." he smiles at you. "well..which color looks best on me?"

"what are these lip products even for?" he asked you a question that made you chuckle. suou reminds you of an old man who won't stop asking about everything. "it's to make my lips look prettier and kissable, of course." hearing the word 'kissable' made him interested, so he chose one of the lip gloss and buys it for you.

after paying for the lip gloss, he told you to try it. "right here? like, infront of the store?" you looked at him with questioning eyes, and he just nods. "yeah, right here." so you did as he said and put the lip gloss on your lips. "hmm, what do you think? does it look pr—" suou grabs you by the waist swiftly and pulled you into a kiss, which makes your eyes widen.

"hm, even without the lip gloss, your lips are already kissable anyway."

UMEMIYA HAJIME

"name, look! this plant is growing already!"

umemiya jumps in his place like a toddler, which makes you chuckle. "that's nice to know." after that, he runs to another plant and say the exact same thing. of course, you're not tired of it. it's your man enjoying the stuff he likes, so you support it.

but right now, you're trying to do your assignments and he won't stop asking you to look at his plants. so you stood up from your place and approached him. "oh? are you finally done with your assignments?" he asked you a question, but you didn't answer. instead, you tiptoed to his height and held his cheeks in your arms, which makes him tilt his head to the side. before he opened his mouth to ask you a question, you kissed him. "sorry, but i'm trying to do my assigments here." after you pulled back, he chuckles.

"if this is your way to tell me to shut up, then i might talk a lot more."

naomi-nana. do NOT repost, do not use,(with or without permission), do not reccommend or talk about my works outside of tumblr.

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imaginespazzi · 2 months

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Forget jealous Paige, how do we think poor KK's dealing with the fact that her father and sister were literally vibing to her song WITHOUT her 😭

Alright unserious unedited chaotic family drabble because I feel like procrastinating. Like I'm not even joking this is the most random thing I've ever written so read at your own discretion:

It's way too early in the morning when Paige's phone rings, making both her and Ice groan.

"KK what the fuck," Paige asks groggily, wiping at bleary eyes as a furious KK's face fills her phone screen.

"You said you didn't have a favorite child. LIAR," KK yells.

"Oh my god KK," Ice whines from across the room, "please shut the fuck up. My head is pounding."

"GOOD! TO MY SONG?" KK pays no attention, still as loud as ever, "HOW COULD YOU? BOTH OF YOU FUCKING TRAITORS."

"Bro you knew we were going," Paige sighs, sitting up properly.

"That's not the point. You know what give me one second. AZZI. AZZI. AZZI," and then KK's off running, blurry on Paige's screen as she yells for Azzi.

"Oh my god what? What?" Azzi's concerned voice comes through the phone, a smile replacing her frown when KK thrusts the phone in her face, "oh, hi P!"

Before a now grinning Paige can reply, KK cuts her off, "no! Don't hi P her. Did you see Ice's live? They been having the time of our lives without us. THEY WERE VIBING TO MY SONG. MY SONG AZZI!"

"Uh they're quite literally there to get drunk and party, we knew this," Azzi says, trying to hide a smile.

"Again not the point," KK sighs exasperatedly.

"What is the point KK," Paige asks with a tired yawn, "get to it then."

"The point is that you two are getting divorced and I'm finding myself a new stepfather. I will not be tolerating this disrespect," KK says firmly.

"Excuse me," Paige says shrilly, "I do not agree to a divorce."

"You don't have to. Mothers do what's best for their children and Azzi's gonna do what's best for me. Right Azzi?" KK glares at Azzi who sighs exasperatedly.

"You're both aware that you're not actually my husband and child right?"

"Excuse you," Paige screeches at the same time as KK gasps dramatically and Azzi has to mentally prevent herself from sighing again.

"Okay alright, divorce yes okay," Azzi gives in, KK squeals and this time Paige is glaring.

"Wow. It's that easy huh? Guess all of those years meant nothing to you."

Azzi shakes her head, trying to hide her smile at Paige's mock offense.

"And now to find a stepfather," KK says triumphantly and then her eyes light up with a glint as a blonde walks in, "KATE!"

Kate looks like a deer caught in the headlight as she walks cautiously towards an over-excited KK and a slightly mortified Azzi, "uhhh hi?"

"I have a very important question for you Kate," KK says with all the seriousness of the world, "are you married?"

"Uh....no?" Kate answers, confused at that line of questioning, as Azzi hides her face in her palms.

"KK what the fuck are you doing?" Paige yells at her phone, suddenly very unamused by this whole thing.

"Ssssh P-boogers, I'm about to perform a wedding."

"Umm what?" poor Kate asks, looking at Azzi for help, not used to the insanity that is the UConn women's team. To be honest, she's not fully sure if all of this is a joke.

"You and Azzi are getting married and then you're going to adopt me," KK says firmly.

"I swear we're normal people....most of the time," Azzi tries to reassure Kate.

"Dearly beloved, or unbeloved since it's Paige and Ice, I guess, we are here today to marry these two women," KK begins and then looks at Azzi and Kate who are standing a feet apart, "uh hello? You have to hold hands."

Paige splutters, "Martin I don't know you that well but if you hold her hand I swear to God."

"Oh calm down ex-father," KK fires back, "let me get my new parents married in peace. Now since there are no objections-"

"I OBJECT," Paige yells, turning to a sleeping Ice who's trying to block out the noise using a pillow, "ICE your mother is getting married to someone else, get the fuck up and come here and object with me."

"Your objections don't count because you're liars and traitors. MY SONG. MY FUCKING SONG."

"Bro you're all I was thinking about I swear," Paige pleads, "after every Bow, I was like oh my god KK would have loved this. I missed you every second I'm sorry."

"Sorry is not good enough," KK says petulantly.

"I got you a signed autograph. It was gonna be a surprise but you need to know. I swear KK, I would have had so much more fun if it was with you bro. It just wasn't the same."

"Oh that makes me feel great. Thanks Paige." Ice mumbles from under the sheets.

"ONE MAD CHILD AT A TIME THANK YOU," Paige says exasperatedly.

KK contemplates Paige's words for a moment before turning to Kate.

"I'm sorry Kate. It looks like this wedding can't go on. It's not you. It's us. Hope you understand," she says with a solemn expression, "but I already have a father and she's great. A little stupid sometimes but great."

Kate nods dumbstruck, unsure what had just happened in the last couple of minutes but she's pretty sure she's just been dismissed.

"FATHER," KK yells turns her face back to her phone, "I missed you. Let's never fight again. That was the worst 10 minutes of my life."

"SON SON," Paige shouts with glee, "let's never do that again."

Azzi pinches the bridge of her nose, wondering how she'd let this become her life.

"If the two of you are done, can I go back to rehab now?" she asks with a raised eyebrow.

Paige narrows her eyes at Azzi through the phone, "were you about to get married to someone else?"

Oh boy here we go again

#paige bueckers #azzi fudd #kk arnold #ice brady #kate martin #this is literally the most unserious thing ever like idek what was going through my brain #inspired by all the unseriousness from the weekend i gues #wcbb

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osaemu · 10 months

Text

ミ★ quick learner 🜸

pairing: student! gojo x reader

summary: to you, chemistry means two things – the worst subject on earth and the best feeling ever. satoru somehow teaches you both.

word count: ~2.0k

notes: suggestive. modern au. mentions of organic chemistry. making out. guest appearance by geto. gojo calls you 'smart girl' at one point. rushed. barely proofread. written while i was half asleep. like always, reblogs are very very appreciated.

a/n: i genuinely don't know how i feel about this one... there are parts i like and parts i don't like (that i was too lazy to fix) and it's kinda just stitched together ... lmk what you think in the comments pretty pls 💞

"question four – what's the difference between molarity and molality?"

"wait, those are two different things?"

since you and satoru had both procrastinated studying for your impending chemistry test, you found yourselves at the library long past midnight.

it was an accident – when you had decided to study in the library instead of at home, you hadn't anticipated running into anyone you knew. but of course, satoru gojo, the charismatic guy in your english class, was here too.

you wouldn't say that the two of you were close – acquaintances was a better word. satoru and you knew of each other and were on friendly terms, but until now you had never really taken the time to talk alone.

but hey, just because you didn't know the guy that well didn't mean you were about to turn down a free study partner. especially one as attractive as satoru, although it was admittedly a bit distracting when you were trying to focus on your work.

it wasn't his fault – his long, white lashes were just naturally mesmerizing. and his eyes? breathtaking. even in the dim light of the library, his eyes shone like crystals. you didn't even want to start thinking about his hands, his jawline, and certainly not his body, otherwise you'd be studying something else the whole night – him and his stupidly attractive self.

after a ton of mental self-chiding, you finally manage to get your priorities straight and actually try to study, but what started as a study session gradually turned into a tutoring session when you two realized that one of you needed a lot more help than the other.

and to your dismay, that was you.

"you really thought molarity and molality were the same thing?" satoru scoffs, shamelessly grinning. "y'know, it's really a miracle you have an A in the class. you don't deserve it."

"shut up," you reply, knowing only too well that he was right. the only reason you were able to maintain a good grade in this stupid chemistry class was because the teacher offered a ridiculous amount of extra credit.

but unfortunately, you couldn't float on that boat for much longer. your grade was still slowly slipping, from a 95 to a 93 to what was now a flat 90, and your pride wouldn't let that number fall any further.

satoru laughs and shakes his head, running a hand through his white hair. "c'mon, at least tell me what molarity is."

