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#she looks like those images of cats that are close to the camera so they have big noses
bonny-kookoo · 11 months
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Yoongi:
Lock Me Up | Intro/Part 1
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In which his job is pretty clear on paper; find the witness, bring her in, write down what she saw and then let the witness protection program handle the rest. The only problem: You've got other plans.
Tags/Warnings: Detective Agust D my friends, Criminal Kitty!Reader, hybrid Yoongi, mentions of murder, mentions of violence, mentions of blood, mentions of past abuse, strangers to enemies to I don't even know, sexual tension
Length: Long, 4k words
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"So, just her then?" He asks, reading the files about his most recent case. "Double homicide, and she got away?" He wonders, as the young officer shrugs at the table.
"According to another witness, she saw her run out of the house we found the victims in, and she apparently got chased down the street- but a butcher downtown told a patrolling officer that she was fine the day after." He explains, making Yoongi sigh.
"Well, finding a cat in D-Town." The man takes the files for himself, grabbing his coat. "How hard can it be?"
Turns out, it's not that hard at all, considering the high percentage of hybrid population in D-Town.
He's walking into the small restaurant, most of the people eating and working being hybrids, immediately looking at him with suspicion as all conversation quiets down. He's used to it by now, most hybrids aware of what he is, his reputation amongst each and every one of them one of a traitor. "I'm searching for a female hybrid. Feline." Yoongi asks one of the servers behind the counter, cooks turning around to watch the detective. "Has a ID number tattooed into her left ear. 0713." He offers an image depicting you caught by the security camera of a small grocery shop nearby.
But much to his expectation, everyone shrugs, shakes their heads, won't tell him anything. It's a typical pack-mentality amongst hybrids- no matter what, they stick together against the human dominated police force.
"Alright, let's ask for your papers then. Mind me having a look at all the legal documents for your little establishment?" He melodically threatens, and it's clear that it makes the young server and her husband close by nervous, her eyes immediately looking at two young twin hybrids watching a cartoon on an old CRT-TV. "She's.. upstairs. She didn't do anything, she's a good girl-!" The woman begs, yells after the detective as he immediately makes his way up the stairs, only her husband holding her back.
The moment Yoongi opens the door to what he assumes might be a bedroom though, you're clearly there-
Jumping straight out of a window.
"Fuck.!" He calls out, running back downstairs to run after you, whole restaurant laughing and cheering for you as you dash away from the detective, heels clicking on the pavement as you run away. He has to admit that he's a little impressed by your ability to jump over obstacles and run so fast with those mary janes, though it's clear after a while that he's got the better stamina of the both of you. He's catching up to you.
But you're clearly already very knowledgeable in police chases, because you suddenly jump up against a wall of a small building, managing to somehow heave your entire body up the ledge to get onto the roof.
"So what now, huh?!" He calls out to you, breathing heavily just like you are. "One call and I've got the fucking thing surrounded. Just get down, I'm here- fuck.." He breathes for a second, before catching his composure again. "-I'm not here to arrest you."
"Hmm.. nah, I'm good." You simply answer, sitting close to the edge of the roof now.
"That wasn't a question." He calls out back up to you, one brow raised in annoyance. "Get down."
"No." You simply answer stubbornly, your tail swaying from left to right behind you, since you've moved to lay on your stomach instead, arms on the edge of the rooftop, chin resting on top of them.
"Alright. Hybrid 0713, you're under temporary arrest for suspicion of involvement in a double homicide case." He orders out to you. "Now get down here-"
"Does that ever work on anybody?" You ask after a moment of silence with an almost bored tone to your voice, face clearly showing genuine interest in the answer though.
He licks his lips, hands now in his pockets. "Not really if I'm honest." He shrugs honestly, making you giggle. "Come on now, I seriously only need you for questioning, I don't care about any other shit you've done."
"How about you buy me dinner first?" You ask, rolling over onto your back, now looking at him upside down, and he's unsure if you're aware of your cleavage ready to spill out of your dress, or if you're trying to put him under your spell.
With eyes as enchanting like yours, he could see it work if the setting was different. Wait- what the hell was he thinking?
"Are you serious?" He growls. "You're not in any place to make demands." He argues, and you shrug at that, before getting up to leave, moving out of sight. "Hey-!" He calls out, walking around the small shed you've climbed up on, unable to spot you. "I'm not getting paid enough for this shit.." He mumbles as he moves a trashcan closer to the side of the building, slowly climbing up onto the roof- to find nothing.
"I'll give it an eight out of ten, but only cause you've got a nice ass, Mister Detective-" You giggle behind him down on the floor, before you laugh. "See you later, Imposter!" You laugh as you run off-
leaving him sighing on the rooftop, questioning his life choices.
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Every day you're out there on your own, is a day where you run the chance of getting yourself killed. And while he's got no emotional connection to you at all, you're still an important witness to his case- so he's got to make sure he can avoid you biting the dust anytime soon.
He spots you near an old fountain that's now worked for years, but still holds water, back turned towards him. From the movement of your ears and the way your tail snaps upwards once, you've clearly notice him already though. "Don't worry-" You chuckle, moving around as he walks closer. "-Won't run off this time." You say, as he's finally close enough to see what you're doing.
The side of one of your legs is severely scratched up, from your ankle straight up to almost your thigh. You're using the water to wash off any dirt, shoes and socks neatly placed next to you. "What happened?" He asks, and you shrug, calmly cleaning yourself as he sits down next to you with a respectful distance.
"Tripped. Fell." You shrug, and it's clear to him that you're not telling him the whole story. Even so, he doesn't need to know it- the only thing he needs to know, is what you've seen the night of the murder.
"We'll get that looked at at the police station." He offers, standing up, and you grin impishly, leaning your head back to look at him above you. "What?"
"You gonna carry me, Mister Detective?" You ask, tail swishing from left to right in your amusement.
"First of all, stop calling me that, second of all, why would I do that?" He asks, putting his hands in his pockets.
"I'm hurt!" You whine, turning around with your now wet legs, holding the scratched up one out towards him. "I can't walk." You say with big sparkling eyes, and he squints his own as an answer to them it feels like.
"It's just scratched, now dry off and put your shoes on." He demands, making you pout and cross your arms.
"No." You answer, and he has to take a deep breath to contain himself.
He's however, internally, a little confused at himself. Why does this whole thing amuse him so much? He's not so much angry or frustrated, but there's something entirely different brewing inside him. "Hm, that angry look doesn't work quite right with human eyes like that." You say, catching him off guard. "You'd have a way better chance without those fake lenses." You offer, and he doesn't react to it at all.
"Get up." He simply says, and you do so, limping on one foot. "Come on, drop the act now. I don't have all day for your games."
"We could already be on our way if you decided to be a gentleman, Mister Detective." You snap back, picking up your shoes and socks.
"I told you to stop calling me that." He bites at you, and you have the audacity to laugh.
"And I told you to carry me, but I guess we both won't get what we want today." You joke, before you're suddenly lifted up over his shoulder, one arm over the back of your knees to simultaneously keep your dress from lifting up by accident. "What are you doing!?" You stammer out now, and he can't help the smirk growing on his lips as he walks towards the police station.
"Being a gentleman, just like you wanted."
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"She definitely needs some sort of protection until we've found and arrested everyone involved." Another officer named Namjoon says. "She's already been targeted judging from her injuries. She's been lucky until now, but luck is a gamble. Until they've been prosecuted, we'll have to keep her under protective surveillance." Namjoon orders, before he looks at Yoongi.
"Absolutely fucking not." He immediately says, but it stays quiet.
There's no arguing with orders given, so he does ends up walking into the interrogation room, where he unlocks your handcuffs. "Oh, Mister Detective!" You perk up as you catch his scent, tail swatting into his face almost as he leans away from it. "Finally! I'm so hungry, I swear.." You whine, eagerly freeing your hands out of the cuffs before you get up, jumping on one leg as the other ankle had been put inside a brace since you've sprained it. "Can you carry me back to the restaurant downtown?" You wonder hopeful.
"You're not gonna go anywhere for a while." He tells you, moving your hair away from your neck. It's weird that the way his hands touch you makes you shiver a little- nervousness bubbling up inside you as he places the leather collar around your neck, something clicking in place in the back. "I'm legally required to inform you that you've been electronically tagged until you're no longer required to be. You'll be staying under both GPS surveillance and house arrest until the case has been officially closed or dropped, and the tag can be used at any given time to locate you or send out police enforcement to retrieve you in case it's deemed necessary. Did you understand everything I just said?" He asks, and you sigh, kicking out your feet stubbornly.
"…yeah.." You mumble with an attitude, pulling on the collar. "Can you loosen it a bit though? You're kind of choking me and I'm not really into that." You say, and he clicks his tongue.
"That's as much as I can do." He tells you after loosening it a little. "You'll get used to it."
"I guess." You snap with your eyes rolling, standing up. "So.. I'm gonna be locked up?" You ask, looking at him.
"You're just under house arrest, like I said." He shrugs. "Close monitoring is what they call it. I'll basically be forced to be your babysitter until the case is finished, but they'll let you stay at your own home unless decided otherwise." He explains, and you suddenly seem a lot more relieved about that.
"Alright I guess." You say, getting up to grab your shoes, still barefoot., before you lift up your arms towards him.
"What now." He asks with an emotionless face, hands in his pockets.
"I still can't walk." You say.
"You can hop around on that thing." He answers, turning around, before he opens the door- though you've sat back down on your chair, arms crossed.
"I don't wanna hop around." You simply say, looking at him challengingly. He pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek- and you just know, if he did have cat ears, they'd be full force airplane-mode right now to visualize his growing frustration with you.
And you love it- because he's so stuck up in being professional that there's no way he'd ever act on whatever the hell he's thinking inside his head. He's probably used to getting his way, a macho and alpha-male who's deep down so insecure about being seen as a proper male that he-
Suddenly your world is upside-down again as he carries you over his shoulder yet again, and you kick your legs out in denial. "Hey no, that's not fair-!" You whine, tail swatting into his face before he grabs a hold of it in the palm of the hand belonging to the arm holding your legs. "-Let me down you suit-wearing di-"
"Better watch your mouth, sugar, or I'll have to charge you with disorderly conduct." He tells you, and you huff in frustration to yourself as you shut up at that, hanging limply off his shoulder as he walks out of the police station with you like this.
"You think Detective Min is going to be able to handle this on his own?" A young police officer wonders to the leading detective Kim, who just chuckles in his office as he watches the scene unfold.
"Oh, I'm not worried about him whatsoever." He simply says, grinning amused.
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It's in the middle of the night, when the small monitor on his wrist begins to buzz, waking him him from his sleep. He's squinting his eyes painfully against the bright light of the small screen, before he realizes what he's reading.
[TAG ALERT: SUSPICIOUS MOVEMENT DETECTED]
He's instantly on his feet, rushing to put on clothes and shoes before he rushes out his door and onto the streets, where he checks the monitor to know where he needs to go. The tag alert itself isn't something he's surprised about- he's expected you to start wandering around even with your little issue- but you're moving way faster than you should be capable of, indicating that there might be something terribly wrong.
In front of the restaurant you've been living at, the mother with her twin children is already standing outside, pointing down the street with one of her toddlers in her arms, making Yoongi immediately run to where she'd directed him to. There's drag marks on the ground, alarming him further as he starts to smell your fear and panic- fueling his instincts to get to you before anything could happen.
"Let go you crack-smoking rodent-!" He can hear you yell, loud commotion coming from down the street behind a closed grocery store- and it's at least a sign to him that you're still very much alive and kicking.
"Fucking bitch just bit me-!" Someone yells out, as Yoongi rounds the corner, gun drawn.
"D-Town police, hands up where I can fucking see them!" He yells, causing everyone to move and dash off, no shot of his landing to keep them there.
"Nice aim there, Mister Detective." You huff on the ground, rubbing the back of your head. "Thought you guys are trained with those things.." You mumble to yourself, as he walks closer to inspect any damage done to you.
"I'll ignore that comment for now." He says as he checks up on you. "What happened?"
"Broke in, took me from my nest, dragged me here like a bag of rice." You explain, as he lifts your head by your chin, thumb wiping your bottom lip where some blood can be seen. You know he's only trying to figure out if you're hurt or if it's not your blood, but it still affects you considering you're not used to be touched like that.
But another thing you notice, is his eyes- his entire appearance, in fact, as you reach out to move your hand through his hair.
"Hey, stop that.!" He barks out, but you've already done what you wanted to do.
"Huh." You simply hum. "Been wondering if you had anything hidden on your head."
"There's nothing to hide there." He growls almost, standing up instantly before he lifts you up by the back of your shirt. "Now come on. We'll get some of your shit from your place, and then you'll stay with me. I'm not taking anymore chances with you." He orders, and surprisingly, you don't question it, and don't even ask to be carried around, simply hopping alongside him for a while as you make your way down the street.
It's quiet, most people asleep at this point in this part of town, when he sighs, turning towards you to pick you up.
"Come here." He mumbles quietly, tapping his shoulders as he turns around and leans down for you to get onto his back. You silently accept the offer, letting him piggyback you to your home where you stay, and pack a small bag of things you deem necessary for your stay with the detective. He watches quietly from the sidelines as you say goodbye to the young cat hybrids, when he's spoken to from the sides.
"She's a good girl." The husband of the mother tells him. "Just shaped by the circumstances, you know? You bite others or get bitten, as simple as that." He explains.
"I'm not arresting her." Yoongi explains, and the man shakes his head.
"No, no, I know you don't." He exclaims. "But I know you guys always think of us as some sort of criminal bunch that don't follow the rules just to spite you, and we're not." He simply explains. "Just- ah, what does it matter to you I guess.." The man shakes his head, before he walks inside, leading his wife and kids into the safety of the restaurant-
while you walk out of it, ready to be carried away.
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Back at his place, you still haven't really said anything- making him suspicious, as he sits on the edge of his bed, having put up a mattress for you to sleep on close to him in case anything happened at night. "Who were those guys?" He asks, and you shrug, pulling out a rather worn down blanket from your plastic bag.
"Don't know." You answer. "Probably with Takehiko, if I had to make a guess." You shrug, before you pull out one small flower shaped pillow to sleep on- the man mentioned, Takehiko, being the prime suspect of the double homicide. He's well known for selling tampered drugs on the streets of D-Town, as well as blackmailing hybrids by threatening to report them to authorities to be taken into shelters.
Yoongi wants to question if you're alright- if everything's okay with you, but he doesn't. It doesn't concern him, it's none of his business, and the less he gets himself involved with you-
the better it will be for the both of you in the end.
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"Mister Detective!" You call out, and he turns around from his desk to find you rolling around on his carpet on the floor. "I'm bored." You whine, and he sighs, turning back around. "Mister De-"
"I swear to god if you call me that one more time, I'm gonna fucking gag you.!" He growls, turning back around again.
"Kinky." You wiggle your ears, and he takes a deep breath before he crosses his arms. "I'm still bored though."
"Go read something then, I'm here to protect you, not entertain you." He mumbles, before it grows quiet. It makes him turn around to notice you staring into nothingness, before you move to curl up on your mattress instead. It makes him wonder if you're always this stubborn if you don't get your way- or if there's something else going on you're just not telling him.
Either way, he doesn't care, and shouldn't, so he continues working on things he usually doesn't have time for during his workdays, while he assumes you sleep.
"Do you have a tail?" You ask out of a sudden, making him choke on his sip of water as he almost spits it out, cough interrupting him for a good moment.
"What the fuck!" He snarls out, setting down his glass as he wipes his mouth.
"So is that a no?" You wonder, and he shakes his head.
"No!" He says, grabbing tissues to wipe his desk down.
"No- no tail or no- yes tail-" You continue, but he cuts you off.
"No as in, none of your fucking business.!" He growls, clearly agitated at that question. "If your plan is to annoy the fuck out of me so someone else will supervise you, guess what, it's working great."
"Wasn't my intention, actually." You shrug, sitting up now. "Was just curious. You know- since you're clearly a cat too, but also not really. Confused me, that's all." You explain.
"Yeah well, you're not the first." He mumbles to himself, sitting back down at his desk.
"Does it confuse you too?" You ask, and he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Alright, what the fuck does it take for you to shut up?" He asks, looking at you, and you just smile.
"An answer would be cool." You simply say. "Look, I knew a cat hybrid a few years back and he had a super short tail, but he was a really nice guy! Smoked a lot of weed, but still." You explain, and he leans back in his seat, arms crossed defensively. "So?" You ask.
"I don't have one." He tells you.
"Liar." You squint your eyes, ears tilted towards him. "It's short, isn't it?" You ask almost teasingly, and he looks away at that, giving you the answer needed. "Hey, that's totally alright though, no shame in it! Or.." You tilt your head. "Is that why you hate hybrids so much?"
"I don't hate hybrids." He scoffs, shaking his head at you.
"Yeah right, as if it's pure chance that you're known for putting hybrids into shelters left and right." You huff, crossing your arms as well now.
"It's because you belong there if you do not have a legal guardian or permit for independent living." He argues. "I'm only trying to help you out. A shelter provides you food, a place to sleep, education-" He tries to explain, but you're visibly becoming defensive now.
"Oh yeah and don't forget how they hit you with whatever they've got on hand just because you knock over a glass full of juice at the dinner table!" You hiss, annoyed that he's talking about shelters like they're as holy as a church. "Or how they lock you in the shower with ice cold water after you've pissed yourself out of fear as a kitten because everyone just keeps shouting at you-!" You angrily say, and his features remain without any emotion as he realizes you're not just making up examples you might've heard.
Considering the details and the way you tremble saying those things, it's clear to him that you're talking about your experience in a shelter.
"But what is it to you." You suddenly shrug. "You go continue cosplaying as a human I guess." You mumble, turning around to hide under your blanket again, silence engulfing the room for a moment or two, before he gets up and moves around. You don't know what he's doing, and you honestly don't want to know. You also don't know what you thought blurting your childhood trauma out like that would bring you as a result- but that's how you are, and have always been. Impulsive, wild, a little hyperactive and too honest most of the time.
Suddenly, he's close to you, and you hiss in pure pettiness at him, before you stop in your tracks, watching him.
His face is as stoic as ever, sleeves of his shirt rolled up as he wraps a blanket around you, tucking another one into places, and you're confused. "I- what're you doing?" You ask, and he scoffs to himself.
"You're the hybrid, I honestly got no clue how to do this shit." He mumbles, sighing in defeat as he sits back with crossed legs, letting his hands fall into his lap in defeat.
"But you're a hybrid too." You ask confused, though he shakes his head.
"I'm a freak, there's no need to try and sugarcoat it." He shrugs. "Neither here nor there. I don't know what it's like to be put through the shit you might've been, since I never lived life from your perspective-" He explains, "-and I don't know what it's like to be a human either, since you can only hide so much." The detective explains, watching how you correct his admittedly poor attempt at nesting for you.
It's clear to you that he's trying to apologize for his assumptions without actually having to apologize- the detective is a lot easier to read than he might think he is.
"Yeah, I mean you kind of suck at being both, I won't lie." You say, making him look at you with harmless offense. "What? Your nesting sucks ass, and those contact lenses you constantly wear creep me out." You jab at him. "But!" You bark out, leaning closer to him, catching him off guard a little. "Seeing as we're kind of stuck together, I can give you a rundown on being a hybrid!"
"And why exactly would I want that?" He asks you monotonously, and you roll your eyes.
"Because you clearly got some major identity-issues going on?" You tell him as if it's obvious. "And I also clearly can't magically turn you 100% human out of nowhere."
"I don't have Identity-issues-" He argues, while you look at him with an unconvinced gaze, arms crossed.
"Mid-life-crisis then?" You ask, "You do look pretty old.." You mumble at him.
"I'm not old!" He hisses, and you grin suddenly, ears in airplane-mode while your tail swishes from side to side in happiness. "What?" He asks annoyed again.
