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wolfjackle-creates · 1 year

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Ghost!Robin Part 9

First, Previous

I'm posting early this Wednesday! I've down time at work as I wait for the centrifuge to stop spinning my antibodies (48 minutes left of 2 hours). And I have plans after work. So it's either now or at 11 pm my time.

Story Summary: Danny was invited to dinner at Wayne Manor to meet Jazz's boyfriend and his family for the first time. He worked hard to make sure no ghost business would interrupt the evening. But when he arrived, all he could focus on was the ghost of the dead Robin that seemed to haunt Jason.

Word Count: 1.2k

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Jason’s voice was low and threatening. “It’s an ice duck made of Lazarus water.”

More alarming than his voice was the way his eyes glowed ecto-green and the fear-anger that filled the room.

Thank the ancients for Jazz, because he had no idea how to respond to that. She was the one who placed a hand on Jason’s arm and asked, “What’s Lazarus water?”

Meanwhile, Danny focused on sending out calm, no danger, safe feelings to counteract Jason’s projections.

It seemed to work slightly as Jason lowered his gun, but he didn’t put it away. “Just green, bubbling liquid that collects in pits and will kill the healthy but return the mortally wounded to life with a side dose of uncontrollable rage.” His eyes were glued to the duck in Danny’s hands.

That sounded like the opposite of good, Pariah curse it. “Jazz, why do your in-laws keep giving me more work to do?” Danny groaned as he mentally moved a few things around his to-do list.

He handed the duck to Robin who gave a thanks trill as he took it.

Danny continued, “And, Jason, can you tell me where these pits are so I can get rid of them? Sounds like there’s some leaks between the Infinite Realms and the moral realms that were never dealt with because Pariah was the worst.”

“Who is this ‘Pariah’ person?” asked Damian. “You have mentioned them before.”

Danny was going to reply when Alfred cleared his throat and the table went silent to look at him. “I understand there’s a lot of information everyone wants to know from our guests, however I believe it has been recognized that they wish us no harm. So perhaps we might allow them to at least taste the pie Master Jason and I worked hard on? We also have ice cream, Mr. Danny.”

Jazz took the excuse to tug on Jason’s arm. He hesitated a moment, still looking uncertainly at his ghost playing with the duck, but obediently sat down without saying anything more.

“I haven’t had ice cream in ages,” admitted Danny. “Haven’t even been on Earth for months my-time. Only been a few weeks Earth-time, though.” Taking his fork in hand, he tried a bite of the pie. It had at least four different types of fruit from what he could see—cherries, raspberries, strawberries, and peaches. It was amazing. Over the time they’d been talking, it had cooled slightly, but was still warm. “Holy shit, you two made this? It’s so good!” Without waiting for a response he took another bite. “Ancients, I miss Earth food when I’m gone so long. Jazz, can we get burgers tomorrow?”

“Of course, Danny. Has it really been that long for you? When was the last time you saw Sam and Tucker?”

Danny shrugged as he swallowed. “I’ve been out of contact with anyone for a month my-time. Grandpa had me on another planet doing time-stream stuff. But Sam and Tuck were with me in the Realms before that. We had about a week together and they saw me off.”

“I have so many questions based off that statement,” said Dick.

“I’m compiling a list, Dick,” said Tim from the other side of the table.

Alfred cleared his throat again and about half the table muttered a “sorry.”

“Now, Mr. Danny, for ice cream, I’ve made French vanilla and chocolate. Would you like to try one or both?”

“You made the ice cream? I don’t think I’ve ever had homemade ice cream before. Can I take some of both?”

“Of course. Master Jason, could you pass the ice cream to Mr. Danny?”

The wave of annoyance that radiated out of Jason told Danny exactly what he thought of that suggestion. Robin clucked his tongue in reproach. But out loud, Jason just said, “Of course.” He grabbed a covered bucket which must hold the ice cream and passed it to Jazz who gave it to Danny.

“Thanks, dead boyfriend number two!” With a grin, Danny sent back friends, gratitude, happiness to Jason. Just to be contrary.

Jason’s projections morphed into confusion, frustration.

Danny and Robin looked at each other and burst out laughing.

“Mind explaining what’s so funny to the class?” asked Jazz with a hint of annoyance in her voice.

Rather than answer her directly, Danny spoke to Jason. “Hey, Jay, can I call you Jay? Well, we’re gonna be brothers-in-law so I’m gonna. You really need to work on controlling what emotions you’re projecting. Otherwise I might get hurt by how much you don’t trust me.” He pouted and played up the offense, but only held it for a second before opening the ice cream and giving himself a large scoop of each flavor. “Oh, Robin, you can eat the duck, by the way. Like a popsicle. Have dessert with us.”

“What do you mean projecting? And brothers-in-law?” demanded Jason.

Danny ignored him in favor of Robin who grinned widely and licked the head of the duck. Outwardly, he projected tasty, gratitude. To really push the point home, he popped the head of the duck in his mouth and used his now-free hands to sign something.

Dick translated, “He says it’s good.”

“Of course it is. He’s a baby ghost, needs his ecto!” Danny took a bite of ice cream.

Jazz cleared her throat and said in a conversational tone, “Danny, remember the conversation we had about spoilers?”

“Hmmm?” asked Danny around a spoonful of pie. It was so good.

“Spoilers, Danny. You’ve let some slip.”

“I have?” Danny thought back over the things he’d said recently and froze. “You and Jason aren’t engaged yet.”

Jazz closed her eyes and looked up. “No, Danny. We’re not.”

Danny flushed and rubbed the back of his head. “Sorry! Honest mistake. At least I haven’t told you how—”

Jazz slammed a hand over his mouth. “Don’t you dare, Daniel James! No spoilers!”

Danny grinned into her hand and licked her palm.

“Danny! Gross!” she cried as she pulled her hand away. “I know you have hand sanitizer in that bottomless pit of yours. Pass it over.”

As he was reaching into his bag, he noticed Robin had left his spot in front of Danny and moved until he was floating in front of Bruce where he seemed to be signing something. Cass stood up and took her plate, moving to sit next to Steph and Robin took her seat. The ghost smiled up at Bruce who looked back at him with a frown.

Danny sent out a pulse of concern, you okay?

Robin nodded. Happy, comfortable.

Ghosts couldn’t lie when they communicated with core-feelings, so Danny nodded and went back to searching for the hand sanitizer which he handed to Jazz.

Jason was back to staring at him, though. “Hey, Alfie? Can I ask Danny a question?”

Alfred let out a put-upon sigh. “You, and you alone”—he gave a look to everyone at the table—“may ask Mr. Danny a single question. All other questions must wait until Mr. Danny has finished his dessert and informs you he is willing to answer more of them.”

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I just want to tell all of you how much I loved every comment demanding Danny get to eat his pie. You all really made my week.

Over the weekend, I shared a bit more of the fic where Danny and Tim were online childhood friends. Check it out if that's something you're interested in!

And I guess I didn't include line I shared as part of the tag game in this update. I'm trying to give myself more of a buffer in case I can't get as much writing done in the upcoming weeks, so the segments I share might by somewhat shorter.

Tag List Part 1

@addie-lover-of-stories, @justwannabecat, @gin2212, @amercurio, @regonold, @overtherose, @readerzj, @sjrose1216, @echoednonny, @deeterzz, @blu-lilac, @number-one-jew, @rowanaway-fromthisbs, @vythika96, @tired-yet-awaken, @themirrorghost, @emeraldcorpral, @all-mights-asscheeks, @darkhinauniverse, @blep-23, @phandomhyperfixationblog, @larkcoe1, @thegatorsgoose, @job-ross-the-second, @britcision, @lenacraft, @bubblemixer, @androgynouslordofescapism, @purefrickingspite, @leftmiraclechaos, @lizisipancardo, @starlight-sparks, @miraculousandmore, @gildedphoenix, @sometimesthingsfallapart, @letmesayfuxk, @phoenixcatch7, @skulld3mort-1fan, @abaowo, @dhampir-princess, @idkmrpianoman, @sarina-elais, @ballzfrog-blog, @undead-essence, @spookytragedyshark, @flyingpansaurus, @akintoabitch, @marivictal, @8-29pm, @justreadingthefanfics, @happybear135, @kisatamao, @spoopyspoony, @adorablechaos, @sara0055, @screamingtofillthevoid

#dpxdc #danny fenton #jason todd #jazz fenton #anger managment #ghost!robin #my writing #he got his pie!#and alfred is glaring at every single person who looks like they are going to ask a question #its very effective #bruce doesnt know how to face the ghost of his worst mistake #but ghost!robin gets it #better than living jason #after all when bruce brought in kid!jason #it was just the two of them

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pipartuuli · 2 months

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Since I was mentioning how much I love the song, I wanted to do a mini-dissection of "Could This Be The End" from Brendon Small's Galaktikon II! I know there are some different interpretations of the lyrics and perspectives of who's singing what, so I'm throwing mine into the arena!

Key:

Salacia/The Tribunal in green

Dethklok in red

The Storm/The Army of the Doomstar in Orange

Narrator/Muse/Third Person in blue

Thoughts in italics

(NOTE: This dissection inherently relies on Galaktikon II being a continuation of Metalocalypse. I know it's "not" [wink wink] because of all the AS shit that happened in the 2010s but like... let's be real. This is Metalocalypse.)

We got The Storm* coming in now

And they’re almost in range

And we’re cloaked in white silence

In the valley of the Falcon’s rage**

[This one is from the perspective of the Tribunal/Salacia, lying in wait in the arctic snow with Falconback. It’s likely they already have Dethklok captured and strapped into Falconback by this point.

* “The Storm” here refers to The Army of the Doomstar (the fans) as indicated in G2’s version of the call-to-action “Song of Salvation” equivalent, “Become the Storm”, and as sung from the perspective of The Whale Prophet/Goddess in “The Ocean Galaktik” in which she says they are the elements (rain, stardust, etc.)

** I believe the lyrics on Genius have this listed as “range”, but I don’t think Brendon rhymed “range” with “range”. I just don’t. Fight me if you want, but Genius is just wrong.]

(But we wait)

Gotta wait for the first wave

(Breach the gate)

And you can see the Storm is closer now

(Thunder blast)

It’s a lightning infestation

(Light the match)

And we’ll kick ‘em where they stand

[This one is a back and forth between Salacia’s minions (in parentheses) and Salacia giving them orders – he’s using his very classic “we must wait” line here! At the end of this section, with the “light the match” line, that’s probably where Falconback is started up.]

Could this be the end?

Time is terminated

Could this be the end?

[This one is Dethklok, likely beginning to feel the fear as Falconback is whirring to life with them in it. They’re out of time.]

(Punch the code)

Now we get the Falcon flying now

(Lock and load)

The Star is getting nearer

(Spin the wheel)

It’s a coffin for them all

(Make them kneel)

Submit or begone!

[Another back and forth between Salacia and his minions. The Doomstar is reaching its zenith and Falconback is really starting to centrifuge!]

Whoa-oh-oh-whoa

(Whoa Whoa-oa-oa)

[Dethklok, now REALLY getting scared, almost mournful. Specifically, I think this is Skwisgaar and Toki. Their vocals layered is similar to how their guitar tracks are layered.]

I can’t see you

I can’t break through

Surprise – me too

It’s down to you

[Still Dethklok – they’re trying to break free of Falconback, but no luck. I believe each of these lines is being sung by different band members. I have SUPER loose reasoning, and this is more what’s in my heart than being from any real evidence in the song, but here we go:

- I can’t see you (Pickles – by process of elimination; see the rest)

- I can’t break through (Skwisgaar – I swear I can hear a very subtle “s” at the end of that can’t(s)…)

- Surprise – me too (Toki – just… seems like a Toki thing to say, and the slight vibrato in the ‘whoa!’ kind of reminds me of how Brendon did his vocals in DSR.)

- It’s down to you (I’m very torn between this being Murderface or Nathan. I think it makes the most sense from the perspective of the story for this to be Murderface pleading with Nathan that everything rests on him – because everything in Metalocalypse ALWAYS rests on Nathan, and that’s what we see in AOTD with Nathan throwing himself into the beam to disrupt Falconback. HOWEVER, the next line in the song REALLY songs like it has a lisp in it, which would perhaps make this Nathan instead pleading with Murderface? Which I like – the band saves Murderface, and Murderface saves the band! Perhaps this is his “throwing a snowball at Salacia” moment?? Either interpretation is valid; I waffle back and forth all the time.]