"uhh, that's moles per liter, right?"

he nods and twirls a pen in between his fingers. "yeah, that's right. now what's molality?"

"how should i know? i don't pay attention in class," you groan, resting your head in your palm.

satoru rolls his eyes, and you take a moment to appreciate how gorgeous they are. they were a color somewhere in between cerulean and ocean blue, further enhanced by his long white lashes.

your admiration quickly fades to indignation when satoru clicks his tongue and starts rattling off some dictionary definition of molality.

"y'know, you'd know more if you weren't on your phone the whole time in class," he says dryly.

you groan again and lean back in your chair. "it's just so boringgg," you whine, pushing the chemistry worksheet away. "forget it, i'll just guess on the test tomorrow. it usually works."

as you start to sweep your pencils and papers into your bag, satoru grabs your wrist and gets you to meet his ocean-blue eyes. "i'll feel bad if you do badly because i didn't help you enough."

his grip on your wrist is firm but gentle as he leans a millimeter closer. "let me help you, yeah?"

after a beat of silence, you nod and look away. his glacial eyes are piercing in the kind of way that makes you think he can see right through you, and you don't like the feeling of being readable.

"so, am i gonna have to force you to pay attention or will you do it yourself?"

the question catches you off guard. something about the way he asks it makes it very clear that it's a genuine question – either you can try and make yourself focus or he can make you.

you don't quite know what the latter means, but it sounds more fun, so that's what you pick.

and that's how you ended up on his lap, hair wrapped around his fingers as he quizzed you from behind.

satoru had somehow motivated you to actually try and study by rewarding you with a kiss for every question you got right. had the offer come from anyone else, you would've called them a creep, but satoru was attractive and he knew it. on top of that, he wasn't afraid to use his good looks to get what he wanted, which, in this case, was for you to do good on tomorrow's test.

"avogadro's number?"

"umm, 6.022 x 10 to the 23rd?"

satoru nods and kisses the side of your face, lips trailing over your jawline as his eyes flick back to where he'd scribbled a couple practice questions.

"how many bonds can hydrogen form?"

"one."

this time, his lips touch your neck, and it takes every ounce of self-restraint in your body to hold back the embarrassing sound you can feel at the bottom of your throat.

"last question, how many bonds can carbon form?"

this time, your voice comes out breathier than you expected. "four, right?"

"smart girl."

and now, for the first time this night, he gives you a quick kiss on the lips. he doesn't linger and he doesn't give you any chance to savor the taste of his lips – one second his mouth is pressed to yours, the next it's moving with words you don't quite absorb.

he rifles through a couple papers and makes a face. "actually, my bad, there's more. not much," he quickly adds when he sees you groan. "just some stuff we didn't cover completely at the beginning."

"you're the worst."

"you'd fail without me."

"maybe, but at least i'd be happier."

despite your playful jabs, the truth that studying with satoru was a lot more bearable than studying by yourself, and it was also a lot easier to stay awake. before you knew it, two hours came and went, and you were practically an expert on everything that could possibly be on the test tomorrow.

and when you're finally able to confidently tell satoru the difference between molarity and molality, that's when he turns you around on his lap to face him and presses his lips to yours again, and this time, he doesn't pull away.

"you're a quick learner, aren't you?" satoru mumbles against your lips. he pulls back for a second to get some air before grabbing your chin and leaning in for more. "yeah, i wonder what else i could teach you. you wanna find out, pretty?"

you're not entirely sure when the studying ended and the making out started, but you certianly do know when the making out ended.

before you could reply to satoru's rather suggestive question, a message blared from the speakers around the library and interrupted whatever you two had going on.

" it is now closing time. all remaining students, please return to your residential places immediately."

satoru chuckles and nudges you off of his lap before standing up and stretching. "well, it's almost 3, we should get some rest."

"yeah, that's probably smart."

"of course it is. i'm smart."

"yeah yeah," you mumble after a second when no better retort comes to mind. probably because he was telling the truth – satoru was smart, and he knew it.

"well, i'll see you tomorrow," he says, sweeping the remainder of his stuff into his backpack before slinging it over his shoulder. "good luck on the test, you'll do great."

you smile and zip up your own backpack before heading towards the exit on the other side of the library, his words buzzing around your head and the memory of his mouth fresh on your lips the whole way home.

"satoru, satoru! guess what i got on my test!"

after you made your way home from the library last night, you slept like a rock. barely a minute after you tiredly stumbled into your oh-so welcoming bed, you were out.

despite only getting around five or six hours of sleep, you felt pretty damn good the next morning as you sat down to take your chemistry exam. and that good feeling stayed with you the whole test, and when you finished, you were able to confidently set your paper on your teacher's desk.

well, as confidently as anyone could set a piece of paper down anyways.

but now it was lunchtime, and a soft chiming sound from your phone signaled that the test was score and put into your grade. your hands shook slightly as you tapped the notification, but to your delight, a 97 lit up your screen.

and of course, who else could you credit with this besides satoru? so you walked over to where you'd seen him hang around during lunch and called out his name, but you really hadn't anticipated company.

"ah, satoru, who's this?" the dark-haired boy beside satoru asked, voice light with interest. "have you been seeing someone and not telling me about it?"

satoru laughs and shoves the guy's shoulder before turning to you and grinning. "sorry 'bout him. yeah, what was your score?"

he has a lollipop in his mouth, and as he raises an eyebrow at you, you feel yourself grin as you proudly say "a ninety seven! my grade went up to the mid-ninties, too!"

"smart girl. knew you could do it," satoru says, a lopsided smile spreading across his face.

"it's only 'cause of you," you say, a bit sheepishly. "without your help, i wouldn't've been able to do that."

satoru exhales a laugh and reaches out to ruffle your hair. he looks like he's about to say something before the other guy clears his throat.

"sorry to interrupt your... moment, but the lunch line is starting to grow and my patience is starting to shrink. satoru, you coming?"

"yeah, give me a sec, suguru."

satoru looks back down at you, sunglasses resting on the tip of his nose and cerulean eyes flashing in the sunlight. "looks like i gotta go."

you nod and wave him off. "yeah, i'll see you around, i guess. thanks so much for the help, really. i owe you one."

satoru grins and pulls the lollipop out of his mouth. still looking at you intently, he runs his tongue over the lollipop one last time before sticking in your mouth.

"you wanna pay me back for tutoring you last night?" satoru asks, smirking at the surprised look on your face. "drop by my place tonight. i'll teach you something else this time."

he leans in and gives you a quick, sugary kiss before turning away and walking in the direction geto left in, leaving you with nothing but a tingling sensation in your lips and a promise to see you soon.

satoru laughs to himself as he walks away, waving one hand back at you without bothering to turn around. when he catches up to suguru, the latter notices the wide smirk satoru dons and asks about it.

"oh, it's nothing. just looking forward to tonight."

you were, too.

a/n: if i wrote smut i'd write a pt 2 to this. maybe one day idk

i'm probably going to get back to writing some more angst after i finish the last of my requests. i miss writing fics that make people cry /hj

if you haven't already, check out some of my other jjk fics in my masterlist (below!)

anyways thank u vvv much for reading, reblogs are always very appreciated 💞

masterlist

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coral-melon · 7 months

Text

Tangled Nightmare!

Obey me! Brothers x Curly!MC (reader)

Genre: Crack/shenanigans, Fluff; slightly suggestive?

No pronouns said but probably AFAB

Hopefully isn’t too OOC ._ .🤞

Summary: Your hair is being impossible and you need help detangling your hair. This is for my hella curly hair peeps! Kinda slightly self-indulgent too.. but my other peeps are more than welcome to imagine themselves here!

You’ve been procrastinating over when you felt like washing and do your hair. Under normal circumstances, you do your hair once a week. You kinda skipped it though, saying it didn’t look bad at all — which it wasn’t, why even take the life out of it when it could last a bit longer? It’s been 3 weeks…

Today was the day you were ready to do your hair! Your take out your brushes, washing and styling products. You got everything ready to just be in a happy, productive mood. What could possibly go wrong?

-Dun dun- your hair was impossible! You wash and put plenty of conditioner but your brush just wouldn’t go through! Your arms were tired and your hands were getting cramps; you’ve been at it for a while and tried many things, but nothing! You were on the verge of giving up and going bald, but you go to your last resort, getting another pair of hands and eyes. So you summon your boyfriend!

Lucifer

This man was busy buried in his yet again endless mountains of paperwork. He was so close to just drowning himself in demonus to get by at this point..

But suddenly, he hears your call and the dreadful scene was changed when he was summoned… to the bathroom?

He then sees you, peeking through the shower curtains, bawling your eyes out. He was about to scold you for calling him at such a busy hour, but the thought was kicked right out the window at the sight of seeing your tearful eyes. He keeps his composure though; he needs to understand the situation at hand, after all.

— “My dear, what happens?” He asks as he got closer to you.

— “Lucifer, please help me! I’m on the verge of shaving it all off!” You say after taking a deep breath.

He’s a bit confused at first, but when you reveal the utter mess you had on your head, he understood what you were so frantic about; but at the same time, he was still dumbfounded. He clears throat, and asks you what you need him to do.

