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wondernus · 11 days

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— WHY HIM?

SYNOPSIS: armed and ready at 4am, you approach your locked front door to confront the group of loud strangers trying to break into your apartment

PAIRING: fiancé!lsm x reader

GENRE: fluff, humor

TAGS: food mention, inebriated characters, post-bachelor party, brother!hvc

WC: 1.75k

MESSAGE FROM NU: hii long time no see :3 posting a dk oneshot to let you know i'm procrastinating on my final paper draft by drafting a hefty dk soulmate au i've been thinking about writing for a while. also dedicating this fic to @wongyuseokie the la to my ma

A perfectly peaceful Friday night goes to waste when you shoot up from your bed in a panicked state. It’s not the usual cat wanting to leave your room at five in the morning kind of scratching sound that lures you to open your bedroom door in a half-awake state. Instead, shuffling sounds out front and an insistent metal-to-metal sound, which you can only infer as someone trying to break into your apartment, cause you to become extremely vigilant.

Seokmin isn’t picking up his phone, but you keep his line ringing just in case he does. Doubtful that a pair of scissors can do as much damage to the head as a giant wok can, you head into the kitchen to pick up that giant carbon steel wok that you can never seem to fit into any of your kitchen drawers as a form of physical backup before you quietly approach your front door.

However, the fear that once overwhelms your body soon turns into a sigh of exasperation before you can even position yourself to look through the tiny peephole. You can clearly hear the familiar voices on the other side of the door and match each voice to its respective owner. Feeling relieved, you drop the wok on the cubby by the door and hang up the phone.

“Look, I opened it,” the man who was trying to open your door slurs with a dopey smile on his face. He doesn’t seem like he’s talking to anybody in particular. “I’m a fucking genius.”

Almost immediately after that statement, he falls forward and faceplants a couple centimeters away from your indoor slippers. Slumped to the side of his face is his hand that holds a small metal keychain between the thumb and index fingers. It’s a souvenir nameplate keychain from a family trip to another country a few years back whose design reads “Vernon” in all caps. You realize that the man near your feet didn’t even try opening the door with the key.

The actual owner of the set of keys lies on his left side while his entire body is propped against the bushes in front of your place. His legs are still surprisingly in a crisscross position, but you think it’s because his jeans restrict him from being able to unravel from the position. And when you see earbuds plugged up your brother’s nose while his mouth acts as some sort of impromptu speaker for whatever song he has playing through his earbuds, you consider the option of leaving him outside for the rest of the night. What’s even worse is that Joshua, although a little out of it, sits next to his younger friend and bobs his head to the music while lethargically reaching into his brown paper bag on his lap to grab some greasy fries. You think your brother is asleep, but you don’t know if him becoming a speaker happened pre-knocking out or post-knocking out.

“Do I want to ask why you guys are trying to break into my place at 4 a.m. in the morning or should I be concerned that only half of you guys are here?”

“Actually.” the man underneath you groans while he slowly gathers enough strength to sit upright. There is a nasty red mark on the side of his face that he doesn’t seem to know of and mind. “Saying ‘4 a.m. in the morning’ is redundant.” He points at nobody in particular with the same hand holding your brother’s set of keys and stares past your calves.

“Since you’re sober enough to be smart with me, I need your help dragging Vern and Shua into my place before the neighbors wake up and call neighborhood watch,” you gruff before stepping out of your house slippers into the sandals you keep near the door.

It turns out that there are more people scattered about the front of your place.

There is a car parallel parked against the sidewalk with what looks like two people in the car. Someone picks themself off the small grassy lawn on the other side of the bushes and trudges towards the car while pinching their temple.

Wonwoo nods at you when he passes by looking completely sober. Yet, for somebody who usually looks well-put-together, his hair is a mess while the top few buttons of his dress shirt are unbuttoned…no, missing. What remains are the threads that once attached the buttons to the dress shirt. You notice that he grips three different neckties in his hand but still his loose around his neck. Nevertheless, Wonwoo kicks off his dress shoes, steps over Jeonghan, enters your front door without saying a word, and knocks out on your sofa before his legs can make it onto the cushions.

You turn back to your brother. Joshua wipes his fingers on his pants before he squats on the other side of Vernon to help him up.

“Up,” you tell the both of them.

“I can’t breathe,” Vernon whines while allowing the both of you to help him stand. “My nose isn’t working.”

You sigh and yank the wired earbuds by their cords and out of his nostrils and let them drop before the older man helps his friend into your place. Bending down to grab the bag of fries that Joshua forgot, you see a disturbing amount of hair poking through the crevices of the leafy bush. Someone was dumb enough to black out in the bushes and you can’t tell who it is even after peering over the bush to look at the other half of the body.

“Jeonghan,” you hiss at the man who is trying to discreetly walk back to the car.

He looks back at you and mouths “what” while shrugging his shoulders.

You point at the head in the bush.

“It's Jihoon,” he snorts. He takes the paper bag from your hand and walks back to drop it in the wok that you put to the side before walking back to you. “I think he was supposed to give Vernon his keys but tripped and never got back up. Come to the car with me.”

“Why are you guys here?” you whispered. “I thought that you guys had the entire night planned out.”

“We had the entire night planned out. But then DK started crying and we had to end it early because he wouldn’t stop crying. And then all of us sobered up to try to help him but then it just worsened, so we drove here to get you to get him to stop crying. Some of us couldn’t deal with not being able to solve his problem and just started drinking again.”

“Is that why Jihoon is in the bushes?”

“Well, he never was the patient type,” he hums.

A quick look into the car immediately gets you to understand why someone like Jihoon would end up so drunk that he would dive headfirst into some bushes.

There are dozens of used tissues balled up and overflowing in the tiny hanging trashcan attached to the back of the passenger seat in Wonwoo’s car. There are a few in the laps of the two men sobbing next to each other in the backseats, and you make a mental note to help Wonwoo sanitize the inside of his car before he drives away in the afternoon. Seungcheol releases Seokmin’s seatbelt and looks at you with an apologetic smile on his face.

In all of the years you’ve come to know Seokmin, you have never seen his eyes this puffy.

“Sorry for showing up at your place unannounced. That must have scared you. There was a lot going on,” Seungcheol murmurs to you while giving you a quick hug. “We were making toasts to his future during the party until Vernon made a comment.”

“What did he say?” you asked him, shocked that your brother could even make a comment that would bring your fiancé to such a state.

“It wasn’t bad.” Seungcheol stepped aside from the open car door to let you squat next to your lover. “He just congratulated you on getting married but this dumbass took it the wrong way because he didn't mention Donkey Kong over here in the sentence and thinks you’re getting married to someone else.”

“Someone else!” Seokmin chokes out in a sob while slumped over on Soonyoung’s shoulder. “Why him? Why not me?”

You grab a tissue from the tissue box on the center console and dab at your future husband’s face. The traces of his tears wet the thin paper, and you can feel the heat of his skin through the tissue. With the same hand, you push the bangs stuck to his forehead and his eyelids to the side. You don’t mind that he doesn’t seem to know that you’re there taking care of him.

“Aww baby,” you coo. “I’ll get married to you, don’t worry.”

The familiarity of your comfort seems to lure your fiancé to sleep. A little further from you, Soonyoung continues to sniffle while his eyes are closed. You turn to Seungcheol and Jeonghan with your mouth open and eyebrows scrunched together.

“He’s a drunk crier…” Jeonghan’s words doesn’t leave you guessing anything. “And also Minghao opened his mouth during the bachelor party.” He scratches the back of his head as a sign of stress and embarrassment before looking at Seungcheol and cocking his head at the two knocked out in the car.

Jeonghan has the easier job of coaxing Soonyoung awake to walk him into your place. Seungcheol, on the other hand, takes it upon himself to swing the entire weight of your limp boyfriend like a large sack of rice over his shoulder.

“Do you need me to help with anything?” you ask him.

You don’t know what time it is anymore. The sky is getting brighter, and the temperature is warming up. Your partner looks finally peaceful in his sleep.

“Nah.” Seungcheol softly brushes your request aside. “We’ve already caused enough trouble for you.”

“I feel like I should be the one apologizing,” you joke while trailing behind Seungcheol just in case he needed any help readjusting the body.

“You don’t have to apologize for him.” His words are sincere. “He loves you, you know. He cried his heart out just because he loves you. There’s nothing to apologize for. To be loved is to be cared for. Go back to bed, we’ll probably wake up around dinner time.”