Yea-ea-eah, we are the dust* from stars now

Yea-ea-eah, we know we own the light

Yea-ea-eah, we break** the atmosphere now

Yea-ea-eah, the end is in our sights!

[*Okay, THIS is where I swear I can hear a lisp – it sounds like “duscht”, which would be a callback to “My Name Is Murder” in which he says “you’ll burn to duscht”. This is why I think the previous section has Nathan telling Murderface to save them.

**I think Genius says this word is “bring”, but “break” makes more sense to me. Either or.

Dethklok again here! The “we know we own the light” implies that they’ve managed to wrest back the Dethlights for themselves – or at least they’re fighting back to do so! I’m not sure if all of them are freed at this point, but there’s hope in this verse. Falconback is starting to crumble, or it’s not siphoning off the Doomstar’s Dethlights like Salacia had hoped it would. Dethklok is fighting back.]

Whoa-oh-oh-whoa

(Whoa Whoa-oa-oa)

[Dethklok again. Toki and Skwisgaar at first, but more voices join in on this one – it’s all of them.]

The centrifuge is spinning

And the Star draws its path

The five choose to sacrifice

This darkened magnetized wrath

And the demon is descending

Closer to its host

The metal core keeps spinning

While the Storm holds the coast

[I think this is the first section we get from the Army of the Doomstar’s perspective! They’re watching Dethklok in Falconback from their spot along the shoreline where they’ve arrived to battle Salacia’s army. They’re trying to reach Dethklok.]

Whoa-oah, leave their souls!

We were always meant to go

Whoa-oah, let it be

One last strike with our sword!

See* them call the light

We must die but we lived our lives

[*Genius has this listed as “save”, but I think it’s “see” – the Army is watching Dethklok struggling to take the Dethlights back from Salacia. Unlike in AoTD, they don’t break out of Falconback in G2 – they simply siphon away the Dethlights for their own use by using the Army as a conduit – an amplifier.

Another one from the perspective of the Army, and I think specifically the first four lines are Offdensen! He knows the fans are worried about Dethklok in peril, but he’s reassuring everyone that everyone present is carrying out the roles that they are destined to carry out. Dethklok are sacrificing themselves for the planet, and now it’s the Army’s turn to do the same. The final two lines with the layered vocals are from the perspective of the entire Army. They’re ready to die for Dethklok – and for Earth. This is the “open hand” scene – they’re letting the Dethlights pass through them. There are so many more of them than there are of Salacia’s army that they’re quickly overpowering Falconback.]

Could this be the end? (Yeah)

Could this be the end? (Whoa-oa)

Could this be the end?

[Dethklok again – it has to be terrifying to be filled with the Dethlights. AoTD showed us it doesn’t exactly FEEL great, so maybe they really do feel like they’re ripping apart and burning alive as the lights fill them and Falconback begins to buckle under their power.]

Falcon screams

Mechanics melting white

The demon Star moves closer

Shooting flaming bloody light

[I think this is from the perspective of a general “narrator”, or “muse” – this is a third party description of what’s happening. Falconback can’t handle the Dethlights as Dethklok powers up – it’s starting to melt. The Doomstar is at its zenith now. The Army of the Doomstar is filled with light, directing it all to Dethklok.]

The Lights of Deth

Have built to their strength

The pentagram of power

Keeps the demon away

[Salacia can’t take hold of the Dethlights for himself because of the POWER OF FRIENDSHIP!]

The Star and the planet

And the universe quake

The Storm builds in fury

Crushing death in its wake

[Dethklok and the Army are winning. Salacia’s army has fallen.]

We left ourselves behind

And we looked within

We know that we must die

But for now – we live!

[Back to Dethklok – this is their victory cry! As Falconback completely crumbles and Salacia is vaporized by the Dethlights, Dethklok are flung free. They reached with their open hand to their friends, family, and fans, and because of it, they were victorious. They trusted and loved, and because of it, they lived.

And this is where my hot takes come in.

I know a lot of people take this part of the song to mean that Dethklok have shed their mortal flesh and become full-fledged gods, but I don’t think that aligns with the message of Metalocalypse. Metalocalypse is about the strength and power normal, mortal humans can have when they band together and show each other love and compassion (hand versus fist, do it all for my brother, etc.) I think this last line here is very literal – Dethklok was ready to die, and because they're just regular ol' humans, one day they will. Hell, they've come closer to death than a LOT of people MANY times. But today isn't that day. For now, they live.]

Alright! (x4)

WE LIVE!

[This is everyone left alive – Dethklok and the Army, all of them alike – celebrating. They’ve taken back their planet! I love how calm and simple the music becomes during the “alright”s after the mounting pressure and cacophony of the previous verses. You can really get a sense of Dethklok standing there in the snow, terrified and confused as all hell about what’s just happened, looking up to see the Army of the Doomstar rushing towards them full of wild excitement, Nathan pumping his fist into the air as in the final moment of AoTD to give that one last “WE LIVE!” It’s got such a celebratory feel!]

Could this be the end? (x4)

[Dethklok again. Unlike the other times this is sung in the song, here it’s being asked to mean “is the evil really gone? Is it all over?” They’re in disbelief, after everything they’ve been through, that five pampered idiot rockstars like them – along with the Army – really managed to pull off saving the entire world from the apocalypse.]

...

Anyway, uh, I banged this out after several consecutive nights of not enough sleep and after downing WAY too much caffeine, so apologies for any incoherencies or mistakes. I just... I just love this song so much. :3

#metalocalypse #mtl #dethklok #galaktikon ii #brendon small #i entered a fugue state to write this #my heart rate still races every time I hear this come on while I'm driving or working out #spoilers #army of the doomstar #aotd

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percysoddity · 1 year

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Robin is staring at a wall. Specifically her bedroom wall, not just a random one, so it’s not that weird, not as strange as it could be. At least that’s what she’s decided to tell herself. It’s a justification, it doesn’t have to be a good one.

Truth be told, her reason is good enough anyway, she doesn’t need any of the bull-shitty excuses she’s coming up with by force of habit; her world has been turned upside down. Frighteningly literally, apparently.

Just over a month or so, the shiny new mall in Hawkins ‘burnt down’, see: Robin walked into her own kidnapping by evil Russians with Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington and narrowly escaped with her life, only to immediately witness terrifying flesh monsters raze the new Jewel of Hawkins; the ‘Battle of Starcourt’, as the kids have taken to calling it, when they actually bring it up. Which in Robin’s opinion, happens a little too often and too casually based on the way it derails her entire day at the reminder.

It’s also been just under a month or so since she’s got more than an hour of sleep at a time (on account of the horrifying nightmares and such), and she can feel how much it’s showing. Who knew sleep deprivation makes your hair feel greasy and your skin feel clammy, no matter how long you shower, and how much soap you burn through? Though that may be a side-effect of the torture.

Maybe the drugs are still running rampant through her system. Surely not. Did they even wash that needle between her and Steve’s doses? Were there different needles? She can’t remember. Fuck, it’s all fuzzy. Her vision now is fuzzy.

Her wallpaper is peeling a bit.

Robin can tell she’s spiralling. Her head hurts. If she were talking to someone, the word-vomit would’ve started about half an hour ago, no end in sight. Hmm. Maybe that would help. Actually getting the thoughts out of her head into the air. But, of course, she can’t just talk to her parents down the hall, the copious amounts of government-issued paperwork ensured that, no matter whether they’d even believe her or not. Hell, if she weren’t so painfully aware that it’d prove her insanity, Robin would be talking to her shelf of stuffed animals.

The wallpaper isn’t stuck on properly, there are little bubbles in the wall.

It’s just that the world almost ended a month ago . And apparently it’s the third time that’s happened?! And that’s just in Hawkins. How many times has the world almost ended in New York? Movies liked to start the end there. San Francisco? Italy? Russia ? Robin can feel the centrifugal force of her brain spinning like a goddamn record. Her skull is due to pop at any second.

She imagines popping her wall-bubbles with a pin. Maybe she can find a poster to stick up over them. Too bad that music store burnt down with literally everything else in the mall. Like the Russian Base .

Robin takes a shaky breath in what feels like hours. It isn’t the first time she’s accidentally held her breath—waiting for Steve to move as he was strapped to her back, trying to stay as still as possible so she could tell if he was breathing or not, then waiting for his disgust to show after she told him , and way before it all, hearing about Barb’s—

Anyway. Maybe she actually got out of this hellhole.

God, Steve. Steve . Steve Harrington is her work-friend. Though now, they can probably say they’re something more. Torture-mate? Drug(ged)-buddy? Comrade? Fighting-interdimensional-monsters-and-burning-down-our-previous-place-of-work friends? Maybe surprisingly-successful-and-heartwarming-coming-out-on-icky-and-disgusting-bathroom-floors-after-puking-truth-serum-out-of-our-collective-systems-friends.

Robin’s lip twitches. The trials and tribulations of Steve-and-Robin is starting to sound dangerously close to a recipe for ‘best-friends’. She starts to feel almost pleasantly warm at the thought, but she internally bursts into laughter when the term ‘soulmates’ pops into her head.

Her eyes are on the verge of finally coming into focus when—

Tap, tap .

Holy shit. They’ve found her.

Robin’s entire body seizes up and she can’t make herself turn around to face her window and the noise coming from the other side. The Russians. Steve had told them Dustin’s full name and description. It isn’t too much of a stretch to think they found him then found Steve , then found their other prisoner who ruined their base and got them all fucked up by the American government. They’re here, and they want her to pay .

The blood rushing in her ears and shuddering frame distracted her long enough that she missed the first few muffled words, coming from the same direction. They sounded frantic.

“—shit, Robin! It’s me!”

That motherfucking dingus.

Whipping her head around, Robin glares through the glass, trying to disguise the fact that her vision’s still a little double.

“Steve?! What the hell are you doing here? My parents are literally in the next room !” She hisses, wrenching open her window. God, he looks like shit. Literally.

(It’s almost funny).

The swelling in his eye and mouth has gone down, but the bruising all over his face has taken on a gross yellowy-brown, green shadows here and there. If it weren’t his face , Robin might consider it almost ‘artistic’. His pyjama pants look like he’s worn them for a very long walk in the woods, or perhaps a trek through her back garden, and he’s pushed the sleeves of his garish yellow sweater up past his elbows, like he needed the extra movement to manoeuvre through the rose bushes. Thank God she doesn’t live in a double-story house like Steve, he’s in no condition to be performing any of his usual Romeo-wannabe stunts.

Steve doesn’t answer her, just heads straight to her bed, kicking off his sneakers and shaking his arms so his sleeves fall down as he goes. It’s as if he’s moving on muscle memory. Biology and psychology or whatever hasn’t been one of the subjects of Robin's obsession before, but she’s pretty sure that muscular habits take a little longer than maybe three irregular occasions before the action’s set in stone. Even so, she finds herself climbing in after him without making the decision to. Before he even fully stretches out his arms to beckon her in. Maybe habits can be formed in no time at all. Maybe they’ve already fallen into a rhythm.

By nature of Robin’s itty-bitty (twin sized!) mattress, they’re forced to curl into each other, opting to wring their hands together, tangling their fingers and legs in tandem. In their past sleepovers, they’ve had a little more difficulty finding comfortable positions, what with Steve’s bludgeoned brain and body, but with his snail-pace healing going on, they’ve managed to work around it much easier lately. Robin wedges herself in, head resting over his left arm on the bed and her left hand clasped in his right. If you ignore Robin’s fist in Steve’s obnoxious yellow sweater and her leg hooked around his knee (and the fact they’re in bed ), it’s like they haven’t let go after a bro-y handshake. It fits. They fit. Robin watches Steve’s eyes flutter closed (he can actually open his left one now!).

Robin giggles, unbidden. Steve Harrington is in her bed, and she isn’t even throwing up about it! Steve seems to understand her sentiment and rolls his eyes behind his closed eyelids.