You wouldn’t be able to tell that he’s actively stressing on the inside, he’s graceful at everything he does even if he doesn’t have the slightest clue of what he’s doing.

He couldn’t help his mind to.. slightly wonder off. You had sat down on the bathtub with your back facing him, told him how he could pull your hair as much as he wanted.. as long as it detangled the knots, of course!

He had always been infatuated with your curls, but this experience gave him an insight of just how much effort you put into making it look how it always does.

This was also quite satisfying to him, it destressed him to the point where he almost forgot about the work that was still waiting for him at his office.. And for you, it felt like a heavenly massage.. he’ll check you every now to make sure you’re alright.

It took a while, but him being him, everything worked out in the end! Your curls finally softened and ever so defined✨

You thank him profusely, saying that you wouldn’t know what you’d do with yourself it it weren’t for him.

But he simply looked at you with a sinister gentle smile and darkened eyes..

— "I presume that you already know this means that you have a great price to pay for taking up my time, correct..? I suggest you don't keep me waiting for long."

Mammon

Your summon was literally a blessing, he was in a bit of a tight spot with some witches and you saved him in the nick of time!

— “Mammon, you gotta help me!” So I guess it’s only fair he helped you too..

You explain to him what’s going on in a frantic state, would ask you to go to a hair salon, but you starting crying about how expensive that would be. 100% understands and doesn’t question it any farther. So he tries to calm you down, saying he gots this!

— “Ha! Don’cha even worry about it! The great Mammon’s gonna handle this; no problem!✨💪🏽”

His confidence gave you reassurance and put you at ease, you were finally saved! He’d be decent at it, it’s not as unbearable at all and would be soothing to the point of falling soundly asleep.. if he wasn’t so on and off about it!

You’d eventually learn that he just couldn’t help but get distracted by your naked body. Your back facing him, fully exposed to him.. And your hair was just perfect.. ack! Nono! None of that right now! If he could, he’d worship you.

He’d be like: Lord have mercy.. We must stay focused, bothers! We must. Stay focused!

Fell in love with you over and over again every time he passed the brush through you hair. Watching intently how your hair curled so beautifully..

Every now and then, the thought of selling a bit of your hair also came to mind. But quickly gets rid of the idea; you worked how to maintain it, you’d kill him if he chopped it!

Overall, pretty nice and bonding experience. Later thinks about how he wants you to do the same for him.. But he could never admit that out loud!

Feels all high and mighty when you thank him! Of course you should be grateful to him; He took the time out of his busy schedule to help you out and everything! …Kinda forgetting the fact that he would’ve been roasted by witches if it weren’t for you.

— “Hmph, nothin’ I couldn’t handle! Though that’s gonna cost ya a hefty pri—! Oi wait wait! I’m jokin, I’m jokin!… Half joking..”

Leviathan

He was in the middle of choosing a spot to proudly display he’s latest figure collection. But that was soon interrupted when he was summoned to the bathroom.

You call for him as you peek through the shower curtain, motioning him to come closer. He freezes for a moment, until he finally realizes that his in the same room as you while you’re naked.

Proceeds to do that Finn scream*

— “Levi. Levi! Do not freak out, cuz I’m freaking out; and we can’t have two people freaking out! It just doesn’t work. You’re the only one that can help me!” You say, trying to have him not run out on you.

After some back and forth bickering and convincing, you finally managed to get him the courage he needed to help you out!

Don’t look at him though; especially not in the eyes, he’ll simply die.💀

He’s face will be completely red the whole time, you would think he’d pass out at some point… don’t get me wrong, he did — almost. You give him an idea to summon something that’ll splash him with cold water whenever he started to wobble.

In his head, there’s two voices: the one that’s been constantly screaming, and the one that is pretty much worshiping every time he strokes you hair.

Oh, Lemme give you some hope. -Ahem-🎤Don’t be fooled though! This guy does cosplay, therefore knows to do hair. Prove me otherwise!

Knows exactly how to deal with knots without ruining the hair, so at least it wasn’t painful! Your hair is far too sacred for him to mess up!

Once he finishes, there’s a short moment where he feels so proud of himself. But whatever was gripping onto the thin strand keeping his soul together breaks after you gave him a wide smile and thanked him for saving you!

— [ERROR] Levichan.exe does not compute.

Satan

He was getting mad over something, though he himself didn’t know what it was. So he was gonna go destress by flipping Lucifer off but you suddenly summonsed him.

He sensed you were frustrated before he could even see you. So it didn’t come as a surprise when you peeked through while gripping the shower curtains and heated tears in your eyes.

— “What happened, sweetheart?”

— “I’m this close to going apeshit and ripping my hair out.. Please help me!”

Doesn’t know how to handle curly hair, of course. But he’s willing to try. After all, He can’t just leave you like that! Your hair is like a work of art to him, so he wouldn’t want you shaving it off in a pit of rage! You got lucky this time, Lucifer..

Welp, he found a new coping mechanism! This was like a puzzle for him to solve, one that would also make you happy and him quite quite satisfied in the end. That was enough for him to get him going.

He was firm with how he handled you tangled hair, but in a good way. He did his best to not pull too hard and hurt you accidentally.

Keeps it respectful. But~ I do imagine his hands would go through your scalp and gently pulls on the roots of your hair in a very teasing manner. Will play dumb if you ask about it. ((Ever seen that hair pull massage video? Yeah, that))

And/Or, will play with your hair a bit like cats do when they’re massaging their paws onto something soft.

All in all, you’ll feel like you’ve ascended into a new level of lightheadedness with how at ease you head feel. Whatever headache you had a moment ago is long gone!

He comes to appreciate your hair a lot more after this; he’s a blond with short straight hair, so he didn’t fully grasp just how much work it actually is to maintain you hair.. See? A work of art!

He’s already thinking of the next time he could do this. Like I said before, this was his new coping mechanism and I don’t think you can’t do anything about it once he made up his mind.

— “You should let me do this again the next time you wash your hair, it was a very pleasing experience..”

Asmodeous

While in the middle of choosing what perfume and lipstick to where to the day, he could already sense beauty troubles before you could even think about summoning him.

When your call beckons him to come, he is ready. You peek through the curtains with tearful eyes, too embarrassed to really want to show him the mess that happened but not really having a choice at this point.

— “Love, Don’t even say a word! Asmo’s here to help~♡”

Gets immediately to work! He already had his hair products ready. You would think it’s kinda unnecessary to have as many products as he had on hand, but why even question it?

And ooh, how flawless he was.. You felt like you were at a spa with how at ease you felt. You could hear him cry out every now and then, saying how awfully tangled your hair was. But not once did you feel any pain.

But when he isn’t crying, he talks to you like hairstylists do at a hair salon. He tells you about some gossip he heard at Majolish and some products he’s planning on sharing with you. He asks you some questions and all in all, have a good time together. It’s honestly very fun!

By the end of it all, you’ve never felt more replenished. Your curls look the liveliest they’ve ever been, and you hadn’t even added your hair products or defused it!

He finished way quicker than what you would’ve taken. You probably still would’ve been only have way after all this time.

He’ll be fawning over you and saying how obsessed he is about your curls. ..but might start getting touchy since he hadn’t during that whole time. Which is kinda surprising he lasted this long.

— “Why don’t we go straight to my room? I’d love to try some hairstyles and new products on you!… Oh, no need to put clothes on, hon~ ;)”

Beelzebub

He was in the middle of doing some warmups before starting his regular workout routines. So imagine his surprise when he suddenly ends up in the bathroom.

But what surprised him even more was you peeking through the shower curtain, barely being able to hold your tears of frustration. Though you can’t stay feeling that way for long when you have a big fella worrying and asking you what’s wrong.

— “I need another pair of hands and eyes.. Could you help me out?” You say and laugh sheepishly.

— “Y-Yeah, sure! Just tell me what do to..”

The last thing he expected was to do your hair and has no experience whatsoever. But he’s washed and bushed Belphie’s hair before, so how hard can it be?

You two really need to stop underestimating the situation.💀👍

Has no idea what he’s doing but he will be so gentle! He also apologizes softly every time he pulls and brushes your hair, which is quite often.

His hands went through your hair so nicely, massaging your scalp and often playing with your hair. Your hair is so pretty..! So pretty.. it looks good… very good..

— “Beel, do not eat my hair!”

— “Oh, right. Sorry..”

But, I mean come on! Based on his logic, Your hair looks and feels so good.. it even smells amazing! So why wouldn’t it taste good too? It’s very tempting👀✨ if you want a speedy haircut, he’s your guy!

Very good at following directions, and appreciates that you tell him to divide your hair into sections to that it’s easier for him to detangle the knots. He makes sure to ask if it hurts or if you’re doing alright.

Also very respectful! Keeps his eyes where he should be putting them, doesn’t touch you where he shouldn’t and doesn’t make the situation weird; he would never want to make you feel uncomfortable. Though you can see that there’s a soft hint of blush decorating his cheeks..

This ends up being the most unique workout for him, one that required a hella amount of delicacy and patience. And self control.

You thank him for helping you out, joking about how you would’ve just shaved it all off if you couldn’t do it. He’s just happy that your happy.

*Growl..* “Oh, I’m starving now. I’ll head toward the kitchen so come join me when you’re done, okay?”