"Your teeth." You notice, and he instantly closes his mouth, lips pressed firmly together at having them called out like that. "And you're also not wearing those creepy lenses." You continue to point out, tilting your head to the side. "Handsome, I like it." You comment, and for some reason, that's what forces him to stand up and move away from you, all while you fall onto your back, laughing loudly.
"Shut the fuck up and tell me what you want to eat for dinner instead."
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shiorimakibawrites · 7 months
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First Date (Part 13 of Alley Cat)
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Image credits: kissthemgoodbye.net / Amber Kipp / Nathan Dumlao
Image Description: Matt Murdock as red-suit Daredevil against nighttime city background in one block, Shadowy couple leaning against each other surrounded by candles overlooking a city in second block, under second block is text saying Alley Cat by Shiori_Makiba, the third block is a orange medium haired tabby laying on a table and looking up at the camera playfully. END ID.
Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem! Reader
Word Count: 8,465
Summary: You and Matt have your first date. Overlaps slightly with Anticipation.
Warning(s): Frank references and mentions of sex, Reader has a lot of impure thoughts, attempts at humor.
Can also be read on AO3
Series Masterlist can be found here.
First Date
You took a deep breath, steadied your grip on the cast iron skillet and the plate of your cake saver, and flipped. Gently you sat down the cake and carefully lifted the skillet. You smiled. The cake had come out perfect. It hadn’t fallen apart and none of the fruit topping had gotten stuck to the bottom of the skillet. Which was always satisfying. You put the cake aside to finish cooling.
You hoped that Nelson and Page liked their apology cake. You had done your best. You considered yourself a good home baker but there was always this little niggle of doubt whenever someone new was trying your food. Or you were testing a new recipe or recipe variation. This was a little mixture of both. Nelson and Page were almost new to your food, having only had your chocolate chip cookies. Well, you knew Page had eaten some of the cookies since she had complimented their taste. You were only assuming that Nelson had tried some too.
You had made pineapple upside down cake before but had made a minor tweak to your recipe to (hopefully) prevent the cake from being unpalatable to Matt. Yes, the cake wasn’t for him but there was a chance that Nelson and Page would decided that they couldn’t eat an entire cake by themselves and shared a slice with him.
As noted, the change was very minor. You had already switched your baking staples like flour to organic or something along those lines years ago. Fresh pineapple had been available but you were still a little tired from yesterday and were pretty sure that you would run out of steam before finishing the cake if you had to remove the rind, core, and attempt to cut a pineapple into more or less even slices. And all the whole pineapples had looked like more pineapple than you would need for the cake and while you liked pineapple, you could only eat so much of it. So you brought the canned sliced and crushed pineapple and hoped the label wasn’t lying about only containing fruit and juice. The actual change was in the maraschino cherries.
Previously you had used the cherries that was commonly available and inexpensive but your brother had thrown out that jar when he visited. He had gotten into mixing cocktails and very particular about the ingredients. And in his opinion, your maraschino cherries were trash that sullied the good name of maraschino cherries.
You rolled your eyes at the memory. Your brother could be a little dramatic.
He replaced the jar with one of his preferred types. They were dark red, almost black, instead the cartoonishly bright red of your old ones. The taste was more tart but when you compared the labels, the fancy cherries didn’t have food dyes and other such things in them. So fancy cherries it was to garnish this cake.
You hoped that his drama about cherries had paid off for you. Like his forgetting some of his clothes had already benefited you.
And now you were thinking about Matt’s arms. Again.
You glanced at the clock. It was a little after five. Nelson & Murdock was technically closed but you knew perfectly well that didn’t mean any of them were heading home. For one thing, even if they were calling it a day, there were things that would need to be taken care of first. Like closing out the point-of-sale or making sure things like their notes and other confidential information has been secured. For another, all of that research and writing wasn’t going to do itself and if they had been tied up in court or meetings most of the day . . .
Last but certainly not least, they were criminal defense attorneys. Arrests and/or interrogations weren’t restricted to normal business hours. Nelson had made sure that you were aware that if the police wanted to question you or worse, arrest you, that he didn’t care what time it was. Call him. Their answering service would re-direct the call to his or Matt’s personal phones if it was after hours. One of them would be there, just sit tight and keep your mouth shut until then.
Given your profession, he had to be aware that you likely already knew all that but you appreciated that he didn’t assume and make sure you were both on the same page.
You had intended to start baking as soon as you got home but your sister called you. You had immediately answered as soon as you heard her ringtone because the last time you had talked, Beth hadn’t been feeling well. Hearing her sound so happy when she returned your greeting was a welcome relief.
Turned out, she wasn’t sick at all. She was pregnant again. Which made her and her husband happy since they had been thinking of trying for another kid now that your nephew was almost five. According to your sister, your niece and nephew were already exited about their new sibling through you suspected your nephew was just glad that he wasn’t going to be the baby anymore.
The only downside to Beth being deliriously happy was that she always wanted to spread that happiness around. Which for you, meant asking if she could set you up. Again. Which no. You loved your sister but the men she had tried to set you up with . . . . well, you couldn’t say they were bad choices. They were good looking in that normal sort of way, had good jobs, and most had been decent people. You just hadn’t clicked with any of them. There was no spark.
You had tried seeing if the spark would grow over time but it never did. All trying did was hurt you and the man in question. And had been making you start to feel like there was something fundamentally wrong with you. So you had put your foot down. You appreciated her efforts but from now on, you would find your own dates.
You weren’t having much better much luck than your sister at finding your special someone . . . but maybe that had changed. You could hope.
Beth had given an excited squeal when you told her that you had met someone. She wanted to know everything. You had told her most of it. You left out the Daredevil thing for obvious reasons. While you didn’t shy away from the fact that you found Matt attractive, you kept the incredible horniness he inspired in you deliberately vague. Maybe other sisters shared the details about their sex lives or sexual fantasies with each other but that wasn’t your relationship with your sister.
Besides some of your fantasies about Matt involved the Daredevil thing. You wondered if he still had the black outfit he started out with. Because you already knew that as incredible as his ass looked in those grainy photographs of his current suit in the newspaper, it had looked even better in person. And considering how good he had looked as the Man in the Black in those grainy photographs . . . .
You shook your head and pushed away those thoughts. You’d think about that fantasy later. When you were sure that you’d have time to enjoy it.
You decided to check on Houdini. He was being suspiciously quiet.
Finding the cat took long enough that you were starting to wonder if he had sneaked out but then you spotted him sleeping on top of the fridge. You weren’t sure how you managed to miss him. All the appliances in this apartment were black and he was, after all, orange. Cute as he looked, curled up in one of those contortionists positions that cats apparently love to be in, you managed to resist the urge to pet him. It would wake him up and an awake Houdini was one looking for mischief. Or food.
You pulled out one of the meals you had made previously and frozen for dinner. Heating it in a saucepan on the stove took almost no brain power. Which was probably why your mind drifted back to Matt. Specifically his ass and how well it filled a pair of pants. Any pair of pants it would seem. The trousers for his lawyer suit, the red Daredevil armor, sweatpants . . . his ass looked incredible in them all. You bet he would look equally good in a pair of well-fitting jeans. And assuming he welcomed that sort of thing, if you would ever work up the courage to grab a handful. Or two. Probably would need two hands. His ass wasn’t small . . .
The phone ringing made you jump. Ringing with the ringtone you had assigned to Matt’s number. Of course, you had forgotten to take the phone with you into the kitchen so it was still sitting on your coffee table. You had to dash to answer it before it reached voicemail.
“Hello, sweetheart,” Matt greeted you, sounding cheerful like he was smiling. You hoped so. “What are you up to?”
Thinking about your ass while I make dinner was the honest answer but there was absolutely no way you were going to say that. “Oh, just heating some beef and mushrooms for dinner.”
“Sounds delicious,” he said.
“You’re welcome to come over and have some,” you offered. “I have plenty.”
“I would love to, sweetheart, but unfortunately we still need to finish some things before court tomorrow. Probably won’t be finished until it gets late.”
“Oh,” you said, trying to feel too disappointed. You had no reason. You had gotten an impromptu lunch date today. You were going on a date this Friday. And unless he was out when you dropped off the cake, you’d see him tomorrow.
“But I said that I would call you,” he continued. “Since I have a minute, I’m doing it now.”
“I appreciate it,” you said. You have would understood if he had forgotten. You had sometimes forgotten to return the calls of friends and family after getting very busy at work. You might have forgotten to return work calls if you hadn’t written yourself a reminder. Usually on a sticky note, bright pink to make it stand out from the yellow tabs and sticky notes used by the office.
But it was nice, not starting off this relationship with a broken promise. “I can let you go if you need to get back to work?”
“No need,” he said. “Foggy and I are taking a break for dinner. He just went to grab us some Chinese.”
“Doesn’t trust you to make the food run?” you asked.
“I was informed that my meal-retrieving privileges are suspended until further notice.”
You laughed and then said, “That’s fair.”
Matt chuckled. “Yeah, can’t blame him for that one. Do you like Italian?”
“Of course,” you said, giving your dinner a stir to make sure that it didn’t burn. “Why?”
“There is an Italian restaurant not far from my place,” he said. “Family-owned, it’s small but the food is really good. I was thinking of taking you there Friday.”
You smiled and answered, “That sounds wonderful.”
“Perfect,” he said. “I can meet you at your place and we can walk there. Does seven o’clock work for you?”
You did some mental math. Assuming you got off on time, that should give you enough to get back here, make sure Houdini was settled, and get ready.
“Seven should be good,” you said. “I’ll let you know if that changes.”
“Likewise,” he said.
If he said anything after that, you didn’t hear it after you were startled by a loud thud and dropped your phone. You whirled around but it was just Houdini. Awake now and hopping off the top of the fridge onto the counter. You picked up your phone and before the phone got near your ear, you could hear Matt’s concerned voice.
“-heart, are you alright?”
“Yeah,” you said. “I’m fine. I just dropped my phone when Houdini startled me.”
“That’s good,” he said, sounding relieved.
“Sorry if I scared you,” you said.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “It wasn’t intentional.”
“Houdini is sorry too,” you added.
“Is he?” Matt asked, a hint of amusement already creeping back into his tone.
“Probably not but I’m apologizing for him anyway.”
Matt chuckled.
Houdini apparently decided he wasn’t done scaring you. He walked across the counter and onto the stove, heading straight for the lit burner.
“No!” you yelled, grabbing the cat before he got too close and burned himself. He protested loudly as you lifted him up and squirmed. It was difficult not to drop the phone again. Houdini wasn’t fat but he was big enough that trying to hold him with one hand was awkward even when he wasn’t being a wiggle worm. You didn’t know how Matt managed not to drop him and climb the fire escape at the same time. Granted his hands were bigger than yours . . . and maybe ninjas have some kind of cat wrangling trick they are keeping from the rest of us . . .
“Sweetheart?” Matt interrupted your train of thought, sounding concerned again.
“Houdini decided he wanted to help me cook,” you explained.
“Wants add chef to his resume?”
“Maybe,” you said. Houdini meowed at you. He didn’t like that you were still holding him when he didn’t want to be held and paying more attention to your phone than him.
“Don’t meow me, mister, you know you aren’t allowed to walk on the stove,” you scolded the cat as you sat him on the floor. In typical cat fashion, he didn’t remain there for long. He immediately jumped into the counter and turned around to give you a look, his tail twitching. Silently daring to you to put him back on the floor. Knowing full well that he will jump right back up there, almost as soon as his paws hit the floor.
“I’m watching you, fluffy,” you warned the cat, picking up the spoon from where it had been hastily dropped onto counter. You had almost forgotten you were on the phone. Until the bark of laughter in your ear reminded you.
“Umm . . . sorry?” you said.
“For what?” he asked, still chuckling. “I already know that cat likes to be distracting.”
“It is his favorite game,” you agreed, stirring your dinner again before determining that it was hot enough and killing the heat. “Sorry for basically yelling in your ear.”
“It’s alright,” he said. Then he lowered his voice, “You don’t have to worry about getting loud, sweetheart. I want to hear you.”
Judging by the husky quality to his voice, he wasn’t talking about general conversational loudness. You felt your face get warm and heat began to gather between your legs.
“Good to know,” you managed to say.
He might have said more, might have gotten you even more worked up but you could just about hear the indistinct murmur of another voice from his side of the line.
“Be right there, Fogs,” he said, his voice a little distant like he had pulled away from the phone to answer his friend. “Hate to cut this short, sweetheart, but I have to get back to work.”
“No problem,” you said. “I’ll see you on Friday.”
“Yes, you will,” he said. This time you understand why he put so much emphasis on you. Apparently even when he is Daredevil, he couldn’t resist making jokes about being blind. Well, it was his secret identity and his disability. If anyone was allowed to be snarky about it, it was him.
“Get back to work, Mr. Smartass,” you ordered.
Matt laughed and said, “Yes, ma’am.”
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
Wonder of wonders, you actually managed to get off work on time. Opposing counsel hadn’t filed any motions with the court at the last minute to make sure you and the others had to spent this Friday night and maybe the rest of weekend responding to said motions. Jackson might have done it but Ms. Stahl thought he was being careful after his last stunt. The judge had not been amused by it. Classic literature had been quoted.
The first thing you did was give Houdini some attention. You thought he might be more inclined to forgive you for leaving him alone all night if he got spoiled a little first. And if something was going to completely covered in cat fur, it ought to be your work clothes instead of your date clothes. Through you would still probably have some fur on you. Cat fur was like glitter. It got everywhere, into everything.
When Houdini got bored with cuddling, you gave him an bigger than usual serving of his wet food. After you checked on his dry food and water, you did a quick run up the roof to check on your plants. Some of the sweet peppers were big enough to harvest. The basil and oregano looked almost big enough to harvest again. Maybe you would dry this batch. The tomatoes weren’t quite there yet. You picked the ripe peppers and returned to your apartment, stowing them in the fridge.
That done, you took a deep breath and started getting ready for your date. You were feeling nervous. Part of those nerves was your promise to wear a pair of Jo had named as slut panties and the knowledge that unless something interrupted you again, you would be having sex tonight. It had been awhile since you had sex with someone other than yourself.
But most of your nerves that you wanted this date to go well. Not just because Matt was the most beautiful man you had ever laid eyes on. Or just because you wanted sex. You weren’t going to lie to yourself and say those things didn’t matter to you but that weren’t the main reasons you wanted everything to go well. The main reason was that you really liked Matt.
He was smart. Witty. Charming. He made you laugh. He had an obvious temper and a lot of anger but was also compassionate enough to put himself in danger to protect others instead of ignoring their suffering. You had already seen that he could be very sweet. Gentle when that was what was needed.
You couldn’t say that you loved him. It was too soon for that. You didn’t really know him yet. But you could sense that the potential was there. That one day, it could be love. And maybe it was selfish but you wanted that.
You went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Today had been rather hot and humid. You weren’t going on this date smelling like dried sweat. You would have showered for any date, especially after such a hot day, but Matt had a bloodhound nose. Which made it extra important. Thinking about his sense of smell, you had a moment of hesitation about using your usual products . . . the vanilla scent in the body wash and lotion or the coconut in your shampoo and conditioner wasn’t very strong but . . .
You reminded yourself that he hadn’t seemed to mind those scents before. He hadn’t sneezed or made excuses to cut your encounters short. He let you hug him and fell asleep on you. You assumed that if the smell bothered him, he wouldn’t do that. And when he commented on the scent of your body products at his office, he didn’t sound like he found them distasteful. In fact, after you rather embarrassingly compared yourself to a cookie, he had made some remark about liking to eat coconut macaroons . . .
There had been an implication there . . . one that matched the hints that Jo had teased you with from those rumors she wouldn’t tell you . . .
You pushed away those thoughts. Now was not the time. You were having a hard enough time keeping it in your pants around Matt as it was. No need to get yourself all worked up before he even got here. You might do something crazy. Like have your way with him in the elevator of your building. You focused your attention on getting yourself clean and giving your legs a quick overview with the razor.
Once you were satisfied that you were well-scrubbed, you dried yourself off and slathered on lotion, paying particular attention to your legs. Shaving was a hassle sometimes but you had to admit that you rather liked how your freshly shaved legs felt. Wrapping yourself in a towel, you headed toward your bedroom and the daunting task of figuring out what to wear.
You had been taught that dressing nicely for a date was just good manners. That Matt couldn’t see what you were wearing was irrelevant.
You decided to start with underwear since that was the most limited selection. And starting there would give your nerves about actually wearing the aforementioned slut panties the most time to settle. Jo would understand if you got too anxious to go through with it but you wanted to at least try.
You laid out your options on your bed and considered. One pair was easy to eliminate. Crotchless panties was closer to going without panties than you were comfortable with. You were almost certain that Jo had picked those purely to see you splutter at the outrageous suggestion. She had succeeded. But she had also brought out your stubborn streak and you bought them anyway.
The thong went into the no pile for similar reasons as the crotchless panties.
The last two pairs were the tamest. Being a very high-legged style, they looked like they would cover less than your usual panties. The front and crotch panels were solid but the rear panel was made of see-through lace. You knew that the see-through aspect held no appeal for Matt but you hoped that he might enjoy the texture of the lace itself. Jo had made a saucy remark about encouraging him to fondle your ass. And you had to admit that idea had a lot of appeal . . .
She cited similar logic for why you needed to buy the matching bras to the last two pairs of panties. ‘You don’t want him forgetting to give your tits some love. Besides, the second rule of being a slut is regardless of whether your lover takes it off or reaches under your shirt, what they find is either the sexy bra or your bare tits,’ was her exact words.
You strongly suspected that she was making these rules up as she went along. Regardless, she was persuasive. You had bought the bras.
The only difference between the two was their color. One was black. The other was dark red. It was almost the same shade of red as the Daredevil suit . . . and suddenly your mind was made up. You were wearing the red one. A little secret nod to his alter ego. Who you had, after all, met first. You would save the black set for another night.
One of your silk blouses was the same shade of dark red but you had worn it earlier this week. The other one, the one in scarlet, was clean but you didn’t want to overdo the red. You liked red well enough but it wasn’t your favorite color. Beth and Jo, at least, would question the sudden interest in the color if you started wearing it all the time. And you didn’t want them (or anyone else) making any Daredevil shaped conclusions. So you pulled out the one in teal.
You considered wearing slacks but you had been wearing those all week at the office. You wanted to wear something different. So you looked to your skirts. You had some very short ones – Jo again – but since you were going somewhere that might have children present, you opted for the longer ones. Black, light weight fabric, about knee length with a fluttery hem that produced a nice swish when you walked.
You decided to wear a pair of your slip-on flats. Jo would have worn what she liked to call her ‘fuck me pumps’ but Jo could run in high heels. You regularly tripped over your own feet. Consequently, you seldom risked wearing heels higher than an inch and half.
Despite your nerves about it, slipping on the slut panties was . . . . exciting. There was a certain thrill in being a little naughty. You knew your more old-fashioned relatives would say you were being very naughty. Planning to have premarital sex. Wearing the kind of underwear that you had once heard one of your aunts describe as the devil’s panties.
The memory made you laugh out loud. Your aunt had no idea. Here you were, about to go out with the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen himself. While wearing the devil’s panties. You wondered what Matt would say about that . . . you snickered as you pulled on your skirt.
You couldn’t get your snickering under control until you finished dressing but you felt better. Looser, more relaxed. Guess you just needed a laugh. You went back to the bathroom to do your hair and make up with a spring in your step.
You had just finished tidying up the bathroom when you heard the intercom buzz. Your heart began to race with excitement. Please be Matt and not one of your neighbors accidentally locking themselves out. Again. You – barely – managed to restrain the urge to run to it. Walking normally and even managing to sound causal when you asked, “Who is it?”
“It’s me, sweetheart,” said Matt. “Can you buzz me in?”
“Sure,” you said, reaching for the button to unlock the front door.
“Thanks. Be right with you.”
While you waited, you looked for Houdini. It was always a good idea to know where the cat was when the door was going to be opened. While the windows were his favorite escape route, he wasn’t adverse to darting out of the door when the opportunity arouse.