And suddenly they’re still. Settled. Well, they should be, but Robin’s still Robin, and she can’t stand the quiet for more than a second unless she’s already unconscious (which she hasn’t been doing very often lately). Weirdly enough, even with his obvious exhaustion, Steve doesn’t seem bothered by her inevitable interruption. He seems to expect it:

“Steve?”

“Mmm?”

She squeezes his hand softly. He squeezes back.

“You didn’t answer my question. Did you… have a nightmare, or something?”

read on ao3

#ao3 #stranger things #robin buckley #steve harrington #platonic stobin #i cannot stress enough that it's PLATONIC #there will also be steddie #eventually #steddie #fanfic #stranger things fic #fic

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tiktokitssinoclock · 2 years

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The Valorant Gals- Falling Asleep (p.I) Scenarios

Hey everyone! I've been blown away by the support and all the requests I'm getting- thank you so much for taking so kindly to my work! Rest assured if I haven't posted your request yet, it is definitely getting worked on in my drafts. For now, I hope you'll enjoy my first post about the lady agents! I've been sitting on this one for a few days now, very happy I'm finally satisfied with it!

Minors and ageless blogs, DNI // You will be blocked

Viper

Viper was ordinarily opposed to anyone being in her lab. Stepping so much as a toe over the threshold that separated the hallway from her workspace was the ultimate sin in her eyes, something Phoenix had to learn the hard way. Unfortunately today, she hardly had a choice in the matter.

Thanks to a computing error, all of the orbs she pre-loaded with poison were painfully defective. After running a last-minute quality check under a fume hood, she realized she misread the amount of acidic component she was supposed to use- think adding 0.1mL instead of 1.0mL. Given the amount of work that now needed to be done and the fact that she was due to leave for a mission early the next morning, she had little choice in the matter. She needed an extra pair of hands, and the person she'd least grudgingly allow helping was you.

"How much longer does that have?" She called out from her bench, reassembling the second to last orb.

"Two more hours," you replied through a stifled yawn, your head resting heavily on the table as you blearily watched the centrifuge.

She nodded to herself.

"Almost there, then."

"Woohoo," you said, lazily spinning a finger in the air.

She turned around in her chair to look at you, your back to her as you began to drift off. Despite it being almost two in the morning, she was still surprised by the... bottomless respect you held for her space. You put on the lab coat she gave you without question, your hair already pulled back and your safety goggles on without her asking. You were so careful with her equipment, too, only touching things when given permission and confidently letting her know when you didn't feel comfortable completing a task. She felt like she didn't have to keep an eagle eye on you the entire time you were there, which was honestly a breath of fresh air.

"Y/N..." she paused, trying to find the right words.

"You... you weren't insufferable and actually helped make this entire process quicker. I appreciate it."

When you didn't immediately respond, she got up from her chair and walked over to you. You were already asleep, your breath fogging the surface of the metal table with every exhale. She hesitated before carefully pulling the glasses off your face, folding them neatly at your side. The only reason was because you would break them if you started moving, she reasoned with herself, fighting the urge to tuck an escaped strand of hair behind your ear.

She let you crash in her lab as she finished the last orb by herself, tossing the emergency fire blanket over you when she thought you looked cold.

Jett

You slowly intertwined your fingers in Jett's as the two of you observed the one-on-one soccer match between Phoenix and Raze, the pair chaotically trying to claim control of the ball as they raced across the field. Ignoring the blush threatening to splash across her cheeks at the platonic act, she looked down from her spot on the blanket to face you.

"Aw, feeling clingy?" She teased.

"No," you murmured from where you lay, your forearm resting limply over your eyes to block out the sun.

"I'm feeling tired."

"Why? 'Cause Raze kicked your ass?"

"Perhaps. I wouldn't say she kicked my ass though."

"The grass stains on your shirt tell me otherwise."

You grinned slightly at her quip and didn't respond, earning a chuckle from the white-haired agent. A sudden yell reclaimed Jett's attention, her head turning back towards the field. She saw Raze successfully holding Phoenix in a headlock, teasingly knuckling his head as he protested loudly.

"What? Come on, there's no way that counts!"

"Why not, fire boy? You used a flash on me not even five minutes go!"

"That's... that's different," he spluttered, desperately trying to free himself.

"Using a blast pack is just as legal of a move. Right Jett?"

She called out the last part a bit louder, making sure Jett could hear. Jett smirked to herself.

"Of course! If you're gonna play soccer with house rules, you gotta honor them for everyone, Jamie!"

"No I don't! Especially not for someone who doesn’t even call football football."

"Hey she's the one calling it soccer, not me!"

He cleared his throat before putting on his best American accent and repeating Raze's words, his voice higher pitched in an attempt to match her.

"She's the one calling it soccer, not me! Make sure your backup knows what they're talking about next time."

"You little shit-"

Jett laughed, giving your hand a squeeze to make sure you heard. When you didn't squeeze back, she did a double-take. With your arm still slung over your head, you had fallen fast asleep. She figured it was going to happen sooner or later- you and Raze went at it pretty hard when it was still your turn to challenge her throne- so she wasn't sure why she still felt like she was caught off guard.

Maybe it was the warmth of your hand in hers. Or the unexpected softness of your skin against hers. Or the way your lips were gently parted open, looking so inviting and practically begging her to lean over and just-

She immediately shook her head, tearing her gaze away and instead locking her focus on the ensuing wrestling match between Raze and Phoenix.

"Friends don't think things like that," she murmured to herself. Even still, her thumb continued to trace circles across your scarred knuckles.

Sage

Sage wasn't ever caught off guard when she found her regulars seated in the headquarter's sick bay. There was Raze who always came in with jammed or broken fingers, Killjoy who more often than not would operate her soldering tool in dangerously low lighting, Astra who almost always took a good hit or two when working with her stars in the field- the list went on.

What she wasn't expecting, however, was to get Brimstone's call that you urgently needed her attention and would be waiting for her. She rushed into the room as soon as the automatic doors slid open, the familiar scents of sterilized floors and blood flooding her nostrils as her feet carried her to the only drawn privacy curtain. When she pushed it back to reveal its inhabitants, she felt her brain hit pause and momentarily found herself speechless.

With Brimstone supporting practically all of your body weight, you were slumped precariously by the edge of the bed. You were unconscious in his hold, his hand pressed tightly against the bullet wound on your side. Sage could tell by the stagnant dark stain on along your ribs and your pale complexion that you had been this way for quite a while.

"-managed to slow the bleeding, but I'm no healer and don't know my way around proper stitches," Brimstone said, snapping Sage back to reality.

She gestured for him to move his hand and examined the damage for herself, quickly popping her head over your shoulder to check for an exit wound. After a bit of gentle prodding that elicited a few pained noises from you, Sage sighed in relief.

"Good. The bullet made its way out, so let's not waste any more time."

She summoned an orb and flicked her wrist in your direction, closely monitoring your wound afterwards. She let out a sigh of relief as it pulsed a soft blue and slowly closed up, helping Brimstone arrange you so you were laying as properly on the bed. He headed out not long after to let the others know you would be okay, leaving Sage to tend to you alone.

Although you were no longer in danger, the color starting to come back to your cheeks, she still found herself glued to a chair beside you. She hummed lullabies softly under her breath, gently combing out the knots in your hair with her fingers.

Neon Translations: Beshie- Friend

Neon has never been much of a baker. Muffins would come out raw in the center, cake batter would be unbelievably runny no matter how much flour she added, and brownies amounted to nothing more than unedible hunks of cocoa powder.

Despite all this, though, you refused to give up and tried to bake something with her at least once a week. The rest of the agents had quickly caught onto your resilience and knew to steer clear of the kitchen on Thursday nights, something Neon was secretly relieved about. This time, however, she'd almost wished she had an audience.

The cookie batter you'd coached her through making resulted in actual dough; Neon may have added a bit too much butter and it was ultimately stickier than expected, but it was still perfectly acceptable. After the dough was scooped and left in the fridge to firm up, you let her know you'd be resting your eyes for just a few moments. Thirty minutes later when Neon had popped the first try in the oven, though, she decided to join you at the table where you were still taking your 'short' nap.

Your arms were crossed beneath you, your chin neatly perched on top of your wrists as you snoozed quietly. Neon found herself mirroring your movements, staring you down with her warm brown eyes and a fond smile. When you weren't running around like a chicken with its head cut off, she could better appreciate how... pretty you were. She connected the odd freckle here and there with her gaze, jumping from your cheek to your forehead to your cheek again until they were all accounted for. She adored the way you scrunched up your nose, too, watching your eyelids squeeze tightly together before they suddenly opened.

Knowing there was no way to talk herself out of her current position, Neon played into it and pressed her face closer to yours in a teasing manner.

"Good morning, beshie."

None the wiser about what she was doing, you decided to just go along with her. You moved even closer until your noses were just touching. She could feel your breath on her lips as you shot her a bleary smile.

"Good morning. I think I was out longer than intended... sorry."

If you noticed the reddening of her cheeks or the sudden spark of blue in her irises, you didn't mention it as you pulled away to sit up and stretch out your arms with a yawn. You made your way over to the oven, clearly suspicious over the lack of smoke, and the sleepiness dropped from you like a wet blanket. You excitedly cheered about how the cookies were rising and doing just fine, all the while Neon found herself rooted to the table.

One move and I could've closed the gap, she thought as you rushed over to give her a hug from behind.

Fade

Fade still couldn't wrap her head around it. The rest of the agents were frightened of her, her first meeting with them obviously having done some damage. She seemed to suck the atmosphere out of every busy room she walked into it, the tension palpable as all eyes were glued to her until she either left or they fumbled together an excuse to take off. Her assigned teammates for the day would always grudgingly work with her throughout their training exercises, leaving her alone whenever the opportunity presented itself. Worst of all perhaps was their nights off. She often found herself lingering in the hallway leading to the common room, watching the other agents play video games or watch movies from afar. Although she was rather antisocial, it still put a weird weight on her shoulders knowing she couldn’t even sit among them without ruining it for everyone else.

You, however, were the odd exception. You made a point to try to eat breakfast with her every morning, often waiting in the kitchen for her with a plate of scrambled eggs and a smile. When you two were on the same team for the day, you were practically fused at the hip. You shared the same booth in the shooting range, went together to cover the same area for spike exercises, and did yoga in the common area to wind down.

And now here you were. Willingly pressed beside her from thigh to shoulder in your most sacred space in the entire protocol- the book nook you'd set up in your room. Fade let her long-since abandoned novel flop to her stomach with a sigh, her head further sinking into one of the many pillows behind her.

" Listen, I appreciate all you've done to make me feel welcome," she started, her gaze focusing on the softly pulsing lights LED lights you'd strung around the area.

"I truly do. But if this is being done with the sole intention of making me feel... I don't know, more liked? No matter who put you up to it, you don't have to keep it up."

Her jaw clenched slightly.

"I make a lot of the other agents uncomfortable. It doesn't make me upset or angry to admit that- it's simple fact. I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable, too."

After several moments of continued silence, she could feel her stomach tying itself into knots. She finally worked up the courage to look at you, expecting your friendly expression to have dropped and been replaced by the terror you'd always secretly felt. Instead, though, she found you to be fast asleep. Your head was resting on her shoulder, your cheek smushed against her jacket as you breathed softly beside her.

There weren't worry lines creasing your brow. You weren't cowering away from her as far as possible. You were just there, as peaceful as could be while drool starting to trail down the corner of your mouth. Fade looked at you a little while longer before finally coming back to her senses, plucking up her book once more and trying to read in earnest. She found it challenging now not because her conscience was heavy, but because the corners of her eyes were stinging and it was getting harder to see.

#valorant imagines #valorant viper #viper x reader #valorant jett #jett x reader #valorant sage #sage x reader #valorant neon #neon x reader #valorant fade #fade x reader

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praeluxius · 2 years

Text

Kitten's Gift - Aespa Winter

18+ Aespa Winter x Male Reader Smut

Masterlist

Word Count: 5,500

In the centre of the breakfast bar by the door to your penthouse apartment, the purple silk ribbon is tied in a neat bow atop a flat square box—a dark object on a white granite canvas.