Belphegor

Obviously sleeping in some who knows where corner in the most uncomfortable position imaginable. Your summon kinda saves him from that.

This guy was dumbfounded when you asked him to help you with your hair. Like, don’t you know him?? He hasn’t even brushed his own hair this week, you think he can handle your hair?!

— “Belphie, Please! I can’t just ask someone else!”

— “Go to the hair salon or something!”

— “Don’t you know how expensive that is?? They’ll charge me a shit ton!”

He can’t refuse you when you’re this distressed about what’s going on. So he’ll reluctantly agree to help you, but doesn’t promise to do a good job. Will ask again if you’re sure you want him to help you; ..oh well, your decision.

Decides that the best course of action..! Is to look it up in DevilTube. Ain’t no way this mans knows what he’s doing.

There’s a 75% chance you’ll end up worse than when how you started. His movements are so stiff, and awkward, way too rough for your scalp, and all in all, just ass.

Will sarcastically tell you to just leave it like that, it’ll work fine as a pillow. That, of course, is not an option.

He’ll also play with your hair, making a bubble tower; and if possible? Make shapes with your hair. I’m telling you, your hair will get a lot worse with him ;—;

But lo and behold, if a miracle happens and somehow managed to detangle it? You’ll never skip a week of your hair routine. This horrible learning experience taught you that routines are very important or else all hell will break lose.

He never exercise, so imagine how how numb and exhausted his arms will feel after this?? Got to learn where you get most of your strength from even if you don’t look strong.. will want to make you just as exhausted as he feel. Do with that information what you will.

Moral of the story, don’t ask Belphie to help you. You’re better off doing it yourself!👍

— *huff, huff* “Your hair must be one of hell’s miserable wonders.. *Pant* You owe me a long cuddle session after this..!”

End

My magic wouldn’t work on Belphie’s dialogue.. ;-;

But Oh god, I had so much fun with this! I could stop laughing at some of them when I kept imagining them in my head. So I hope you too also had a good laugh when reading this! ^^⸝⸝

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me shenanigans #obey me crack #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #obey me oneshot #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me scenarios

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seraphicalsuccubus · 23 days

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I can’t believe I’m actually being ghosted after being in a relationship for 7 months and planning out a life together, all because I offered to pay for half his trip to come get me and bring me down there if it would speed things up

he just read the message immediately and completely ignored me from then on and it’s been almost 2 days of not hearing from him

I don’t understand what I did wrong by just offering to help make things go smoother and quicker

I don’t understand what I’ve done to warrant getting the cold shoulder and completely ignored since yesterday morning when he read the message about my offer to help immediately and then just fucking wrote me off without a response and still isn’t replying to anything I’ve sent

I just … I don’t understand what I did so wrong to deserve this by offering to help …

but I guess I’m either single or going to be again soon with how things are going here because I feel so pushed aside and rejected and dismissed and humiliated because now I feel like if he doesn’t accept my help, then he doesn’t actually want me there like he’s been saying he does this whole time and has been procrastinating and pushing this all off for a real reason, unbeknownst to me, but clearly there’s something on his end that’s preventing all this from progressing

and I just … I’m so hurt and upset and fucking feel like my life is legitimately falling apart because he won’t even fucking answer me to talk about it. just read that one message and has ignored every single text I’ve sent past that.

like what did I do wrong?? everything was fine the night before I sent that text?? nothing has been different recently until I sent that and now I’m being flat out ignored and disregarded??

I just … I don’t understand … what did I do wrong here … I’m so tired of feeling like my heart is ripping itself to pieces and sobbing my eyes out because I’m actually being abandoned by someone I trusted fully and let my walls down for, yet again.

I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now .. I feel so incredibly lost and alone ..

#I just I don’t understand … I just want to understand … what did I do wrong by offering to help ? what changed after that message ?#I don’t. I just. I can’t figure out what I did wrong to warrant all this after just simply offering to help pay for things ..

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scoobysnakz · 5 months

Text

part 2 of dbf miguel. so sorry this took so long, accidentally deleted the draft like twenty times.

The TV hums softly as a random sitcom you've not gotten the chance to see yet flickers across the screen. You know you should turn it off, it's distracting you from completing your essay, one you've been procrastinating about finishing, but the background noise is comforting enough to let you keep it on, even if you'll have to rewatch it all later.

“Need help with that?”

You jump at the sudden noise, pen now clattering on the floor and rolling dangerously close to the sofa. You look up at where the voice came from, only to be met with a freshly shaven Miguel.

Embarrassment burns the back of your neck as you shift on the plush cushion of the sofa. The only thing covering the crinkled page of your otherwise barren notebook is an array of flowers around the margin and random notes scribbled out in heavy, blotchy lines.

“Am fine,” you smile, fingers spreading out to hide your work, or lack of.

Miguel just scoffs at you before pushing your hand away. “Such detailed notes,” he chides.

“It's meant to be an essay, but thanks anyway.”

You hear him stifle a laugh that you pray is sympathetic and not as amused as it sounds. It's shameful how far behind you are on your schoolwork when you have someone peering over your shoulder.

You aren't quite sure why you're so pent up on impressing Miguel, a man who is staying at his friend's house for some unbeknownst reason.

He sits down on the sofa next to you, a respectful distance but you can still smell his overbearing cologne and hair gel fusion. The sofa sinks slightly at his weight, a low creak eminating through the room.

He laughs, “let me help.”

Irritation bubbles deep in your stomach but you try to push it away, ignore it and keep going with the conversation. But when he acts so casual, even though he's stolen your bedroom, your only haven in this monstrosity of a household, you can’t help but feel annoyed with him.

“I doubt it,” you quip with an air of ignorance, fingers drumming erratically on the inky pages, “this is biology, aren't you like a chemist or something?”

A smirk curls at the corner of his lips at your sudden attitude, but he doesn't comment on it, leaving your opinion of him more distasteful than ever. “Well my degree says organic chemistry and molecular biology, so you're both wrong and right.”

“Mmm, so either, you're loaded, or up to your neck in debt.” you don't even try to hide the snark in your voice, “considering the fact that you’re staying here, I'm guessing student loan got the better of you.”

He scoffs at you, hand clasped to his chest in feigned hurt. “I'll have you know, I have a well-paying job, thank you very much.”

You flip your notebook shut, a small sense of relief washing over you now that disgrace of an essay is hidden, and shift to face him. “Then why are you here?”

He swallows, hard, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. His gaze flickers between your face and the wall behind you, discomfort colouring his expression. The atmosphere of the room shifts entirely, and suddenly you feel guilty for hating him. Maybe he didn't mean to take your room, not on purpose anyway.

“I lost my house, not… not because of money or anything,” he pauses, plush lips pursed into a tight grimace before he continues, “didn't get a very good divorce lawyer.”

“I'm… sorry?” you've never been good at sympathy, always pushed the hard topic of emotions onto someone else so you can focus on something you're actually good at. But now, some weird part of you wants to comfort him.

“Hmm?” he looks back at your eyes, your breath catching in your throat, “Not your fault, querida, I was a silly man who did silly things. I made a mistake and lost the love of my life.”

“Don't say that.” you hate the way your voice softens. You want to keep this burning resentment for Miguel, loathe him for all eternity, it might seem petty but he deserves it. Yet, you want to pull him close, tell him to stop being so hard on himself and run your fingers through his hair until his jaw unclenches.

He shakes his head, casually, as if it was never that important.

“I couldn't stay faithful and I paid the price, she has everything she deserves leaving me with… nothing.”

An awkward silence fills the room. You don't know what to say to that other than, I take back my kindness and spit in your face for cheating on your wife.

“She was amazing, so full of life, and then one day… we just stopped clicking,” he leans back against the sofa, head craning back so that he's forced to stare at the yellowing ceiling, “it wasn't a spur of the moment, because I got bored thing. We had stopped loving each other, she had anyway.”

You reach out, your fingers brushing against his much more calloused, harsh ones causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. You give his hand a gentle squeeze that lasts a little longer than intended, but the sweetness of the action doesn't go unnoticed.

The upbeat theme tune from the TV suddenly blares out from the speakers causing the two of you to startle. Your fingers tighten around his on instinct but you immediately pull your hand away.

Miguel chuckles a low, mellow sound that makes your ears perk up. “Sat on the remote,” he says, pulling it from under his thigh.

“Scared the shit out of me, Migs- Miguel,” you breathe heavily.

He nods, smiling uneasily, praying that the hammering of his heart is from the sudden shock and not from the kindness you displayed. But deep down, he knows the truth.

prev <

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ofstarsandvibranium · 2 months

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Playing with Fire: The Restaurant

Fandom: Marvel (Dad’s Best Friend AU)

Pairing: DBF!Bucky x F!Reader

Summary: Your dad’s coworker and best friend, Bucky, decides to tag along with you on your errands after your boyfriend bailed on you last minute.

A/N: Bucky is in his late 40s, reader in her mid to late 20s. i can't believe this is turning into ANOTHER series when i have like 5 others to finish. WHY DO I KEEP DOING THIS TO MYSELF?!

The Book Store | The Photobooth

Bucky could tell there was still some tension between you and him. He mentally scolds himself for upsetting you earlier, but that doesn't mean what he said wasn't true. You do deserve better than how your boyfriend treats you. Guess that's what makes him different from who you're currently dating. He's a boy. Bucky's a man.