There he was, napping on the coffee table. Sprawled out on his side, his front paws wrapped around the strap of your purse, the rest of it under his body. Making sure you can’t leave without saying good-bye to him. He was too cute not to pet and this time you couldn’t resist. He made a little purring noise, nuzzling into your hand.
You kept petting Houdini while keeping an ear out for the knock on the door. It didn’t take long. Again, it took more willpower than was pretty to walk to the door instead of run.
“Hi,” you said as you opened the door. And felt your mouth go dry. Matt always looked good but tonight, he looked good enough to eat. Maroon polo shirt, just tight enough to emphasize the width of his shoulders and the large muscles of his upper arms but loose enough not to look painted on. That it left his forearms bare, with all of their muscles and dark hair, was just a bonus. None of the buttons had been done up so you also got a tantalizing hint of his broad chest. His thick thighs were encased in well-fitting black slacks. If his legs looked that good in those pants, his ass was going to be incredible . . .
You blamed his inherent sexiness for how long it took you to realize that his hands weren’t empty. In addition to the expected white cane in one hand, in the other was a bouquet of flowers. They looked like daisies except that they weren’t all white but blue, purple, pink, and yellow. You felt stunned. Had he gotten you flowers? You couldn’t remember the last time someone had gotten you flowers . . .
“Hello sweetheart,” he greeted you, smiling. He held out the bouquet and said, “These are for you.”
“Me?” You repeated, feeling your heart flutter.
“For you,” he confirmed, his smile and voice going soft, gentle as spring rain. Your hands shook a little when you reached for the flowers, feeling almost like they would disappear if you actually touched them. But when your hands closed around the bouquet, they didn’t vanish.
“Thank you,” you said, cradling the flowers against your chest. “Come in while I get a vase.”
You stepped back to give him room to enter. Watching him walk into your living room, you discovered you were right. His ass did look incredible in those pants. So incredible it was almost criminal. Surely they caused car accidents. Because who could resist the urge to stare?
“My eyes are up here.”
Your head snapped up at his voice. Matt had his face turned toward you, over his shoulder, those pretty lips set in that smug little smirk. He was wearing his dark glasses so you couldn’t see his eyes but you would bet good money that they were sparkling with amusement. He knew you were staring at his ass. You didn’t know how he knew but he definitely knew. You felt your face heat.
Desperate for a distraction, you turned your attention to the flowers in your hands. It was a touching gesture, getting you flowers. And not the stereotypical roses. You didn’t dislike roses. They were pretty and they smelled nice without being cloyingly sweet. It was just everyone seemed to pick roses . . .
“Are these daisies?” you asked.
It was an obvious change of subject. Judging by that raised eyebrow, he was well aware what you were doing but apparently decided to be merciful and allow it.
“Asters,” he answered. “Daisies are toxic to cats. Or so says the internet. But I figured you rather be safe than sorry in this case.”
“Absolutely,” you agreed. Houdini might occasionally dance on your last nerve but you loved him and would hate for him to get sick. Or worse.
“Florist said they come in a variety of colors but since I didn’t know which you would prefer, I told her to put in a little of each.”
“I like a little of each better than a single color,” you said. “It’s more dynamic that way.”
He nodded and said, “Good to know.”
You moved into your kitchen, carefully setting the flowers down on your small table, before starting to look for the vase. You had a nice one, a housewarming gift from your sister, but you hadn’t been using it much. So you had put it away and didn’t quite remember where you had stashed it. You were pretty sure it was somewhere in the kitchen, probably on the top shelves of these cabinets . . .
There it was, in the small cabinet above the fridge. You reached up to grab it and discovered that it was just far enough back to be out of range of your fingers. Not even on your tip-toes could you reach it. You sighed, dropped back flat on your feet, and turned to drag over your step-stool. Only to left out a startled yelp. You hadn’t realized that Matt had gotten that close.
He looked entirely too pleased with himself, wearing that amused little smirk while you tried to convince your heart to stop racing.
“Bell,” you said firmly.
“Bell?” he repeated, his amused smirk only growing.
“Yes,” you said. Then, with as much as authority as you could muster, said, “All cats should have to wear bells.”
“Not a cat,” he countered.
“Ninja are classified as cats,” you said. “You are a ninja and therefore a cat. So you must wear a bell. It’s the law.”
“Is it?” He asked. “Haven’t come across that particular statute.”
“It’s from 1871 and admittedly it’s not as rigidly enforced today as it once was,” you said, feigning seriousness. “But it’s still on the books.”
“Houdini doesn’t seem to have a bell,” he observed.
“He has one. He takes his collar off,” you said.
“And you just let him get away with breaking the law like that?” he asked.
“No,” you said. “He hides it after he takes it off.”
Matt’s grin got even wider. “Does he? Same place everytime?”
“No,” you said, shaking your head. “Always a different location.”
“Quite the criminal mastermind you have.”
“Yes,” you said. “Good thing Daredevil is keeping him in check. Otherwise he might have taken over the city by now.”
Matt laughed, that delighted laugh that lit up his entire face and brought out those dimples. It was unbearably cute.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, sweetheart,” he said once he got his amusement under control. “Houdini is a very tough opponent.”
Probably because he heard his name, Houdini gave a loud meow from the living room. Which just made you both laugh.
“Did you find your vase?” he asked after you both calmed down.
“Yes,” you said. “I just need to get my step-stool. It’s just out of my reach.”
“Or I could get it down for you,” he said.
“Or you could get it down for me,” you repeated. The asked, “You don’t mind?”
“I wouldn’t have offered if I minded, sweetheart,” he said. “Now where is this vase?”
In seconds you had your vase. After filling it with water, you arranged the colorful asters to your liking. After some consideration, you placed it in the middle of your small kitchen table. There was nowhere in your apartment where it would be completely safe from getting knocked over by your cat but in the kitchen, it had a chance. It wouldn’t last two minutes on your coffee table.
As it was, Houdini hopped onto the table and started giving the vase a thorough inspection. Something he always did to anything new or had been stored away for any length of time.
“Be a good cat,” you told him. “Don’t break anything. No wild parties.”
Houdini meowed as if saying no promises, human.
Judging by the little smile on Matt’s face, he found your little conversation with your cat amusing. You retrieved your purse, swung it onto your shoulder, then double-checked that you had your phone and your keys.
“Shall we?” Matt asked, holding out his free hand.
“We shall,” you agreed, managing to sound confident even as some of your earlier nerves threatened to return. Your hand trembled a little when you reached for his offered hand but it was steady by the time you actually slide your hand into his. Probably sensing your nerves, he gently squeezed your hand and pulled you close to his side. Then you walked out of the door and headed for the elevator.
At first you walked in silence , the only sounds between the ambient noises of the building and the tap-tap of his cane. But sometimes when you were nervous, you found silences uncomfortable and got chatty. Tonight was apparently one of those times.
“You look nice,” you said. “Maroon is a good color on you.”
“Thank you, I try,” he said. “I’ll have to take your word about the maroon. Well, yours as well as Foggy and Marci.”
“Foggy and Marci?” you asked.
“Foggy bought me this and a couple of other shirts in order to get me to wear, I quote, ‘something that isn’t black, navy, brown, or gray’ but Marci helped him picked them out. Said she didn’t want a repeat of ‘the mustard travesty.’”
“The mustard travesty?” you repeated.
“Apparently one of the shirts he bought me during college was ‘the color of Dijon mustard’ and Marci says that putting me in mustard is ‘a fashion crime against humanity.’”
You tried to picture that. You weren’t sure it was possible for Matt to look terrible but agreed that mustard probably wasn’t the best color choice for him.
“What are you wearing?” he asked as you pressed the button for the ground floor.
It was a reasonable question. But it reminded you of what you were wearing under those clothes. Which made you face feel a little warm.
“Oh nothing fancy, just a skirt and a blouse,” you said, trying to sound casual.
Matt tilted his head slightly to the side you were on. Like he was listening closely to you. You wondered why. “One of those silk blouses your sister got you?”
“Yes,” you said. “The teal one.”
“Not sure I remember what teal looks like,” he said.
“It’s a mixture of blue and green,” you said.
He made a little humming noise of acknowledgment. “Your skirt?”
“Black.”
“Is this skirt short?” he asked.
“No,” you answered. “Why?”
“Just curious about why asking about your outfit made you more nervous that you already were. Thought maybe you had worn something a little daring, something you don’t wear very often.”
“Like a skirt too short for the office?” you asked.
He nodded.
“Nope. No short skirts tonight,” you said.
“But you did wear something daring.”
You spluttered, the earlier warmth in your face increasing. “How did – ?”
“Know? I suspected when you didn’t deny wearing something daring, just that it wasn’t your skirt. I knew when you reacted like that,” he said.
He adopted a thoughtful look as he seemed to think out loud, “Wearing something daring . . . it’s not your skirt . . . you said your silk blouses were the same aside from their color and I know you wore another one to work earlier this week so not your blouse . . . that leaves something you didn’t or wouldn’t mention . . . like your underwear.”
Your face felt like it was on fire. The thoughtful playfulness on his face shifted into something hungry, almost predatory. That look stirred something within you, kindling that dormant fire between your legs back to life. Matt’s nostrils flared and the tip of his tongue swept across his lips. He let go of your hand in favor of snaking his arm around your shoulders. You let out a squeak as he pulled you against him.
Despite the hunger on his face, his hold was gentle. You could easily wriggle out of it if you wanted to. But you didn’t want to. You wanted to be closer, wanted to press flush against his body.
“Am I right?” he whispered in your ear, his voice low and rough. “Are you wearing something pretty for me under these clothes, sweetheart?”
The voice alone was enough to make you shudder but the sensation of his breath against your ear, teasing that sensitive spot on your neck, added fuel to the fire within you.
“Y-yes,” you answered. He rumbled, his hand starting to slide from your shoulder down your back . . .
The ding of the elevator as it reached the ground floor made you jump and hastily pull away, vaguely feeling like a teenager getting caught making out by their parents. The doors slide open and you stepped out into the lobby, Matt walking closely behind you. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down.
Dinner, then maybe sex, you silently reminded yourself. Assuming he still wants to have sex with you by then.
You looked around for something to distract your mind away from the gutter and found it in the form of Mrs. Dudley standing by the mailboxes, collecting her mail. She was staring at Matt with narrowed eyes and a suspicious frown. You wondered if she had seen Matt leaving earlier this week, dressed in your brother’s sweatpants. Probably if the sneering glare she sent in your direction was any indication. She pointedly turned her back to you and beside you, Matt stiffened.
“Let me guess,” you whispered to him. “She’s muttering about me being a whore.”
“Yes,” he said. “How did you know?”
“Mrs. Dudley is a very religious woman,” you explained. “I forget which specific branch of Protestant Christianity she subscribes to but the bottom line is that she has very strong opinions about premarital sex. She probably saw you leaving Sunday morning. And then she saw you with me . . .”
“And made assumptions about what we’ve been doing?” he injected.
“Got it in one,” you said. “I can see why Foggy pays you the big bucks.”
Matt chuckled, his body losing some of the tension. “Doesn’t it bother you? That she is talking about you like that?”
“A little,” you answered. “But I’m used to Mrs. Dudley thinking badly of me.”
“Why? You’re wonderful,” he objected.
“Flatterer,” you said, feeling your heart flutter at the sheer outrage in his voice. “Part of it is that she has meet Jo . . .”
“Who is Jo?” he interrupted.
“My best friend,” you answered. “She’s an investigative reporter for The Bulletin.”
“Joanna Meyer? Karen has mentioned her – said she wasn’t afraid to express her mind.”
You smiled. “That’s Jo. Like Mrs. Dudley, Jo also has very strong opinions about sex. Her opinion that as long as all parties involved are freely consenting adults, they can have as much sex as they want. In the world according to Jo, slut is a compliment.”
“I can see how she and Mrs. Dudley might clash.”
You nodded and then added, “And then shortly after I got him, Houdini dug up all of her petunias and used the pot as a litter box.”
The made Matt laugh. You giggled. It was funny now. It hadn’t been funny at the time. Again, the laughter eased your nerves. After you both got your amusement under control, Matt offered his hand again. This time your hand didn’t shake even a little bit when you slide your hand into his.
“So,” you said as you exited the building. “Which way are we going?”
He grinned as he turned you to head down the street and said, “The sighted being guide by the blind? That’s a switch.”
“I could take over guiding,” you said, pretending to be thoughtful. “Provided you are fine with ending up somewhere unexpected.”
“Oh? Like where?” he asked, playing along.
“Queens.”
He laughed, then asked, “How in the world would we end up all the way in Queens?”
You shrugged, feeling your face get a little warm with mild embarrassment. Then said, “You are underestimating my ability to get lost. I’ve gotten lost several times trying to navigating this city.”
“And found yourself in Queens?”
“Sometimes,” you said. “Learned that Spider-Man will give you directions if you ever find yourself lost in Queens.”
“Good to know,” Matt said, shaking his head with an amused little smile as the pair of you went around a corner. “But I seldom get lost enough to wind up in Queens by accident.”
“Know the streets like the back of your hand, do you?” You asked.
“Yes,” he said. “Especially these streets. I’ve lived in Hell’s Kitchen nearly all of my life.”
“Is that why you set up shop here?” you asked.
He nodded, his face very serious. “Hell’s Kitchen isn’t perfect but it’s home. There are good people here that need someone in their corner.”
You had figured previously that Matt had to have a strong connection to this neighborhood in particular in order to appoint himself as its guardian angel. Or guardian devil, you supposed he would say. Personally, you thought angel was just as apt. Biblical angels, after all, were rather fearsome things.
“What about you? Where’s your hometown?” he asked.
“Don’t really have one,” you said. “I was born on the west coast but we moved around a lot.”
“Why?”
“My dad was in the military until I was in high school,” you explained. “When he retired, we moved to Florida because my mom is from there and she wanted to live closer to her sisters.”
Matt gave a little hum of understanding, then you walked in comfortable silence for a couple of minutes before he spoke again, “We’re almost there. Allergi, on your right.”
You looked ahead and scanned the signs until you saw the one that had Allergi Italian Restaurant in cream white raised letters against a scarlet red background. It hung above a door painted in the same shade of red with cream accents between large windows. As you approached the door, your nose was filled with the warm scent of garlic, tomatoes, and herbs. You could see a few patrons through the windows and they looked like they were enjoying themselves.
Matt tried to let go of your hand when you got to the door but you squeezed his hand, unwilling to let his hand go yet. You opened the door for both of you. The rich smell of food was stronger now and it made your mouth water. The gentle murmur of conversation and soft laughter filled your ears as you walked together toward the podium.
The dark brown eyes of the teenage girl manning the podium lit up when she saw Matt and called out, “Nonna! Mr. Murdock is here!”
A woman appeared in the entrance to what you assumed was the kitchen. The wide smile that spread across her face was identical to the one on the teenager – you could tell they were related. She walked over as fast as her age allowed, throwing her arms around Matt once she got in range.
“Matteo, how lovely to see you again,” she said warmly.
“Hello, Mrs. Allergi,” he greeted, an equally warm smile on his face.
“Nonna, Matteo, call me Nonna,” she gently scolded him. “How many times do I have tell you?”
“At least once more, Mrs. Allergi,” he said, then introduced you.
“Welcome to Allergi’s, my dear,” she said. “Come, let me show you to your table.”
As you were lead to a small table, you took a quick look around. The walls were painted the same cream white as the outside sign and were decorated with lovely citiscapes framed in dark wood. You immediately recognized the ones of New York but you thought some of the others were Rome, Florence, Naples, and Venice. Some of the architecture of those cities was pretty distinctive. The same dark wood was repeated in the square tables and chairs arrayed around the restaurant. The cushions lined the seats of the chairs also echoed the sign as they were the same shade of scarlet red.
When you were seated at the table, the teenager set down a set of silverware wrapped in a red napkin, quietly making sure that Matt knew where she had sat down his silverware. She handed you both a menu before bouncing off to get you both some ice water to start off with. You wondered if you were ever that peppy when you were her age.
Mrs. Allergi returned to the kitchen after chiding Matt for missing Mass so often, her light tone making it clear that she was teasing him rather than actually lecturing him for not coming to church.
“So I assume you know the Allergis?” you said as you opened your menu.
“Pretty obvious?” he said, smiling.
“Just a little bit.”
“My dad was working as busboy for them as one of his part-time jobs when my accident happened. They were one of the few places that didn’t fire him for taking so much time off. They couldn’t take me in after . . . after . . . but Mrs. Allergi always asked how I was doing after Mass while I lived at St. Agnes. Then a couple of years ago, they ran into a little legal trouble . . .”
“My brother Eddy got arrested for robbery and murder,” the teenager interjected as she sat down your glasses and filled them with ice water. “Mr. Murdock saved him from Rikers.”
“I didn’t do anything special, Lucy,” Matt said. “The DA had no case . . .”
“Mr. Murdock saved him,” Lucy repeated with stars in her eyes. And a blush across her cheeks. You realized that this wasn’t just hero worship, she probably had a crush on Matt. “The public defender wanted him to take a deal . . .”
“Lucy!” Mrs. Allergi shouted from the entrance of the kitchen, beckoning to the girl.
The girl sighed, pouted a little, then called back, “Coming Nonna! Good night, Mr. Murdock.”
“Good night, Lucy,” Matt said as the girl turned and left.
“She has a crush on you,” you said in a low voice.
“I know,” he said, in an equally quiet voice. “She’ll move onto someone else sooner or later. In the meantime, I’m treating her like Candace.”
“Candace?” You asked.
“Foggy’s little sister.”
You made a humming sound of acknowledge, turning your attention to the menu. A lot of the dishes seemed to have two versions – Italian American and traditional Italian. In the end you decided to order the traditional version of fettuccine Alfredo as you had never had that version before and was curious. And it didn’t sound like something that would sent you into a food coma.
Because as much as you enjoyed literally sleeping with Matt, you were kinda of hoping to do more tonight.
You decided to opt for tea instead of any of the wines on offer for similar reasons. You didn’t want to be drowsy or Matt worrying about if you were actually saying yes to sex or it was just the wine talking . . .
Matt ordered the lasagna. While you waited for your meals, he entertained you with the story of how he first meet Foggy at Columbia. Which had you giggling. And also sympathizing with Foggy since you had a frequent bouts of no-filter-between-the-brain-and-the-mouth disease around Matt too.
Both dishes looked and smelled wonderful when they arrived at your table. While you couldn’t speak for Matt’s dish, your meal tasted even better than it smelled. Rich enough to practically melt in your mouth without being heavy. You might have gushed a little to Mrs. Allergi when she swung by the table to see how things were going. Which you think pleased her and she promised to pass the compliments onto her son Antonio who apparently helped with the.
Matt had this little smile on his face throughout the entire exchange and when Mrs. Allergi had left, all he said was, “You’re adorable.”
You felt your face warm and said, “I think you mean awkward.”
“No,” he said, still wearing that gentle smile. “I meant what I said. You’re adorable.”
“Adorable as someone with spontaneous utterances can be,” you said.
“I enjoy your spontaneous utterances,” he said.
“Why?” you asked. “Curious to know how much of my foot I can fit in my mouth?”
“Not quite,” he said then his smile turned coy. “Through I am curious about something along those lines.”
The warmth in your cheeks grew as your mind immediately went to the fantasies you had about about sucking Matt’s cock. You fought the urge to squirm in your chair as the heat between your legs once again flared to life.
This is a public place, you reminded yourself. There are children present.
You desperately tried to think of something besides sex. Spotting another couple sharing some of cake, you asked, “Do you want desert?”
“Mrs. Allergi always sends me home with tiramisu,” he said. “Would you like to go to my place and share it?”
The invitation was clear. As was the knowledge that you would sharing an entirely different kind of desert.
“Yes.”
Notes
I am already working on the next chapter. Which in my outline is almost entirely smut. I’m hoping to get it done faster than this chapter.
Again I had to make some decisions about general background and family for Reader. I tried to keep it as vague as possible given the circumstances.