“Do you think anybody grabbed Jihoon?”

#seventeen imagines #svt imagines #seokmin imagines #seokmin fluff #svthub #seokmin x reader #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #dk imagines #dk fluff #dk x reader #wondernus imagines

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jiminiecrickets · 2 months

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MILK & TWO SUGARS. KTH / M!READER

summary. despite being your subordinate, taehyung relishes in his power over you.

wc. 4.9k

tags. boss/assistant au, dom top!reader, bottom!tae, tae films himself to tease you, oral (r. receiving), office/desk sex, unprotected sex, officemates-with-benefits (sort of)

[ requested ]

the train carriage rocks and rumbles, steel and electricity burning beneath your feet. you hover beside the moving join between carriages, counting down the number of stops until it reaches yours. aside from the not-so-inconspicuous journalist snapping pictures of you across the carriage, it has been a fairly smooth ride.

he's wearing a cap, staring down at the flip-out screen of his dslr, pointed just right in your direction. he's far enough away that the photos probably don't seem that creepy – not i-pretended-to-bump-into-you-for-this-picture creepy, at least – and he's not holding the camera low enough to angle your crotch as the focal point, which is more than you can say for some other journalists. sure, you may have had a wild youth, but you were square now – just a guy in a suit on his phone with a messenger bag strapped across your chest. the most interesting thing about you was the fact that a bouquet of purple and yellow flowers stuck out one end of your bag.

for all the other commuters knew, you were heading home to kiss your wife and your two-and-a-half kids. you would like to keep it that way, isolating yourself with earbuds playing a rotation of your favourite songs.

on your phone, your insanely efficient and ridiculously beautiful personal assistant has just stopped using capital letters and proper punctuation.

seriously where are you? your coffee's going cold :(

you huff. you told him to wait a while longer before grabbing it since you needed to stop by the florist, but he had always been strict about your schedule. if it wasn't on the document, it didn't exist.

a couple more stops to go, you reply, glancing out the windows to ensure you're not getting his hopes up. nine minutes.

can't you get here any faster?

no, taehyung. it's always going to be nine minutes.

despite his profile picture only being his initials – KT, matching at least four other people in your phone – he manages to inject a whole lot of personality into his next message.

then don't walk, desk jockey. what can i do to make you gallop? the bubble of three dots pops up. perhaps i can tempt you over with a carrot?

please stop it with the horse metaphors.

but you're the only one i wanna ride <3

you nearly choke on your saliva, hastily pressing your phone screen to your chest for privacy. you steel your nerves when your phone vibrates again, chasing away the heat crawling rapidly up your neck. you take a deep breath and glance down.

a video. you tap the play button and the window expands to take up your screen.

the first thing you notice is that taehyung's not wearing any pants. he's wearing everything but pants, and you even see a flash of his playful smirk as he tightens his tie when he glances down. he smooths it down, down his stomach, and leans back in a chair.

your chair.

holy shit. he's in your office.

he tucks one foot up onto the edge of your desk, polished pointed shoe pivoting as he makes himself comfortable. he rests on the point of his elbow, cradling his jaw with long slim fingers.

he wraps his slender fingers around his cock, revealing it from beneath the bottom of his crisp white dress shirt. only the bottom sliver of his face is visible, soft and shapely pink lips playing at innocence, tucked teasingly between his front teeth.

your music doesn't provide a buffer anymore. on instinct, you darken your screen and slam the mute button, thumb working at the phone's volume button in excess.

but, because you have terrible vices, you slowly edge the volume back up until his soft, breathy moans rattle in your skull like a marble inside a can of spray paint.

"hey, boss," he whispers, fingers rolling over his reddened tip, cock dark pink and shining in his grip. he plays at formality, straightening his jacket lapel with his free hand. his hand drops down to cup his bare thigh, golden and soft, and slides gently over his skin, back and forth – caressing himself the same way you do. he exhales softly, back arching. the chair's leather shifts audibly. "come grab your coffee, already. aren't you thirsty? i sure am."

dropping his leg, he pushes his shirt up around his chest, and lifts his phone above him with a sound between a hum and a moan. taehyung twists in your black leather chair, its tall slim shape highlighting the way he angles his hips to accentuate his waist and hips and the way his soft thighs fill up the seat of the chair.

you close your eyes for a steadying breath, shifting on the spot as the train pulls up to your station. thank goodness you had the epiphany to wear a dark suit today. it'd be a particularly awkward gossip piece for that journalist – yes, still there – if you'd worn something lighter.

"i'll be waiting, big boy," he coos directly into your ears, the breathiness in his voice and the flush to his cheeks letting you know just how long he's been in your chair.

he's going to be the death of you.

you weave your way through the station, hurrying down the stairs with your phone in a death grip, screen off. it pings when the pedestrian crossing lights turn green and your mouth goes dry at the sight of another video, described only by date and file type. you struggle to swallow.

on his knees, lovely round ass presented to the camera, taehyung pumps three fingers in and out of his slick hole, the shine of lube dripping down his thigh. his moans are quick and muffled by the palm over his mouth, his cheeks glowing pink with desire, and his hips jerk as he pulls his knees close together. his cock presses firmly along the seam of the back of his thighs.

hissing softly, he pulls his fingers out with a slick pop, lubricated until the knuckle. he glides his fingertips around his hole, showing himself off with a soft giggle, and rocks back on them until his cock twitches. it leaks as he fucks himself with them.

"ah...! get down here, already – my fingers aren't as thick as yours, baby. m-maybe i could still come on them, though," he moans slyly, the quick slick sound of his pumping fingers jolting shivers down your spine. "gonna fucking come on myself, come on your desk – every time you enter this office, you're gonna remember the way i made you feel."

he moans with a toss of his head as his hand quickens. his leaking cock pulses and he bounces slightly on his fingers, that little bit of friction from his cock bumping his thighs almost enough.

"what is it... that you said?" he grins back at the camera, dark eyes smoky and devious. "only angels have bodies like mine? well... white was always heaven's colour."

his lips part as his dark brow furrows, his grip tightening on the back of the chair as his hips tremble. his cock explodes with cum, spurting out in thick white ropes that splatter the backs of his thighs like the sweetest glaze. he spreads his jerking, trembling thighs, and his release slowly pools on the black leather between his knees. he pants softly, wordless.

in the silence of your earbuds, your head rings with the anticipation of your pounding heart, nearly sprinting the half-block down to the skyscraper with your last name printed on it. you push through the large glass doors carelessly – they're shatterproof, and they'll survive you shouldering your way through them.

on your phone, taehyung lets out a soft exhale that sinks claws into your brain. glossy white beads drip from the edge of your chair between his unblemished legs, and if that's not a scene of the divine, then you don't know what is.

shit. hastily, you pass the receptionists and slip into an empty elevator someone left behind. swiping your card, you punch the button for the highest floor, and survive the agonising seconds up, dumping your earbuds and phone unceremoniously into your bag.

the elevator dings, and you're shoving yourself through the tiniest gap the moment it appears with a problem in your pants and a problem at your desk.

lazily, taehyung grins, pink tongue swiping over his lips. one hand strokes his pretty cock under the desk, the motion of his arm perfectly clear.

"hey there, big boy," he purrs. "finally here for your coffee, right?"

you grunt noncommittedly, extracting the bouquet of flowers from your bag before dumping the bag on the loveseat by the elevator. you place it in a white vase and wiggle it back into place on the cute pigeonhole shelf.

you turn back to him, and he's standing now, leaning forward over your desk with that same silky smile. "done with playing uncaring? come over here, make me sorry. i've broken your rules, haven't i, boss?"

"you're a real piece of work," you growl, stalking towards him and yanking him away from your desk to survey the damage. time to put in a request for a new chair. you return your gaze to taehyung, who just smiles demurely at you and strokes the bulge in your trousers.

"a piece of art, don't you like telling me?" he teases, nudging your cock with his knuckles. his smile widens as your breath skips like a record player. he pushes you towards the end of your oak desk. "you liked my presents, did you?"

"presents? that was torture," you rumble, placing your hand on top of his head and fisting a handful of his hair. you tug firmly backwards and his eyes roll back briefly as he moans, hands faltering for just a moment as he fiddles with your fly – you smirk at the sight.

his lashes flutter as he regains control, pupils dilating as he gazes up at you from between your thighs. "but you liked them, right, sir?" he asks softly, almost nervously. he fishes your cock out and his breath hitches, his lower lip tugged between his teeth as he stares up at it.