"You hungry?" Bucky asks as you and he enter your car.

You buckle your seatbelt and shrug, "I could eat."

"There's a diner I like to go to. I can pull it up on GPS?"

"Sure," you respond to him curtly and he sighs, running a hand through his salt and pepper hair.

"Listen, I'm sorry what I said earlier upset you. It wasn't my intention."

"Then what was your intention, Bucky?" you glare at him.

He blows air out of his mouth, "Um, well, just to let you know that you deserve better, ya know? I mean, this boy-"

"He's an adult, Bucky, a man."

That makes him scoff, "Sweetheart, please. A man makes time for you. A man isn't afraid to show you off. A man doesn't procrastinate on his project and miss out on time with his beautiful girl."

Your brows raise. Did Bucky just call you beautiful? What? "So you think you do better than him?"

He smirks at you, "I know I can," he gets out of your car and you look at him confused, "What're you doing?"

"Get out. I'm driving," he jogs to your side of the car and opens it, "C'mon."

"Why?"

He grins at you and shrugs, "A man never lets his lady drive. Now up and out, sugar," he holds out his hand for you.

You huff out and roll your eyes, unbuckling yourself and place your hand in his. He helps you to your feet as you step out of the car. You proceed to walk towards the passenger's side and buckle in, "Can't believe I can't drive my own car."

Bucky chuckles, "Just trust me on this, Y/N. You'll see how a real man should treat a woman." He gives you a wink and you hate that that little gesture causes butterflies to erupt in your belly. You cross your arms over your chest defensively, not wanting to give him the satisfaction, "Whatever, can we go, please? I'm hungry."

"Sure thing," he pulls out of the parking spot and starts the drive to the diner.

________________________

You're sitting across from Bucky in a booth at the diner he drove you to. He's watching you and you feel your eyes on him, but you're not trying to give him any attention. This wasn't something you expected when he agreed to accompany you on your errands today. Did you find Bucky attractive? Absolutely. Did you also find him charming and irresistible? Unfortunately. But this is definitely a forbidden thing. You're in a relationship and he's your dad's coworker and best friend. That's definitely immoral, right?

But then you think about the way he looked at you, the way his hands felt on your hips in the photobooth, it lit a fire inside of you that you didn't know existed.

But no, this definitely can't happen. You won't let it happen. Absolutely not.

"Ready, sweetheart?" you look up at Bucky, his deep blue eyes searing into yours. Yup, you're fucked.

"You said their burgers are good?"

"Delicious. One of the best burgers I've ever had," he replies with a smile.

"Guess I'll get that then."

"Whatever you want, you can get. I'm paying."

You groan, "Bucky-"

He shrugs with a smirk, "It's part of the deal."

"John pays for my food too," you point out, reminding him, and yourself, that you have a boyfriend.

Bucky scoffs, "Does he let you eat some of his food even though you have your own? Does he share milkshakes with you and let you dip your fries into it?"

"...sometimes."

He shakes his head, "What's mine is yours, sweetheart."

The waitress comes over and she immediately looks Bucky up and down. She clearly clocked in on how attractive Bucky is. Honestly, you don't like how uneasy it made you.

"What can I get ya, handsome?" she asks Bucky with a bat of her eyes.

Bucky doesn't look up from his menu, "Bacon burger, side of fries, and strawberry shake," he sets his menu down and looks at you, "What about you, sugar?"

The waitress looks at you with less enthusiasm in her eyes, "Cheeseburger with fries and a Coke."

"Sure thing. That'll be out in a bit," she pats Bucky's shoulder and you can't help but snort when she walks away.

"What?"

"Our waitress was soooo checking you out, Buck."

He shrugs, "Don't care. A man should only have eyes for his girl, right?" he winks at you and you look away.

You can't help but scoff, "If you're such a great partner, how come you're single then?" you look at him with a 'gotcha' face and you feel victorious as Bucky pouts.

"Honestly? Work. I work too much to make time for dating."

"So what's this then?" you gesture between yourself and him.

He shrugs, "I happen to have free time."

You roll your eyes, "Bucky, you and my dad hang out a lot. I'm sure you can replace that time with dating."

"Then I won't be able to see you," he smirks at you again and you can't help but laugh, "You're a menace!"

"I'm just trying to show you what a real man's about, sugar."

"Here's your drinks and your food will be out shortly!" the waitress shoots a wink to Bucky and you give another snort.

"I'm telling you, you should get back into the dating game instead of hanging out with losers like my dad and I."

"Hey, I like you losers, so you can't get rid of me that easily."

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #dbf!bucky x reader #dbf!bucky #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #dbf au #fem!reader #f!reader #female!reader

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little-star-bun · 1 year

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⋆｡‧˚ʚ 𝘽𝙤𝙨𝙨𝙖 𝙉𝙤𝙫𝙖 - (𝙖｡𝙖｡) ɞ˚‧｡⋆

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ a/n: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA this was so ahskjhskhsj to write I love abby also if its wonky just pretend you love it;; as requested by the lovely @cottoncandytomu ;;

warnings: 18+ lesbian fanfiction!! Men and Minors DNI!! situationship between r! and abby, f!reader, jealous!abby, modern college au i guess, Abby is slightly emotionally unavailable but its hot, drinking (of age), actual sex, porn with plot, strap usage (cock, dick), oral (r! receiving), groping (r! recieving), kind of drunk sex? very slight mommy kink, overuse of commas, author procrastinated writing the smut part, ending is kinda rushed;

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌𓆩♡𓆪﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

"ʸᵒᵘ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ ˡᵒᶜᵏ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵖʰᵒⁿᵉ… ᵃⁿᵈ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ᵃᵗ ᵐᵉ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʷᵉ'ʳᵉ ᵃˡᵒⁿᵉ… ʸᵒᵘ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ ˡᵒᶜᵏ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵈᵒᵒʳ.. ᵃⁿᵈ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ᵃᵗ ᵐᵉ ᵃ ˡⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ ᵐᵒʳᵉ…" ~ ⤹˚˖ ♫ ୭

She had you wrapped around her finger. And she knew it. She loved it, the way you tried to pull away, avoid her. A cat and mouse game, really. The mouse always came running back..

Yours and Abby's relationship was.. rocky to say the least. You wanted a real relationship, something with depth, a true connection with someone else. Abby was ever afraid of commitment, fucking you and then shutting off her emotions. You never knew what was going on inside the blonde's head. You couldn't allow yourself to be in a relationship with someone who wasn't vulnerable.

But it was all her fault. It was her fault you couldn't get with other girls despite your attempts. It was her fault that everytime you were by yourself, your mind drifted back to her. Her and her stupid pine scented soap, her and her stupid blonde hair that always looked effortlessly good, her and her stupid warm grey eyes, her and her muscular physique that felt just so good under your hands, the way her strap fit into your pussy and she fucked you like no one else could.

Everytime you tried to end it, you ended up coming back. God, she really did have you wrapped around her finger. And she really did enjoy it. Everytime you ran off on your own, claiming to be done with her. She sat back, let you have your way, let you have your freedom. You weren't committed, so who was she to hold you back? She knew it was only a matter of time before you'd had your fun, gone on a date or two, maybe had a hookup. And then you would call her, sobbing and begging her to come over and comfort you, show you who really loved you.

Of course, the thought of someone else's hands on you, touching you, their lips kissing you, you screaming someone else's name made her blood boil like nothing else. She'd grind her teeth, her mind filled with jealousy and a strange sense of betrayal, an almost animalistic state, wanting everyone to know what was hers.

Oh, but she knew you were hers. No matter how pissed off you made her by running off to find someone you thought better, she knew that at the end of the day, it was her who truly had your weak heart.

Not that everyone on campus was always invited to the same parties, but it always ended up that 9 times out of 10 you and Abby both were there. Some rando's house, drinking and partying and hooking up. It had become a pattern, a cycle, an essential part of your back and forth.

This time was no different.

You walked into the apartment where the party was allegedly. Upon entering, the music hit your ears and the flashing lights told you this was the right place. You walked in, finding your friends and quickly grabbing a solo cup, filling it with whatever alcohol was there. It was always a surprise.

Making meaningless conversation about classes, work, and studies with your friends. But your eyes were scanning the room, almost instinctively, looking for the tall blonde who took over your waking days. More and more people arrived. Women in short dresses and men who put in no effort as usual. Just might hookup with one of em, you thought to yourself.

Trying to pay attention to your friends was tasking, the music pounding in your ears, drowning out their conversation anyways, your mind completely clouded with the possibility of Abby. You shook your head. You really were pathetic. It hadn't been even a week since you said you were over (again) and yet here you were. Hoping she would show up, just so you could see her.

Taking a swig from the solo cup, the pineapple juice and vodka stung your throat, but you played it cool, swallowing a few times before walking into the main room. Fuck it, you thought. If she shows up, she shows up. If she doesn't, I'll be too drunk to even notice.

You held onto your cup, seeing the makeshift dancefloor of students grinding on each other, groping, swaying, getting totally shitfaced. This was your time to shine. You soon joined the mass, rocking your body to the music that played, finding the nearest girl who let you press against her. You downed the solo cup, tossing it on the floor. You hummed to the music, hips moving, sweat forming on your forehead. You closed your eyes, the alcohol taking over as you moved rhythmically, letting hands roam over your stomach, neck, thighs, hips. Someone's lips grazed your shoulder and you only pressed into them.