A snowstorm is invading the heated penthouse. The door is where she enters, sweeping through the opening like a cold breeze of the season she’s named after—an ethereal figure dressed in white. Like freshly fallen snow, her skin glistens. Her legs and a slither of midriff are shown to you after she slips the long coat off her shoulders. She carelessly throws it onto a coat hook on the wall opposite you while sliding her shoes off her feet.

On the other side of the countertop, you stand ready to greet the love of your life. The apple of your eye. The stars to your night sky. There’s a certain irony in how cold your home feels when Winter isn’t there. For one whole week, you had been without her warmth, but you understand why she left—not everyone is invited to the main stage of Coachella.

“AH! What the hell are you doing just standing there?!” Winter jumped quite literally off her feet into the air in surprise. Her hands cover her mouth to hide her open jaw, a jaw as wide open as her eyes. The round jewels in her face contain a merry glint.

Her socks slip on the wooden floor as she wheelspins from her standing start, stumbling then stabilising. Winter runs around the counter and into your waiting arms. She pulls her body close to yours with her face buried into your neck and her arms under your own. She takes handfuls of your shirt behind your back. One week without her in your arms—and bed—was far too long.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t be home for another ten minutes?!” She looks up from your shoulder, her face just millimetres from yours, and her icy breath hits your lips.

“Surprise,” you say with a soft smile.

“I’ve missed you so much. I hate that you couldn’t come with me. I missed your arms around me and other things.”

“It was hard to sit here and watch you on screen, but you did great. I’m sure it was amazing to watch the brilliant Winter up on stage doing her thing.”

A small giggle escapes her mouth in reaction to your compliment. “Don’t call me Winter at home. You know the names I prefer you to call me, but I did look good up there, right?”

“You always look good, Minjeong. Those guys—and girls—at the front got a perfect show in that outfit.”

“OH SHI—! My outfit!” Minjeong breaks your hug and looks down at herself. She is wearing her stage outfit from Coachella. “I was going to do a whole surprise reveal for you when you got home. I guess you ruined that.”

“Don’t worry; it had every effect on me you could have wanted. You’re unbelievably sexy, Minjeong.”

“I know.” She winks at you before twirling to give you a view from all angles. Thank physics for the centrifugal force that lifts her skirt up as she spins, her sculpted athletic legs on show from ankle to hip. Her slim waist becomes a blur of light flesh. Her smile has become a toothy grin as her face comes back into view. She was used to receiving all kinds of compliments from her members, fans and pretty much everyone she saw. The past week was no different. The compliments flooded in both in-person and online, but none of them affected her like one from your mouth.

Silently, you stand and admire her. Minjeong places her hand right in your face, her palm almost touching your nose and waves, so her fingers become a bur in front of your eyes. “Helllloooo?”

“Huh? What’s up?” you ask.

Her hand drops to her side, revealing her pouted lips. “I just asked if you missed me? Were you too busy checking me out?”

“Guilty,” you admit. Her pouted lips are just too tempting. It’s been a week since you tasted them, and you couldn’t wait any longer. The thin layer of satin pink lipstick will not last much longer. You finally provide an answer to her question through your kiss. Her lips meet yours in a slow, sensitive dance. You take hold of her face by cupping her cheeks. Similarly, Minjeong wraps her arms around your neck. You both pull each other close.

“Wow, you have missed me,” she says after breaking the kiss. “Do you want to show me just how much?”

Words were only obstructions to getting Minjeong to where you want her. You lift her onto the counter with a hand on each thigh. With legs locked around your hips, she holds you tight against her body. She invites you into her hot mouth. A ferocious assault begins. Your tongue tangles with Minjeong’s, clashing like two swords in a fencing match. Two equals set in a lustful fight born of passion. This lasts only until you concede, with the next step of your plan to come.

“I know how much you missed me, Minjeong, but I got my surprise for my little pet, and you’ve yet to acknowledge it.” you tease.

“Huh?”

“Take your eyes off me for a moment, and you’ll see it.”

She turns to the flat black box with the purple silk ribbon. “Oh, a gift for me? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re after something, and I might just give….” She grabs hold of your crotch. “It to you.”

“I think you should open it first.”

“I’ve already figured it out. It’s the necklace I picked out at the store when we were out last month.” Minjeong says with an arrogant tone in her voice.

“Oh, bless you.” You stroke her cheek, but her pouting face doesn’t flinch. Her lips purse, and her eyebrows furrow. “Silly kitten thinks she knows what it is.”

Her eyes open wide. “What did you just call me?”

“You heard.” Your hand moves down her cheek, slips down to her neck and squeezes lightly. “Kitten.”

“Well, daddy, Kitten doesn’t want to open the box.” She smiles smugly. Minjeong loves when the two of you play like this. Sometimes the two of you just need to fuck, anytime and anywhere. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve snuck off to bathrooms, closets, your car and hell, you even made her sing in a noraebang once. But when you had the time, you both enjoyed playing much more exciting games.

“Kitten does what daddy says. Now open your present.”

“Nuh-uh.” She shakes her head sharply.

Winter was very flexible in the roles that she takes in your private time, and this time she was reprising her favourite—the naughty kitten. You often wondered how netizens would react if they saw her like this. To see her act like a spoilt kitten who had one thing on her mind—to be fucked until there was nothing on her mind.

“Is my kitten forgetting who owns her? Maybe this gift is the perfect reminder.” You reach to your left, picking up the black box. You lean back slightly, just enough to hold the box between you, before pulling on the purple ribbon to loosen it. “Take the lid off now.”

She rolls her eyes and lets out an annoyed grunt. “Hmph. Okay.”

She lifts the box's lid slowly before tossing it to the side; the piece of cardboard skids across the counter before hitting the wall and falling to the floor. Minjeong lets a small smile slip as she looks down before returning to a blank expression. She refuses to show her excitement.

“Isn’t it great, kitten? It’s real leather, and the inside is full of soft faux fur, so it’s still comfortable when you wear it tight. Oh, and it has a loop here for your lead, but my favourite part is these custom tags I made just for you. Look, this one says 'Daddy's little kitty', and this one says 'Spoilt brat', and that one says 'Fucktoy'. Oh, and this is my favourite: 'Cumslut'. I think it suits you perfectly."

Minjeongs upper lip quivers as she tries to hold back a smile. She takes a deep breath to compose herself.

"What if I don't want to wear that collar? You can't make me wear it. It isn’t my style."

"Your style is whatever I say it is, Minjeong. If I want to put a collar on my pet, I put it on. If I want my pet to have a fluffy tail, she will have a fluffy tail. And, when I want my pet naked, she will be naked. Understand?"

"And if I want to go take a nap, I will. I'm not wearing the collar; it just isn’t my style. Maybe you can just get me some outfits for next year's Coachella? And maybe you can bother to come with me next time!" She lifts her right leg right over your head to turn away and then slides off the counter in a dazzling display of agility.

"Listen here, Minjeong. Only good little kittens get treats. And, well, naughty kittens get punished. Next year's Coachella won't happen if you don't treat daddy right because naughty kittens stay in the house. It's up to you." As you speak, you move across the room and into her path.

"Ha, you really think you can keep me here? You can't stop my company from sending me wherever I want."

You grab her hand as she attempts to pass you and then pull her into your arms. She doesn’t return your hold and opts to pout with her arms by her side.

"You know full well that you aren't international superstar Winter when you're in here. You're my Kim Minjeong—kitten, fucktoy, cumslut. Now get on all fours on the couch, little kitty."

"Make me. So far, you're all talk and no action.” She pushes you back away from her. “I knew I should have just found some hot guy at Coachella to fuck my brains out." She had no limits when it came to incurring your wrath. Her mouth was a weapon to spur you into action.

"How fucking dare you even tease about another man. You know that no one there that could satisfy you as I do. Kitty's got an itch only I can scratch." You grab winter by her hair. A whine escapes the lips of her shocked face as you throw her down to the couch and her face plants into the leather.

"Maybe I wanted to taste something different, drink someone else's milk?" she says, looking over her shoulder with a smirk. Though the fabric of her white skirt may soften the blow, you know there's only one way to tame a naughty kitten. A firm spank on the right cheek of Minjeong’s ass sends a ripple down her thigh.

"Naughty kitty needs a lesson in treating her daddy right."

"This is supposed to be a punishment? And it seems like someone is jealous. There were so many handsome hot, sweaty bodies that were just aching to fuck me at Coachella.” Minjeong pauses for a moment to place her hand on her thigh. She runs her hand up her legs and lifts her skirt to expose the flesh of her ass. “If you had come with me, I wouldn’t have had to think about all those guys. We wouldn’t have this problem.”

"Yes, all of them desperate to fuck you, I'm sure, while you run around on stage with your short skirt, showing skin to everyone.” You take hold of her other thigh with a firm grip and slide your hand up her slim legs to the hem of her skirt. You lift the other side of her dress a little further and reveal that she’s not wearing underwear.

“But you know that even if you wanted to, you can't fuck any of them. You are daddy's little kitty." You strike this time on her left cheek, harder than the first. An audible grunt forms inside Minjeong's mouth and her smirk turns into a grin as you continue, "No matter how horny you were, you knew that only daddy can satisfy you." The third strike matches the second in strength, back to her right cheek.

"How often did you sit here and jack off to me in this outfit? How badly did you want just to ruin me?” She pauses to bite her lip while she raises her ass slightly from the couch, shaking it side to side lightly. “Am I yours? It seems like nothing was stopping me from filling my hole with whatever Californian dick I wanted."

"You're such a fucking whore. A cock hungry little slut. But we both know you spent those nights at Coachella touching yourself, thinking of my cock pounding kitty's little pussy. One week without daddy, you must be dripping wet." You wind up for another strike to her ass, and Minjeong closes her eyes in anticipation. Instead, you fake her out, placing your hand between her legs, right over her crotch. The warmth of her core envelops your hand. You pull her up, lifting her hips further from the couch. "I feel how warm and wet you are. I feel how needy my little kitty is."

Minjeong just smirks. You never noticed her retrieve her phone, which she now held in her right hand. With a flick of her thumb, she begins an audio recording. “Oh! Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck! So this is what American dick is like? Tell me, how much did you like our performance? Hmm. Hmm. Oh shit, right there."

In an instant reaction, you spank her ass again and hold nothing back as you force a yelp from Minjeong's mouth. "You fucking whore! You think this is funny?" You snatch the phone from her hand while she rubs the pain on her ass.

"What are you going to do now? Because you might call me kitten, but the only pussy here is you."

You stop the clip and throw the phone across the room. She had pushed the limit now. "I'm going to show you what a real cock is like. I'm going to use this dirty little kitten as a fucktoy and then leave her in a mess. Now put your fucking collar on."

You grab the collar from the table, unbuckle it and then take it to Minjeong's neck. Her hands try to stop you, but you overpower her and pin her arms under your knees as you climb over her. She lies helplessly on the couch. You step over to grab the lead you had hidden in the room. You fasten it to the collar and pull her through the house into the bedroom, making her walk on all fours, dragging her faster than she could keep up.

"Wait! Slow down—I—I'm sorry! The clip was a fake—!" Minjeong stops her pleas as you yank on the collar, and she scrambles to keep up.

Ignoring her meaningless words, you drag her to your bedroom. "You think that was funny, huh? Well, Kitten's going to be punished until she begs for forgiveness. Now sit!"

Minjeong wanted to rile you up, but maybe she took it too far? But the truth is, it was exciting. To her, limits were made to be pushed, and your skin was made to get under.

"I'm sorry, Daddy. I'm sorry." she sits on her knees obediently and lowers her head down in shame as you take your place on the end of the bed.

"Your words aren't enough, kitty. You're going to show me how sorry you are. Take your top off and tell me what you are."

She does as you tell her. "I'm daddy’s little kitten."

You grab her face by the chin, making her look up at you. "And now your bra. And tell me what else you are." Minjeong unclasps her bra and lets it fall from her arms. "I'm your spoilt brat." "Good. Now take off the rest. And keep talking."

Minjeong pushes her skirt down from her waist to her knees before adjusting to remove it entirely. She returns to sitting on her knees in front of you. "I'm your fucktoy.” You pull upwards on her lead, bringing her face closer to yours and making her sitting position uncomfortable. "That's better, my little kitten. But, my kitten only has her collar; she still needs her ears and tail."