Reader makes her pineapple upside down cake in a cast iron skillet because that’s how I was taught how to make them. In my dad’s skillet that is older than I am.
According to some of the legal podcasts I’ve listening to and lawyer blogs I’ve been lurking around, judges sometimes start quoting classic literature as a way of snarking at one of the parties when said party has gotten on their nerves in some fashion. This can be especially snarky when the remark was made in the footnotes.
Some of the veterinary websites I went said that daisies, among other flowers, are toxic to cats but that asters were safe. I’m not a vet so I cannot verify that one way or another. Besides asters are pretty.
The mustard thing was inspired by a photo of Charlie Cox at a recent con where he’s wearing a mustard-colored shirt . . . and well, I cannot say that Charlie looks terrible because he never looks terrible and maybe it’s the lighting but judging by those pictures, mustard isn’t his color.
Not kidding about the angels. The actual descriptions of them, especially in the Book of Enoch, are pretty wild . . . there is a good reason that their opening line is usually “Fear not.”
It is my understanding that nonna means grandmother in Italian but feel free to correct me.
Reader recognizing some of the Italian architecture is an artifact of my love for art.
I decided that Foggy gets to have both his TV show sibling of Theo and his comic book sibling of Candace.
The original fettuccine Alfredo did use the cream sauce found in the Italian-American version. From what I could find out, the original is the noodles cooked in butter and herbs, then tossed with freshly grated Parmesan cheese just before serving.
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fereldanwench · 5 months
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Find the Word - Manuscript Search Tag
Tagged by @corpocyborg--Thank you so much! This is great timing too because I've been feeling the itch to get back to writing fic again.
Words to search: trust, accident, rule, suspect, understand
#1 - Trust
From an unpublished WIP that was an excuse to write a drunk Goro
“--Please, meet me on Jig-Jig Street. I will explain there.”
Well, that woke her up.
“Jig-Jig Street? What the hell–”
Goro disconnected the call and Valerie blinked before rubbing her tired face. 
“So in addition to being top-tier ‘Saka scum, he’s a desperate, pathetic pervert.” Johnny lit a phantom cigarette. Valerie wished she could slap it out of his mouth. “You sure know how to pick ‘em, V.”
“You’re one to talk.” She shuffled over to the pair of clean-enough sweatpants draped over the couch. 
“You’re not actually going to meet this guy right now, are you?”
“What does it look like?” Valerie asked as she tied the drawstring into a bow under her waist.
“Why are you really helpin’ him, huh? Because you’re so fucked in the head that you actually trust he’s our best shot at fixin’ this shit?” Johnny flicked the cigarette butt onto her floor. “Or because you like how he looks at you with those pretty brown eyes?”
“I don’t know, Johnny.” Valerie pulled a black sweatshirt with a faded Arasaka logo over her blue hair and then reached for the bottle of omega-blockers on the end table. She dropped two pills into her palm and took a swig of room-temperature NiCola. “Maybe both.”
#2 - Accident
From my unpublished and probably perpetually unfinished long fic WIP
Goro set his now empty glass down on the table and rubbed his face. He knew it was unwise to indulge in these thoughts. Even in the unlikely event that she, a clever, compassionate, beautiful woman reciprocated any of the ill-advised feelings that had been stewing inside him for the past few weeks, they were not feelings either of them could act on. 
If all went to plan, Goro would return to Tokyo with Hanako-sama, where he would, under the best of circumstances, be reassigned, perhaps put back in the special forces. Valerie would have the Relic removed and resume her life in Night City as a reputable solo, living her corporate-free life. 
And if the plan went belly-up.…
It was best to not consider that possibility. 
He reached for his phone and tapped the display, accidentally activating the front-facing camera. Goro scowled at the unflattering reflection of himself and thumbed the icon he thought would take him to the home screen. Instead, the photo gallery launched. 
Most of the pictures were practical in nature, a means of recording notable locations and suspicious vehicles, but he had indulged in a snapshot of the hairless cat that visited them during their stakeout. Goro decided he wanted to take a closer look at their feline visitor when he saw it was not the only subject he had caught on the rooftop: next to that photo was a blurry image of Valerie, dazzling in the golden light of the early evening sunset, smiling up at something as she pet the cat. 
He realized from the angle of the picture that the something she was smiling at would have been him.
#3 - Rule
I couldn't find this one! I am doing this at work and don't have access to all my WIPs, but it wasn't in any of my Google docs or AO3 publishes. I'm sure it's somewhere in my Scrivener files, though.
#4 - Suspect
Also from my unpublished and probably perpetually unfinished long fic WIP
"How’d you end up with this hunk of junk anyway?" Valerie asked as she buckled her seat belt.
"I purchased it from a reputable dealership," Goro answered dryly.
Valerie rolled her eyes but laughed. She then conducted a rudimentary inspection of the vehicle, opening and closing the empty glove compartment before her, then fiddling with the equally uninteresting sun visor. Finding nothing of interest in front of her, Valerie turned in her seat to inspect the back of the van. It was also empty save for his small bag of personal effects. 
Agitated by her senseless curiosity, Goro was about to ask her what Valerie was looking for when she spoke first.
"Are you sleeping in here?"
Her tone was gentle, unexpectedly extinguishing his irritation with her relentless prying.
"Is this another inquiry into my well-being?" He asked instead.
Valerie shrugged.
"I've slept in my car in the city. It's not particularly safe." She gave him a small smile. "Even for people like you."
Goro regarded her from the corner of his eyes. He recalled their conversation two nights ago, when he had suspected her interest in his welfare was self-serving. His paranoia had offended her so he apologized, but he was incredulous by nature and knowing the particulars of her career history did little to truly lessen his suspicion. The few classified reports Goro had been able to obtain from the Night City counter-intelligence database repeatedly praised her high interpersonal skills as key assets during operations–It was clear her disarming personality could be as much a threat as the pistol she kept strapped to her thigh. 
"I will be fine," he finally said.
#5 - Understand
From Homecoming, a post-Mikoshi smut-with-feelings one-shot
"You'll have to teach me how to make some of these dishes. I never really had much opportunity, or reason, really, to cook before."
The thought of sharing such a moment with Valerie made his whole body tremble with impatience. Even just doing unscrupulous merc assignments together, it was quickly apparent they had a natural rhythm and rapport as partners. Goro suddenly found himself eager to seize on that harmony, not for their often violent duties, but to create something beautiful with Valerie. To nourish another passion he had been denied for two years.
"I will," he promised softly as he met her by the window.
Valerie tilted her head and skimmed her hand down his chest before slipping her arm around his waist. Goro swallowed, feeling a strange combination of self-satisfaction and humility as she studied him.
"I think there's still some part of me that's convinced this is some elaborate hallucination," Valerie whispered. Her free hand reached for his face, and Goro closed his eyes, allowing himself the indulgence of resting his cheek against her palm.
"I believe I understand the feeling," he said, meeting her gaze.
Lightly, tentatively, Goro brushed her cheek with his thumb. She inhaled and stiffened, and he almost retracted his hand, but Valerie pressed her lips to his in an unwavering embrace. Her skin tingled under his touch, and he felt the heavy sigh she breathed in through her nose. Goro was silently adamant that she dictate their pace, but every time one of those shuddering gasps ravaged her body, they chipped away at his resolve.
Valerie graciously deepened the kiss, moving both of her hands to the back of his neck as she moaned against his mouth. Galvanized by her fervor but still wary of her acute sensitivity, Goro brought his hands to her waist, fingers almost hovering over the black t-shirt.
"You can touch me, you know," Valerie murmured against his lips, lightly nudging the tip of her nose against his.
Aaannd I'm gonna be awful and not tag anyone because I honestly have not been in the fanfic side of fandom much this year and I have no idea who's working on stuff these days. Feel free to take these search words and carry it on, though!
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kaibutsushidousha · 1 month
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Memory in Children: Mechanical Choices (Sagrada Reset 3) - Chapter 3: The end of a summer (2 years later/August 30th, Wednesday)
[INDEX]
The 16-year-old Asai Kei and Haruki Misora sat on the tetrapods under the quiet light of sunset. The silence continued until the twilight sank.
When the last bit of light disappeared under the distant buildings on the other side of the coast, Murase Youka appeared. And when the azure of night started to recolor the pink clouds of sunset, Sakagami Yousuke appeared.
The users of every ability necessary to take Souma Sumire out of her photo have gathered together.
Sakagami had left Sakurada two years ago at the end of the school year. But he always returned to the city around this time of the year, for the mourning rites on Souma's death anniversary. Kei already knew that.
That was their only window of opportunity. He already explained the purpose and usage of each ability in the previous day.
(We'll bring Souma Sumire back to life.)
Murase felt resistant to the idea of reviving the dead. But she ultimately agreed. She remembered her brother, who also died in an accident. Sakagami, on the other hand, actively wanted to bring Souma back from the dead. And it didn't start now. He had been like this since the day after Souma died two years ago. What he felt for Souma was close to religious worship.
Haruki Saved on August 28th, a date before Kei explained the operation. All preparations were already in order.
The 28th—two days before. That was the day Sakagami came to Sakurada. And before he learned about the plan to take Sumire Souma out of the photo.
Kei's choice of day to Save was very deliberate. It was timed so Sakagami wouldn't remember anything after the project's resolution. Kei didn't know if that choice was right or wrong. He believed there was no correct option on this one.
At this point, he couldn't find the words to say. He shared impersonal greetings with Murase and Sakagami and pulled the photograph out of his pocket.
It was a picture Sasano Hiroyuki took of those tetrapods 2 years ago. The image of Souma from 2 years ago was contained within the frame.
Kei, Haruki, Murase, Sakagami—each of the four grabbed a corner of the photo. With a tug, the picture is ripped apart, making a crispy noise.
Immediately after it, their sight is taken over by a powerful white light. A light like the flash of a camera. Sakagami screamed.
Kei closed his eyes for an instant and opened them back.
The temperature was not that different.
Same silence too.
But the sun that he saw sink behind the buildings was still in the sky. The scenery seemed like time was rewound less than 10 minutes. But the world recreated here was from 2 years ago.
As proof, Souma Sumire was there atop the tetrapods behind him.
The 14-year-old Souma was still the same mature-looking girl with mysterious hints of childishness. She was extending her hand in his direction. With the MacGuffin on top of it.
At the moment, the thought of saying something to her didn't cross his mind.
She was also looking at him without saying a thing. She had a beautiful smile under the sunset.
The girl who died two years ago. She looked daring, solitary, and capricious like a stray cat. But this girl planned everything down to every tiny detail and executed her design flawlessly. Now he could see a glimpse of the emotions hidden behind that smile.
The android girl.
The girl chained by the future. Her every action followed the codes of a program. The girl who died unable to break the chain of the future—the girl who arranged her own death.
Sakagami watched her with stunned awe.
Then he crawled up the tetrapods. Murase followed behind him. Kei sighed. He noticed he wasn't breathing. He chalked it up to nervousness.
Haruki Misora turned her back on Souma. It seemed like her usual behavior at first glance but there was a mix of hidden emotions in the gesture. Kei was the only one who saw it.
"Will you not go?", she quietly asked.
With a smile, Kei shook his head.
"I feel like my moment to talk to her is not now."
(Will we be a trio again? Will we be able to have a space like the one we had on the rooftop? That's probably asking for too much. There's no turning back. Our only chance to remain ignorant is two years in the past.)
Sakagami was shouting upon getting up close to Souma. Behind him, Murase looked displeased. Eventually, Sakagami touched Souma's and Murase's shoulders. Murase with his right hand and Souma with his left.
Murase looked at Kei, nodded, and spoke loud enough for him to hear it from over there.
"Body, reset."
With that, Murase was immune to the effects of the Reset. And so was Souma, via Sakagami's copy of Souma's ability. They could fully cancel the Reset's influence.
"Haruki, Reset.", Kei whispered.
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mlwritersguild · 10 months
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murder face, by @alexseanchai
A fic inspired by the heliotrope flower
AO3; temporary character death, hawkmoth defeat, marinette needs a hug, angst with a happy ending
Summary:
shout from the hundred-square-femtometre rooftop — Yesterday at 8:21 PM please, I don't even need to be asleep to have nightmares source: I can hear my sister screaming like her cat just died my sister is two continents away save a vespa, ride the métro — Yesterday at 8:23 PM You hear it too? Everyone who was here on 1 Sep 2014 says it's Ladybug
Lady Noire storms inside Tour TVi, a dark blue blanket with two thin red stripes over her shoulder, a phone clutched so tightly in her hand she must be leaving claw marks on its case. Those few people in the lobby at this hour scatter away from her path at the first glimpse of her face: cold and pale as death.
"Warn Nadja Chamack I'm taking over as tonight's guest," Lady Noire snaps.
Somebody calls Arlette. Side by Side is live, but no one wants to find out if, with the Black Cat Miraculous, Ladybug's looks can kill.
---
shout from the hundred-square-femtometre rooftop — Yesterday at 7:43 PM I can stay up past 03:00 if I want, it's Labour Day, we're closed no dying on this hill — Yesterday at 7:45 PM Irrelevant. Zoé is correct: schedule your system maintenance or your system maintenance will schedule you. shout from the hundred-square-femtometre rooftop — Yesterday at 8:21 PM please, I don't even need to be asleep to have nightmares source: I can hear meimei screaming like her cat just died meimei is two continents away save a vespa, ride the métro — Yesterday at 8:23 PM You hear it too? Everyone who was here on 1 Sep 2014 says it's Ladybug
Ladybug speaks softly, carries her partner's stick @CometHeliotrope Bonjour Monarque. C'est après minuit. Sais-tu où est le Prince Charmant ? Oh regarde, c'est ton alliance. Translated from French by Googol Hello Monarch. It's after midnight. Do you know where Prince Charming is? Oh look, it's your wedding ring. [image: Lady Noire sitting on one of Paris's slate rooftops, toying with a platinum wedding ring and glaring into the camera.] 9:13 PM · 29 Apr 2017
Alya Césaire, photojournaliste citoyenne de la Ville miracles @ladyblog_paris This is legit. Source: personal communication with Ladybug. 9:17 PM · 29 Apr 2017
Lady Noire storms inside Tour TVi, a dark blue blanket with two thin red stripes over her shoulder, a phone clutched so tightly in her hand she must be leaving claw marks on its case. Those few people in the lobby at this hour scatter away from her path at the first glimpse of her face: cold and pale as death.
"Warn Nadja Chamack I'm taking over as tonight's guest," Lady Noire snaps.
Somebody calls Arlette. Side by Side is live, but no one wants to find out if, with the Black Cat Miraculous, Ladybug's looks can kill.
---
Zoé runs up the spiral staircase and skids to a stop outside the Césaire apartment. Nino opens the door at the first sound of the doorbell. "Comrade Moutarde de Dijon!" he exclaims. "Good to see you—have you heard from Comrades Mayo, Bechamel, or Sweet and Sour?"
"Comrade Bechamel is going to strangle me enough already without inviting Comrade Sweet and Sour," Alya calls from the living room, where she, Max, Kim, Rose, Juleka, Ivan, and Mylène are gathered around the television, currently playing the latest advertisement for Alliance rings. At second glance, Zoé does recognize the person hovering awkwardly near the dining table: XY Roth.
"I may mean that literally," Alya adds. "She might wring my neck with her bare hands."
"…What's wrong? Should we be heading for the TV station?"
Alya's group text didn't say. All Zoé knows is it's a problem for the Resistance.
---
"Don't be bemused, it's just the news! Hi, I'm Nadja Chamack, and this is Side by Side. Today, I'm joined by our own Ladybug!"
"Lady Noire," she corrects Nadja, who is far too familiar with interviewing akumas to flinch. Well. To flinch much.
"…This is the third time you two have swapped Miraculouses, I believe?"
Lady Noire nods, a stiff, sharp motion. "The question you should be asking is, where is my partner?"
Nadja gulps. "Yes. Where is your partner?"
"The same place as Prince Charming."
It's a Tsurugi brand phone, from the sound it makes when turning on. Lady Noire blows on the screen, angled so only she can see the display, and zips her knuckle tip through an unlock pattern. "No missed calls," she tells the Side by Side camera. "A couple of text messages from friends, but not one from family. Most of them may be asleep at this time of day. Monarque might be too busy trying to magic his hand back on to pay attention when I'm talking about his son."
Silence rings through the room, through the city, as piercing as her earlier sobs.
"I will be more generous to Monarque than he has been to my partner and me," Lady Noire says, her voice shaking with rage. "You have until midnight to contact me to arrange the handover of every Miraculous you have. Every note and every artifact that you have even the slightest inkling might be of interest to me or my team. Every name you know of someone else who has chosen to help Monarque, or who has known his secret identity and kept silent. If I have any reason to believe that you are withholding something, if I have any reason to believe that you are trying to escape, you will not like what happens to Monarque's son."
Nadja shudders. Breathes. Asks, "What happens after midnight?"
"At midnight," says Lady Noire, "I name Monarque on air."
---
"I have no proof that will satisfy a court of law," Lady Noire tells Mme Chamack, Paris, the world. "But the man he is in the rest of his life does have a… professional reputation to protect. Perhaps I am framing the man I will name. Why would I do that? Paris wonders. What skeletons might they find in his closets, if they try to figure out what this man has done?"
Her arms are wrapped around the bundle of fabric she brought. Possibly only the fact that her claws can't pierce her armor is keeping her forearm from bleeding.
A ringtone. Mylène reaches for her phone, only to stop when Lady Noire thumbs the phone she's holding, silencing the sound.
"Come on, dude, pick up," mutters Nino into his Alliance ring.
The ringtone again. This time Lady Noire answers. Someone turns up the TV volume, but it doesn't pick up the phone call audio.
"You must be Mayura!" Lady Noire says, cheerfulness ringing painfully false. "It's good to know you're alive. Chat Noir was afraid something had happened to you after we stopped seeing you around—you know him, such a bleeding heart."
She taps something. "—do with him?" snarls the caller on speakerphone.
Nino growls, "Mayura."
"What do you think I did with him?" Lady Noire shouts. "I told Monarque I'd make him regret this. He took my partner away from me!"
"Where is my son?" Mayura demands.
Lady Noire blinks twice, opens her mouth, and closes it again. Then shakes herself and drags in a breath. "You know him," she says, voice softer now but no less terrifying. "If I told him he needed to jump off a bridge to help stop Monarque, do you truly believe he'd hesitate?"
"She's bluffing!" shouts Monarque. "My son, come home at once, do—"
A strangled sound. "She may be bluffing," Mayura says. "I'm not. Nooroo, wings rise!"
"I thought so," Lady Noire says. To the TV crew, she adds, "Cut to commercial."
Adrien's latest perfume ad plays.
Mylène is the first to speak. "You don't…really think Ladybug would hurt someone, just because he's Monarque's kid. …Do we?"
"I think," says Alya, typing furiously with one hand shielding her Alliance projection from view, "Monarque thought that if something happened to Chat Noir, Ladybug would lose control. Marinette, pick up your fucking phone."
---
The original guest on tonight's Side by Side is back on the sofa, almost managing to act as though whatever movie she's starring in is still the headliner of the episode. Or so Nathaniel says. Kagami is mostly not paying attention to anything but which way to the bakery and how fast to jog so she doesn't leave him, Marc, and Sabrina behind. A beep signals a new notification on her Alliance: an email from Nathalie Sancoeur, which can wait until Kagami has spoken to Marinette. She thinks highly enough of Chat Noir that tonight must be frightening.
"She's out with Adrien," Cheng-san tells them. "Is it something I can help with?"
"Maybe?" Marc glances at Nathaniel's Alliance projection and winces. "If she's with Adrien, she's probably okay but she won't be coming with us. So the next part of our plan is to head to Tour TVi with paint guns, in case Lady Noire needs backup—"
A car turns the corner. Adrien's car, specifically. Or not Adrien's, of course. Kagami starts toward it; Adrien's bodyguard gets out, alone. Kagami catches a glimpse of the interior: no people, only suitcases and messenger bags and reused grocery boxes.