This was the feeling, this was what made Abby leave your mind, even temporarily. Alcohol and desperation making your head feel full of cotton, your body sweating and hot, everything felt slow and fast and you forgot where you were, lost in the bodies.

Abby had arrived sometime after you had left your friends by the door. When she walked in and saw them, she knew you had to be here. She already knew how this night would go. You'd get all drunk, desperate and hot, needing a fuck. And she would be there, your vice, to fulfill that desire. To fill every cavity and ache, to make you whole again.

The thought of it propelled her forward towards the sounds of the bass and synths. Her eyes immediately found you, almost trained to do so.

The way you got under her skin was impressive, her eyes squinting slightly as she watched you and your mini black satin dress that you just didn't wear a bra under, your flushed cheeks from the heat and the alcohol, the hair sticking to your face. The way you let any and every girl on that floor grope you, their undeserving hands touching your hips, your ass, your shoulders, pulling up the dress to just reveal more of your thighs as you shamelessly grinded on them, any inhibitions out the window.

She continued to watch you dance, the way your body moved smoothly and sensually, as if lost in a trance. Her brows furrowed as she leaned back on the wall, taking in the view before her.

You were so fucking easy. And that's what made Abby the most pissed off. That everyone knew you were easy, desperate, that they could get with you if they just got a little vodka in your system and whispered a sweet word or two in your ear. Everyone thought they could touch what was really hers.

It was obvious you really hadn't noticed her in your drunken horny state, so, in her confident and Abby-like attitude, she walked over to you in easy strides, pushing through the crowd. The almost 6' jock didn't need to be any more intimidating, but she still glared at anyone surrounding you. They were sober enough to know messing with Abby wasn't a good idea, and they backed off.

And you whimpered, the loss of contact causing you to open your eyes. But just as soon as it was gone, it was there again. But stronger, better, familiar.

Through your haze, your eyes focused on the blonde, whose arms had come to hold you around the waist, a hand pressed against the small of your back, her signature cocky grin on her face.

The way you gasped her name, and your lip puffed out into a pout told her everything she needed to know, everything she already knew. You'd drank the vodka and juice like water, and now your pussy was throbbing, your judgement clouded and desperate.

She had you right where she wanted you.

"Miss me, baby?" she whispered right into your ear. Despite the loud music, she was loud and clear.

You shivered, hands coming to grasp at her varsity jacket, your grip needy and wanting. You wanted her. You always wanted her. No matter who you took home, no matter who you kissed or flirted with, you wanted abby.

"Why you here, Abby?" You slurred, the crowd pushing you closer and closer to the woman in front of you. She didn't mind, pulling you closer and moving a hand down to grab your ass.

"Oh, you know why, don't you, pretty?" She chuckled, a sound that went straight to your cunt. You did know why, she had gotten invited, she knew you would be here, she knew you'd want her. She always knew.

You didn't respond, letting Abby start to guide you out of the crowd, back to the entryway. She leaned down, pressing a kiss to the spot behind your ear. "Come on, pretty girl, let me take you home."

Home. Abby's place. Abby's room and Abby's bed. Musky and dark and everything you needed.

Your head bobbed in agreement, and Abby took your hand, the way it fit around yours making your knees weak, and led you out of the apartment door. Your friends weren't there to see it, and you made a mental note to tell them where you'd went later.

Out on the sidewalk, your heels clicking as you made your way to her Jeep. Ever the charmer, she opened the door for you, helping you climb inside before buckling your seatbelt, pressing a kiss to your neck.

A gasp left your throat as you tilted your head, wanting Abby to keep going. Here, now, you wanted her.

Abby rubbed your exposed thigh, smirking at you. "Oh baby, you missed me, yeah?" She whispered, her voice full of desire for you. You knew what you did to her, nodding as you pried your eyes open, gazing at her with an almost fond look.

She let out a small laugh, pulling away from you and closing the jeep door, walking to the other side to open hers. She climbed in and soon you were making your way to her apartment, her hand holding yours tightly as she drove.

She stopped in front of her apartment, parking and then shutting off the engine. She unbuckled herself and turned to you, her hand coming up to brush the stray hairs out of your face.

"Hi," you smiled drunkenly, looking into her grey eyes. Oh how you could get lost in them, cold and comforting.

She smiled back at you, the smile that tugged your heart strings and played them like a violin. "Hi, sweetheart."

She paused for a moment, looking into your sweet eyes, the way you looked so at peace when you were beside her. She wish she could take a picture, permanently etch it in your brain. Beneath the alcohol and hormones, you truly felt better around her.

"You want me to take you inside, babe?" She dropped her voice down, a husky whisper as she cupped your cheek, stroking it with her thumb. She always wanted to make sure that this was what you wanted, especially with the added influences. "Want me to fuck you?"

The ache in your legs took over your mind, anything you would have said going out the window. You nodded pathetically, and soon you were laying in Abby's bed, the familiar scent of the woman filling your senses as you were pressed down into the mattress by her body weight.

Her lips were working hungrily against yours, pulling whimpers and gasps from your puffy lips. One hand on your neck, holding you in place, the other one gripping your thigh so hard it would leave beautiful bruises later.

You struggled to kiss back, her lips pressing against yours as her tongue slid deliciously against yours. It was clear how much she missed you, pure jealousy fueling her actions.

Drool slipped out the corner of your mouth. She was truly making a mess of you, but this was what you loved. She finally pulled away from your lips, leaving you gasping for air. She moved her hands behind your back, unzipping your dress and sliding it off your body.

She was right, you didn't wear a bra underneath. Your tits were on full display, nipples perky and eager for attention. She quickly latched her mouth to one, pinching and rolling the other, moans leaving your mouth, forgetting about Abby's neighbors. Your hand latched to her blonde hair, pulling out her braid and tangling your fingers in the free strands.

She groaned, feeling your hands working as she sucked harder. She missed this. She missed you. As much as she seemed like a brick wall, she was just afraid of losing you. Having other people even being around you was difficult and you drover her crazy playing your cat and mouse game.

"A-abby~" you whimpered, trying to pry her lips off of your throbbing nipple. She had gotten distracted, lost in the feeling of sucking, licking, kissing your pretty boobs.

She broke contact, holding herself up over your lips. "Say my name again, baby," she breathes, one hand gripping your jaw.

A buzzing sound interrupted you, the screen of your phone lighting up. Text after text after text. You had forgotten to tell your friends where you went and now they were looking for you. you turned to your phone, going to answer them, but Abby used her free hand to pin your wrists to the bed. The one on your face tightened, forcing you to look at her.

"Fuck them. right now, you only need to look at me. Focus on me. Say my name again, darling," she said, peppering your cheeks with kisses. You whined, the buzzing growing louder.

"Abby... But they're gonna keep bothering us..."

Abby huffed, letting go of you and grabbing your phone. She turned it on silent and then tossed it to the floor where it landed face down.

"There, now you can pay attention," she muttered, her large hands coming back to massage and paw at your tits. She almost love your boobs more than she loved your pussy, the way they squished and fit perfectly in her hands. You just enjoyed the massage, little sounds of pleasure leaving your lips, as Abby continued to rub the soreness out of the fatty tissue.

"God, you for such pretty tits, babe. Can any other girl touch em like this? Make you feel good like i can?"

"no, abby! Only you, only you can m.. make me feel this good..!" You whimpered, the heat growing in your pussy. You needed her, you needed her so badly it hurt.

"Damn right," she sighed finally looking down to the red panties you wore, the wet spot that darkened the fabric right over your cunt. "Mhm, all wet for me per usual, baby.. i know that all those other girls probably need to use lube to fuck you. They can't get you this wet, darling..."

And she was right. It was almost irritating how often she was right. No other girl made you feel the way Abby did. Abby could just do everything right. She knew your body more than you did, every soft spot, how to make everything just feel so much better.

Abby moved her big thumb over your clothed clit, rubbing small circles that drew a loud whine from you. "No teasing! no teasing, Abby, please!"

"You tease me all the time, bun. Running away from me like you're scared..." she continued to rub circles, a sadistic smirk on her face as she added more pressure. "Dancing the way you do with other people in your whore dresses.. knowing I'm watching the whole time.."

She rubbed her thumb over the wet spot which was growing by the second, the outline of your folds tempting and teasing. She could practically feel the throbbing in your panties, the way you clenched around nothing, your pussy begging to be filled.

"Abby.." you breathed, bucking your lips against her hand. The heat was getting too much, the second heartbeat of your cunt becoming unbearable. You could feel the way your panties stuck to your pussy, and you wanted so desperately for Abby to take them off.

"If you want something, babe, you know you just gotta ask," she whispered in your ear, nipping at your neck and sucking a bright purple hickey on the spot. She was reading your mind, knowing exatcly what you wanted.

"Take em off Abby... Please take em off... jus wan you to touch my pussy..." you begged shamelessly, so drunk on Abby's touch (and the alcohol).

"That's my girl," she muttered, tearing the fabric off of you, nearly ripping them as they were yanked down and off your ankles. Her hand quickly returned to cup your glistening cunt, feeling you grind on her palm, the desperateness in your pretty moans making her own clothes feel a little too tight.