"is the sky blue, dove?" you ask, softening your voice just for him. he melts like chocolate, pressing himself sweetly into you, and you let go of his hair to card it back from his large dark eyes, tucking the stray strands behind his ears. "but i won't say it didn't surprise me. i was on the train."

"your fault when you have a perfectly good car in the garage, sir," he says with a hum, and he kisses the base of your cock. he lifts your hand back to his hair and you guide his head towards the head of your shaft. with a soft moan, he's all yours again to eat and enjoy, those dark brown eyes almost gold in the late afternoon sun.

"i'll let that sass slide because you're usually such a sweet boy," you say softly, humming as he drags his warm tongue over the ridge of your tip. "good. suck."

he loves the way you talk to him with that voice – a voice like chocolate, sweet and thick and dark. he bobs his head, stroking what he can't fit, and he moans when you hit the back of his throat, filling his mouth and stretching his jaw wide. he works at your cock, tongue lapping at the veins, tracing them to your tip and back, and closes his lips around your shaft, gradually getting all of it down his throat.

he clasps your thighs, letting himself enjoy the heft and heat of your cock filling his throat, and his eyes slide closed, the tip of his nose brushing your pelvis. you exhale softly and pat his hair to watch it bounce back into place, tugging the loose beach curls between two fingers and letting them spring back. it's incredibly soft and silky for someone who's dyed his entire head honey blond for at least as long as he's been working for you.

you cup his cheek as he bobs his head, warm tight throat swallowing your cock, constantly squeezing and fluttering, and your hand shifts to his chin, fingers pressed against the bend of his throat where it meets his jaw. gliding your fingers lower, you can feel your cock sliding against the walls of his throat. when he pulls back until just the heavy tip rests on his tongue, you feel with reverence the way he swallows it down, following the movement of the tip of your cock with each finger it passes.

below, you watch in amusement as he jerks himself off, motions quick and shallow but involving the motion of his whole arm from the shoulder. he moans as he swallows your cock, and your head falls back as your cock throbs from the tight vibrations.

"fuck, taehyung, good boy," you groan, listening to him choke and gag on it as if he couldn't get enough. saliva coats your dick, and it drips down his chin. his parted lips allow him to moan and when he closes his lips around it, he redefines the word 'suck'.

his cheeks hollow, his eyes roll back, and he's so warm and wet around you that your control snaps and you yank his head forward, burying your cock deep in him. he whimpers so perfectly when he feels your cum sliding down his throat, swallowing rapidly. his lashes flutter as he pushes himself deeper and his lips press against your base, making you grunt sharply, fingers tightening in his hair.

even when your grip loosens, your uneven breaths steadying, taehyung keeps you in his mouth, feeling his own hot cum drip down his twitching cock. he doesn't stroke himself, doesn't pull away – just contents himself during the aftermath of his high with keeping his mouth full, blinking slowly like a cat at the hazy middle-distance.

you have to slide him off your cock and he protests, whimpering softly as his nails dig into your thigh. you wrap a hand around yourself, pumping it slowly, and taehyung stares on yearningly, licking his lips subconsciously when a bead of cum slides down your tip.

"do i need to look at what you've done," you ask, though your voice remains steady at the end like a statement. "pretty thing, we are in my office. that means no messes."

"doesn't feel as good as when you're in me," he rasps, leaning up and kissing the base of your cock. "please, baby? promise i'll clean up later."

"you can't always get your way through flattery," you chuckle as he stands, tilting and falling against you as if he belongs there, wrapped in your arms. one hand travels further down and cups his ass, squeezing the supple warmth of it. he moans airily.

"it's worked so far," he whispers. "go sit down, big boy. gonna ride you like you deserve."

"what, you're going to tease this gorgeous little ass and i'm not allowed to have a taste?" you tease, and taehyung grins, pressing chest-to-chest with you. "you're a cruel man."

he smiles, still panting softly, and presses his lips to the line of your jaw. "maybe later," he murmurs. "will you clean me up and take care of me afterwards?"

"depends on my mood, pretty," you hum, guided over to your seat and watching as he sets himself atop your lap. you squeeze his thighs, sitting up against his back.

"you're a chivalrous man, boss. you wouldn't force me to walk home with your cum dripping down my leg," he chuckles, placing his ass over your cock and grinding against it. he grips the armrest and turns his head over his shoulder to kiss you, the other hand coming up to grip your hair. "mm – fuck me already. wanna feel your cock fill me up like a whore – been waiting for ages to get you alone for this."

"you could always call me outside of work, you know?"

"but where's the fun in that?" he teases, and sinks down on your cock with a breathy relieved moan that makes you shiver.

holy fuck. he's so damn warm, so wet. for a moment your thoughts fizzle out into pleasant static shooting down your spine and out to your fingers and toes. just being with him, close to him, enveloped by his faint blue cologne, makes heaven an afterthought.

when you come to and open your eyes – despite not remembering closing them – you are met with taehyung's soft smoky gaze, his warm palm cupping your cheek. he smiles, breathless, as he leans in, closing his eyes and pressing your foreheads together. "you're handsome when you come."

after taking a moment to gather yourself, you frown slightly, shifting your hands higher on his thighs. no, you are most certainly still hard. "wishful thinking, much?"

"no, that was better than watching you come." he nuzzles into your cheek and jaw, then presses your foreheads together again with a soft roll of his hips. the action has you gasping and he slots his mouth against yours, taking advantage of the moment of weakness to slip his tongue between your teeth.

knowing he, your quiet, pretty little secretary, is the one to bring you down from your pedestal, fills him with insurmountable pride. smugness, too – a healthy dose of it. after all, the media made you into the country's most eligible bachelor, and still here you were, leaning into his touch like a soft college boyfriend. you've spent every waking moment since you turned eighteen having columnists nipping at your heels and biting into your clothes, your friends, your love life, and anything else they can twist into drama or some moral fault with you. he knows how high your walls are because of it and the fact that you decided to give him a chance, to let him help you, despite looking like every one of the scandalmongers who've ever hurt you, makes him proud.

you'd never truly lost that pureness about you, that faith in people's goodness that most lose the first time they're betrayed by those they love. that is a very hard thing to do when so many close to you have had some dark immortal want to leech out of you.

taehyung's getting ahead of himself. he can start thinking such things when you start calling him your boyfriend.

"i missed you," he whispers, breath hitching as the ridge of your cockhead catches on his rim. he reaches behind himself, guiding himself onto your dick, and his fingernails dig into your shoulder as he throws his head back with a breathless moan.

"yeah?" you murmur, because you can't ever stay upset at taehyung. "it's only been a few hours. fuck. mm – couldn't have known. maybe you should've sent me a few more videos of yourself."

he tries to gasp in offence, but it comes out too breathy, too pleased. he bounces on your lap with his creamy thighs bracketing yours. "pig. why do you want videos when you have the real thing right in front of you?"

"so i can remember you on lonely nights in foreign hotel rooms."

he scoffs, chuckling softly as he circles his hips, making you groan and tighten your grip on him. he cups the back of your head and pulls you in for a kiss. "give me a promotion, big boy. then your nights won't have to be so lonely."

"you and your silver tongue," you murmur, placing your hands on the curve of his ass, the tiny dip of flesh at the base of his spine. he arches into your touch with a soft sigh, clenching around you and enveloping you in his velvety heat.

"mhm. you know what my tongue can do," he teases, content to fill himself up with you and do nothing else for the rest of the day. he could sit here, pretty as a princess, for the rest of his life and he'd have no qualms about it.

you, however, have different ideas.

you hook your arms under his thighs and rise to your feet, swiping pens and papers clear of your desk and onto the floor with a clatter – he laughs – and you set him down on your desk, kissing his jaw and neck. you nip at his earlobe and he growls in warning playfully, yanking your hair to bring your throat closer to him. he sucks a hickey onto the sensitive skin, the sting giving way to pleasure far too easily.

he spreads his knees and leans back, grabbing your cock with one hand and bracing against the desk with the other, and slips you back inside him with a long moan of bliss. "y-you're so big..."

"don't stroke my ego," you chuckle, stroking his soft, smooth hips and thighs as you thrust hilt-deep into him, easier now that he's adjusted. "god knows it's big enough as it is."

"of course i have to. you're the – the top man." his breath hitches as your cock glides against his swollen prostate, dragging against it roughly with how tightly he's stretched around you. he swears he can follow the line of the veins when it rides against his gummy walls with a harsh thrust. "oh, fuck! baby!"