Cheng-san hurries outside. "You're not with them?" she asks.
Adrien's bodyguard hands Cheng-san a locked tablet and holds out an unlocked phone. " 'Sign here to verify receipt of these documents'," his Alliance's digital Kagami doll reads aloud. " 'Review these documents at your leisure. If neither of you sign these documents, nothing will change. I believe it is in Adrien's best interests if you both sign; if either of you do, they will go into effect at the time of receipt.' "
Cheng-san narrows her eyes. "Is it in Marinette's best interest? Does your idea of Adrien's best interest agree with Adrien's idea of Adrien's best interest?"
Adrien's bodyguard signs the phone with a swipe of his own fingertip, locks it, and gives it to Cheng-san.
"This had better not be a trick!" shouts Cheng-san at the departing car.
---
"Sorry to interrupt," Ladybug says, reentering the camera's field of view entirely unapologetically. (It is Ladybug, now with the blue blanket draped over her shoulders like a cape; while out of sight, it seems, she switched back. There's going to be an akuma at the studio any moment now, and Nadja is very glad she called Lila and spoke to Manon while Ladybug and Mayura were negotiating terms.) Ladybug holds up Monarque's son's phone. "Mayura will be arriving momentarily, with a few people whose names and faces you'd love to be the first to publish. We're waiting on a signal from a third party before we reveal those—Monarque's son is not the only one in danger, and we're making sure the others are safe—"
Half the studio lights go out. The starlet Nadja is in theory interviewing bolts for cover. Nadja scurries over to one of the cameras, ready to flip to breaking-news-reporter-on-the-scene mode.
The other camera operator swivels that camera toward the opening door. Only two of the eight people who enter have any identifying characteristics at all: her Butterfly armor resembles a purple evening gown, and he must be the man under the Monarque mask, akumatized and vaguely familiar. The other six are different sizes of blur, with a superficial resemblance to Oblivio; two flicker between blue and green, and four between purple and red.
"The matters you don't wish televised are being delivered to someone I know you trust," Butterfly-Mayura says, brisk and businesslike. "These two are minors. I cannot imagine Chat Noir will want their lives destroyed; I am certain my son does not. These four have known about our Miraculouses for twenty years or more; though Monarque has been threatening their children in order to keep them silent, I cannot imagine either of you or my son will think that is enough to forgive them their silence." She pauses, considering a drawstring bag in her hand. "My son's mother will not."
Ladybug exhales. "I was wondering if this was for her," she says, very soft, but registering clearly on the audio pickup nonetheless. "If she's half as much like—your son—as his father says… No, she wouldn't think her life is worth the price."
The akumatized Monarque glares sullenly.
Monarque's son's phone rings.
"Lucky Charm!" Ladybug exclaims, hurling her yo-yo into the air and catching a magazine in a red-and-black plastic sleeve. "Mode, Septem—very funny," she tells the air, unamused. The phone rings again. "Heeeey there, friend!" Ladybug answers, bright and awkward, not unlike Manon lying through her teeth. "He can't come to the phone right now, we're a little busy—"
"I bet you are—"
Alya Césaire's voice stops.
"Please do not tell me this is that signal," Alya says faintly.
Ladybug rolls up the magical copy of Mode, takes five strides, and breaks Monarque's nose.
"Oh my god Gabriel Agreste is Monarque."
Alya sounds horrified. Manon adores Adrien; Nadja doubles her hope that Ladybug is bluffing. Or that Alya is wrong.
"Ladybug, where's Adrien?"
"Heh heh heh, funny story—" Ladybug hangs up.
"Madame Chamack," calls Butterfly-Mayura, getting Nadja's attention just in time for Nadja to catch the drawstring bag. "One for each of these seven; break it to remove the mask. Perhaps wait until Ladybug and Chat Noir have left?"
Nadja swallows and nods.
The purple butterfly slides out of the akumatized Monarque's visor and flickers to white. Violet-black magic bubbles over him, leaving a seventh blob, blood-red.
"Miraculous Ladybug!"
She whisks the blanket-cape off her shoulders to hide the person her magic brings her. He takes it as an attack—of course he does, the last thing Chat Noir remembers must be fighting for his life—
"Stop thrashing or I'll tell your girlfriend you want to PvP her in Ultimate Mecha Strike!" Ladybug hisses. "Twenty-five thousand nine hundred and thirteen to eleven is clearly not thrashed enough!"
The boy under the blanket goes statue-still.
"What did you just say?" asks Chat Noir.
"I said put your mask back on, kitty."
"That's what I thought I heard," Chat Noir mutters. (From the look of the audio meters, the audience didn't catch that.) One pale hand emerges from the blanket; Ladybug slaps something into his palm; with a flash of green light, Chat Noir reappears in living color.
Ladybug grabs him by the jingle bell and drags him down into a gasping, sobbing kiss.
"—My lady, I have a girlfriend," Chat Noir reminds her the moment he breaks free. "I will be telling her someone kissed me—" He stops, taking in the rest of the room. "What are you calling yourself now, Mayura, la Papillon Reine?"
"I believe I'm calling myself a poor excuse for a second mother," Mayura answers. "Ladybug. Our agreement."
"I believe I said it's his decision whether he even ever wants to think of you again," Ladybug retorts. To Chat Noir she says, "Or of me. I did kind of just convince all of Paris I did the same thing to Monarque's son that Monarque did to you. I've got six Miraculouses and two Alliances in my pocket, Carapace just got delivered a bunch of interesting things including at least seven more Miraculouses, I don't think either of those green blobs is Argos so it's probably only seven, the Ladyblogger has all sorts of fascinating documents to dig through, and Nathalie Sancoeur will be handing over the Butterfly Miraculous any moment now."
That all came out in one breath.
"…What," says Chat Noir.
Ladybug tilts forward and faceplants into Chat Noir's chest, mumbling something. He softens, holding her close.
Then stiffens up again. "Nathalie Sancoeur?" He snatches the yo-yo from Ladybug's waist, captures Mayura—she makes no effort to resist—and plucks the Butterfly brooch from her bodice.
Nadja wouldn't necessarily recognize Nathalie Sancoeur if she passed her on the street. Neither, most likely, would anyone in the room, and if Nadja could get her breaking-news-reporter hat on instead of watching in stunned silence like the rest of the world—
Chat Noir takes a deep breath, clutching Ladybug like a lifeline. "Ah," he says, retracting the yo-yo. "Gabriel Agreste isn't planning on sending Adrien to London because he thinks that will keep him safe from the terrible influence of friends Gabriel didn't pick out for him and a girlfriend Gabriel can't intimidate. Though I'm sure he wanted Adrien to keep thinking that. It's because Adrien only has two living adult relatives, one lives in London, and the other committed suicide back in September and he expects it to finish killing him soon."
One of the red-violet blobs shakes. Chat Noir glares at his own Miraculous. Nadja has a sudden horrible suspicion that Chat Noir spent the months of Monarque's silence believing he'd killed a man.
"I would have handed that over myself," Nathalie Sancoeur says. "And this, to Adrien, so I know he's alive."
'This' appears to be the wedding ring on her own hand.
"Ladybug keeps her promises," Chat Noir tells her.
Sancoeur slumps and nods. "Tell Adrien I'm sorry I lied. This is what killed Emilie. And for what little it's worth, Emilie wanted none of this. Tell him the unlock PIN on her phone is the year she first heard her favorite song. When he watches her videos, he should have Marinette with him." She removes the ring. "When you give Adrien this—" She hands it to Chat Noir. "—tell him he is never to let anyone but himself touch either half of his amok."
Ladybug whirls on her. "Excuse me?" she and Chat Noir demand in unison.
"—You didn't know." She folds to the floor. "You didn't—how did you get Adrien's cooperation?"
"You know he threw himself off a skyscraper for me and you're still asking that?"
If Nadja can see Ladybug's about to fall to pieces…
"So did any part of your brilliant bluff involve Marinette thinking her boy-toy died?" Chat Noir asks, steering Ladybug out of the studio. Nadja doesn't catch her answer; Chat Noir sighs. "Well, we had a good run, my lady. I promise I'll take good care of the miracle box after she ends you."
The studio door slams shut behind them.
Nadja stares at the drawstring bag in her hand. It contains seven marbles, each colored to match one of the blobs and labeled with initials. CB and LR on the blue-green, GA on the deep red, and TT, AG, AB, and RR on the red-violet.
Then she remembers she's on the clock and on camera and has to figure out something to say about this.
"Don't be bemused, it's just the news!—"
---
"Marinette helped," Ladybug murmurs. Chat Noir's warmth is the only thing that feels real right now. "It turns out she's really easily bribed, in the right circumstances. All I owe her is your life."
"She is plotting your doom as we speak."
"She is trying to figure out how to get the love of her life to stop talking and start kissing. It will probably help if we catch Argos, since apparently it's possible for a senti not to know it, and if your cousin really wanted to help you—!"
Chat Noir stops on the nearest rooftop to set her on her feet and stare at her. Tonight feels like it should be a full moon, but there's a slim crescent nearing the western horizon, with a breeze flicking at her bangs and a few bold stars visible above the city lights.
"But maybe I am just going to sleep by myself and probably have nightmares about half your father's arm falling off when I grabbed him. I don't know. That's up to you, probably. Did you know his Alliance assistant looks just like your mother?"
"Marinette is with her boyfriend right now," Chat Noir says slowly.
"And my partner is with me. Keep up."
Chat Noir shakes his head and sweeps her back up in a princess carry, leaping to the next roof and the next. "Years I was trying to catch your attention. Years, Ladybug, and all I ever had to do was look behind me."
"I love you too."
Chat Noir misses a stick-hold and narrowly avoids smashing them both into a wall.
---
Zoé's mother is being arrested. For accessory before and after the fact to Monarque's hundred-mile list of magical terrorist acts.
She leaps up when Alya's apartment doorbell rings anyway. Zoé and XY are the only people here not enthusiastically digging through the small mountain Adrien's bodyguard delivered. Even Rose and Juleka are alternating between sitting with Zoé and trying to smash open the glass bubbles with their kwamis inside.
It's Adrien, with a sleeping Marinette draped over his back. "Hey," he says, sheepish. "Can we kick Alya out of her bedroom for a few hours? Marinette needs a catnap and I don't think she's planning to let me go, uh, possibly ever."
Behind Zoé, all sound halts.
In the exact same tone of stunned and dazed by the now obvious as when she realized who Monarque is, and with exactly as much explanation, Alya says, "Oh my god it genuinely is a funny story."
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gracesshelves · 1 month
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Jurassic Park (1993)
            Jurassic Park (1993) was based the book written by Michael Crichton. While this was not my first time watching Jurassic Park, I knew quotes from this movie before I ever saw it. In my opinion, this is the biggest blockbuster we’ve discussed so far. I would rate this four and a half out of five stars. As someone studying the Save the Cat method for my novel, it was so cool to see how clear the beats are in this film. The moments of building and releasing tension were so well crafted. I found myself getting stressed, even though I knew the characters I cared about would live. The characters feel so alive and even those who had smaller arcs, such as Dr. Grant learning to like children, had me emotionally invested. Speaking to the hubris of humanity, I believe Jurassic Park will always be relevant.
            As a new horror writer, I wanted to take notes while watching this movie. This comes as no surprise as the film was directed by Steven Spielberg, who’d already had a massive number of hits under his belt by 1993. The writing, acting, directing, and cinematography work together seamlessly. I particularly enjoyed how we switched between the two main groups in the most dramatic scenes. The camera work during the scene where the visitors are attacked by the T-rex heightens the fear by focusing on different characters' reactions and switching rapidly between them. I felt like we as the audience were looking around frantically with them, unable to see the dinosaur, yet experiencing its impact on the environment. The horror is hidden until we are at the edge of our seats, and then lighting strikes, revealing the dinosaur as it eats the goat. Spielberg maintains our fear by switching between Hammond and his employees in the office, and the people being attacked. We have moments of respite, but during that time we are thinking about what is happening to the kids. He does the same thing later in the film when Dr. Grant climbs over the electric gates with Tim and Lex, as Dr. Sattler turns the power back on. Seeing both perspectives makes it more stressful because we know how close she is to turning it back on, versus how slow the other three are climbing. At one point Dr. Grant told the kids to take their time and I yelled out loud: “No! Go faster!”.
            I admired so much the way this movie was structured, however, there was one thing that bothered me a little bit. You can only do so much character growth in a movie with this big of a cast, but I would have liked to see more from Dr. Sattler, Ian Malcolm, and Tim. I picked up on three arcs of change: Hammond realizing his hubris, Dr. Grant learning to like kids, and Lex being able to face her fear to save her brother. These arcs were done so well and did not take time away from the story to complete, that I wished we had seen growth from the other three. If they’d had less screen time, I would be more okay with them being flat, but they were in so much of the movie that I wanted more. Again, this is a very picky complaint, but I think it would’ve just leveled up this already great movie even higher.
            The whole theme of humans getting their hands on a power they don’t know how to control reminded me of how we treat technology today. We are making progress in so many fields, especially AI, but I don’t think we are spending enough time considering how this will affect our society. Tech companies may have some good intentions, like Hammond did in the film, but ultimately what they are creating has the potential to hurt a lot of people. Already people have used AI to create sexually explicit images of others as a way to harm them. We’ve seen so many cautionary tales, and yet we do not seem to be taking their advice. Hopefully, before anything else happens, we can sit and think about potential consequences. Personally, I do not want to be eaten by the AI “dinosaur”.
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those-other-ones · 2 years
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🍋 You Talk In Your Sleep
This might be the last one for awhile; we’ll see if I can smash out anymore in the next couple of days.  The work week is exhausting, yo.
Choosing here and there from this list because I like this list.
Smutember Prompt 4:  "You Talk In Your Sleep"
Everything under the cut is explicit, mature, NSFW, 18+, however you want to call it.
---------------
Shego thought it was hilarious the first time she heard Drakken sleep-talking, his cheek pressed to the metal of the lab table late one night and a small line of saliva dripping down his chin.  He wasn't merely an incoherent mumbler either, his voice rising and falling, the narration of whatever dream he was having traveled through the lair's ventilation until it woke her.
She hadn't had a camera ready that night, but this second time she was prepared.  She tiptoed into the lab and took a few stills of the sleeping mad scientist as he mumbled, creeping closer all the while.  But when she was near enough to get a close-up of his nose hairs as his jabber was broken by intermittent snores, his words suddenly halted her actions.
"I can touch?" he said, a small smile forming on his lips though his eyes remained closed.  "Why thank you, Shego."
Shego's brow rose, a myriad of implications about his words entering her mind in a flurry.  Her first reaction was to be offended as he licked his lips and his fingers twitched upon the lab table.  But then she realized she could gain more material with which to mock him by waiting and listening in.
She carefully leaned against the table and pushed record on the camera, smirking as she knew this would be the ultimate blackmail.
"Better than I imagined... May I suck on them?  Oh, you won't...be sorry," Drakken slurred a bit, but the words were still clear.
Shego felt a strange mix of emotions then, a dark wave of anger that he was thinking about her inappropriately as she'd supposed, but also a strange thrill at what he was potentially imagining.  She wondered against her better judgment if he had the skill he seemed to think he did in his mind.
"You feel...so good..." he continued dreamily. "This is all I've ever wanted."
Shego watched for several minutes as he bit his lips, licked them, puckered them, and made a few gross slurping sounds.  It wasn't hard to imagine what was going on in his mind as his fingers kneaded the air like a nursing cat, and she felt again that mix of disgust and curiosity.
"Oh, Shego... Shego my love..."
Her eyes shot open.  His love?  Did he have actual feelings for her, or was this just his lust-induced dream talking?  
Her finger hovered over the button on the camera, suddenly unsure about making fun of him in this way.  If he was genuinely in love with her...it would be crossing a line.  She liked working with him and for him.  It was hard to find a good villain partnership where you knew you didn't have to watch your back for betrayal all the time.  And if those were in fact his feelings...
"Of course you can touch," Drakken was saying.  Shego looked at the grin of pride now beaming on his face.  "Well...I don't like to brag but...seven inches."
Shego nearly choked and she couldn't help herself but to look down at his lap, but the thing he was describing was well-hidden by his lab coat.
"Okay, okay...yes it's more than that," he said with a chuckle.
Shego felt her heartbeat increase rapidly as she stared at the blue leather of his coat.  Was that just part of the dream, or was it real?
"No-no my dear, I have no expectations of... Oh well, if you insist then."
Drakken's fingers continued to knead the air, and a number of inappropriate images swam through her mind at what his words might mean.  The tingling rush it brought to her nerves was unexpected, and she found herself zoning out on the fantasy he was having.  When one of her own hands found her breast she snapped back to attention and realized she'd been imagining along with Drakken's continued words.
"Yes...yes, onh Shego..."
She swallowed nervously and then carefully stood up from her perch.  She tiptoed out of the lab toward her bedroom, a new goal decided upon and the recording camera forgotten upon the lab table.
--------------
"Dr. D.?  Hey, Dr. D.?"
Drakken was confused as to why Shego suddenly stopped moaning his name to whisper to him furtively, when he realized in a rush that the voice he was hearing was no longer part of his wet dream.  He startled to wakefulness, nearly hitting his head on the laser drill as he bolted upright and surveyed his surroundings.  He had fallen asleep in the lab again, and Shego had caught him.  No doubt the mocking was about to begin.
"Shego!  I was just testing the uh...I was working on...uh..."
His feeble attempt at explanation died when he saw her standing before him.
She wasn't wearing her typical green and black battle-suit, but something much softer and...very decidedly designed for a different type of activity.  It was a soft green dress that barely reached her hips, and he was certain if she moved a single step it would reveal far too much.  Of course, it already was, as the thin straps at the top plunged down into a scalloped V, embroidered with white flowers, and right below her ample cleavage was a small bow that looked to barely be holding its knot.
The material of the gown below the bust might have been chiffon, but it was gathered in numerous pleats that left a hint of modesty as to what they concealed, and as it was split below the plunging V he wasn't sure if the skirt did in fact completely encircle her, or if the entire thing split in the front.  That fact however, was of secondary concern as she approached him with a gentle smile on her glistening lips.
"Sh-Shego!?" he asked in a panic, scooting his chair back from the table in attempt to escape her advance.  "What...what are you doing?  Wh-Why?"
She wasn't deterred by his actions, swiftly closing the gap between them and straddling his legs.
"You talk in your sleep," was her only explanation before her lips covered his.
Her kiss was sweet and tasted of strawberries, but this realization only came after Drakken realized he'd forgotten to breathe.  When he broke away, gasping for air, he processed this and the fact that Shego was coming on to him in an unmistakable way.  And apparently, his not-so-secret dream had been the cause.
He wanted to ask what exactly he'd said, and if her feelings were the same, but all of this was forgotten as he realized she was undoing the fastenings of his lab coat.
"Shego..." he said breathlessly.
"I heard claims of more than seven inches," she said with a slight shake to her voice.  Drakken wondered by that if she was as nervous and startled as he was, but he wasn't about to let the opportunity that had been given him go to waste.
"I..." He swallowed nervously and then met her eyes.  "I hope that'll be enough for you."
Her eyes widened, and it was then that he noticed the flush to her face as it darkened.
"Then get on with it!" she said, seeming almost upset.  But as he looked at the way her eyes darted away from his, he wondered if her ire was just a cover for shyness and perhaps embarrassment.
"You're off to a good start," he said, his voice thick as he helped her finish undoing his coat.
She had to step back so he could stand to remove it, and in doing so he got a full view of her shapely legs, leading up to the impossibly short hem of the lingerie.  His nerves began to fade as the residual feelings from his fantasy began to take presence with the very real Shego standing in front of him and wanting him.
His arms were chilled from the lack of the coat as he only wore a sleeveless turtleneck beneath, but he knew there would soon be more than enough heat between them as he unbuckled his belt.
"Let me?" Shego said suddenly, closing the space between them.  Drakken smiled, his heart pounding wildly as her shaky fingers found first his zipper to pull down and then fumbled with his pants button.  