She pulled away her hand from your cunt, moving both of them to either of your hips, pulling your exposed pussy to her crotch, watching the realization in your eyes as you felt the strap underneath her jeans. You wiggled your hips, trying to get some friction on the thing you needed most.

Abby watched as you made a wet spot on the front of her jeans, the slick of your pussy coating the bump. "Need it that badly, huh?"

"Yes, yes Abby, need it! N.. Need it!" you pleaded, eyes screwed tight, trying to focus on the friction. It was taking everything in you to not cry of frustration.

"Fucking look at me, darling," she groaned, her grip tightening, God you were going to have so many bruises later.

You managed to open your eyes, meeting her hungry yet somehow adoring gaze. "There you go, good girl. Keep your eyes on me if you want to cum tonight."

She quickly undid her jeans, slipping them off and throwing them somewhere on the floor. Her black strap lined up with your pussy and Abby could still feel her own hot, throbbing cunt. Her clit practically twitched in anticipation of the harness's friction.

Abby drug the top of the strap along your pussy, the schlick sound it made when she parted your folds to rub against your hole, not pushing in yet. You whined, pleading for her to put it in already.

She loved how needy you got for her. She didn't need to see anyone else fuck you for her to know you'd never be this way for them. This was the version of you that existed for her. This was hers.

She slid the tip in, pushing her hips. She didn't need to pretend the strap was real, she swore she could feel the way you tightened around her and your wet, hot cunt that was formed so perfectly to her cock. She adjusted your position, putting your legs over her shoulders, pressing a soft kiss to you lips as she bottomed out.

"Shit, you're so tight, bun," she groaned against your mouth, looking into your eyes. The cock fit so deliciously in you, pressing that spongey spot that made your toes curl, breathless whimpers of please and Abby leaving your lips.

She wasted no time, pulling out and pushing in again, fucking you into the bed as she held onto your hips, pulling you onto her dick just as fast as she was pushing it in to you. Her oace was rough and brutal, but you didn;t care. You did as you promised, keeping your eyes on abby's face as you moaned pornographically, pleasure making your head feel like cotton.

Abby slowed for a second, repositioning you on the strap to hit at a better angle before she resumed her pace. Your back arched on the back, a loud cry of Abby coming from your throat as Abby's dick pounded into your cunt.

You felt the heat in your stomach start to grow, a coil getting ready to snap. "C-close, abs m so close..." you cried, tears streaming down your cheeks as she continued to fuck you, bruise your cervix and claim you as hers as she had done countless times before.

"Come f'me, baby, come with mommy," she muttered, feeling her own high creep on her as the harness continued to rub her clit.

A few more thrusts was all it took before you finally let your eyes roll back, you r mouth forming an 'o' as your orgasm washed over you, Abby following suite with her curses and groans of your name.

She tapped your side to tell you she was pulling out. She slid the strap off and got down on her knees, pulling your sopping cunt to her face as she greedily licked up your milky white cum like a woman starved. The overstimulation of her rough tongue had your reeling, trying to push her head away.

She couldn't help it, she just adored the way your pussy tasted, the scent of it washing over her as the tip of her nose rubbed against you mercilessly. She sucked on your sensitive clit for a second before pulling away with a pop, your slick coating her chin.

After she finished cleaning you up with her mouth, she laid down next to you, pulling you into her arms as you trembled from the way Abby had fucked you.

She stroked your hair, kissing your forehead. "Did so good, you always do so good for me, sweetheart," she murmured, rubbing your back.

You sniffled, tears welling in your eyes. "You're... you're not gonna tell me to put my panties on and go...?" you asked, knowing that she had done it so much previously that being in her arms was a shock. She hated being vulnerable after sex, which was what always pushed you away. But not this time.

"No, baby. I want you to stay. I want you to stay with me forever," she looked into your eyes, using her thumb to wipe off your salty tears. "I don't want you to run away anymore..."

And you agreed, teary-eyed. You wouldn't run from Abby anymore. She was devoted to you, and you would always be hers.

Moments later you were showered, with a glass of water in your hands as Abby rubbed lotion into your hips and thighs, blue bruises blossoming over the skin. She put you in a pair of her boxers and one of her t-shirts, gently holding you in her arms as you drifted to sleep.

'ⁱᵐ ⁿᵒᵗ ˢᵉⁿᵗⁱᵐᵉⁿᵗᵃˡ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ'ˢ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ 'ᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃʸ ʸᵒᵘ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ᵗᵒⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ.. ᵐᵃᵏᵉˢ ᵐᵉ ʷᵃⁿⁿᵃ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ʲᵉᵃˡᵒᵘˢ, ⁱᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵒⁿᵉ ʷʰᵒ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ⁱᵗ ʰᵒʷ ʸᵒᵘ ˡⁱᵏᵉ…'" ~ ⤹˚˖ ♫ ୭

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like always, my requests and asks are open ☆૮꒰•༝ •。꒱ა

#abby anderson #little-star-bun #asks open #wlw blog #abby smut #abby x reader #tlou #abby x reader tlou smut

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phoebepheebsphibs · 29 days

Text

Double-Mutated Mikey

Chapter 20: Robotics

Continued from the short story written by @boots-with-the-fur-club

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Mikey moans as he wakes with a headache. His nose is stuffed up and his limbs are plagued by a dull ache. Donnie is by his side in an instant, smiling at him as he presses a glass of water to his lips, forcing him to hydrate.

"Good morning, Angelo," he says.

Angelo? His name is Mikey...

"How are you feeling?"

Mikey groans wordlessly at him.

"You ready for some breakfast?"

"Mikey doesn't get out of bed today," he announces grumpily, pressing his face deeper into the pillow.

Donnie rubs his cranium, pressing his palm against Mikey's forehead as he checks for any remaining fever.

"Hmm. I guess you're right, you won't be getting out of bed today," Donnie states, placing the cup on a side table and turning the lights off. "You get some more rest and join us whenever you're ready, okay?"

Mikey nods with a yawn, shimmying deeper under the blankets and purring with contentment.

"Leo or Raph will be in with your memory medication from Draxum. But other than that, I guess nothing eventful or interesting will be happening today," Donnie says as he walks out of Mikey's room.

Professor Honeycutt is sitting in his lab office, silently working on a new droid design. This one is different from the other machines he's been forced to build while employed here. All the other designs were weapons, or used to create chaos, or made to hurt the experiments (with one in particular in mind). But this one will be a sentry guard. A protector. SENTRY AUTOMATIC LIFESAVER. He's nicknamed it 'SAL' for now.

The body of the machine is finished for the most part. He's still working on the arms, trying to create a spring mechanism that can cause them to stretch to extreme lengths without breaking. He'd also like to add the same kind of metallic-elastic springs to the legs, even though he's already finished with those. But hey, he doesn't mind working on them again! Anything to avoid the real thing that's stumping him.

Honeycutt is struggling with the robot's AI, specifically its moral center and higher reasoning. He never got around to finishing the moral center for the last AI he built, and now she's starting to unnerve him. He can program the three laws of robotics, but he knows that sometimes you need to make a decision that disregards logic. He's seen movies. They may be inaccurate, but he'd have to agree with a few of the points they make.

So he's procrastinating on the brain. Well, there is a brain in the head, but it doesn't have any information in it, apart from some basic codes for movement and functions.

Most days, Zayton doesn't even know why he's here. He joined the TCRI for the funding, plain and simple. The cause sounded good, and they would help pay for all his robotics and engineering. He had all the money and freedom he could ever want to 'play with his toys'. What could be better? He should have known it was too good to be true. After a month of getting to build whatever he wanted in a secret bunker off the coast of Buffalo, he was called in to help with some work in NYC. And now... he's stuck doing this. Building ice blasters and dart guns and training robots that fight you to the death.

He's a man of peace.

But lately, he's been confusing 'peace' with 'staying out of it'.

Honeycutt's phone buzzes. It's probably another order from Timothy, or Chaplin wants help with the A.LP.H.A. device, or something just as irritating and dangerous.

"Hello, this is Professor Zayton Honeycutt speaking."

"Hey, doc, it's Bishop."

Honeycutt drops his tools and quiets his voice.

"Ah, John. H-how nice to hear from you again... how are the plans for your -- ahem, 'mother's recovery'?"

The two of them have come up with a special code to talk about Mikey without attracting attention.

"We still don't have any information about her condition. But I think she's still with her 'extended family'."

Mikey is still hidden in the sewers with the other mutants like him.

"Have the doctors found anything?"

"Not to my knowledge. But I heard that they did an 'impromptu check-up', and I should be hearing more about that later."

They sent drones into the sewer tunnels. As to be expected.

"When do you suppose that they'll tell you the details of that check-up?"

"No idea. I get the feeling that I'll have to make some calls to a few nurses..."

"Well, if it helps, I could ask around."

Bishop's voice goes quiet.

"...Doc, I don't know if that's wise..."

"Why not? I built those dro-- ahem, I mean, I know a few nurses in the clinic. I could get some answers for you."

The line stays silent for a moment before Bishop answers.

"...Okay, Doc. Just... be careful."

"Of course!" Honeycutt chuckles nervously. "Don't even worry. But, eh, speaking of your mother, I was wondering how the 'quilt' she's sewing is coming along?"