"that feel good, hm?" you murmur into his ear, the sweet decadence of it rolling over his brain like waves over the shore.

"yes," he moans, eyes rolling back as you press into him, a single shift of the angle of your hips enough to make his back arch and his mouth fall open. "yes, yes! ah, f-fuck, right there – right there, harder, don't stop..."

you know his body like the back of your hand. gripping his thighs until they dimple under your fingertips, you pull out until just the tip rests against his hole. with a snap of your hips, you bury yourself deep in his warmth, making him jerk and cry out. his cock spurts prematurely and he gnaws on his lower lip, squeezing his eyes shut to will down his budding high. his nails dig into your shoulders.

"i told you," he pants, glistening eyes raising to meet yours. "harder."

what your secretary wants, he gets.

your cock slams directly into his prostate and he gasps, whimpering softly as you set a quick, hungry pace. still unsatisfied, you push your mouth against his, tongue dipping between his lips to taste his coffee.

milk, two sugars.

he always had a sweet tooth.

his damp hair sticks to his temples, the perfect salon waves bouncing rapidly with each smack of your hips against his ass. he moans into your mouth as his cock jerks, swollen and heavy against his slim stomach. it bounces with each powerful thrust and he cries out, the sweet sound echoing in your office for anyone to hear.

he whines softly, a softer sound than he'd ever let anyone else hear. he claws at your shoulders and sides, panting against your lips and submitting to your demanding kisses with messy clouded lust. the slap of skin on skin only arouses him further and he grabs your tie in a white-knuckled grip, tugging your mouth down against his the moment it parts for air.

"close," he whimpers into the kiss, and his eyes flutter back into his skull as your cock punches the breath out of his lungs, fucking him faster, harder, deeper. he opens his eyes, half-lidded and dazed, as you sweep his hair out of his eyes, combing it back gently with your fingers.

you tug. he comes.

his velvety searing heat swallows you whole, animal in its hunger, and he digs his heels into your lower back, forcing your cock deeper in him until you have no choice but to follow him over the precipice, crashing over it like blue waves over white rock. his pleasure is engulfing, almost stifling despite his tenderness. he curls into your grasp, panting and nuzzling into the crook of your neck, and his hot, shuddering breath stirs against the fine skin of your collarbone.

when your hips slow to give him a moment of respite – surely he'd want one, you thought, barely able to eke out a gasp of your name – he instead takes the chance to chastise you.

"couldn't you have... finished... any faster?" he huffs, his chest heaving as he gulps down air between words. "you've a meeting in five minutes."

with your thoughts still lingering on the image of taehyung's bliss and the clandestine knowledge that he'd made a mess on your desk, you take a moment to respond. when you do, you're incredulous.

"wait, are you trying to keep me on schedule? now?"

"it's... it's office hours. i still have to do my job." he rolls his eyes, as if you aren't balls-deep inside of him. you remind him with a few shallow, gentle thrusts – he sucks in a shaky breath and tips his head back with a shake to let his bangs fall more comfortably over his forehead. "lord knows you're not the one keeping an eye on your timetable."

"we can talk about that later, and just reschedule that damn meeting. they'll wait for me." you press your lips to the dip just beneath his ear and he hums, lazily content. then, as if remembering that he has to play bad cop and not laze in the comfort of your touch, his eyes flutter open and his mouth thins into a straight line.

"you're making a bad habit out of this," he argues. there he is – your fiery assistant. if you looked at him now, you'd never know he'd just been making dirty videos with sultry smiles.

"the best kind of habit," you murmur, shifting your hips. his breath hitches and his grip tightens involuntarily on your shoulder, making you smirk. "don't worry, taehyung. i'll give you the rest of the day off. you need one – at least today because of me."

his frown deepens at your cheeky comment, even though his cheeks flush. "i don't take days off."

"you always say that, but what are you doing right now? working hard or hardly working?" you tease, sliding your hands up his thighs and hips.

"it's – different," he manages to gasp out, clicking his tongue when your nails drag over the veins of his messy cock. "stop that. you have a meeting, remember?"

you draw your hand back. "i was working when you sent me those videos. i seem to recall you were, too. this feels unfair."

"unfair?" he repeats. "you liked them. you always like them." he pauses. "don't you?"

"i'm not sure the other people on the train appreciate your beauty as much as i do." you kiss him and he hums, accepting your tongue into his mouth with a sigh of pleasure. "don't stop sending your videos."

"is that an order, big boy?" he whispers.

"yes, it is," you reply, and he smiles, brief and sweet. you pull out of him gently, rubbing the join between his hip and thigh soothingly as he moans softly through bitten lips. "now, you have an email to write. that meeting won't postpone itself."

he huffs, allowing you to help him down from your desk. he turns around, leaning over it to grab his laptop from the corner, and you press yourself into his back and ass, teasing your cock against his hole. the coffee he grabbed for you sits cold on the edge of your desk next to the pen holder.

"tell me what the email says," you murmur into his neck, caressing his stomach with one hand and teasing his nipples with the other.

taehyung's breath shudders as he nods, opening up the calendar and shifting the meeting to three days later. moving it a few hours means you look sloppy with your time management, and so does one day. three days looks like a choice – like you have better things to do with your time. these men don't have anyone else to go to, so they'll wait for you no matter what.

"your conference with mr ln has been moved to thursday, august twenty-first. please see attached—" he closes his eyes as your hand wraps around the base of his cock, gently squeezing. "p-please see attached a link to your updated appointment."

you shrug, peppering kisses over the freckles of his neck and shoulder. "good enough. send it."

he clicks send and closes his laptop, pushing it away as you lift him into your arms. he gasps and wraps his limbs around you, holding tight as you move him to the couch on the other side of the room. you hover over him as he pants softly, staring up at you with dark eyes and plump red lips.

"by the way, i've received message that your suit's been delivered to your home," you say with a soft smile. "you're going to outshine everyone at that stupid awards ceremony."

"you say that as if you won't like seeing me in it. you can fuck me in it in the car afterwards. you bought it, after all." his eyes glint dangerously. "maybe i'll wear a surprise under it – to celebrate your successes, of course."

you grin, filthy and boyish, and taehyung's heart flutters. "you've just made me very excited for that day. come grab coffee with me after work – we can test how much space i have in my backseat."

#top male reader #x male reader #male reader #dom male reader #dom reader #bts x male reader #bottom bts #bottom taehyung #taehyung x male reader #kpop x male reader #bts x reader #kpop x reader #bts smut #taehyung smut

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gamerwoman3d · 5 months

Text

Please Be Bi-Han 🙏

🔞 An MK1 x Reader 🔞

You aren't supposed to be in this timeline.

And to you, this timeline shouldn't exist. But it does. And this timeline is particularly exploitable, given the things you know which no one else in this timeline does. You slip into the timeline and abuse your knowledge to unethically gain just enough wealth to live very, very comfortably. And you laugh because this timeline is literally just a game to you. Admittedly, you came here to try to seduce the hotties. But when you figured out just how easy it would be to game the financial system here, you did that.

Imagine not being shocked at all to see Liu Kang at your doorstep with his Lin Kuei goons. You could laugh. You know him. You know all three, no, all four of them; your attraction to them is what initially drew you to this timeline. The fourth you knew by smell alone; the campfire scent in the air proved that Smoke was with them, somewhere ready for action yet invisible to your eyes.

Imagine closing the door to your beautiful private mansion in their face before any of them even speak. Imagine bolting it, locking it, chaining it, only to tell them through the speaker, "Whoever breaks this door down and finds me first gets laid."

🔞 Spicy/Explicit after the cut 🔞

Now you, you have installed several small panic rooms throughout your mansion with which to play hide and seek. So you go do that, smirking to yourself as you watch the group through the security cam app on your phone. But back up a moment to just before these guys arrived.

Liu Kang smirked as he collected his warriors at the edge of a portal that would lead conveniently into a hidden driveway outside the privacy walls near your garden.

"I have a fun little mission for us today. Geras discovered someone manipulating the financial trajectory of our timeline that isn't supposed to be here. We need to go get them, and convince them to stop, without violence."

"Respectfully, Lord Liu Kang - If you don't need violence, why did you call us? If we can't stab it, it's most likely someone else's problem," Smoke said out of turn.

"There are other methods of coercion, Smoke. And if Geras' revelations for this mission are proven true, then methods of seduction are on the table," Liu Kang responded flatly.