"Yes, Daddy." You slack the lead to allow her to crawl over to the wardrobe, which she then slides open. After retrieving her ears from your box of toys, she places them on her head, then takes the fluffy tail—carried in her mouth—and brings it to your feet. Minjeong drops it and turns around, so her ass is facing you. She stretches forward with her palms flat on the floor, leaving her ass in the air. "Would you like to put it in me?"

"You're mine, and don't you ever forget it. A kitten belongs to her owner." You prepare her tail with a drop of lube from the bottle in the drawer by your bed. You hold it right outside her puckered hole, the cold liquid touching her skin and making her squirm. "You're forgetting the fourth tag; what else are you?"

"I'm you're cumslu—AH!" Without warning, you slip the plug into her ass, and her hole swallows the toy right up to the flared end.

“Ah! Daddy! Fuck, that was fast!” Minjeong pants heavily in reaction to the sudden stimulation in her ass. “Fuck… I haven’t used my ass in over a week. It’s so tight. You should have warned me.”

"You don't get a choice. I will use my kitten however I want after she's been such a naughty girl. I'm going to stuff whichever hole I want." You slap her ass again, slightly red from earlier. "Now turn round and sit."

She sits on her knees again and places her hands by her face like paws. The collar hugs her neck tightly. The cute little ears sit atop her hair, and the fluffy tail trails behind her. "I'll be your good kitten. I'm your little fuck toy, and you can use me however you want."

"Use that tongue and sassy mouth of yours, kitten, suck my cock. I'm going to stuff your naughty mouth."

Minjeong leans forward towards your crotch, reaching for your trousers. Her ass rises to the air, and she shakes it a little. The tail from her plug sways in the air. She doesn’t use her fingers and instead paws away at your trousers until she pulls your zip down slowly. She uses her mouth to undo the buttons on your jeans. After an arduous task, finally, your kitten can pull down your trousers. Minjeong purrs with excitement as your cock springs free.

“This is the only cock you will ever need, kitten. Play with your favourite toy.”

She looks up at you with innocent eyes, refusing to speak and pretending to be confused by your demands, as she is far too immersed in her role. "Here, little kitten," you say as you push your cock closer to her mouth. With a confused look, she sticks out her tongue to give a tiny lick on your tip. Again and again. She repeats like she's playing with a toy.

"Only good girls get to play. Naughty girls have to please their daddy." Standing slightly from the bed, you push forward, placing your cock between her plumped lips. Her tongue goes into overdrive on the end of your cock as she sucks gratefully. You return to your seat on the bed. Minjeong’s mouth chases your cock, adamant in her refusal to let it escape her mouth.

"That's my good girl. My pleasure always comes first, especially after the naughty shit you pulled today, your sass, that recording, earn my forgiveness, kitten."

Minjeong always knew what was needed when she had been a brat. She needed to make it up to you and quick. She barely stops for air as she bobs her head on the end of your cock at an increasing pace. Her tongue moves wildly around the head of your cock—her playful side never leaves her. She grazes her teeth lightly on the side of your cock. "No kitten, be careful. You don't want to be punished further." The corners of her lips upturn slightly. She knew exactly what she was doing.

She pounces up onto the bed next to you. You shuffle back and lie down flat against the silk sheets. Minjeong is on all fours again, her head right above your cock. She knew that her only option was to pleasure you so she could receive her reward.

Minjeong cups your balls in one hand before placing her head right over your cock and then sinking it onto your twitching length. Her head moves fast—eager and full of energy. She sucks your cock with all her strength. Slowly, she moves her legs toward you until they're right beside you and then places one leg on the other side of your chest. Her fluffy tail is above you; the plastic fitting stretches out her asshole. Through the valley created by her slim thighs and perky tits, her head continues to bob rapidly on your cock.

You grab hold of her tight ass above your head with a firm grip, kneading her flesh as you desire. You use a finger to wiggle the plug inside her asshole. The pleasure only encourages her to work harder on you, taking your cock further into her mouth with each head bob.

"Take it all, kitten. This is your punishment. Take all of my cock until my first load is shot into your slutty mouth."

Minjeong struggles for air but doesn't fight against her need to suck your cock. Coughs and splutters occasionally interrupt her rhythm, but she knows what she must do and only increases her pace each time it falters. The blowjob becomes messier and louder; the wet sounds of her mouth are all that can be heard in the otherwise silent room.

"I'm going to cum! Fucking take it, kitten!"

The sloppy sounds stop. You fill up her mouth with your hot liquid. Her mouth is full. Her throat is full. "A good kitten doesn't waste a drop of milk." Acknowledging your words, she holds the seal of her lips around your cock. Each spurt she swallows only draws more out of you. If she's not careful, she's going to suck you dry. She stops just in time. You save some for her second filling. Because the best way to tame a pussy? Fill it with cum.

"What do you say to Daddy for you feeding you such a tasty meal, kitten? What do you say to Daddy's generosity, even when you're being a brat?"

Minjeong crawls around in a circle on the bed to bring her face close to yours. "Thank you, daddy, for treating me so well. I'm so sorry for being a naughty kitten." You scratch her head behind her ears. This brings out a smile, and then she nuzzles her face into your chest. A false sense of security, a wall you break down as you take hold of her hair and pull her face back up to yours. "But you know I'm not finished."

She allows a wide grin to fill her face. "I'm sorry, daddy, you can punish me more. You can teach me a lesson. I've been a bad kitten. Use me. Use my body for your pleasure. Do anything you want to your little kitten. Fill me up. Fucking breed me, now."

You let out a soft growl at that last part. "Oh? Does my kitten think she deserves my seed? Do you deserve to have your pussy stuffed with all of my load?"

"Daddy, please let me take it for you. I want you inside me. I want you to fill me. You deserve it." She continues to paw at your chest. "Please put it in me. Fill. Your. Kitten."

"If I breed you, that'd be the end of your idol career. I don't think you're serious. And you know Daddy doesn’t like it when you lie."

"I don't care about any of that shit right now. Winter is an idol, but Minjeong is your cumslut" She purrs into your ear, which blends into a soft moan. Realisation sets in that she has been rubbing herself while talking to you.

Minjeong continues, “I want your hard cock inside me. I want you to pump me full." Her dirty words trigger blood to fill your length again, something Minjeong realises. "Mmmm, does daddy like hearing how badly his kitty wants to be filled?"

"Keep talking, kitten. Tell me how fucking desperate you are for my cock and my cum. And stop rubbing yourself. You don't pleasure yourself, only I pleasure you, got it?"

"Oh, have I been a bad kitten again? Oh noooo. Does that mean you're going to punish me?" Minjeong rubs herself faster, whining into your ear. "Go on, daddy. I've been such a naughty kitty. You better punish me. Punish me by filling me up. Use me."

Growling again, you grab her wrist to prevent her from rubbing herself. "I told you to stop. You fucking brat." You lunge at her and take control. You climb on top of her and ‌kiss her roughly on the lips while palming at her breasts. Meanwhile, you use your other hand to hold both of hers above her head.

Minjeong writhes under you, struggling against your hold. "Oh, is daddy getting mad? Go on. Get angry with me, daddy. Your kitten has been so naughty. You should be furious. Maybe next time I will get some real American cock and see how you punish me. Would you breed me then?"

That did it. Absolutely livid beyond belief, you take your hand from her breasts and jam two fingers inside her pussy. Her slick juices that have been building since she entered the apartment allow you to slide right in. The sudden action took Winter by surprise. You were going to break her, break her so much she'd never pull this shit with you again.

"AH! What the fuck?!" She lets out a shriek in shock. After several pumps with your finger into her tight cunt, she stops squirming and submits to you. "Oh yes, go on. Stretch me out." A third finger and an increased pace make her unable to speak. Her tight little cunt suffocates your fingers as you stretch her walls. A fitting punishment for such a naughty kitten. No longer fighting your will, her arms go limp above her head, no longer need to restrain her. Your free hand pushes one of her flexible legs out to the side. You to reach around to her ass. You apply pressure to the plug, moving it around to serve a course of pleasure with a little pain on the side.

"Is this what you want kitten?"

A waterfall of syllables falls from her mouth but none of them makes sense. What does make sense is the look of pleasure on her pretty face. Minjeong’s eyelids flutter as she struggles to keep her eyes open under the pressure you apply inside her. "Are you mine? Am I going to use you? Tell me."

She uses all her strength to muster a single word: "Yes."

"Louder. Are you mine? Am I going to use you? Fucking tell me. Who do you belong to?" you say aggressively.

"YES, YES, YES! I'm your naughty little kitten, and you're going to fucking use me because I've been so naughty! Please fuck me. Your kitten needs it."

You smirk. This is what you lived for, to watch her break down and crumble before you. You inch closer and closer to her wanton hole with your cock, just stopping shy of entering. You take great pleasure in teasing her further. Her dripping pussy leaks onto the bed in excitement for her filling. "Daddy, please!" Minjeong pleads.

"You really deserve my cock? Why don't you head back to America and get yourself a fucking California cock, huh? Isn't that what you wanted? Why do you need my cock, kitten?"

Her bratty defences had utterly broken down; nothing more than her hunger for your cock fueled her words. "All the cocks in America couldn't please me as yours does. I need punishment for everything I ever said. Please, please, please fill me." Her hands grab your shoulders, and her claws dig into your skin. "Please stop teasing me. Your kitten needs filling."

You finally insert your cock into Minjeong's begging pussy—savouring the sensation of finally breaking her.

"MHMM! Daddy! I've been so bad… Fuck me."

And ruin her you will. There's no holding back, just animalistic instincts as you pound into her. Your stiff cock stretches her tight hole. The lubed plastic plug inside her ass only creates an extra obstacle to blow past as you dig deep inside her. "How's that kitten? Is your tight pussy stuffed full?"

"Yes, daddy—what are you—?"

You stop for a moment, hold her in place, and pull back, so only the tip is inside her. "This is for not putting your own collar on." You slam hard into her, to the hilt, hitting your crotch against her tight ass.

"This is for lying to me." Another hard pump, and she lets out a squeal as you fill her again.

"This is for the audio clip." Another one. Deeper again. Minjeong lets out a scream followed by a whimper. You hit her cheek lightly, then grab her face by her cheeks, making her look at you. "You're such a naughty little slut, aren't you? Say it."

"I'm a naughty slut. Your dirty little kitten. Your fuck toy. Your cum slut."

Incensed by her expressed desire to be filled with your cum, you continue, “you're not fucking going to Coachella next year because I'm going to fucking breed you. Your shit today made me realise I need to tame you, mark you as mine properly."

You take both of her legs, stretching her into a full spit—a position someone so flexible can quickly achieve. Your cock reaches into the depths of her tight pussy, your hips slapping against her submissive body each time you slam forward.

"Go on, daddy, fill me up. I don't give a fuck about my contract rules, the comebacks, the performances, just fucking fill your little kitten." Minjeong pulls her own legs higher so her knees are on either side of your upper body. She wraps her legs around you to place the heels of her feet into the small of your back. She pulls you into her, begging you never to leave. "Go as deep as you can, daddy, all the way in." You press forward into her tight pussy, her walls clasping your cock. She fits you like a glove, one you've worn plenty of times but still fits as snugly as ever around you.

The metal tags on her neck play a simple tune as they rattle together—her shaking body allows the makeshift instrument to provide the backing track to her high notes.

You bury your head into her neck and concentrate on the chase to your high. Minjeong’s sweet nothings fill your ear between her high-pitched moans and rattling collar.

Right there… Harder… Give it all to me.

Go on… Faster… Fill me…

Cum in my tight pussy… Please… Breed me.

The pressure in your body becomes too much. Your seal breaks, and your second load is released into her body. In response to the feel of your cum inside her, Minjeong reacts with her own cum, a satisfying orgasm in sync with your own. The pressure of two synchronous loads inside Minjeong's pussy almost pushes you out, but you dig deep and allow your cum to fill her up. Spurt after spurt of your hot lead filled her tight pussy.

“Oh my god, yes! You filled me up! It feels so good to have you inside me. I am yours, daddy. I fucking love having you cum inside me.”

You don’t respond right away, with your head buried in her neck. You let out a few grunts as you force yourself to pump a final few times inside her, milking your cock inside your kitten.