The 'quilt' is code for their side project. Most of the experiments and actions of the scientists here are unsanctioned and illegal, covered up under all the red tape and paperwork and made to look as though they are for the 'greater good'. Bishop and Honeycutt have been working to find evidence of all the mutations and genetic experiments and legal workarounds that they've done here.

"I've been getting some more 'thread' for her."

Thread = Paper trails.

"Does she need any 'fabrics'? I know she was looking for some nice patterns, last time we spoke."

Photographic evidence of the mutated animals or krang parasites.

"She could use some later. But for now, she's worried that she might be overspending."

Bishop is afraid that they've attracted attention, he wants Honeycutt to lay low.

"Okay then. Tell her I said hello."

"Will do. And Doc? Really, be careful. I don't want you getting sick like my mother."

"...I thank you for the concern, John. It's very decent of you. But I should be fine. I'll look into the... ahem, check-up results for you."

"Thanks. I'll be in touch."

The call ends.

Honeycutt exhales loudly, hoping that by the time all the used air in his lungs escapes him, he'll have also rid himself of the stress that lingers in him.

It doesn't.

Honeycutt lets S.A.L. rest on his desk. He stretches, cracking his spine and wrists before he walks out of his private workshop and into the halls. He could use an extra cup of coffee. He knows that he should try sleeping for once, but he can't really waste time right now. He has so much work to do, and now that Bishop recruited him he's busier than ever. It's a worthy cause and a noble sacrifice that he's more than willing to make.

Honeycutt walks through the halls, flinching at every door that opens and hurrying along his way. Every scientist that greets him with a wave or conversation starter, he simply hustles by them with a nod. He's never felt comfortable in this complex before, but now he's constantly unnerved.

Honeycutt shuffles into the elevator, down to the cafeteria to get a quick cup of joe, and back up to the security room. He considers stopping at the animal sections to see if he can grab any blood samples or photographic evidence... but Bishop is concerned, and the man has a surprising track record when it comes to following his gut. Maybe later... if he can find an excuse. A technical professor suddenly interested in genetics and bloodwork? Suspicious... but, maybe he can come up with some link between his work and the genetic studies... a robot that tracks DNA? Perfect! Only issue would be whether or not they'd buy it. A few might. But the big wigs in charge would ask questions. And Timothy and Chaplin might be against it, saying that none of the experiments can keep up against his tech thus far, so making a robot that advanced would be fruitless... he'll have to think of something else...

Prof. Honeycutt arrives at the security room, takes a quick swig of his black coffee for good measure, and then opens the door.

"Ms. Campbell," he greets flatly. "How are things?"

"Events are transpiring at a typical function and rate," she responds with a similar tone. "And I am working at full capacity, if that was what you were asking about."

"Thank you for the update," he says, moving beside her to watch the cameras. "How's the search for the escapee?"

"Still underway, but halted for the time being. Our drones discovered some odd wreckage in the tunnels, what looks like the ruins of someone's living quarters."

"Someone living in the sewers?" Honeycutt asks, feigning surprise.

"I detect sarcasm, unless I am mistaken," Ms. Campbell says, turning to look at him. "You knew beforehand about this?"

"Word gets around," he replies nervously. "I just wanted to know if it was true that there was something there. I'd heard that we were sending in drones -- and you know New York gossip, everyone thinks that there's some mysterious society of monsters living underneath us. And what with those mutants we've seen... I figured that perhaps one of them had made a shelter down there, possibly even our own little Mikey!"

Honeycutt realises that he's been prattling. It's a nervous trait. Ms. Campbell knows that. She can detect all sorts of tics and traits and habits and quirks. She has an incredible poker face, and she is a living lie detector.

She watches him, eyes analyzing every bead of sweat he creates.

"You are nervous."

"Q-quite so," he chuckles. "I'm just... concerned for Mikey."

That answer seems to satiate Ms. Campbell... for the moment. She turns around and starts to type something on the keyboard, and one of the screens plays glitchy feedback from a drone.

"Perhaps this will put you at ease, father," she says. "We found him."

Honeycutt watches in shock as a drone flies around the wreckage of a large opening in a sewer, complete with burst pipes, crumbled archways, and even broken down arcade games, though glory knows where those came from. On the walls are smeared paintings and spraypaint, words like 'cowabunga' and 'turtle power!' are scrawled across the stonework along with smiley faces, drawings of interesting action heroes and poses, and... what looks like portraits of turtles dressed as superheroes or ninjas. The drone flies through after looking around, hurrying down a corridor. After a several minutes of endless catacombs and passageways, it comes up to a light where the tunnels meet an abandoned section of the subways. The drone continues following a glow that leads to a secret hidden entrance. The drone presses itself up against the wall, waiting. After a few minutes, someone emerges from the door, peeking around. It's not Mikey, but...

"Is... is that...?"

"Another mutant creature like the escaped experiment, yes."

The creature looks down the halls nervously, before looking up behind him and shouting in fright as something dark green with yellow spots drops down on top of him. A flash of blue and the two vanish completely.

"What was that?!" Honeycutt yells, almost spilling his coffee as he moves closer to the video feed.

"Undetermined. But there have been reports of vigilantes that 'pop in and out' of crime scenes, fighting against the mutant outbreak. It is possible that he is one of said vigilantes," Ms. Campbell says. "And that is not all..."

Ms. Campbell speeds the playback to a moment several minutes later, when a human boy comes out of the entrance searching for something. He sees the drone and shouts, activating a high-tech chainsaw device and swings it at the drone, slashing it off the wall and shattering it completely.

"That was a human," Honeycutt says with hushed astonishment.

Bishop said that Mikey was with his 'family', so he sort of knew about the other mutants... but that was a human kid!

"I have been trying to run facial recognition on him to no avail," Ms. Campbell says. "He seems to have no identity."

In her voice, there is a twinge of disappointment, or rather, irritation with the failure. It shouldn't surprise him, he made her with the intention of resembling human in almost every aspect, so her exercise of emotions is not unprecedented. But the attitude, the dark personality lingering under the fake skin and steel grey eyes... that frightens him. Her AI was never completed, at least not in the ways he wanted. But she seems to be growing, evolving, learning. He didn't put that in there.

"Have... have you sent any more drones?" he asks, swallowing the nervous pit in his stomach every time he's with Ms. Campbell.

"Yes. But there seems to be some kind of electromagnetic field surrounding the area now, and any drone that crosses the threshold deactivates and short-circuits."

"Do we know why?"

"They mutants must be protecting their habitat," she states, going back to the original security footage. "But now that we know where they are, it is only a matter of time before we can discover more about their numbers and motives."

Honeycutt watches the screens at the bottom of the video stack, the ones with live drone feed. Three new devices are being sent to the previous drone's last known location. They fly up until a certain point before the feed warps into static and the drones crash, their live recordings die out with a high-pitched whine and crackle.

"I suppose I should contact Dr. Chaplin to make a new plan for the onset for the escaped experiment... Unless you have some theories, father?"

She still calls him father. All his creations tend to do that, he's noticed. But he's not sure how to feel about her calling him that. It feels eerie that she does, but the day she stops referring to him as such will be even scarier.

"I... couldn't say... p-perhaps I could create a device to counter the firewall?" he suggests. "Or maybe we could--"

The screens suddenly all glitch in unison, flashing quickly before turning a single shade of purple. Each monitor works in perfect harmony to create a large, singular image.

Professor Honeycutt steps back in shock. Ms. Campbell tilts her head slightly.

A series of words appear on the screen.

LEAVE US ALONE.

"Ominous," Ms. Campbell states calmly. "And quite interesting. I cannot say that the EPF has ever had any hackers before..."

The screens go dead, the room engulfed in darkness.

Before Honeycutt can say anything, a soft grey pixely static shows up on the screens, brightening the room again in time. The camera feeds return -- save for the drones, which still give no output nor input.

"I would say those vigilante mutants could be classified as hostile, wouldn't you agree?" Ms. Campbell says, turning to Honeycutt.

"Er, um, perhaps," he says nervously, loosening his shirt collar. "But you know me, I prefer to play the Switzerland of these mutant affairs. I'd rather stay out of it. I might suggest we do the same with these drones spies --"

"Why?" she asks, suspicion in her voice.

"Well, see... these mutants see us as an invading force. When an animal believes its habitat to be encroached upon, it will go to great lengths to defend it. These mutants may be doing the same thing, which could end badly for us..."

Ms. Campbell thinks it over.

"They have already fled one habitat," she responds. "So, in your scientific understanding, would they choose fight or flight over this new habitat they've created?"

"I-I'm not sure, animal science is not my area of expertise, but --" he swallows. "-- b-but I would assume that they would prefer to keep their new abode. Considering the lengths they've gone to thus far, they will not give it up easily."

"Hmm. Then this shall be a challenge, eh, father?"

Ms. Campbell smiles cruely.

He's never seen her do that.

"Q-q-quite so," he mumbles as he stumbles out of the room. "I should head back to work now... s-see you later, Ms. Campbell..."

His hand shakes, splashing the coffee in his cup. He's had enough of this for one day... he needs to call Bishop.

Honeycutt may not have the gut instincts that Bishop does, but something is telling him that things are about to get a lot more dangerous...

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