Liu Kang wanted to laugh. The synchronized single-eyebrow raise of the three masked ninjas before him was too cartoonish to seem real.

Fast forward.

You get a good run, scrambling to your hiding place.

"I thought this might be the case," you hear Liu Kang say in your earbud, from audio played through the phone collected from the front door security recorder.

"Seduction really is the game this evening," Scorpion said, "even with you saying as much, I am still surprised."

"Are we making a competition of it? Or am I the only one that will be chasing after that cutie?" said Smoke from seemingly nowhere.

"Don't blow your cover, brother. We're not sure if we're being recorded. It could give us an advantage if you'd keep quiet," Sub-Zero said.

"It's a competition," Scorpion interjected before slamming his boot into the door, rattling it in it's frame.

A few kicks, body slams did nothing. Sub-Zero guided the others out of the way, froze the door handle in it's place, then pulled the mechanism - deadbolts and all - through the crystallized steel. He tossed it to the side and booted open the door, which swung freely and hit the interior wall with such force that one might have expected the crash to come from a vehicle accident.

You bounce in your place, trying not to giggle as you watch the men through your tablet. You had hoped Bi-Han would breech the door first, but now the men crept inside and began to hunt for you. You saw all except Smoke, just before the power went down, taking your security feed with it.

You were in the dark, now, lit only by the glow of a tablet that showed the wifi disconnected. You swiftly realized that Smoke must have gone to cut the power - and had the foresight to cut the backup power first.

Smart of him, you thought. But now, in the dark, there was nothing left to do but wait for one of them to discover your hiding spot. Every little noise you heard made your heart jump in anticipation of being caught.

"Please be Bi-Han, please be Bi-Han," you chanted in a whisper under your breath.

FOR PART TWO - LINKS BELOW POLL

...

And now I'll be a bit evil.

ADVENTURE TIME. C'MON GRAB -

Part 2a(i): Sub-Zero discovers F! Reader

Part 3a(i): Sub-Zero toys with F! Reader (to be read after part 2a(i)

Part 2b(i): Smoke discovers F! Reader

Part 2b(ii): Smoke discovers M! Reader

Part 3b(i): Smoke fucks F! Reader (to be read after part 2b(i)

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 month

Text

Muddled Waters 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Part of the Sweet and Spicy AU

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, blood, violence,, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your boss has a dangerous secret.

Character: Nick Fowler (mob au)

Please comment and reblog if it’s not too much. I always love getting to chat about these stories and hearing all your ideas! You all are wonderful and loved.

Your shift goes as usual. You make drinks to order and bring them out to the tables, or to set in the windows set into the walls of the private rooms. Those are for the more exclusive patrons, the ones who remain mostly faceless. The Sapphire is as close to a speakasy as you’d find in this century.

As you bring out a single scotch and place it on the ledge of the order window, a voice intone from the other side.

“Pardon me,” the English lilt wafts through, “your boss wouldn’t happen to be in house?”

You pull back your hand and consider the question. The customers in the rooms never talk to you. No thank yous, no pleases, no special orders. Those all come through the screen in the back which lists their demands; no olives, extra salt, double vodka...

“No, sir, I’m sorry, he’s not in,” you reply.

“Pity,” he remarks and a hand reaches to take the glass. “You will let him know I was here. In Room Four.”

“I’ll mention it. Would there be a name I should give him?”

“He will know,” he returns and footsteps scuff away from the window. Right.

You’re somewhat used to the cryptic. As nice as Nick can be, he isn’t always straightforward. The establishment does give you reason to bat an eye but for the most part, your pay stubs keep your gaze in the other direction.

You return to the kitchen and work at cleaning the used glasses brought by the singular busboy. You don’t know his name and he doesn’t talk. He always has earbuds in and only puts bins of dishes in the wash tray.

To say the operation is minimal is an understatement. Yet there is never more demand than you can meet. It makes you wonder how Nick breaks even with such a limited audience. Especially with the grade of ingredients he gets in. You never worked at a bar that didn’t water down their liquor now and again.

The night comes to an end and the lights dim as the bar closes up. The busboy clears the rooms and locks the front door. You leave the glasses in sparkling rows on the shelves and a bin of dishcloths to have washed the next day. You place away a few stray bottles then wipe down the counters.

“You’re here late,” Nick’s voice startles you and you hiss, looking up at him from the edge of your vision.

“Cleaning up,” you say and toss the cloth with the rest. “Just finishing now.”

“Mm,” he nods and hooks his thumbs in his belt loops, “you wouldn’t happen to have time to make me something, would ya? I’ll keep it simple.”

You withhold a sigh. Or maybe a yawn. Your eyes tingle and you shrug, “sure, what do you want?”

“Rye and coke,” he answers as he approaches the island and crosses his arms over the top, leaning on the stainless steel.

You swiftly gather everything you need and put together the simple drink. You set it before him and return all you disturbed back to its rightful place. You face him as he raises the glass and considers the dark elixir.

“Oh, er, someone asked for you,” you untie your apron and fold it over the bin meant for tomorrow’s laundry.

“Someone did? Was she pretty?” He winks.

You shake your head, “no. It was a man. He was in Room Four. That’s what he told me to tell you.”

“Room Four,” he repeats and puts the brim to his lips, taking a slow draw. His cheeks dimple before he pulls it away. “Noted.”

You nod at his strange reaction. Almost none at all. You check the time and drag your hands over your head.

“Well, I’m going to head home,” you say, “if that’s okay?”

“Quitting time,” he says coolly, his eyes stuck on the cabinet, a squiggle in his forehead. “Go on, get some sleep, sweetheart.”

“You too,” you shoot back. “Look like you need it.”

You pass him and he stands, turning to watch you, “hey, what does that mean?”

“Nothing, just... look tired.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he scoffs.

You go through to the backroom and grab your jacket and purse. It’s not really a strange night. A few out-of-the-ordinary occurrences, but nothing worrying. The man in Room Four and Nick’s late-night appearance; it’s not really a pattern.

You glance back at the kitchen door before you leave. You head out the back and walk down the next street. You approach your car parked by the curb, the rush hour jam keeping you from finding a closer spot. You take out your keys and they jangle loudly as your footsteps echo.

As you shove your keys into the slot, you’re suddenly taken off your feet, a blunt force jarring your wrist as your fingers catch in the keyring. You hit the ground with wheeze and roll across the stray pebbles as you hug your chest. You can’t breathe.

“Look, honey,” the British voice hisses through the night, “I didn’t wanna bring you into this but I needa send a message.” A figure straddles you on their knees, holding you down by your neck. “Not much, you’ll live...” you hear a metallic shing, “bit of blood is all.”

You feel a piercing pain just below your neck, right at the small dip of your collar bone. You cry out as the metal slices down your chest and easily through your shirt. Your skin parts with the fabric as you vibrate in agony.

“Get... off,” you cough out as you regain your breath. “Please...”

“Shh, honey,” he takes the knife away and smears his hand over your chest, your warm blood spreading under his rough palm, “I just want him to see you painted up nice for him.” He drags his hand over your face, the metallic scent staining your nose and lips. “Mm, you are a pretty thing, too.”

The man wiggles his hips lasciviously before he pushes himself off of you. He stands and you cover your ragged skin with your hands and whine, sobs rising from the pain hewn into your flesh. There’s a noise, something distant, maybe a door, and the man’s silhouette strolls off, whistling into the night.

Another set of footfalls approach you as you writhe on the ground. You don’t understand what happened. Why did that man do this to you? You can’t move. You can’t think. You just can’t.

The street light flickers as someone steps around the front of your car.

“Shit,” Nick rushes over and falls to his knees beside you, “shit, sweetheart, I shouldn’t have let you come out here alone. I shoulda knew...”

“Why?” You babble as your blood seeps between your fingers, “why, Nick?”

You squeeze your eyes shut and bawl. He slides his arms under you and lifts you as you exclaim. He hushes you as he holds you against his chest.

“It hurts,” you whimper.

“I got you, sweetheart,” he rasps, “I got you.”

#nick fowler #dark nick fowler #dark!nick fowler #nick fowler x reader #the 355 #muddled waters #drabble #au #sweet and spicy #series

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xsister-serpent · 6 months

Text

Earbuds & Intrigue

Warning: 18+ MDNI, cursing, spicy audio, sexual explicit,

Summary: Goth!Reader is a supporter of a spicy audio content creator CraftedClassic on Patreon. Her routine office job takes an unexpected turn when she discovers that her new wealthy CEO is none other than CraftedClassic, the infamous spicy audio creator she admires.