“Are you sorry now, kitten?”

“I am sorry, daddy, but I don’t regret what I made you do. I can’t believe you filled my tight pussy.”

You let your body roll off of Minjeong’s and take your position by her side in the bed. Both your chest and hers heave up and down in sync. Nothing but pants fill the room until you both fall into silence. Minjeong is the first to speak. “Daddy, if I go break something, can you fuck my ass next?

#winter smut #male reader #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #smut #idol x male reader #reader insert #girl group #aespa #aespa winter #aespa smut #kim minjeong #m reader #Aespa x reader #winter x reader

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ostensiblyfunctional · 8 months

Note

iggy.....do you perhaps have any.... shadowgear headcanons..................... or thoughts........................................... <3 your brain is so interesting to me I need to examine how it reacts to sg under a microscope

LOL yes yes, here let me give you some brain tissue samples—

To be honest, I don't have much on Shadow Gear in my gray matter? Most of my thoughts on them comes from you or @/grayseyebrowscar, actually! But I have a couple things rattling around in my head, so here they are:

— Levy is feral when it comes to things that interest her, to the point that Jet and Droy have frequently had to restrain her from putting some poor soul into a centrifuge and seeing what filters out just because they wield a rare form of Jutsu-shiki or something like that. If it's weird and magic, or weird and of academic interest, or both, there will be a Levy trying to pounce on it, and a Jet and Droy going "no, don't pounce on that, what if it explodes." Jet and Droy frequently exchange commiserating grimaces with Evergreen and Bickslow when they have to wrangle Levy and Freed on the same hyperfocused rampage.

— I agree that SG are floor people, but to me Jet is also a what-the-heck-are-you-sitting-on-with-that-posture kind of person. If he fits, he sits. This means he sits on the floor, on armrests, on couch backs, on people if they're particularly unfortunate during a guild brawl, in the air of a doorframe, on refrigerators, on the guild hall's entrance sign, in the guild hall's rafters somehow, on the railing of the second floor—and even in normal chairs he sits sideways or spins them around to sit backwards or sprawls or does anything except sit normally. Droy frequently makes comments about the state of his spine because of this.

— I'm also wholly convinced that Jet has some beastman ancestry that influences his bone structure and teeth, and also maybe his eyes because I find it immensely funny to think of a dark guild mage getting scared half to death by shining a light on him and finding a red-pupiled blur (demon??) coming for their soul at speed.

— Droy seems the most normal of SG, but that's because Jet and Levy are subjected to his plant infodumps the most and he gets a lot of his gushing out of the way by the time he has to interact with the rest of the guild. A full half of SG's missions are plant-related because of him, either finding rare plants, or helping annual harvests of magical plants, or getting/safeguarding inconvenient ingredients for pharmaceuticals, or playing security for botanist conferences because he wants to hear some of the sweet, sweet botany discoveries. That, and some of the lectures in those botanist conferences are by him. He has a very robust greenhouse full of weird plants and occasionally Levy will edit his rambling about them into research papers and release them into the wilderness of academia for kicks. Neither of them were at all expecting scientists to track them down and scratch pitifully at their door like cats wailing to be let in. And now Droy gets to ramble annually around like-minded nerds and occasionally get into hair-pulling biting catfights about how to class amaryllis zephyrus, coloquially known as zephyrillis or wind-lily.

— Speaking of scientists tracking them down! SG definitely are roommates with their own house. I feel like they've known each other for a long, long time, before they ever joined Fairy Tail, and they're really comfortable around each other. Their smoothness in combat is borne from knowing each other since early childhood, growing up learning each other as much as they learned about themselves. This means they all have the eerie tendency to never bump into each other, in combat or not. It's easy to get in Jet's way if you're not used to how suddenly fast he can be, or accidentally bulldoze over Droy if he stays still too long and you forget he's there, or incidentally get smacked by a gesturing, excited Levy, but that's for other people. Not for them.

#wow i had more thoughts than i expected! anyway i hope you enjoy these tissue samples onx #fairy tail #fairy tail headcanon #levy mcgarden #jet fairy tail #droy fairy tail #team shadowgear

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remyfire · 2 months

Note

teehee, 66 or 37 for leobeej <3

(prompts now closed) Fellow Leo warrior, what if we do both? :D 37.) Edging 66.) Caught masturbating

The moment BJ's dorm door shuts behind him, he checks his watch, then swears under his breath. Ten minutes. Even as he chucks his schoolbag on the bed, his mind spins faster than a centrifuge. I don't have time for this. Even as he rips open his belt. I'm an adult. Even as he works at his button fly. I'm a goddamn Stanford student, for Christ's sake. But notably none of these thoughts are doing anything to either divert his course of action or calm his half-hard cock. If anything, the adrenaline is making him dizzy with need.

Nine minutes. BJ leans against his armoire as he spits in his palm. He's got nine minutes until Leo's going to show up and drag him to lunch. It's safer that way, really. Any time BJ meets up with him in the dining room, his chair leg's sawed through or there's a whoopee cushion in his seat or a live spider hidden under Leo's hat that just happens to be on the table where BJ's plate is going to end up. If Leo comes straight from his chemistry class to walk BJ down for a meal, then it keeps him out of trouble and gives him far less time to set up mischief. Not foolproof, but—

Eight minutes, fuck. This is what thinking about Leo does to him nowadays. It gets BJ off track from very necessary procedures that will ensure his sanity through the following half hour. He shoves his hand inside his shorts and bites back a groan the moment his cock is in his hand. He wastes no time in stroking himself, teasing, coaxing it to fully harden as quickly as possible. He needs to get off and he needs to do it now.

He doesn't know yet how to reconcile their fondly antagonistic friendship with the handful of times that they've messed around together—or perhaps it's more accurate to say when Leo has messed around with him. It always happens out of nowhere. They'll be studying together and Leo will flop on BJ's bed, put his chin on his shoulder, and read from BJ's textbook rather than his own. And before he has the time to parse through how humid the air has suddenly become, Leo's dragging the tip of his nose over the sensitive skin of his throat and sliding his clever, long-fingered hand out of sight under the book to cup BJ through his trousers.

That's the memory that floods him now, that has blood filling his cock until he's painfully throbbing in his grip. "No, no, keep going," Leo had whispered against his ear with a chuckle that dragged goosebumps all down his body. "If you fail that test tomorrow, how're you gonna explain that to the scholarship board, huh?"

A strangled whimper vibrates through BJ from head to toe as he pushes his trousers and shorts all the way down, hears the clattering of his belt buckle when it hits the floor. God, Bardonaro's such a fucking piece of work, all gleaming eyes and sharp smirks, an easygoing drawl that sometimes makes BJ feel like a moron for how stressed he'll get about his own marks. Tempting propositions, addictive invitations for prank after game after lark, all these verbal jabs and banter that pull at BJ's loneliest threads until he's practically on a leash in Leo's grip, one that's twisted around his fist so many times that the only way to escape would be cutting through it.

But every time BJ gets spooked enough to try, there's Leo again, boxing BJ into a corner and palming him so lazily, cocking his head as he examines him like BJ's a scientific experiment. Getting him caught in the whirlpool. And though BJ knows that Leo's height doesn't equate to physical power—that it would take barely any effort at all for BJ to shove him away—he'd be the most egregious liar if he tried to tell himself that he didn't want every second of his attention.

BJ all but strips his cock with his rapid pace, beginning to tremble as he moans. C'mon, c'mon, he goads himself. You want him to see you hard all through lunch? It's meant to be embarrassing enough to dissuade him but all it brings to the surface is an image of Leo shoving BJ flat on the table in the middle of their fraternity house's dining hall and yanking his pants down and making BJ touch himself right there in front of everybody. Making all of their brothers see that BJ Hunnicutt, the golden boy, is so desperate for Leo that he'll follow anything he says. And fuck, if that doesn't have him dribbling a thick bead of arousal.

Leo's a bastard is what he is. He'll make BJ wait outside his room a good ten minutes after they're supposed to meet up for a walk to the quad because Leo's snuck a girl in again, is making her gasp and beg and scream in his bed for more, more, more. He'll scribble obscene doodles in the margins of BJ's notes.

But the thing is he's also the guy who'll sit back to back with BJ until sunrise, quizzing him on his notes without a word of complaint. He'll drop a mug of coffee off for him almost every morning so BJ can save the time, can grab an extra five minutes of sleep. When the guilt creeps in with the night—the knowledge of how sharply BJ cut off his parents the moment he arrived here, the way he has to hold his own baby sister at bay until he can get his degree and come back and get her out—Leo is always the one with an arm around his shoulders, sometimes filling the silence with jokes, sometimes just existing with him.

He's a bastard and he's also the strongest human connection that BJ has here, and it all wraps up to make him impossible to stay away from, even if BJ ever wanted to.

He's close. God, he's close, just needs a little more. BJ rips through his mental filing cabinet to try and find something, anything shocking enough that'll throw him over the edge. Leo jerking him off in the quiet corner of the library where anyone could walk in on them, maybe. Leo hiding under BJ's desk when one of their fraternity brothers drops in. Leo...Leo pinning BJ down in his bed, pressing the head of his own cock against—

The door flies open just in time to remind BJ that he never locked it.

"Fuck," BJ mutters as he throws open his armoire and ducks behind the panel, bending forward to try and grab hold of his trousers. "What the hell do I have to do to get you to knock?"

"Now, why would your best buddy ever have to knock, huh, Beej?" Leo drawls.

When the lock clicks shut, it's like a gun going off. BJ's cock twitches, drips onto the floor as he makes another attempt to snag his belt while his head is spinning. "Because it's goddamn polite?"

"We don't do polite in Philly." Step, step, step, one heavy footfall right after the other. Just as BJ straightens up with his clothes in hand, Leo's arm snaps around the armoire door and grabs BJ by the wrist. "What're we up to?"

"We're not up to anything." But BJ's voice is already breathless, and though he does his best to be modest, it's not like there's an easy way to hide his dick when it's fully erect and hanging out like this. "I-I just figured I'd—"

"—get up to all the fun without me?"

BJ whips his head around. The words disintegrate in his throat the moment he locks eyes with Leo and sees that slowly but steadily rising heat mirrored back at him. With a crooked smile in place, Leo looks every inch a leopard, toothy fangs and triumphant in how he's stalked his prey until there's nowhere to go to escape his whims.

Leo moistens his dry lips with a quick swipe of his tongue. "Where'd this come from?" He flicks his gaze down, then back up again.

God, God, this is really not helping the situation at all. It's the return of that thought loop, knowing he's strong enough to rip himself away, somehow getting twice as aroused at the thought of putting all the control in Leo's hands anyway. BJ sucks in a shaky breath. "Well, Bardonaro, you see," he begins, "when the muscles of the corpora cavernosa begin to relax, blood rushes into the penis, which makes it expand." Before his very eyes, Leo's smirk is widening, but BJ can't make himself stop talking. "And when the membrane of the tunica albuginea locks the blood inside the corpora cavernosa, an erection is sustained."

A few heavy seconds pass before Leo inclines his head, brow lifting. "Bravo. You'll excuse me if I don't clap." He rotates around so BJ's trapped against his open armoire door. His fingers open and send the trousers crashing back to the floor. "Well, well, well, Mr. Anatomy, it sounds like you've been retaining something from the lectures after all. I bet you've got a whole host of naughty essays you've been turning in, huh?"

"What better way to get extra credit?" BJ snarks back as though he's not melting against the wood, giving Leo another inch of height superiority.

"Mm." Leo pins BJ's wrist against the door. "Why don't you give your writing hand a rest, then?" And he wraps his fingers around BJ's cock.

BJ's eyelashes flutter but he fights against the temptation to let his lids droop shut. No, he wants to watch—not Leo's hand but his face. He needs to memorize all of these nuances of his expression so that when BJ turns his lamp off tonight and finds himself unable to sleep, he can start to parse through the details. If Leo's just playing with him like a cat toys with a mouse. If Leo ever glances at BJ's mouth.

Right now, Leo's simply grinning, barely blinking, looking right into BJ's eyes. "So who were you thinking of while playing with yourself, Hunnicutt? Barbara Stanwyck?" He drapes his other forearm over BJ's head so he can loom over him while working him over.