When it was finally unfastened, he hooked his thumbs under the elastic of both trousers and boxers and slid the garments down.  He wasn't fully hard yet, but still Shego's catch of breath thrilled him just as her sparkling eyes did as she stared.
"I believe it's--"
Drakken had tried to take a step forward, but he tripped slightly on the gathering of pants around his ankles and fell backward, his bare rear thankfully impacting only the leather of his chair.  He was glad not for the first time the chair didn't have arms as Shego straddled his thighs again.
The feel of her skin against his sent a wave of dizziness to his head as his blood departed and rushed south.  He felt the twitching of his shaft even before Shego's fingers had wrapped around it, and a delirious moan left his lips as another wave of dizziness took him when she began to slowly and firmly run her hands up his length, one after the other.
"I think you wanted to suck on something?" Shego said with a grin.
Drakken blinked slowly back to awareness, still enraptured by the touch of her hands on his throbbing member.  After seeing the assent and desire in her eyes, his gaze fell to where her breasts strained at the beautiful negligee she wore.  One of the thin straps had fallen from her shoulder amid her actions, and he reached up to the tiny bow just below her cleavage that would surely reveal what he dreamed about far too often.
There was little resistance as he pulled the tie loose, but the fabric of the cups shifted aside only slightly.  On the side with the fallen strap it moved enough to reveal a darker green nipple on the shapely globe of her breast.  He felt the tension increase below as he pulled both cups aside to fully reveal her chest, mere inches from his and better than any fantasy.
"May I...?" he asked, glancing at her face.  She looked eager and seemingly glad that her appearance pleased him, as if it could do anything but that, but still he waited.
"Go on," she encouraged.  "I want to see what else those lips can do."
Drakken grinned as he looked back down at the sea of creamy green before him.  It was his hands he indulged first, gently cupping her fawn-soft breasts in his hands before beginning to alternate between gentle kneading and firm grips, memorizing the curves before he let his fantasy fully become reality.
He twirled his thumbs over her nipples, giving occasional flicks that elicited hisses from her lips as he finally buried his face into the soft, hot flesh.  She smelt of apples and something tropical, and he breathed her in for a long moment before he began dragging his tongue slowly over the swell of her right breast.  Below, her grip tightened when his tongue finally reached the firm peak of her nipple, and he obediently began suckling and nibbling on the flesh as his hand attended the left breast with equal fervor.
"Oh Drakken!" she whimpered desperately, her grip becoming almost painful as it all but halted.  His free hand roamed the rest of her body, skimming over every curve he could reach until he finally returned to her breast.  He switched then, bringing his lips to the left and his hand to the right, while his other arm wrapped around her and held her close.
The lust hadn't subsided by any means, but the reality was sinking in that he was about to make love to Shego.  Shego whom he had fought his feelings for for years.  Shego who mocked him and derided him, and who now apparently wanted him too.  He didn't want to hope it was more than lust, as his feelings ran far deeper.  But still it was in his mind as they were moments away from that final step.
His thighs were slick with her arousal, and after another moment of indulgence that drew a lengthy moan from her lips, he reached down and removed her hands from his fully-lengthened shaft.
She looked about to protest until understanding filled her eyes.  She scooted nearer until the soft fabric of her negligee brushed against his stiff, blue length, and then she lifted herself up on her toes to position herself.
"Onhh...oh...oh, Drakken!"
He barely heard her, his own moans loud and almost disbelieving as she sank down upon him.  He felt when she'd reached her limit, and he still had a ways to go.  But he was certain she had time yet for deeper arousal, and he leaned forward to nibble the swell of one breast as she braced her forearms on his shoulders.  His hands cupped her rear and squeezed as she lifted herself up, and then carefully came back down, the motion creating a sticky, sliding sound.  He nuzzled into her breasts each time they moved past his face as she slowly and cautiously controlled the action, and it wasn't long before Drakken noticed her legs trembling from the effort.
"Why don't you...take a seat, my dear?" he said with a devilish grin, brushing hair from her sweat-dampened temple.
A look of thrill and fear entered her eyes, and she tried to comply, but again he felt the limit reached and she was filled with some of his length still exposed.  A moment of thought, and he decided a different tactic was needed.
"Hold on," he said.
She obediently wrapped her arms around him, and as he slowly stood and the pressure increased, her knees went to his sides and gripped him tightly above his hips.  He took a firmer grip under her rear and took a careful stance, and then began thrusting upward into her at a measured, even pace.
"Ungh...Dra...Drakken..."
She was breathless as she clung to him, completely at his mercy as he drilled steadily into her.  He was careful despite his speed, knowing that pushing her too far too fast would not lend to her pleasure.  But then as he attempted to adjust his footing, the pants gathered at his ankles betrayed him and he caught sight of Shego's wide eyes a moment before they fell together back onto the chair.
Her sharp cry was followed instantly by the digging of her fingernails into the flesh of his back, and when he was able to turn his head to see her face he saw tears at the corners of her tightly closed eyes.
"Shego!?" he cried in worry.  Being buried within her was more glorious than any fantasy, but it meant nothing if she wasn't experiencing equal pleasure.  And buried he was, fully to the hilt, with Shego trembling from head to toe.  Her chest heaved with pained breaths, and Drakken was afraid to move as he worried over the best next course of action.  But then gradually her death grip around him started to release, and her feet lowered slowly toward the floor.
"Shego?" he repeated anxiously.
Her response was to swallow slowly and then...a slow swivel of her hips.
The pressure was like heaven, and Drakken moaned incoherently at the electric pleasure it sent from his every nerve ending down to center at where she expertly enhanced their mutual pleasure.  And mutual it was, as he watched her toss her head back with a delirious smile, her eyes still closed as she seemed to transcend from the moment.
She rocked and rolled her hips, never lifting away, the squelching sounds of sex mixing with their gasps of pleasure as the hot dripping of her arousal left the dark hairs of his scrotum damp.  Each move was like the most pleasurable fire being sent into his groin, and he buried his face in her breasts as he moaned her name repeatedly, both in praise and desire.
Soon her slow rolls became instinctive bucks forward and backward, her swollen nub of need rubbing hard against his pubic bone with each thrust.  He took the initiative and stood again, and she held onto him as she had before as he resumed the powerful upward thrusts, rapid this time for his need and his desire to please her.
She screamed in her climax, and he held her tighter as her hips ground against his and she wriggled in his grasp in both efforts to escape and to get nearer all at once.  He chuckled in delight, some of her hair getting in his mouth as she thrashed, until he finally stumbled toward the lab table and set her down on its cold surface.
He slowly lay her back as she writhed and panted for breath, whimpering her displeasure when their hot bodies lost contact and even more so when he pulled out of her with an audible pop.  He couldn't help his grin of triumph as she looked at him in awe, and also in upset that he'd moved away from her.  He watched her eyes slowly travel his naked body, resting finally where his erection still stood tall and glistening with the proof of her pleasure.
"I..." she gasped out almost desperately.  "I want to taste."
Drakken's brow rose.  He almost said no, wanting nothing more than to bury himself back within her as soon as he'd gotten his pants off for some balance--he began carefully pushing his boots off to accomplish just that--but then as he looked at the swollen and trembling green flesh that he had just ravaged, another idea struck him.
"Only...if I get to, too," he said.
Shego fixed her eyes on his for a moment before they dropped back to his length.
"All right."
Drakken finally pushed out of his pants and set his hands atop her thighs, sliding them slowly upward.
"Scoot up here."
"No...no, you lie down," Shego said, still catching her breath.
"All right," Drakken repeated, and he pushed his tools and blueprints aside to lie on the lab table lengthwise, the laser drill far too near above them but not even remotely a concern at the moment.
Trembling, Shego crawled over him, and before he could move aside the soft fabric of her negligee, her lips had encompassed his tip.
"Onhh...ungh.  Sh-Shego..."
Her mouth had slid down only a short ways, but it was more than he had even dreamed of.  The pressure of her lips and tongue, the slight grazing of her teeth, the cool of the surrounding air when she pulled away...
"I can't take that for long."
"Then you'd better take your turn," she said before resuming the gentle but deliberate task.
Drakken pushed the fabric of her garment up her back and then pushed aside the wet, dark curls that hid her core.  She settled down on her knees and covered his face with her heat, and he began slowly licking lengthwise, his tongue dipping between the folds and then retreating with each pass.
"Ah!" Shego cried in pleasure when his tongue flicked against her sensitive bud.  She moaned when he boldly pushed his tongue deeper into her heat, and he kneaded the flesh of her rear as he set himself to bringing her to her peak again.
It was difficult to focus, however, with her drawing her lips down the full length of the side of his shaft, suckling hard while the flat of her hand worked upward on the other side.  That done, she would switch which side she kissed and which she caressed, while all the while her other hand fondled his balls so gently and yet with the perfect amount of pressure, he felt he couldn't last much longer.  And he didn't want his release to end up all over her face.
"Shego..." he began carefully.  "Do you want the next one with my tongue or with my...?"
"Tongue," she said excitedly.
"Then you have to stop."
She pushed herself up and looked down at him through her legs, a playful smirk on her face.
"But I don't want to stop."
Drakken scowled.  "You've got me right at the edge, woman!"
"Don't call me 'woman'," Shego said with a frown.
"Shego," he corrected himself.  "You're too good at that."
Her grin returned.  "Thank you."
Silence fell between them, and he leaned his head up to give her another lick.
"Onh...so are you," she gasped through a moan.
Blessedly, she only gave him gentle steady pumps with one hand, having settled on watching him as he continued to bring her back to the edge.
"Onh...ohhh...I..."  Her legs began to tremble again, and her hand left his thick arousal as her arms weakened, her breasts falling heavily to his middle as she began to lose control.  "I changed my mind!"
"Hmmm?" Drakken barely acknowledged, enjoying every moment of eating her.
"Put it back in!" she insisted desperately, and Drakken didn't waste any time.
She had moved off of him in an instant and lain down, and he spun on the sturdy table and climbed over her, bracing himself up on his hands as he eagerly pushed back into her.
She accepted his full length with ease, and his thrusts were long and deliberate, pulling nearly all the way out each time and sinking in as deeply as possible.  Her legs were drawn up and her heels hooked at the small of his back, while her arms lay uselessly at her sides.  His eyes lifted from the intoxicating bounce of her breasts with each thrust to where her bright eyes were fixed on his.
"Yes!" she encouraged breathlessly, her voice almost soundless, "Yes, Drakken, yes!"
He pumped into her faster and heavier until a choked scream left her throat, her flesh becoming even tighter around him as he strove toward his own finish.  When it came and he exploded within her, his moans of her name came out loud and guttural, barely human as he shoved himself deeper and buried his face back into her breasts for another moment, every part of him suddenly feeling one with her in every way that could be possible.
He gradually became aware of her fingers softly trailing against his shoulder as his body became a dead weight atop hers.  But it was the only place he ever wanted to be, and he didn't care of he never moved again.  Except perhaps to seek her lips with his own.
"I love you..."  Her voice was so soft and desperate, he almost didn't hear it.  He hadn't thought the moment could be perfected any further, but with her words sending fire to his heart he knew she had done just that.
He lifted his head tiredly in search of her lips, and as he blinked blearily a tiny, fuzzy red light suddenly caught his attention.  He squinted to focus at the unfamiliar light's source and finally saw a camera sat at the far end of the lab table, the lens facing their direction and the red light blinking.
"Shego...is that on?"
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dearclem · 1 year
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𝑵𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻𝑹𝑬𝑺𝑻 𝑻𝑨𝑺𝑲 𝑶𝑵𝑬
— a look at clem's mobile device & social media ( ft. kage, montez, candy, aranya, finley, dae-eun ).
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THE BASICS:
brand of phone:
apple iphone 14 pro max 1TB²
color:
deep purple.
case:
phone case: plain, matte black. popsocket: a ghostface call me, visual here
locked or unlocked:
locked with both a passcode and face ID. face ID is the preferred method, of course, but her passcode is her mother's birthday in the order of DDMMYR ( so it's 230373 ).
wallpaper:
THIS piece of artwork that she finds very cute ( pastel panting of ghosts sitting on a grassy hill with a crescent moon, clouds, and rainbow in the sky ).
lockscreen:
THIS photo of dao, her cat ( siamese kitten sleeping on its back in her lap with view of adorable toe beans ).
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USAGE:
time spent on device:
it depends. on the days of her uploads, she's probably on it more than usual because of engagement. otherwise, she's only on it whenever she's reaching out to someone, when she's playing her games before trying to sleep, or she's looking up something and doesn't have her ipad or computer handy.
five most used apps:
spotify. kindle. webtoon. classic words. animal restaurant.
web tabs:
none are open. whenever she's done using one, she closes it.
last thing googled:
probably when she was looking for a new story, so something like japanese urban legends.
last text message received:
an update regarding a delivery of something she ordered for monty's upcoming birthday.
last voicemail:
probably a spam call and no, her voicemail is never full. she always cleans them out after listening to them, only saving the ones that are really special.
last thing on camera reel & what image was last saved:
last picture taken: THIS selfie. last image saved: THIS photo that she emailed to herself, which was taken for a previous concept to post on her company's instagram for httpfear. ( tw: fake blood ).
extra tidbits:
this is mainly just a section i wanted to add because these were things that came to me as i was doing this, but there was no real place to put them, so you're getting them here. as is true for her regular life, she keeps her phone very tidy and there is a place & reason for everything: all of her apps are organised in folders---e.g., daily, socials, entertainment, games, shopping, etc.---and she only has four folders on each page so the majority of her background is visible; like with her voicemails, she doesn't keep texts directly on her phone unless they're special and she cleans her call history regularly; if you're in her phone, trust she has you saved under a nickname, even if she doesn't ever address you using said nickname; she always closes both web tabs and apps on her phone the second she's finished using them; she is constantly sanatising it; physically CANNOT STAND having the red notification bubbles on anything and when some apps glitch and those things don't always go away immediately when they should is when you get to see angy clem; and she uses one of those privacy screen protectors so you have to be sitting at the right angle to see what she's doing.
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SOCIAL MEDIA:
handles:
personal handles: dearclem. handles where she posts all podcast related things: BLKBoxStudios
instagram, latest post:
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snapchat, latest sent:
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using the mini tripod she has when going on adventures, she took this photo and sent it to monty, rubbing it in that she has goodies and he doesn't 😌
dating apps:
doesn't partake in the thing, no. has no desire and people can be creepy.
spotify:
top three songs of '22: fall in lust ╱ EDEN, jiselle {xx}
❝ we should ride this wave, until the sun comes up baby kiss me harder, make me feel the rush i don't wanna be alone tonight, so why don't we just fall in lust.. ❞
boomerang ╱ the summer set {xx}
❝ let's pop champagne, fake like we're billionaires just you and me, ain't much but we don't care you look so good, i love when people stare you on my arm, tryna keep you there.. ❞
call me back ╱ chase atlantic {xx}
❝ if you get a minute, call me back i'm so lonely and you're the only one that knows me and if you're busy, then i understand it it's bad timing, and i'm probably gonna end up crying.. ❞
last listened to: killer on the drive home ╱ kaiyko {xx}
❝ stop your crying it's not the end of the world but no one listens to a quiet little girl i wanna talk about it, don't wanna shout about it left me alone made me the killer on the drive home.. ❞
tiktok:
she has the app downloaded, but that's only because she gets sent tiktoks and it's just easier to have it downloaded than not. it's never something she finds herself scrolling on.
facebook:
this is another social media app that she wants no part of. she's never had one, nor will she ever because she has no family to keep in contact with and all her friends are nearby.
others:
has youtube, pinterest, reddit, & tumblr.
youtube is where she posts the videos she creates of her two podcasts.
ADVICE PODCAST. HORROR PODCAST. ( tw: horror images, fake blood, creepy eye drawing?, knife ).
pinterest is mostly a private thing ( as in most of her boards are hidden ) because she pins things for aesthetic purposes regarding different ideas she has and may wish to explore in the future. the only boards that are public are her own personal board ( about herself and things she likes ) and a board she's created for the book series she's already published and within that board, each book has it's own section with things like how she pictures the main characters, their connection, the aesthetic of the location & mystery, etc. reddit is something she uses as a way of connecting with some of her listeners and giving them a place to post their own stories and things they may want her to read/cover because whereas she gets some of her inspiration from r/nosleep sometimes, she also likes involving her listeners and that's a wee bit easier to manage in comparison to emails, especially considering she does everything all on her own save for someone she has help her with the editing of her youtube vids. tumblr is where she posts writings, something like a diary of sorts ( think like inkskinned & sue zhao ), though it's completely anonymous and she'd likely throw herself into the void if anyone found out it was her.
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slapkorsesbaldhead · 3 years
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[ID: A dark-skinned woman is holding up Kevin Hart protectively, gesturing at a light-skinned woman in the foreground to back away. The woman holding Kevin Hart is labeled "The Phoenix Witch", and Kevin Hart is labeled "Ghosted Killjoys." The other woman is labeled "Battery citys energy system." / End ID]
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[ID: An edited picture of Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs. The levels have been edited so that psychological needs and self-fufillment needs have been combined into one layer. The combined layer is labeled "cool mask", and the basic needs layer is labeled "gun go pew pew". / End ID.]
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[ID: an edited tweet. It has been posted by @shitheadneutral. It reads "Defending bli on the inner internet Isn't Enough. I Need A Gun." / End ID.]
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[ID: an image taken at the area 51 raid. It shows a light skinmed man in glasses and a red and black jacket. He is on the left side looking at the veiwer. Behind him on the right is a blurry person naruto running. The man is labeled "crow patrol" and the runner is labled "juvies". / End ID.]
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[ID: an edited version of the "i receive blank, you receive blank" meme. It shows a messy drawing of The Phoenix Witch looking at the veiwer. She is in a purple-lighted room. Abover her is a red text box the reads in all caps "⚠️ trade offer ⚠️". Below the box and above The Witch is the caption "i receive mask / you receive death". / End ID.]
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woahajimes · 3 years
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Have you ever wondered how Damian would handle an instagram account? 
For starters, Damian doesn’t even know he has an instagram account. It’s until Bruce answers a question at an interview that Damian finds out he has an instagram account. Bruce had created it for him, for god-knows-what reason. Yet Damian has to act like he has known all along, that he has an instagram account. 
Once Bruce gets him settled into a username that very literally is just Damian’s name as the son of the billionaire, Damian does absolutely nothing. He doesn’t follow anyone, he doesn’t post anything. He doesn’t even  have a profile picture. For all everyone knows, Bruce Wayne could have lied and that account is just some rando’s. 
And months pass, Damian’s account is the literal same every single day, and trust me, people have checked. Damian couldn’t actually care less about his instagram account, the only reason he hasn’t deleted the app completely is because he rarely even uses his phone. He just carries it around in his pocket when he’s out as Damian Wayne. 
It’s almost a year, and Damian is out with Dick, they’re getting lunch or something. Dick has ordered a burger, Damian stuck with a veggie option. And they’re about to start eating and Dick takes out his phone, snaps a picture. 
“What are you doing?” Damian asks him. 
Dick stares at Damian. “It’s for my instagram story.” And then he starts typing some caption or something. 
And even though I, op, don’t have younger brothers, I do have a younger sister and I can tell you that little siblings copy like, everything you do. And I know we’re talking about Damian, but still. Damian took his phone out and he snapped a picture, Dick in the shot as well. He posted it in his story, he didn’t put a caption. 
And then later that day, Damian remembered that he hadn’t saved that picture he took. So he opened the instagram app and he saw a little circle around his empty profile picture. He decided that he liked it. It went from purple to pink to orange to yellow to orange to pink and back to purple. 
So this became a routine of his, after all, it would cost him next to nothing. To take a picture and post it on his story. It would keep the little ring around his profile picture. And he’d get replies to his stories and he’d get tagged in pictures and he’d get thousands of followers and he’d get tagged in comments and new requests and all those things that famous accounts get. 