A/N: This has been back burner of my computer for years and I finally had the time to work on it. This was heavily inspired by those spicy audio's on gone wild reddit. This is going to be a series for sure. Might make a playlist for this story. 🖤 Hope you guys like this take on CEO Kylo btw. Kylo's username is: CraftedClassic and Goth!Reader username is DeathMajesty. link for Part 2.

Having worked in the office all day had been tiresome and treacherous. There were daily reports to prepare since the month was almost over. It had been okay for you to come in two out of five days since the lockdown. In addition to not having your former employees next to you, you were able to listen to music and be on Zoom calls at your convenience. Although it wasn't important, you were a shadow in the background, and you appreciated that. Today was different, however; word got around that you were going to have a CEO boss. Rose, your cubicle mate (or, as you both coined the term, cell buddies), messaged you. You placed your dark wave music on hold as you saw her messages ring up.

ROSE: Morning! Hope you had your coffee. Just a little forewarning about the new CEO. He’s a bit uppity.

Y/N: Aren’t they all?

ROSE: He’s worse…he’s like a male version of Miranda Priestly.

Y/N: Good thing I wear all black, huh? Can’t go wrong with that fashionable look.

You chuckle and then go to work. You didn’t care about new people at this point if you were being honest. You expected an older man, of course, like all stereotypical CEOs, if not a preppy-looking man with a traditional family values background. As you went back to your reports, you saw Maz, your supervisor, entering the building along with a man dressed in a fine all-black suit.

He took off his sunglasses and glanced around the building. He had black shoulder-length hair, an aquiline nose along with beauty marks. He was tall and built, and the suit made him look all the more intimidating. He had an unusual handsomeness to him that caught you off guard.

‘Okay, you weren’t expecting that at all.’ You went back to your work, seeing Maz and him draw closer and closer to your workstation. You withdrew an earbud as you saw Maz wave at you with a kind smile, “Ah, the little ghost! Y/N is one of the best drafters we have here. Y/N, this is Kylo, the new CEO.”

You glance up at him and stuck out your hand, “Hi, nice to meet you.”

Kylo's gaze was tense as he shook your hand, “Afternoon.”

You could see why Rose used that term; even his presence was intimidating. His hand gently but firmly shook your hand. ‘God, even his hands are huge,’ you thought. You could tell Maz was in a rush as she moved on to show Kylo more of the building.

“Reports looking good?” Maz spoke.

“Always,” you mused as you went back to work.

Kylo trailed right behind her only to look back at you once from the corner of your eye. He leaned over to say something to Maz. She didn’t glance back but nodded assertion.

What did that mean? Was it your workwear? Was cooperate goth not good enough anymore, you’d be damn to wear those awful brown-colored company polos.

You were a ghost in that company, and you wanted to keep it that way; his attention was the last thing you needed. You were clocked out at 3:30 pm and cleaned the temporary workspace. You had messaged Rose on your break about the CEO. However, you didn’t mention the side conversation you saw with him and Maz. You kept that to yourself, trying not to think too much about it. You took off in your black car, blaring the deep vocals of Peter Steele as you drummed to the beat of the song. You pulled up to the light and waited, softly singing to the chorus of 'My Girlfriend’s Girlfriend’. As you glanced over, you saw him. Kylo. He was in a black convertible, of course, talking to someone on the phone with a narrowed look. Immediately, you turned the other way, avoiding contact. As you waited for the light, you quickly glanced at him, gandering him.

“Hmm, looks like you're made of old money—the quiet type of rich. Oh, check out that watch,” you quietly observed, “Breitling. Not quite a Rolex, though.”

You turned your attention to the traffic light, and almost incidentally, you saw Kylo glance your way. You gripped onto the steering wheel and kept your eyes forward.

‘He didn’t see you; he’s just checking out the window.’ You told yourself.

Thankfully, his light had turned green, and in a roar of the engine, he took off.

You made your way back to your apartment and were greeted by your roommate's corgi, BB8. You gave him a boop on the nose and a little treat.

"Stop giving him treats Y/N, he’s gonna get tubby," Rey chuckled as she slipped on her shoes. You looked at the now-sad pup who shamefully went to his spot and sighed heavily.

"Sorry, BB," You soothed as you went to the couch, "You're out of here already?"

"Yeah, got a weekly meeting with 'the family'," she said as she slipped on her blazer, "I'll probably be back late, make sure BB gets half of his dinner."

You looked at the tubby corgi who was almost hiding her face in shame. "Of course."

You knew Rey from high school and knew she, too, came from a rich family. One she said was a near mix of Succession. All the more it made you curious about why she'd want to live in a regular 2-bedroom apartment with you in a middle-class area. You could tell she hated family holidays, and most of the time, she spent it with your large, loud family if her dad was out of town.

"Sounds good," you nodded as you landed on the couch, taking off your docs. "Wish me luck; I'm meeting with my annoying cousin," she sighed.

"The one who totaled the car?" You chuckled as you remembered her story of the last Christmas party she went to with her dad.

"Yup," Rey spoke as she ran her fingers through her hair, "I need to get Bravo on my family; we'd make good headlines. Welp, I shall see you two later." Rey waved as she blew a kiss at her dog, leaving you alone.

You looked over to BB8, who was now snoring into her blanket. With a chuckle, you got up and went to your room. You had changed into your black oversized tee and sweats as you mindlessly scrolled through social media.

Until a notification came from your subscription to Audios After Dark, a website for audio erotica. You stumbled across it and immediately got into it a few years back. It was better than seeing those fake pornos and way healthier for your sexuality—over the million accounts you had found one to your liking. A user named CraftedClassic had one of the smoothest and sexiest voices you had ever heard.

You listened to his introduction hearing his baritone voice through your headphones and you entered into the rabbit hole of his audio directory. A few times you had left him a tip and a little comment here and there to which he replied with appreciation.

You saw a new audio from him this time it was a script he created. In this scenario, he played a submissive something different from what he had usually posted. You just shut the door and pulled on your headphone clinking the link. You closed your eyes hearing him through your headphones.

“I know it's been a long time since I uploaded but I hope you all enjoy this one, it was quite the experience for me,” he spoke with a deep chuckle.

You are back on your bed hearing him describe his restraints and how he needed to be fucked. Immediately you felt that heat between your legs grow with excitement and lust. You went over to your nightstand and took out your viberator. His moans and pleas making you feel all the more excited for this audio.

You quietly went to work on your release picturing this man kneeling before you begging you for your touch on him.

‘Please I need this! I need you! I need to taste you in my mouth,’ CraftedClassic cried in pleasure mimicking what sounded like eating you out, ‘Fuck you taste soo good, I want you to break me..’

As you worked your fantasy your mind to Kylo as your vibe went a few stages higher on your clit. You pictured him being submissive his hands bound behind him as he buried his face between your legs moaning and whimpering into your throbbing pussy. You heard CraftedClassic wanton pleas and begging that made you finish with a silent cry of pleasure as he made the sounds of his climax. You came hard and fast, your body trembling as you felt yourself melting into pleasure. You lay there in a blissful state, your mind still reeling from the intensity of the experience. You heard CraftedClassic heavy breathing through the headset as he released another soft moan coming down from his undoing. As he closed his audio session you left a like along with a short comment:

10/10 Keep up the good work.

Almost within seconds, he replied.

'Glad I could give you the satisfaction @DeathMajesty ;)'

You looked at his profile photo once more wondering what this CraftedClassic looked like out of curiosity but it was all anonymously which you couldn’t blame him for.

“No digit footprint at all,” you sighed shutting your vibe off.

The digit footprint was always in the back of your mind but it was fine for this. Better spicy audios than a lecherous porn site that used sex workers’ content. You sighed and logged out of the site setting your phone to charge.

You went back to social media and doom-scrolled once more, seeing Rey's post on her social. She was in the upper side of the city taking dinner selfies with her good-natured father Luke and boyfriend Finn. But then something else caught your eye in the background. You paused her video and zoomed in. It was Kylo. A slight laugh escaped your lips connecting the two dots, he was the dread cousin Rey had told you about. You clicked his name but of course, it was private. The only icon of him was a black-and-white photo of his silhouette.

“Interesting,” You chuckled going back to watching Rey’s post and exiting out of the app.