I thought about you fucking me. The crudeness, the perversion of the thought makes him flush redder than a tomato. Sweat beads on his brow. "Th-That's your type, not mine."

"Oh yeah? What's your type, then, pretty boy?" It's not the first time that mildly condescending term has slipped off Leo's tongue but it's absolutely its first occurrence when they're...when they're doing this, whatever this is. "Here I thought you were into brunettes. Stupid me. It's blondes, isn't it?"

BJ bites the inside of his cheek. He's not gonna say a goddamn word about that either. Not when he's straddling his peak again, right there, toes peeking over the edge. A shivery whimper escapes his closed mouth anyway.

"Yeah, that's what it is, huh?" Leo's lilting, playful tone suddenly dips into huskiness. "Petite little blondes, cute as buttons. Not tall, willowy brunettes. That'd be silly. Wouldn't it, Beej?" He leans an inch closer. "Wouldn't it be silly for you to come all over yourself thinking about a thing like that?"

"Fuck..." The word's more whimper than language, really. His eyes are beginning to burn but he can't. Look. Away. Can't miss this. He wants to be drowning in Leo when he breaks, when, when he...

And then Leo pulls back.

With a chuckle, Leo shoves his hands in his pockets and begins to saunter away. "Eh, y'know what, I'm gonna be late for class if we don't get our butts down to lunch right now. C'mon, put your pants on, you big lug."

Is he... He's not gonna... BJ shakes, knees knocking, his entire body burning and tipping into pained. He's really just gonna walk away right now? Leave BJ like this?

No. No, no, no, absolutely fucking not.

In hindsight, it's a foolish idea to go after Leo this quickly when BJ's ankles are trapped in his trousers, but he darts toward him nonetheless and loses his footing immediately. He grabs Leo's arm for stability, yanks, and suddenly the two of them are stumbling, reeling all the way to BJ's bed. Leo lands in an awkward sit, but BJ catches himself on two lithe, delicate shoulders and digs his fingers in until he thinks he might be leaving a bruise. Marking him.

A fresh rush of hunger cascades through him in a deluge. "You bastard," he growls. "Get me off right now. Now, Bardonaro."

There's a pause, longer than a century, but right as BJ begins to regret his sharpness, Leo grabs his cock and picks up a blistering pace. "Okay, okay. Geez. Didn't know it was that important to you."

"Dick..." But he can't sustain as much malice when he's touching Leo this time, squeezing his...acromion, his brain provides at the last moment. And Leo's resting his other palm gently on the small of BJ's back.

And he's moving. Descending. Squeezing a handful of BJ's ass.

"Oh, fuck." BJ's jaw drops. Despite all his internal insisting, he squeezes his eyes shut. The images rush in again, Leo holding BJ down, dragging his hardness slowly into the cleft between his cheeks, further, further...

Two incredibly interesting things happen simultaneously. One, Leo rubs a fingertip over BJ's hole. Two, Leo wraps his lips around the tip of BJ's cock.

"Fuck! Oh, fuck, God, Leo—" BJ explodes in Leo's mouth like a firework of white-hot ecstasy. It's never been like this, never, never, the overwhelming rush of sparks through his veins that has him curling in on himself as his shocked moans bleed into shuddering, broken whines. Humiliatingly, as he surfaces, he becomes aware of the tears trapped behind his lids, how if he even chances opening them right now, they'll come spilling down his cheeks.

What's about to happen? If he cries, is Leo going to knock him around for it? He could get the whole fraternity in here, set them loose on their resident pervert.

All at once, he's convinced he's about to take a punch to the jaw, and he can't let that happen when he won't see it. So with a deep breath, BJ eases his eyes open and sends the tears rushing forth as though from a broken dam.

Leo's watching him. He's not smiling. Not laughing. But he's not angry either. No, the longer BJ stares, the more Leo looks...concerned? Furrowed brow and slightly narrowed eyes. And for some reason, that makes BJ let out a choked sob.

"Hey, come on, c'mere, before you fall and break your nose on your desk or something." Leo's tone is as low and soothing as he's ever heard it. He pulls BJ in, yanks him straight into his lap, then wraps his arms around his waist, and when BJ buries his face in Leo's shoulder, he doesn't even complain about the tears soaking his shirt. "Yeah, you're okay, Beej." One gentle hand rubs up and down his spine and invites him little by little to relax. "I was gonna skip class anyway, all right? You just... You take all the time you need."

#unfortunately they continue to possess me so bless you meej for giving me this opportunity to be unwell #bj hunnicutt #leo bardonaro #bardicutt #leobeej #beejleo #my writing #ask meme replies

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aachria · 4 months

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finally got around to reading the new chapter and oh my GOD its incredible, easily one of my favorite chapters thus far

i saw someone comment that they thought the fruit had to do with centripetal force, and so adding onto that my personal theory is that the fruit allows ed to disrupt centripetal/centrifugal force by either adding to it, removing from it, or outright changing it. it ties into the spinning motif, eds constant lack of a center of gravity, and in both of its uses (not including the one at the end since that ones unclear) it would explain what happened. In the first use they may have activated it but couldn't stop themselves from tripping, and in the second they may have accidentally changed the momentum leading to it being thrown off and only hitting their brow instead of the skull.

as for the name even though its probably like the turn turn fruit or something, because of the constant shifting of the tower being mentioned, eds inner monologue mentioning shifting, and it still tying into my theory im calling this theoretical devil fruit the shift shift fruit.

im probably wrong but either way i cant wait to see what the fruit actually does, im incredibly excited for tomorrow!

Goddamn I wish I understood physics better at times like this. Because this take? Incredible and intriguing.

Chapters ready for you my liege 🫡

#sssbmty #one piece #one piece ocs

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starsbits · 4 months

Note

accidentally unfollowed you trying to send an ask i'm sorry :(( but i'd like to hear some stuff about ur ocs if you want! 👉👈

YOU'RE ALL GOOD i thought that was what happened when i saw the notif HAHA i've done that myself soooo many times

AND OMG..... [COMBUSTS] i have so many ocs its hard to choose just one to talk about... the one i* am the most mentally ill about is zero i'm spinning him around in my brain microwave i'm squeezing him like a squeaky toy i'm dropping him into a test tube to study im putting him in a centrifuge at maximum speed i'm sending him down a path of self-destruction i love him 😁

i also have several other ocs though most of the active ones you can see on my artfight [this is where i store my ocs sorry i could not figure out toyhouse even if my life depended on it i tried :pensive: zero and a couple others are not on there bc we're redoing their profiles.] some of the ref sheets are outdated (ex: aylin i need to update them OTL they are now a water dragon lady ^_^) but YEAH if u wanna ask about any of them.... smiles so nicely

#HI AXEL THANK YOU FOR THE ASK!!!!!#mutuals lets play ocs together ok?#the way this ask made me so excited to talk about my ocs that i started shaking HAHAHA #<-also partially out of anxiety because im always a little bit afraid my ideas are silly :pensive:#🪼

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casuallyimagining · 2 years

Text

Take a Break | myg

Min Yoongi x Reader

Summary: Now that he's finally gotten a break, you and Yoongi decide to go on vacation together. You're looking forward to two weeks of fun and relaxation, except there's one problem: Yoongi's not quite sure what to do with himself. Word Count: 3,753 Genre: fluff, slice of life Warnings: mild descriptions of anxiety

Notes: thanks to @daechwitatamic, @moonleeai, and @madbutgloriouspond for looking over this for me.

Part of the Long Term Couples series. Read more here.

You laughed a little as your body bumped against Yoongi’s, the centrifugal force throwing you to the side. He leaned a little into you, his hand coming to rest on your thigh. He gripped the wheel in front of you tightly, his knuckles white from the force of his grip. You didn’t quite care for the rapid spinning, either, so you let him hold it in place. The breeze from the spinning teacup felt nice in the late October Florida heat, and every time you spun to one side of the ride pavilion, you caught a sweet scent from the bakery just across the walkway.

With his world tour over, Yoongi finally had some free time. The band had entered a break period–or, at least, the Bangtan version of a break–and there was nothing official on his schedule for the foreseeable future. About halfway through the tour, you’d asked Yoongi to spend some time with you when it was over, and he’d countered with a vacation. You couldn’t quite remember how you’d both decided on Disney World, only that it took you months to plan on your own while he was away.

And so there you were, spinning around a larger-than-life kettle in a giant, ceramic teacup. Having the time of your life with your boyfriend beside you.

The whimsical orchestral music stopped, and you could feel the teacup start to slow. Over the speakers, Alice bid you goodbye, and when your teacup was fully stopped, you stood. It wasn’t until you were a step or two away from the cup that you realized that Yoongi wasn’t following.

When you turned to him, he was staring at the teapot in the middle of the ride, but his focus was somewhere far away.

“Come on, love,” you said softly, reaching across to take his hand from the wheel in the center. His attention snapped to you, and he nodded.

He swayed slightly as he stepped off the ride, reaching out for you to steady himself. He kept a trembling hand on your arm as you led him out the exit gate.

“You okay?” you asked quietly once the two of you were out of the way. Yoongi hummed and nodded, but then immediately grimaced, regretting the movement. “Why don’t you sit down for a second and get your bearings? I’ll run over to the cafe and grab us some water.”

“No, you don’t have to-” He tried to reach out for you, but you were already too far away.

When you looked back, he had plopped himself onto the retaining wall in front of the hedges, the shade of the big tree above hopefully keeping the sun off him. It was unusual that he was motion sick from just a little spinning, but you’d both woken up congested thanks to the air conditioning in your hotel room, so you weren’t entirely surprised. Maybe he just still wasn’t feeling well. Hopefully the water would help.

You kept an eye on him as you stood in line, watching out of the corner of your eye as he scrolled through his phone. Your own phone vibrated in your pocket, and when you checked the notification, you groaned.

Toss: Min Yoongi sent you ₩13,000!

You tapped into the app and immediately refunded him the money. You knew he didn’t want you to feel like you ever had to spend money on him. But you didn’t mind, and while $7 was a lot for two waters, it wasn’t like you were going to be destitute from it. You weren’t about to make him pay you back when he wasn’t feeling well.

He sighed when you sat down beside him on the wall and pressed a bottle of water into his hands. “Please let me pay you for this.”

You hummed. “You paid for literally everything else. Let me take care of you.”

For a second, you thought he was going to say something, but instead, he just opened the bottle and took a drink. The two of you sat there for a few minutes, watching the people walk past. Or, at least, you people watched. Yoongi’s attention was once again far away, his eyes focused somewhere in the middle distance, looking but not seeing. He spun his ring absently, the silver and gold circlet rotating easily around his index finger, despite the slight tremble still in his hands.

“You good?” you murmured, bumping your shoulder into him gently.

He hummed, and it took him a second, but eventually looked at you. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“You seem a little out of it.”

“Yeah, I… just thinking.”

“We can go back to the room if you aren’t feeling well.” You held out your hand, palm up.

Gently, he took it, lacing his fingers through yours. “I’m okay. Honestly. Let’s keep going.”

There was something about the way he said it, something about the specific way he wouldn’t look at you. You didn’t believe him, but you at least trusted him to tell you if something was seriously wrong. So you allowed him to tug on your hand and lead you through Fantasyland from one side of the park to the other.

It was hard not to pay attention to the Haunted Mansion. Even though the effects inside were 50 years old, they were done so well that they were still fascinating. But your focus was split between the Pepper’s Ghost in the ballroom scene and the man beside you as Yoongi once again gripped your knee. Now, the tremble in his hands was undeniable, and you could feel the irregularity of his breathing in the close proximity.

“What’s wrong?” Your voice was soft as you snaked an arm around his waist.

He shook his head, then grimaced and squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m fine.”

“You know I can tell when you’re lying.” Gently, you squeezed his side. “Are you okay, at least?”

Yoongi sighed, and for a moment, you thought that maybe he wasn’t going to answer you, or that he was going to brush off your question once again. But then, ever so slightly, he shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

The Doom Buggy you were in dropped backwards down a small hill, the music increasing in tempo slightly as you got closer to the graveyard. He grunted at the motion as the buggy leveled out and spun you around to see the ghosts playing around in the tombstones. His grip on your knee got tighter.