And it’s not like the pictures ever made sense. The first week they were things like the cover of his sketchbook, or this plant he found in the garden. Maybe it was the map on his wall, or alfred the cat and titus. He wouldn’t even take time with these pictures. He’d just remember every day about the little circle around his default profile picture and he’d grab his phone, and  he’d take a picture of the nearest thing he could find. He never bothered to write a caption, nor put a song, anything. 
And as time passes, the logic of the pictures becomes blurry. Why would the heir of the richest man in gotham post a picture of a crack on the pavement? 
But sometimes, people doubt that Damian even takes these pictures. Because sometimes they’re pictures of gotham at night, when the sky is pitch black, starless. And this one time, Damian is out on patrol, the sun is rising, he still hasn’t gone home. The sky reminds Damian of the little ring around his profile picture. So Damian sets his phone to record automatically and so it records towards the sunset. And because Damian would place himself against the light, the figure would look pitch black, a plain shadow against the sunset. So Damian sets his phone and he takes his cape off, he has his grappling hook, but he’ll use it once he’s out of the camera shot. And then he gets the video going (his phone is leaning on a plant pot, there’s another building that ends nearly as the camera shot begins. So Damian swings from where he set his phone, to the other building, and he just. 
Jumps. 
He’s jumping headfirst and he’s whooping loudly, laughing almost. He’s done this so many times yet something is just nicer. 
it was awesome. 
And he posts the video, but silences it. Nobody can see Damian’s uniform, nor his mask. For all they know, Damian hired someone to jump, or maybe he even threw a mannequin or something.  
That was the only video Damian posted on his story. The rest, every other day, theRE were just pictures. 
We skip time a bit more and Damian was with Jon, when he still lived in hamilton. They were by the tree they were always at, and Damian was taking a picture of the bark of the tree. Because bark. 
And Jon just stares at Damian. “What the h are you doing?” 
Damian shrugs. "Just taking a picture.”
Jon snatches the phone from him. They’re close enough friends. He goes to the camera and holds the phone up straight, he sets it to the front camera.
“My mom does this all the time,” he says. “She calls them selfies.” 
Jon snaps a picture. Then he checks it. He’s smiling, Damian is not. “You’re so lame! Did nobody ever teach you how to smile?” 
Jon snaps a second picture, Damian’s still not smiling. Third picture, Damian’s expression moves a bit, but it's just him rolling his eyes. 
“Come on, Damian! SMILE!” Jon takes another picture, he checks it. Damian’s smiling dramatically, he looks like Jon looks in family pictures he doesn’t want to take. He’s not smiling with his teeth, his eyes are practically closed, his nose is scrunched up. If anything, he looks more disgusted than happy. “Ugh, we’ll just try another day, i guess.” 
This became a sort of routine. Every day they saw each other as civilians, Jon would take a selfie with Damian. Sometimes he smiled, if he was in the right mood. It didn’t really matter, Damian never posted those pictures on his story. 
Now we take Damian’s fourteenth birthday. This, Damian decides, is a much better way to spend his birthday than the last one. Bruce isn’t there, but his brothers are, his best friends also are. Alfred and Jon, Dick, Tim, and Jason. They’re eating strawberry cake, with the ‘happy 14th!’ in pink frosting and everything. It is now his first option, thanks to Alfred.
Anyways, they’re slicing the cake, Damian just blew out the candles. Jon takes his phone out, the one he got when he turned eleven. He doesn’t have an instagram account, Lois wouldn’t let him, but Jon still takes a picture of everything. 
Alfred asks Damian for his phone, so he can take a picture. Damian shakes his head, yet he takes out his phone. He’s at the head of the table, he puts his phone on the front camera. He hands it to Alfred. 
“Jon likes to call them ‘selfies’,” Damian explained. He showed Alfred. “Here, you take them like this.” 
Damian took his phone back from Alfred, he stretched his arm with the phone. He called out Tim’s name, and all of them looked up. 
“Smile!” Damian snapped a picture, he grinned. He looked at the picture, he liked it. Alfred was grinning, like in that picture in which he’s with Bruce when he was little, and they’re both laughing at something.
Damian decided that this picture was too nice for it to go on his 24-hour ring. Besides, he had already put a picture of Jason helping prepare the frosting. He didn't need two stories in the same day. 
So he drafts the post, and there’s the option to edit the image, but Damian skips it. It’s nice as it is.
He posts it, he doesn’t write a caption.
taglist: @hauntingsonofrobin @bikoncon @catxsnow @screennamealreadyused @thesporklecat @thesesickfics-justmakemesick andd i think i got it all idk 
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kirishoshego · 3 years
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Come Kitty, Kitty//Shinso
MINORS DON'T INTERACT
This is my part of the amazing "Hybrids" collaboration hosted by @ultimate-astridwriting, thank you again for letting me participate, this was definitely exciting x pairing: kitten!fem!readerxShinso (college!au)//words:3.3k+
Summary: You knew pushing Shinsou's buttons would end in a punishment, which was exactly what you craved (featuring after care)
TW: BDSM, dom and sub (calling him sir, him calling you kitten and at one point pet), choking, rope play, spanking, overstimulation, squirting, anal play (at the end), oral (both receiving), face fucking, degration (mixed with name calling), praise, unprotected sex, sending nudes and the reader wearing a collar Shinsou didn't plan on going to meet up with the group, Bakugou dragged him along with him, ranting about how if he had to go to Jiro's chill night he had to come too. It was an unusual group, really, but they, Shoto and Tokoyami shared the same taste in music. From that on the five became something along the lines of friends, even if Shinsou didn't want anything to do with it, he couldn't deny the fact he didn't hate having them around him, and having someone to study while in college had its perks.
When he explained he didn't feel like being there anymore they didn't try to make him stay, they understood he needed some alone time and told him to text them if he's back in his dorm and bit their goodbye. The sun wasn't down completely yet, it still engulfed the city in its warm colors, people passing him by on their way home or to a date, while he was slurping on his Boba Tea, grumbling about their happy go lucky energy.
That was until he saw you, sitting on a branch of a cherry blossom tree, yelling at three guys below you, who despairingly tried to grab your fluffy tail to drag you down. "I said fuck off you assholes!" one of them got too close for your liking causing you to hiss at them, revealing your sharp fangs, tail whipping from left to right. "Don't be such a little buzzkill now sweet cheeks, we just wanna show you a good time, we know how to take care of such a small thing," all of them laughed, jumping up again and this time being lucky in catching your tail, only to also catch your claws seconds later. "You fucking-" before he could say whatever angry insult was laying on his tongue a scarf was wrapped around him, pulling him back so he fell onto his ass in a small puddle.
"She said to leave her alone, so fuck off," he apparently caught their leader, the others now quickly trying to help him up and scramble off, mumbling insults which quickly died down when their opponent's eyes started glowing. "I could have done that myself," you told him, fixing your shirt as you sat upon the branch, feet dangling down, ears pulled back. "I'm not helpless just because I'm a cat, you know?" it amused him to watch you struggle as you tried to find a way back to the ground. He only raised an eyebrow, his gaze going from you to the floor and turning his back towards you. "Have fun getting down there yourself then," he walked away, your pleads seemingly fallen to deaf ears, but Shinsou could hear you just fine, a small smirk on his lips.
"Sir, please help me down. I'm sorry, thank you for defending me," the defeat in your voice was one thing, but switching from Mister to Sir made his head snap up from his phone's black screen. But before he could react in time he heard a loud thud and a whine.
It's not your problem, she's just a stranger, he thought to himself, but his body reacted sooner than his brain could, and Shinsou found himself carrying you to the nearest hospital, which conveniently was only two blocks away. Ever since then you were basically his shadow, nobody really took care of you, and growing up with Aizawa apparently made Shinsou also adapt his father's need to take in strays.
According to you, Shinsou didn't pay enough attention to you the last couple of days. You knew he had those days, too stressed out from university or hero work. His biggest desire at that moment is to simply have you in his lap while he was playing some games or cuddle up to you while watching a movie, the soft purrs emitting your curled-up body helping him heal from whatever had him worried in the late evening hours.
However, you were craving him, needed him. Every fiber in your body was screaming his name, begging for his touch, wanton for him to be balls deep inside your dripping little cunt. So you planned everything out, starting with sending him cute little pictures of you. Innocent and cute, wearing nothing but one of his big t-shirts, hair messy, forming a seeming halo between your perked up ears, tail wrapped around as you kneeled in front of the tall mirror. But then, oh no, what a pity, you spilled milk all over you when all you wanted was to prepare your breakfast. Your front camera perfectly captured the soaked material clinging to your shape, revealing your hardening nipples and soft mounds he loved to play with. And of course, it would only be fair to show him how good you can clean yourself, a little video of your in soap-covered glistering body.
If you don't stop right now, you're in for it, last warning
Promise?
Don't push your luck kitten
*attachment one image*
*attachment one video*
Does my new set match my eyes? What do you think?
Left on read. Exactly forty-five minutes, before your door opens and your boyfriend appeared in its frame. Everything about him appeared calm, even breath, no fists, no tension. The only thing that gave away his fuming rage was his amethyst-like glowing eyes.
"Come here," he ordered, pulling off his shoes and putting them to the side. "Ugh, it's so comfy here though," you told him, stretching yourself on the couch, kissed by the sun. His movement halted, jacket still in his hand, and raised in the air as he turned to look at you. "Excuse me?" the hand wrapped around the fabric tightened, nostrils flared, and only now you realized the mistake you had done. Big hands adorned by silver rings pushed up his sleeves, eyes fixated on you. Even if you wanted to you couldn't leave his gaze, pupils turning into slits when Shinsou started making his way towards you.
Anticipation rose in your stomach, the flick of your tail betraying you as a smirk formed on Shinsou's chiseled face. "Now, kitten," his pointer finger interlaced with the small ring on your collar allowing him to pull your face close to his, his hot breath fanning over your delicate skin "I'll count to ten, you're going to be a good little pet and go into the bedroom, get undressed and wait for me."
Amusement flashed over his face when he noticed your eyes now almost completely black as your pupils expanded. Your breath hitched in your throat as his soft, plump lips were mere an inch away from yours while his thumb stroked your cheek softly. Before your wish could come true he pulled away, starting to unbutton his shirt, the first number filling your ears. You practically run into the bedroom, eager to have him pound into you, your cunt already throbbing at the simple thought of it.
"Nine... Ten," he still wore his grey sweatpants, hung low on his hips, and allowing you to have a perfect view on his happy trail. His large fist was wrapped around thick purple robes. You sat on your bed, legs pulled underneath you while you wore nothing but the collar around your neck, watching him every step. He simply pointed his fingers to the spot in front of him, waiting for you to walk up to him.
"What's your safe word?" he always asked you this before even touching you. Your safety was above anything for him. "Bunny," a small kiss was placed on your forehead. "Good. And your sign?" "Tapping my fingers onto my palm three times," you said like a bullet being shot from a pistol. "You understand that you're in trouble, right?" he asked you, turning you around and pushing your hair to one side, letting him kiss your neck sensually, his free hand wandering down your side. "Yes Shin," you breathed, earning a harsh slap to your ass and a hiss escaping your throat. "That's sir to you, you know better than that," he warned, pulling your arms behind your back and wrapping them together, like he had practiced so many times before, making sure your blood flow wasn't cut off by them.
Shinsou walked to the in black sheets covered bed, sitting down on it with his legs spread open and pulling you in between them. "You know the rules kitten, and you still thought sending me these pics while I'm out in public with my friends would be a good idea. Why is it forbidden to do so, especially without a warning?" he looked at you through his lashes, one hand over your tail drawing small circles, the other circling your clit lazily, sending you in a hazy state. "Because I belong to you, and someone, ah, could see them," your toes curled slightly, trying your best to concentrate on his voice.
"Exactly, so why did you do it then kitten?" he cocked his eyebrow, picking up his speed and watching you squirm. "I wanted your attention, Sir. You barely acknowledged me the last few days," your voice was a mix of pleasure and whining, pressing down on his hand for more which only earned you a slap on your clit. "Ah, so we're a greedy little attention whore?" his question sounded like he just had a breakthrough discovery, a single digit slipping into your wet walls, his thumb still playing with your sensitive nub. "Yes," you admitted, his degradation causing you to clench around Shinsou's curling finger, another one joining. "I see. I'm sorry for not giving you enough attention. What about the attention I'm giving you right now? Is it enough? Or does my little slut need more?" he knew how to make you come within a few seconds, how to play with your pussy to have you squealing out incomprehensible sentences.
His lips wrapped around your nipple, flicking his slick muscle over them again and again. "Hm?" he hummed against it, his thumb now having the perfect speed to send you over the edge already. "More, please Sir," you moaned while he made you ride out your first orgasm of the night. "I thought so. You gotta earn it first though," he didn't plan on having you on your knees for long, but he wasn't ready to give you what you want just yet. After all, you had to be punished.
At the thought of his thick cock down your throat your mouth started to water. Gratefully dropping down in front of him made your tits jiggle in the process. You licked along his shaft, the tip of your tongue going from his balls to the tip of his dick, swirling around its head before starting to bop your head up and down slowly, taking in more and more every time you went down until your nose hit his freshly shaved skin.
With your tongue extended it was easy to kitten lick his balls, adding to the pleasure going through his veins. "Fuck, such a good whore. Just like that, your mouth feels so nice wrapped around me," you continued, his words of courage fueling you while his hips snapped up every now and then to make you splutter around him. After a few minutes of his dick shoved down your neck, you went up for air again, drool making your chin glister in the purple light emerging from the bulb above you.
"I can't remember that I told you to stop," his voice was raspier than normal. Collecting the mixture of spit and precum dripping down your chin with this thumb he pushed it into your mouth, watching you suck on it, and gently dragging your fangs against his finger when he pulled out again. "Go on," apparently you were too slow, his hand fisting your hair. His actions caused you to gag, resulting in his length being pushed down further.
"Don't forget I'm in charge, always," with his left leg grounded, the right one wrapped around your head, his ankle laying on his muscular thigh to keep you in place. He started thrusting upwards, careful to keep your hair out of your face because he didn't want to miss your fucked-out expression. Lilac eyes watched in ecstasis as you struggled against his grip, hearing you gag and feeling you contract against him, more drool dripping down your chin. Shinsou loved turning you into a mess, inside and out.
"Can't breathe kitten?" he asked slightly amused, getting turned on, even more, when the realization hit him about how much power he had over you. You tried shaking your head but failed miserably, ears pulled back with no escape in sight, your tail swinging like a whip. Only when your eyes started to water, your tears meeting at your cupid's bow he had mercy with you.
Due to the abuse of your jaw, you couldn't really close it, trying your best to catch your breath before he pulled you back up. It was easy for Shinsou to have you on your back, spread in front of him while his head found its home between your legs, eating your pussy as if hadn't had a meal in weeks. The man between your legs was licking and sucking your most sensitive area, his manicured nails digging into the meat of your soft thighs to keep them from closing. Shinsou now wanted one thing, and one thing only: his name the only word in your brain as he fucked you stupid, making you cum over and over and over again.
So you did, two times, four times, six times. Your mind was foggy after the fifth, which also was the one leading him to tie your legs to each bedpost at the end because you were overstimulated, your legs clamping shut and he didn't want any of that.
You expected your punishment to be denial, a rough spanking while you are bend over his knees, not being touched at all, only serving for his pleasure and his pleasure alone but you were oh so wrong. The remark off you earlier telling him how little attention he had given you made him rethink his planned discipline. If you want his attention you're going to get it, all of it. The attempt to muffle your moans and screams not even crossing his mind. He wanted everyone to know how good he made you feel, tied up, sprawled in front of him, for him to use and adore.
"Sir please, no more, it feels weird," you cried out, not even trying to move away since you knew it only made him want you more. "Weird how?" he asked and your body was thankful for the short break, yet craved his mouth on you again. "Like I have to pee," you said timidly, a small sob traveling through your sweat-covered body. He cursed under his breath, eyes rolling in the back of his head at the thought of making you squirt. "Too bad you have no say in this," he slapped your clit and returned to his previous position.
Before you knew it his fingers curled even faster, your already hyper-sensitive clit throbbing between his lips covered in your juices. "Please," you sobbed as his eyes watched your in pleasure twisted face, tears streaming down your face. The safe word was still prominent in your brain, you could use it any second but even though your skin was ignited you needed more, needed him to fill you up, to cloud your vision and let you forget every thought in your brain that was left somewhere in there.
"Let go for me kitten," the vibration of his low voice sent you over the edge once again and sure enough his wish came true. Shinsou never knew he could make it happen but today you proved him wrong, the need to be inside of you now bigger than ever before. "Done?" you asked, your whole body shaking and your eyes only a small slit caused by the exhaustion.
"Just started," the lust was written over his face as he cleaned it with your shirt laying next to the bed before positioning himself at your entrance, watching your wetness drip down onto the mattress. Your pussy was throbbing from the many orgasms he had milked from you. He couldn't wait to feel your velvety walls adorning his thick shaft, clenching around it, and hear you scream out in delight.
"No, no more," you tried to put the last bit of energy against the restraints holding you in place but there was no use. Shinsou was a master with ropes and while he can untie you in a second you could never slip out of them, he made sure of that.
A simple tug on each knot freed you and for a second you thought it was over, relaxing into the drenched fabric below you as he turned you around. The feeling of calmness didn't last long, his big, strong hands grabbing your hips and pulling your ass up in the air, delivering a slap to both cheeks and watching them bounce from the impact. He could see your claws extending, a natural reacting to protect you from your attacker but the way your hole clenched around nothing gave away just how much you liked it.
"Did you just say no? I'm gonna continue and you'll let me use you because do you know what you are? A dumb, little whore for me to use. Tell me to stop again and I'll fuck you until you pass out, got it?" he grunted, momentarily teasing you with just the tip of his cock before pushing his whole length balls deep inside of you.
The grip you had around him caused every cuss word his brain held to tumble out within seconds. Never did Shinsou think he could become addicted to a pussy, but here he was, pounding into you like a mad man in love. One hand was placed between your shoulder blades, making you arch just perfect for him to have access to every hole he wanted. The cold spit hitting your until now ignored, puckered hole clench in shock before he pushed his thumb in between your spread cheeks.
It didn't take long for his hand to wrap around your throat, tongue lolling out as yet another orgasm crashed through your body. Your cunt was clenching around him, backside and tail vibrating in satisfaction. "I think you have one more for me, what do you think kitten? Gonna be a good girl?" he could feel his own high building up in his abdomen, ready to fill you up and watch it leak out of your abused pussy. You couldn't possibly form a sentence, let alone a single word, only nodding your head, wanting for him to come inside of you.
"That's what I thought, I'm proud of you, taking me so well," Shinsou grunted, listening to your moans and sobs. Pulling you up by your hair allowed him to view your ahegao face in the reflection of the window, watching the sun go down in the distance and the buildings below you appear so small.
He looked at you in pure bliss, enjoying the little show in front of him, how worn out you looked, sweat, tears, and drool draped over your body. Beautiful boobs bounced in the same beat of his thrusts. "Gon' come Sir" you slurred, stars appearing in front of your eyes while his hand connected with your clit yet again. The word 'mine' written over it caused you to collapse into his arms, crying out his name as the last orgasm washed over you like a tsunami. With another thrust of his hips, he shot his load deep inside of you, and moaned your name.
It didn't take long before Shinsou's strength returned, picking you in his arms and kissing your temple. "Wanna take a bath with me and watch a movie? I can order some food, how does that sound?" his voice was soothing now, calming you down a bit with his quirk, telling you to take deep breaths and focus on his voice. "Yes please," you whispered when he sat you down on the small stool in the bathroom, watching him take out a soothing lotion and your favorite bubble soap. Turning on the water he collected the few cold drops in a glass, tipping your head back and letting the liquid flow down your dry mouth while whispering assuring words into your ears, listening to the soft purrs.