You stopped scrolling and went to make yourself dinner settling in for a salmon bake bowl and coke. As you feed yourself you fed BB8 who was already spinning in excited circles for food.

#star wars #kylo ren #kylo ren fanfic #kylo ren x reader #ben solo x reader #kylo ren smut #reader x kylo ren #ceo!kylo ren x reader

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biteofcherry · 3 days

Note

Nomadick + bondage and/or blindfold

Deprived of half of your senses (with the blindfold on, earbuds in, hands tied above your head), you tried to relax in preparation for what Steve would do to you.

You thought him taking his time was to record that growing anticipation and squirming of your body, something the viewers found extremely hot.

Truth was, Steve was mesmerized by the sight of you.

Naked, at his mercy, trusting him so deeply. As much as he wanted to slowly wreck you, he also wanted to simply hold you.

But it would be a shame, if he didn't continue with the plan for a video that may yet beat the records of views.

Considering the way you gasped sweetly at the mere touch of his fingers along your ribcage, Steve knew the pleasure of this session would be a decadent delight he'd want to prolong as much as he could.

He moved to the head of the bed, bending down to draw your lips into a sensual kiss. His light chuckle puffed against your mouth when you chased his lips as he pulled back.

Steve's kisses always made you a little dizzy, but when you couldn't touch him, see him, the focus on the tingling in your lips made it seem that they pulsed harder than usual.

Tap of his finger against your lip elicited another gasp; your mouth opening to let his digit slide against your tongue.

Then that wet fingertip was circling your nipple and the sensation of it instantly stiffened your nub.

A pause. You were trapped in exciting helplessness as you awaited his next move.

You expected another warm touch, or maybe his sinful mouth on your breast. Instead, something hard and cold brushed your lips. A cool point drawing the outline of your mouth, before Steve pushed it inside.

Your tongue encircled the steel shape and you let out a garbled moan, recognizing it's a plug.

Steve held it in place, making you salivate around the base. With the back of his curled fingers he stroked your cheek. Then suddenly he pulled the plug out and smacked you lightly.

You agreed upon it many sessions before, finding the perfect level of sting that brought both of you a tinge of pleasure, but wasn't a harmful smack.

Your legs writhed against the sheets, knees itching to close, because your mind knew very well where warmed and wet plugs were put to use.

Steve was taking his time.

Your Soft Doll

Main Masterlist

#buckets-and-trees #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #camboy!steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers smut #your soft doll #lazy sinday drabble #chris evans smut

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suzukiblu · 7 months

Text

Day eighteen of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

“Definitely somewhere nice,” Tim says, trying not to get distracted by watching Kon drink the last of his smoothie. Why is this bastard so attractive all the time, anyway? Tim doesn’t think Superman is attractive. Superman is just, like, generically and creepily too-perfectly handsome. Like a Ken doll or AI art. Kon looks like somebody with an actual personality.

Tim is aware that Superman possesses an actual personality, yes, but it’s one that he spends half his life fucking lying about in one direction or another, so Tim doesn’t think it should even count at this point. Kon is honest. Genuine. Superman? Superman is sincere, maybe, but also is the asshole who’s let Kon think he doesn’t have a secret identity and left him to rot in a shitty lab and only just took him to the Fortress for the first time.

Robin hasn’t told Kon his real name either, but at least Kon knows he has one. He can’t tell him his identity, but he was clear about that from the start and clear about its existence. Superman doesn’t tell Kon much of anything, Tim’s realizing.

He wonders if Kon even knew the Fortress existed before Superman took him to it. He wonders if that’s the only time Superman's ever told him anything about Krypton.

Considering what a big deal gets made of Superman being the last member of a dead civilization and dying race, you’d think he’d fucking care about telling his only genetic relative about it. Or just care about that relative, if nothing else. Which–look, Supergirl isn’t actually Kryptonian, she’s a protoplasmic matrix from an alternate universe who was loosely based on one, and Steel is an unenhanced human inside his armor. But Kon wasn’t just based on Superman, though, didn’t just take up the “S” out of respect–Kon was made directly from him, and made to be him. Has actual Kryptonian DNA in him and personal reasons to maybe care about Krypton as more than a very brief mention in someone else's history; has Superman’s DNA, and is probably the closest thing Superman’s ever going to get to seeing another Kryptonian who isn’t a probably-murderous Phantom Zone escapee.

As far as Tim can tell, though, Superman thinks Kon’s an accessory more than anything else, and not even one he particularly cares to trot out. Like a stray dog in his neighborhood that he occasionally pets or leaves some kibble out for, but hasn’t bothered getting vaccinated or actually taking inside. Superboy isn’t his sidekick or his partner or anyone he supports outside of the occasional temporary emergency; he’s just some random kid he spares a moment for every now and then. Not a consistent presence in his life; not someone he considers a responsibility in his life.

Tim exhales, carefully packs up the thoughts that are a little bit too “supervillain” for this stage in the process, and goes to find the clerk, who’s very happy to sign them up for a plan and accident insurance and sell them the phone and case and also some screen protectors and earbuds and a UV sanitizer and electronic wipes and then one of those PopSocket grip things with a neon-tinted sunset and some palm trees silhouetted on it. Tim seriously considers getting Kon a tablet too, but maybe that can wait a week or so; Kon’s looking a little overwhelmed right now.

. . . then again, they’re already here, so . . .

One tablet and a new set of screen protectors and another case and additional accident insurance later, the clerk is delighted enough that Tim knows they make commission and Kon is staring at him in obvious bewilderment as he pays for it all.

“Hey, Tim,” Kon says very slowly. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but do you maybe have, like, some impulse control issues?”

“No,” Tim lies as he programs his civilian number into Kon's contacts, then hands him his all set-up new phone and takes the very full bags with everything else in them from the clerk. “Wanna go walk around a little?”

Specifically, go walk around until he spots something else he can justify buying for Kon. Maybe more jeans, if nothing else. He can say it'll be easier than having to buy Kon a new outfit every time they want to hang out.

Not that he won't be doing that anyway, given half a chance, but Kon doesn't know that.

Yet.

“Um, sure,” Kon says, and they head out of the store, leaving a very pleased salesperson behind with their commission. “You know, I can carry those, you don't have to–”

“I'm kind of enjoying it, honestly,” Tim says with a shrug. He actually is, if only for the novelty factor of being the one carrying something for Kon for once. Kon turns red again and Tim immediately finds a new reason to enjoy carrying the bags.

“Uh,” Kon says, glancing down at his new phone and turning it over in his hands. “Okay.”

They walk a little as Kon plays with his phone, downloading apps and rearranging icons on the screen, and Tim keeps an eye out for tempting stores. They just ate, technically, so lunch can probably wait until they've hit another one or two. They could go to a movie, maybe; it'd reinforce Kon getting used to him paying for things. Wouldn't really get him anything material, though, and Tim's really trying to do as much of that as he can right now. Just in case Kon loses interest too quickly, he means.

Well, he's got other identities to use, if he needs them. He can keep trying until Kon stays interested long enough to get him to the full execution of the lifestyle change. Tim can be patient, if it takes a few tries. He definitely wouldn't have picked his actual identity for this plan, if he'd thought of it sooner.

. . . hm. Jewelry, maybe? Kon only really wears the one earring, but that’s just in the field anyway. Maybe he’d be up for some more accessories off it. The piercers obviously are out, but it’s still an option. Or boots or shoes that aren’t actually a part of his costume, or some new sunglasses. Salon and beauty supplies are an obvious no, art supplies definitely aren’t gonna appeal, he doubts the record store or comic shop or bookstore would either, he’s not even going to glance at Victoria’s Secret, he doesn’t know about the game store, and they’re definitely not going to the Hallmark Store or Yankee Candle.

Or, god forbid, Bath & Body Works.

Clothes are probably the best bet at this point, yeah, Tim is pretty sure. They can hit up a department store or something, maybe. Or maybe . . . well, he’s not sure, because he actually has no idea how Kon would want to dress if he weren’t in costume. Like, at all.

He also doesn’t really know if Kon has any interests or hobbies beyond, like, watching Wendy the Werewolf Stalker and hitting on pretty girls. Does he? Like, what does he actually do in his downtime?

Considering Tim is ninety-four percent certain Kon would die for literally anyone on the team, including himself, it’s a little weird to not know what he does to just . . . relax, or whatever.