Normally, you would have taken the time to enjoy the animatronic busts and “Grim Grinning Ghosts,” but now, your focus was entirely on Yoongi. Even in the dim light of the ride, he looked pale, and every time the buggy turned or jerked along its path, he let out a small grunt, as if even the smallest of motions made him sick.

Finally, though, your buggy crawled through the tunnel under the small bride doll, and the Ghost Host warned that a ghost would follow you home, signaling the end of the journey. You held tightly onto Yoongi, looping your arm through his as you made your way out of the ride.

“Let’s go back to the room,” you suggested once you were out in the daylight. Yoongi opened his mouth to protest, but you cut him off. “We can come back later if you’re feeling better. We have two weeks here. We don’t have to rush things.”

You could tell he wanted to argue, but instead, he quietly nodded, his hand coming up to hold onto yours as you still clutched his bicep, supporting him in case he got dizzy again.

The walk back to your hotel didn’t take long. The path wound through the trees and bushes along the side of the park, past Space Mountain and under the monorail lines. You walked through the sliding glass doors into the circular lobby. The woman at the guest services desk greeted you as you entered, her voice and smile chipper and very much the opposite of the disquiet slowly settling in your stomach.

The longer it went, the more you weren’t sure that it was motion sickness. The teacups, sure. Spinning that much, even without the extra spinning of the wheel, was enough to make anyone feel off. But the Haunted Mansion was barely a ride, and even with the walk through the park and back to the hotel, Yoongi was still a little shaky on his feet. No, you didn’t think this was motion sickness.

This was anxiety.

You’d spoken with Yoongi about his anxiety and OCD before, and you’d seen him hit some low points before, but you’d never seen him like this. Never like this. This had been building for some time now. Maybe since the tour had ended.

The doors of the elevator opened onto the tenth floor. Yoongi winced at the sound. Thankfully, your room was in the central column of the hotel, not too far away from the elevators, and you were at your door in only a few minutes. You used your free hand to scan your wristband and the door unlocked.

“I think I want to lay down,” Yoongi said softly. You held onto him tightly as he kicked off his shoes, afraid he might fall over.

“That’s probably a good idea.” You pushed his hair back from off his forehead, the long strands falling away and framing his face. At least he didn’t have a fever. “How are you feeling?”

“My head hurts,” he admitted, leaning into your touch as you cupped his cheek.

You cooed softly, brushing his hair back once more. You followed him closely into the main bedroom, your hand on his back to steady him just in case he needed you. He eased onto the bed–the sheets were unmade from when you’d woken up, and he slid under them easily. You stood by the edge of the mattress, making sure that he got settled, before leaning down to kiss his forehead.

“Rest well,” you told him softly, caressing his cheek.

“You’re leaving?”

“Do you not want me to?”

Suddenly, he looked sheepish, his eyes refusing to meet yours, his cheeks tinging a slight pink. Three years together and he still wasn’t used to asking for affection. “It’s fine. You don’t have to.”

You hummed and kissed his forehead again. “Of course I’ll stay.”

You grabbed the remote as you passed the television. If he fell asleep, you’d be stuck in bed until he woke up. He was needy when he wasn’t feeling well, and you’d learned during his shoulder recovery and his bout of covid that you were incapable of saying no to him when he got like this.

As soon as you were under the blankets and propped up slightly against the faux leather of the woven headboard, Yoongi was tangling himself with you, his legs slotted between your own, his arms wrapped around you tightly. He buried his face in your chest, practically laying on top of you, and you felt him sigh.

“Comfy?” you asked, amused. He hummed in response. “Try to get some rest.”

You turned on the tv, turning the volume down low enough that it wouldn’t disturb him. Silently, you scrolled through the channels, your other hand dragging lazily up and down Yoongi’s back in an attempt to soothe him to sleep. He relaxed more against you the longer you laid there together, the tension slowly leaving his body as he drifted closer to sleep. He really must not have been feeling well–Yoongi rarely napped.

But sure enough, after a few minutes, you peeked down and his eyes were closed, his face fully relaxed as he snored softly against you. You threaded your hand in his hair, scratching gently at his scalp, and pressed a kiss onto the top of his head.

Your focus shifted around the room, your hand mindlessly carding through his hair. The black tresses were surprisingly soft–he spent so much time frying the shit out of his hair with bleach and dyes, you were always amazed by how healthy his hair was. Outside, a bird flew past the sliding glass door that led out onto the balcony.

The room you were staying in was gorgeous. Decorated in Warhol-style pop art of Mickey and the other classic Disney characters, the whole suite was two bedrooms. It had seemed unnecessary at first, but then Yoongi had insisted on bringing his equipment to finish up a project that was due in two days, and it had a small kitchen and living room area that you literally never planned on using. But the main bathroom had a jacuzzi tub big enough for three people, and the balconies and windows all had the most amazing view of the Magic Kingdom, overlooking Space Mountain and Tomorrowland, with the castle in the near distance.

After only an hour, Yoongi began to stir. You’d turned on the movie Ratatouille only a few minutes before, and Remy and Emile had just entered the old woman’s kitchen when he tightened his arms around your middle. He nuzzled his face further into your chest, stretching a little. You huffed out a laugh, your fingers carding gently through his hair.

He made no attempt to move, though, so you continued to silently watch the movie. Using his cookbook as a raft, the grey rat floated through the sewers, eventually coming to a stop. The depressed and battered rat flipped through the book, and eventually, his hallucination of Gusteau the chef encouraged him to leave the sewer.

“If you focus on what you’ve left behind,” the chef said sagely, “you’ll never be able to see what lies ahead.”

Yoongi shifted so that his face was shoved entirely into your chest and groaned.

You continued to play with his hair, both amused and a little concerned by his reaction. “Is this unsatisfactory for you?”

For a while, he was silent, but then he sighed–you could feel the great exhale more than see or hear it. His response, whatever it was, was muffled and incoherent. Gently, you coaxed him to turn his head so that he wasn’t so buried.

“I feel like I’m drowning,” he murmured, arms tightening around your middle again.

You hummed, tucking his hair behind his ear, smoothing it out gently before stroking his cheek with your thumb. “What’s wrong, love?” Yoongi wasn’t one to over dramatize his feelings. Often, he was blunt, to the point. Sure, he sometimes turned to metaphors when they were effective, but he rarely had a flair for the overdramatic. So when he spoke like he was now, you paid close attention and you asked questions.

He sighed. “I have free time.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“For a decade, I was so busy I didn’t know what day it was most of the time.” His voice was quiet, like if he spoke any louder, the wrong people would hear and he would get in trouble. “I got so used to that constant going. Practice and studio time and meetings and touring and writing and traveling and promotions and interviews. Year after year after year. Fitting in study time and time to go to the gym and learning guitar and personal projects. And then trying to fit us in, and making sure I had enough time for you–and I love making time for you,” he clarified, looking up at you slightly to make sure you knew he was serious, “but it was just one more thing. And I managed. I think I managed well. But now…”

He didn’t need to finish his sentence. You knew what he was going to say. Now, he didn’t have to worry about most of those things. Now, they were on a break. The group had splintered into different directions.

Namjoon was moving to London for six months to support his girlfriend while she took an internship. Jin was working with an indie studio to make a video game. Hobi was choreographing for some of the new idol groups at their company. Jimin and Taehyung were traveling the world. And Jungkook was doing… Jungkook things. You weren’t really sure. But the kid insisted that it was something very big and very exciting, and he seemed happy, so you were proud of him, regardless. They were all working on individual albums and personal projects. But aside from the occasional text or dinner, they hardly saw each other.

For a long while, you were silent, the only sound in the room being the movie continuing to play. Selfishly, you were a little glad that Yoongi’s schedule was finally calming down. In the three years you’d been together, you’d barely been able to spend full weekends together. Now, not only was he mostly working from his home studio, he had time to actually go on vacation.

“You know,” you said softly, brushing your thumb against his cheekbone. “Before your shoulder surgery, most of the time we spent together was between 8pm and 3am.”

“Yeah?”

“I’d get back to my apartment around 3:30 and I’d have to be ready for my first voice student at 10. But I’d lay in bed and I’d text you for as long as it took to make sure you weren’t going to spend the night in your studio.” You smiled at the memory. You’d spent months with that routine, even before you’d started dating, back when you were still just two oblivious friends with unrelenting crushes. You were glad that your relationship had moved past that stage, but there was something so lovely about how smitten you were with him, even from the beginning.

“Sometimes you did not succeed.”

You hummed, making a wishy-washy sound as if you were debating him. “I had a 95% success rate.”

“Probably closer to 85,” he admitted, snorting out a laugh.

“Have you met your stubborn ass? I call that a win either way.”

He laughed in earnest then, the sound like warm honey as he turned his head, burying his face back into your chest. After a moment, he calmed down, and once again, the room was enveloped in silence save for the movie. You could tell that the conversation wasn’t over, but you also didn’t want to rush his thoughts, so you stayed quiet. Gently, you traced shapes into the softly defined planes of Yoongi’s back, decorating his t-shirt with imaginary hearts and flowers and little ‘I love you’s. He sighed, and you felt the tension melting out of his muscles under your fingertips.

“I don’t remember how to not be Min Suga,” Yoongi confessed finally, his arms tightening around you briefly as he readjusted his weight.

“Is he really that different from Min Yoongi?”

“You know what I mean.” You could hear the frown in his voice, even if you couldn’t see his face. “Where does Suga end and Yoongi begin?”

“Does it matter?” He scoffed. “No, I’m serious. We all have stage personas. You get up on stage and you’re someone with larger than life confidence and swagger. I get up on stage and I’m able to play the piano.”

“But you can play the piano.”

“And you’re cool as fuck. I never said your stage persona had to be a lie.” You poked his cheek. “You know that they’ll follow you, no matter what you do, right?”

He turned his head ever so slightly so that he could look at you. And when he spoke, his voice was soft. “You think?”

“Yeah, of course. They like the Bangtan brand, but they also love you guys as individuals. Maybe not all of them. Maybe you won’t get a solo Grammy nom or whatever. But god there are so many people out there waiting to see what you do next. You really should look at Twitter every once in a while.” You pinched his cheek gently, teasing him.

“Maybe the break is good,” he conceded.

“It’s good for a lot of reasons.” You brushed his hair off his forehead. “Especially if it gets you to stop working like you’re running out of time. It’s not sustainable.”

“I’m starting to feel that.”

“You still have that thing to finish for Tablo, right?”

He nodded against you. “I just have to finish up some of the mix and send it to them for mastering.”

You hummed. You’d been thinking for a while that Yoongi needed a break. He’d been less satisfied with his work recently, asking you to listen to things far more often than he ever had before. When he’d first gotten home from the tour, you’d been so worried about him–he had looked exhausted, complete with dark circles and sallow skin. Things had gotten slightly better since then, Yoongi had gotten some rest in the weeks after the tour, but you could tell that there was still some bone-deep exhaustion lingering in him.

“I know you brought all your things,” you started, unsure of how he would take what you were going to say next, “but why don’t you finish up what you need to and then just treat this like a real vacation? Take a break for a bit? I can slim down our plans a bit. We can just relax for two weeks, and-”

“This is your vacation, too. I don’t want you to not get to do the things you want just because I have brain shit going on.”

“I’m just happy you’re here.” It was true. It had killed you to not be able to spend time with him while he was on tour. He was your favorite person, the one person who knew you better than you knew yourself. He took care of you, just as much as you took care of him. You probably would have gone to the moon if it meant you got to hang out with him.

“Have you always been this cheesy?” Yoongi groaned, but his shoulders shook with a laugh. But then, he was serious again, rolling onto his side and completely off of you. His arms stayed clasped around your middle, and he leaned in to kiss your shoulder. “Don’t cancel too much for my sake, jagi. We can still have fun.”

You flipped onto your side, finally able to look at him. He still looked tired, but he didn’t seem to be as shaky anymore, and his headache must have gone away, because he seemed to be less sensitive to sound and movement. You reached out, cupping his cheek. He leaned into your touch, turning his head slightly to kiss the heel of your palm.

“I love you,” he said softly, and when his brown eyes met yours, they were dripping with affection. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“Always.”

Part of the Long Term Couples series. Read more here.

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