935 notes · View notes
awakeshedreams · 3 years
Text
sugar and spice ( 2 )
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pairing : resident bad boy!jjk x model student!reader
setting : highschool!au x stepbrother!au
summary :
a messy highschool!au x stepbrother!au where model student reader who has quite a few dirty little secrets sees her world take an unexpected turn when her mother comes home one day with an engagement announcement, to the father of none other than the school’s resident bad boy…. Jeon Jungkook.
genre : smut, for laughs, kinda pornish, slow burn with collosaly overwhelming sexual tension
rating: soft m ( for now ) due to adult content
warnings : unconventional relationship of sexual nature, tropes and clichès, teenagers partaking in porn-esque activities, made up things with made up people happening in a made up world, don’t like don’t read XD
wordcount : 3k
a/n: honestly overwhelming response for the first part. thank you so much 💜💜💜😳
here's the second.
somehow, this took up a new genre for itself while editing and became sort of a bit enemies to friends to partners in sin.
that is to say, I have a template for this but this could go any ( dirty ) way.
let me know if you like this and are curious to know how things play out.
also, spot the cameo. it's so dumb but still. I couldn't think of anything else.
enjoy.
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Paranoia was an old friend of yours.
Very real, very scary and not very nice to you, your peace of mind or your tested soul.
In your head, you already played out a million different ways the image you’d spent years building could come falling apart.
All because of him. Jeon Jungkook.
Though much to your surprise and fortune- he didn’t tell anyone.
You spent the entire weekend fretting over nothing.
It was almost like none of it ever happened.
Like your parents weren't about to tie the knot soon. Like you weren’t about to become step siblings.
Like he didn't walk in on his said step sister to be masturbating in front of a camera.
In the aftermath of that inexplicably humiliating incident, you had to make up some dumb excuse to satiate your viewers for ending the stream so abruptly.
It was your cat they heard speaking, you told them.
Cats don’t speak of course, certainly not in a deep baritone. But they were effectively distracted by the string of full nudes you posted soon after that.
Those few accusatory comments saying that you did have a boyfriend after all were buried by those coming from very horny people who were over the moon about the little apology gift.
That was out of the way, but you had a more pressing matter at hand.
That night, Jungkook had walked out after saying what he had to say without another word, leaving you feeling stunned and oddly cold.
It was like all the heat in your body just ceased to exist the moment he closed the door behind him and left you there all on your own. You didn’t even get to finish but that was beside the point.
The point was, you thought that meant like with many other things, and as people should since this was a free world, he didn’t give a shit what you did with your free time or your body.
But as the days progressed, you couldn’t help but wonder if you were gravely mistaken.
Because contrary to that, he seemed to be up to something.
These days, he came around very often. Completely unprovoked and on his own accord.
It didn’t help that your mom loved having him around and feeding him.
Sometimes he was there for lunch after school. Other times he was there to fucking read the books in the study.
It was all ridiculous and quite honestly it was starting to get on your fraying nerves.
He didn’t even live there! You grumbled in pure frustration internally every time your mom asked you to add an extra plate for him on the dining table. This was your place!
Intentional or not he seemed to just love spending his time at your house for some reason.
But that just wouldn’t do.
The thing was you didn't know how to tell him you’d like to have the peace of mind he’d robbed you of by being all up in your living space every other day back.
He couldn’t just keep coming around.
Things were awkward enough without you having to see him often so already in between fleeting glimpses at school and lingering glances over the occasional dinner.
He might have been able to play it cool because it didn’t matter to him but this was a big deal for you.
He knew your secret and what else were you to do but be on edge and fidgety around him even though it seemed like he wouldn’t say a word of it?
But in the end, you couldn’t voice out your concerns. Not to him and certainly not to your mom.
So you were stuck here.
In between a massive rock and a very hard place.
Forced to endure even though you really felt like you’d been pushed past your limit.
Because he was there all the time.
For the most random reasons doing the most random things at the most random places at the most random time.
One time he had been casually listening to music while smoking by the pool and stroking the strings of his damned, matte black guitar.
You had been so stressed from all the work at school with the elections for new committee members amongst the juniors coming up so you thought to go for a swim to relax your self.
You honestly thought no one was around.
It was a Wednesday at noon so your mother was at lunch with some friends from high school. Plus, in the back of your mind, you’d reasoned that Jungkook usually only ever came over when she was around.
So you put on your best little bikini, grabbed a floatie and a soft drink and you went out.
Only to pause when you saw him sitting on one of the white lounging chairs, just looking at you with his earphones on, fingers having stilled mid strumming with a soft veil of smoke over his face.
You didn’t need to think twice to turn back.
There had been something about how his heavy lidded gaze took you in through the smoke as he did that thing where he cocked his head to the side that made you step back and quickly go back in.
You felt yourself get impossibly hotter when you realized you were probably giving him an eyeful of your poorly covered ass in motion.
You knew he was looking. You could feel his stare. Heavy. Intent. Dark. Swirling.
Like when he'd walked in on you.
You were hot and bothered the entire day.
In the end you couldn’t get anything productive done with a straight mind. And it was all his fault.
.
It took you about two weeks to crack.
That particular evening you were decided on telling your mom about this dilemma you were in.  
Coincidentally, your mom had gone and invited him and his dad over for dinner.
Great. Just great.
You had no choice but to deeply consider the possibility of having to spill the beans another time.
Because choosing now to tell your mom meant you would probably need to tell his dad as well since they were attached at the hip every time he came over.
But no, you wouldn’t expose him in front of his father too. You weren’t cruel. Also you didn’t need the school's menace resenting you for making his strict, uptight dad turn on him.
If he didn’t have a reason to expose you before, he certainly would have one if things spiraled out that way.
So you bit your bitter tongue.
This time around, dinner was a more relaxed affair.
The weather was nice so your mom decided on a barbeque at your back yard.
This meant you wore a flowy sun dress like your mom did and he wore a loose navy shirt with the sleeves rolled up and some black casual beach shorts.
His tattoos were on full display.
You stared.
You were only distracted by them and how the patterns dance on his skin when his muscles flex as he flips whatever he is cooking on the fire because she’s never seen them in full before, you strongly reasoned.
Even with his sleeves rolled up when he was uniform, you'd only seen what he had on his forearm briefly other than the ones on the back of his hand.
That night didn’t count. It was too dim to see well. Also, that night technically didn’t exist.
Your eyes were particularly drawn to the little something peeking out the collar of his shirt.
You were too busy trying to figure out whether the curling ink around his collar bone was the flick of flames or the end of a dragon’s tail to notice that he’d lifted the hem of his shirt to wipe at the dots of sweet at his brows.
When you do, you suddenly found yourself being given an eyeful of impossibly ripped, ridged pure muscle.
You almost dropped your glass like you did your jaw.
What the holy fuck?
At that exact moment, he lifted his gaze and caught you staring.
He was probably expecting you to look away. Any decent human would expect that if they caught someone staring at them so openly. Gawking, to be completely honest.
But you didn’t. You quickly recover, pulling yourself together, and you met his gaze squarely.
You clutched the drink in your hand tight. Your pride wouldn’t let you look away.
In your own way, it was your little pay back, weak as it was.
He held your gaze with an unreadable look on his face for a moment with that signature slight tilt to his head and an added lift to his brow, before he looked away. Wordlessly, he let his shirt fall to push his hair back with his hand and went back to grilling.
You let herself breath then and tried not to think about how his biceps flexed at the motion, how his hair slicked back made him look even more dangerous and how the little smirk you caught on his lips was making you feel things she shouldn’t be.
.
Your mom suggested you all hang out at the pool once you were done eating.
You hadn’t been there since that day with him and quite frankly, you would rather not be.
Not with him.
You knew your mom had a swimsuit underneath her dress. She made you wear one as well.
She probably told them to come prepared for a swim too.
Just thinking about it made you short circuit.
You tore your gaze away from where he was standing with his father at the poolside, staring blankly at the surface as the older man talked to him about something.
You'd just come back from clearing the table with your mom.
When you guys got close enough, the men look your way. Jungkook’s eyes immediately landed on you. Meanwhile you just stare at your mom, trying to ignore his inexplicably fixed attention on you.
‘It’s shame we can’t swim.’
Your mother said, reaching for her boyfriend’s hand. She gave Jungkook a soft, apologetic smile.
‘Maybe once the weather is not so chilly.’ She sighed regretfully. ‘If I had known you were sensitive to the cold I would have suggested something else.’
‘It’s fine.’ Your eyes flicker to him. The smile he puts on is small and polite. ‘I’m not a very good swimmer anyway I’m afraid.’
‘Nonsense.’ She dismissed in good nature. ‘I heard you were quite the athlete in middle school. It’s all your father ever talks about sometimes. Right, honey?'
His father just grumbled.
You couldn’t hide your surprise at this revelation. You didn’t know this before.
Jungkook was quiet for a moment. Then he smiles a little with a shrug.
‘That was in the past.’
Your eyes just glided to him when he said that.
The tug at his lip looked wry and sad.
You’d never seen him like this before.
Solemn. Sombre. Not serious or intimidating or indifferent.
It felt like you were viewing him in a new light.
.
You settled on drinks by the pool. It was what your mom does to lighten things up.
It seemed like the gloom from earlier wasn’t all part just a part of your imagination.
Her mother suddenly chirped in between the light conversation.
'Why don't you guys get together and have a little group study?'
You suppressed the urge to groan and roll your eyes to the back of your head. You knew what she was trying to do and you wanted no part in it.
You had the words no way sitting at the tip of you tongue.
You had the words no way sitting at the tip of you tongue.
He beat you to it.
'That sounds nice,' he dared to say, even politely addressing your mom with Mrs. alongside her surname in the end uttered just the way she liked. 'I'd like that.’
You gawked at him in disbelief. Complete and utterly speechless.
Was he insane ??
'Doesn't it? Great!' Your mom is over the moon. 'Dear, take him to the study. You guys can do your teenager things and get along over books there.'
.
Your mom was loving and caring and she only ever wanted the best for you. You knew this.
Maybe she wanted them to get to know each other. Or maybe she just wanted to have some alone time with her man.
Either way, she practically shoved you two into the house with so much enthusiasm you wondered if she really loved you because suddenly you found yourself stuck inside your house with the last person you wanted to be with and you did not feel safe or rested.
The walk up the spirally stairs to the study had got to be one of the most intense, dragging moments of your whole life.
He remained a few steps behind you all through out the journey, following your lead in his own leisured pace.
A few steps too damn far behind in your opinion.
From that angle, you had a strong inkling that he could see your underwear from beneath your dress.
You knew this because you were familiar with what it felt like when he was staring.
What you couldn’t quite explain is why you didn't do a thing about it.
.
If awkward silence could manifest into a solid form for being so intense, there would have been a third occupant in the room the moment you two walked into the study.
It would’ve been so massive, all the high shelves and wooden tables lined up would have been demolished.
Jungkook remained the quiet person he was, looking around and skimming through the books on the shelves.
You were standing a safe distance away from him, absently doing the same. The books were interesting and all but you were admittedly more taken by the ink on his skin.
Up close you could clearly see the artistic patterns and symbols etched onto him.
While staring at the tats on his knuckles you couldn't help but also notice that the titles he picked up were rather complex.
Certainly not the kind of thing even high intellects reached for. Evidently, those tomes had been collecting dust in there for ages.
You were decidedly curious. Itching to ask. Hell, dying to know.
You dived before you could overthink it and find reasons not to satiate your rabid curiosity.
'You like Reader?' he paused and looked at you from the corner of his eyes. At his questioning look she gesture to the book he was holding. 'That's the third book of theirs you picked up.'
'Yeah.' he said casually, nodding a little while flipping through it. 'Their books are nice.'
A crippling lapse of silence ensues.
You tore your gaze away from his profile to stare at the titles in front of you with a burn at your cheeks, fiddling with the polished spines.
How fucking awkward. All of this.
He probably felt the same.
What were you even doing?
You thought about telling him to ignore your mom’s attempt at trying to make the two of you get along. He obviously wasn’t looking for company or a friend. Quite frankly, neither were you. Certainly not from him. You were just trying to be not rude. Something you aren’t really surprised he probably failed to understand in all honesty.
But then he spoke, dragging you out of your reverie.
'What about you?'
Your head shot up and you found that he was standing a lot closer than before, having moved to reach for yet another complicated book to idly browse through at the top shelf.
This close, you could can smell him. Soft mint and clean soap and moonlight, not smoke. He disregarded the pages in his hands to give you a side way glance.
‘What do you like?’
There was a perpetual spark swimming in the dark depth of his eyes. It was striking. Pretty even.
When he lightly raised a brow at you, your thoughts jumbled all over before it fell back into place and you realized you were staring very openly.
But this time was different from the last time. When he had been miles away, flashing you his ripped abs.
In your reverie, you hadn’t notices that he had leaned a little to meet your eyes, and that he was real close. Like real close, looking at you intently with his head cocked to the side questioningly, like he was wondering what was going on inside your head. You could feel his breath fanning your face.
Shit.
'Uh,’ you scrambled for an answer, quickly tearing your gaze away from him to appraise the bookshelf. Your face felt like it was on fire. Considering how he hadn’t moved, he could probably see just how blazed in the face you were. Out of pure instinct, you grabbed a random book and shoved it into him to make some space in between your bodies.
Maybe with a little too much force. There was a dull thump and it made you wince.
'This.’
You hated how squeaky and breathless you sounded. Like you’d just ran a marathon. Might as well have, with how hard and fast your heart was pounding.
Jungkook took it from you, and you allowed yourself to look at him as he looked the cover over, completely fine, like you hadn’t just smacked him in the chest with a book.
The corner of his lips lifted a little as he flipped it over, cocking his head the other way before he chanced you a glance, making you blink rapidly and stand on edge.
'You sure?' he asked, sounding pretty amused. You were confused for a moment until he held  it up for you to see, flashing you a full on toothy grin like you’d never seen on him before. 'You like books about horse gentilia?'
The jump in your chest was something you quickly dismissed as being one of sinking dread rather than anything else.
All the color that had been congesting your face washed away.
If there was a time you truly wished the ground would swallow your entire existence whole, it would be right then and there.
 
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word is telling me I made up the word genitilia but I’m pretty sure it’s real because it just rolls off the tongue ( smooth ) like butter like a criminal under the cover.
the hole is one of the recurring characters so please be nice to it.
alot of things happening here if you squint and look closely.
any-whomst've, hope you all liked it. let me know if you did and I don't know come say hi? 😳 have a nice day 💜
188 notes · View notes
eleni-cherie · 2 years
Text
8 mile ✨ || myg au - chapter 1.4
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"Thanks to you I could make my dream come true."
first time yoongi laid eyes on soyeon was eight years ago, at a rap battle in a rundown club. how could they know the effect they would have on each other ever since?
»»»
masterlist: here
— genre: musicians au, romcom, humour, fluff, angst, strangers to friends to lovers s2f2l
»»»
Yoongi was watching. Or rather observing.
He observed the child with the lollipop clunching onto his mother's hand as a rather big dog passed by them.
He observed a guy on the phone almost getting run over by a car as he hadn't paid attention to the traffic while trying crossing the street.
And he observed the sunlight getting reflected on the tall glass facade of the label's building on the other side of the street.
Sometimes he would just sit there at the small park in front of his office building, enjoying the warmth of the sun like a cat sitting next to a heater. Only if the weather allowed it to, though.
Obviously that happened more often in summer than it did in winter. But that morning he did like doing it again. He would spent enough hours inside in his stuffed studio anyway.
While taking a look around, he watched some people leaving the building. He recognised one of them. It was Soyeon's manager. He didn't know much about her. Only her name and that she was Soyeon's manager.
He hadn't had much contact with her.
Wondering where she was heading to as she entered a black car that stopped in front of the building. After all, shouldn't she be close to the artist she was managing? And then he remembered. Soyeon had mentioned it. Today must have been the day she would have her first photoshoot. Her first artist photos under the label.
Quite important, as she had explained to him. After all, those photos would be used for promotional purposes.
A small chuckle escaped his lips as he took a sip from his water bottle. She had looked so excited. Her cat-eyes were beaming. Even if she had persistent she would embarrassi herself, as she wouldn't have a clue about posing correctly in front of the camera.
He found it amusing. For once she wasn't this confident know-it-all.
Yeah, Soyeon was quite something else. Sometimes loud, sometimes quiet. And surely talented as hell.
Slurping the last bit of his coffee, he decided to finally head to work. Not liking to procrastinate things. Furthermore, he wanted to leave as early as possible that day. Wanting to watch the rerun of an NBA game he would be missing while being at the studio.
Back inside, hours passed by as he quietly dragged the mouse from one side to another. Rearranging, editing, rewriting. Eventually content with the outcome, he saved the draft and sent it to the rest of the participating members. He stretched himself, feeling stiff from all the sitting. Waiting for the others' input and feedback would take time. So he decided to order something to eat in the meanwhile.
His stomach felt empty as it was around lunch time. So he unlocked his phone, seeing a new notification that he hadn't noticed due to being too immersed in work. It was from Soyeon.
Hhe opened the message. And smiled.
soyoen (11:21am): don't i look like her?
There were two images attached. One was of a cartoon character. Pucca. The other one was of Soyeon with space buns and a red top. She was grinning at the camera.
So she dyed her hair black, he thought to himself before typing a quick reply.  He really wasn't the best when it came to replying on time, he knew.
Yoongles (2:33pm): don't get it Yoongles (2:33pm): isn't it you in both?
He locked the device again. Staring at it in his hands.
It wouldn't be a good idea.
He unlocked it again with a sigh, ordering some food this time.
»»»
The white ceiling was shining faintly in the dim light of the lamp. It was far past midnight already, but Soyeon couldn't sleep. Laying awake in her bed. Although she was more than exhausted by the past two days of staying up at ungodly early hours for photo shootings.
Still, her thoughts wouldn't let her. Usually, when something was troubling her, she would try writing it down. However, this time she couldn't as she wasn't exactly sure what was bothering her.
Or maybe she knew and just didn't want to admit it to herself. Which was nothing new.
She hadn't seen Yoongi for days. And perhaps it was for the best as deep down she knew he was the one causing all those confusing thoughts.
At the beginning she hadn't seen him as anything more than an acquaintance, a colleague. Later it evolved into a work friend. Perhaps even an actual friend by now. However, when he had answered her hypothetical question - a question she only had asked for fun to fluster him and hadn't expected him to give a serious answer to - it had taken her aback.
His answer had surprised her. And in a way, even angered her later on. The more she thought about it, the more it upset her.
"It wouldn't be a good idea.." ".. Not to endanger your debut."
As if she couldn't make her own decisions. As if she wouldn't know what was best for her and her debut. And it didn't make any sense anyway. Why would it even endanger her debut? She wasn't an idol. Neither was he. No one would care if they dated or not. Not even the company would mind. She had even asked her manager Sunmin. Only out of curiosity of course.
If she wasn't his type or he simply didn't see her as more than a friend, why not simply say so? Why making it sound like being with her would be a dangerous? Like breaking the law or something.
She let out a small frustrated scream while kicking her feet in the air. It offended her. It really did.
Her gaze fell onto her phone resting on the nightstand then. Reminding her of his weird message the other day.
She was used to him teasing her. So when she had sent him the selfie, comparing herself to Pucca, she expected nothing but that. And he did tease her at the beginning. She shook her head. It wasn't even a big deal, no. He probably just wanted to be nice. He meant it in a friendly way that she looked cute. Of course. Friends do compliment each other like that. Right? And they were friends. Right?
With an annoyed groan she picked the device up and unlocked it. Going straight to the conversation. It was dumb, but she had lost count about how often she had already skimmed over his words. Something inside her warming up everytime she did so.
soyeon (11:21am): don't i look like her? -2 files attached-
Yoongles (2:33pm): I don't get it Yoongles (2:33pm): isn't it you in both? soyeon (2:40pm): haha seeee I knew Yoongles (2:44pm): looks cute
Reading it again, she realised he had never said that she looked cute. He had said 'looks'. "It looks cute". General speaking. The way she looked like Pucca was cute. Not her.
She heaved a sigh in relief. See, dummy. Nothing to worry about.
Disappointment filling her then.
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