Okay. Start with jewelry, shoes, and clothes, and then use the browsing and window-shopping time to subtly interrogate Kon about what else he’s interested in checking out. That’s a reasonable plan of attack. He’ll take Kon to the cheesy airbrush T-shirt store or goddamn Build-A-Bear, if the bastard wants, that’s–

Hm. Actually . . .

Well, it might be a stupid idea, or at least an idea Kon would think was stupid, but . . .

Tim adjusts his route as he rolls over the idea currently in his head. Maybe it is stupid, but it’s, well . . . date-like, isn’t it? Like, it’s something he’d definitely have done for Steph or Ariana if he’d thought they’d like it. And this still isn’t their first date or even really a date at all, because Tim has standards and Kon deserves them, but that doesn’t mean he should be half-assing things here.

Also, literally any excuse to buy Kon something, at this point. Even a kind of silly thing.

“I want to check on something,” he says, and Kon glances sidelong at him again, looking curious.

“Check on what?” he asks.

“That'd be a spoiler,” Tim says, then crosses over to the toy store across the walkway. “Over here.”

“Aren't we a little too old for this place?” Kon says, squinting skeptically up at the brightly-colored sign. “Actually I'm pretty sure I was born too old for this place.”

“Who cares?” Tim asks, raising an eyebrow at him.

“. . . alright, valid response,” Kon allows with a wry grin, then follows him into the store. Tim hasn't been in a toy store for anything not Robin-related in ages unless he counts the occasional game store visit, and even that he hasn't done in a while, so it is a little weird walking into one again. Still, he's got an idea and he's on a mission, so it's whatever.

He glances around and finds what he's looking for pretty quick on a top-to-bottom wall of long shelves, then heads towards them. Kon keeps following him, looking around with badly-concealed curiosity.

It occurs to Tim that Kon has possibly never actually been in a toy store before. He didn't make it sound like he had been with that “born too old” comment, at least, so unless he got roped into an appearance to promote some Superboy action figure or another . . .

Not that Tim knows anything about any theoretical Superboy action figures or anything. And he definitely doesn't own three.

. . . look, technically the one came with the–never mind.

Tim looks over the wall of shelves while Kon looks at basically everything else, then makes a triumphant noise when he spots what he's after. He wasn't sure they'd have one. He transfers all of the shopping bags to one hand, leans down and plucks his find off the shelf, and then straightens back up and wags it at Kon with a smug smirk.

“Gift shop stand-in,” he says. Kon blinks at him, then at the soft and fluffy stuffed goat in his hand. It doesn't particularly resemble the clay idol from the museum except in the sense of also being a goat, but it's still on-theme, Tim figures.

“Huh?” Kon says. Tim pushes the goat at him. Kon takes it, looking bewildered.

“I'm getting it for you,” Tim clarifies. “Consider it me making good on an IOU and also commemorating how good you are at your job.”

Kon blinks again. Tilts his head. Looks down at the goat in his hands.

Maybe it is a stupid idea, Tim thinks with a flash of uneasy self-consciousness. Maybe Steph or Ariana would've gone for something like this, but they're both girls, and Kon's a lot more concerned about looking “cool” than either of them ever were, and actually, presenting a guy he barely knows even counting the superheroics they're both regularly doing together with a fluffy little stuffed goat with white fur and stubby horns and, Tim is belatedly realizing, a brown heart-shaped spot over one of its eyes, is probably not the smoothest move anyone has ever pulled. Like–as far as flirting goes, a kid's toy is probably the literal antithesis of sexy or interesting, and Kon's used to, like, confident older women and beach bunnies in little bikinis and the celebrity treatment, not like, stupid kiddie stuff.

Well, there's a reason Tim wouldn't have picked Tim Drake for this plan if he'd actually set the whole thing up in advance as opposed to just tripping face-first into a convenient opportunity.

“I mean, if you want it,” he backtracks uncomfortably, suddenly feeling more than a little embarrassed about the whole idea. He'd thought it was date-like enough, getting somebody you were flirting with a stuffed animal. Though in retrospect usually that's, like, teddy bears on Valentine's Day and flowers and chocolate are involved, not just a freaking random goat you just plucked off a mall toy store shelf and–

“Uh,” Kon says, flicking his eyes up from the goat to look at him again, and his face is suddenly very, very red. “Okay. Sure.”

#timkon #tim drake #kon el #conner kent #dc robin #superboy #young just us #young justice #rinfic #long post #wip: obligatory sugar baby kon

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hotteoki · 7 months

Text

0313 (c.b.g.)

pairing: choi beomgyu x reader (no prns used)

genre: fluff, angst no comfort, lovers to strangers

wc: ~600

cw: /

synopsis: the three times choi beomgyu told you he loved you.

notes: listen to heather by conan gray while reading!

thank you to flo (@tsukette), cherry (@staranghae), & lav (@sunny-reis) for beta reading!

©️ hotteoki || do not translate or repost on to any other platforms

the first time, it had been backstage during one of his rehearsals for a play he was about to star in. he was the main lead. you were friends with the female lead. he mentioned before she was soobin’s cousin— or was it taehyun? he got the role after weeks of practicing with you and auditioning with clammy hands. you remembered being so proud of him when he skipped over to tell you, hugging him excitedly as he lifted you from the ground and spun you around.

he had his earbuds in, youhad looked over at him trying to figure what he was listening to, though you never got to find out. nirvana, perhaps? you knew he liked their songs. he caught you staring at him. it was embarrassing for you, but he didn’t mind. he simply gave you a soft smile, mouthing those three words to you. you thought you were imagining things.

the second time, it was after that very rehearsal. he did so well. to celebrate, he took you on a walk by the han river. “that’s so cliché,” you muttered teasingly upon seeing where you were headed. “pardon me for being a gentleman,” he retorted, giving you a kiss on the head. you caught a faint scent on his clothes, and you smiled, knowing it was about to be your new reason to steal his clothes.

he liked stopping every now and then to take pictures of the sunset, and you liked stopping during those moments to take pictures of him. he caught on soon enough, and laughed loudly, but didn’t bother resisting it. he then pulled you by your hand to his side, pressing his forehead against yours. “y’know i meant it, right? i really do love you”

the third time, it’s after exams. he’s walking you home, as usual, with one of his earbuds in your ear and the other in his. he’s wearing his black hoodie, and his scent is stronger than ever. it isn’t the one you normally recognise on him, though.

he sits down by the fence, dragging you to sit down next to him as well. he smiles cheekily, before he continues to talk mindlessly about his day, but the winter breeze sending the whiffs of perfume in your direction reminds you of what you have to do. you steel yourself before speaking.

“beomgyu, we have to talk” his cute little frown appears, “why, what’s wrong?” you sigh, “please just admit it.”

…

“what do you mean?” “beomgyu, i’m not stupid. i see the way you act around her, and before you interrupt me, you can’t use the play as an excuse anymore, it’s been four months. even when we’re together, your eyes wander to her direction. when we talk about your day, it always manages to include her somehow. hell- beomgyu i can even smell her on you!”

…

“but i love you”

your vision blurs. you can’t see his face anymore, “no you don’t, beomie.” you’re shaking your head. he looks at you pleadingly.

…

“but i do…”

“no, beomie, you don’t. please don’t make this any harder than it is.” you’re standing up, “i’ve made this decision long ago, and i’ve made my peace with it.”

you bend down to give him a final hug, but before he can even process your actions,

you leave and never look back, not even when he calls for your name again.

the two times choi beomgyu told you he loved you, he meant it.

the third time choi beomgyu tells you he loves you, he lies.

taglist: @asjkdk @weird-bookworm @dikeu

networks - @kflixnet k-labels @kbookshelf neverendingdreams-net straykidsland @k-films pirateeznet

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creoastra · 4 months

Text

I wrote a fic for the @valentines-core-exchange event!

@nightwanderers12081 is who I made it for! They've got excellent taste in fics omg.

This fic is not beta read so I apologize for any bad pacing or grammar lolol

Past Curfew - A Phandoms Valentines Day event Danny/Valerie shipfic

That ghost- “Ah, sorry Dad, I zoned out.” That's what she gets for trying to trust a ghost. “I am studying at…”

“Danny Fenton’s house.”

“D-Danny’s house! Danny Fenton… We have a Biology project together.. I got caught up working on it so that's what I have been.. Doing….” She spun around to try and catch Phantom and question how he knew who Danny was, but she wasn’t able to catch anything because just like earlier, he was gone. She scowled into the night air, fist clenching and unclenching rapidly.

Floating invisible a few feet away from Valerie, Danny smiled to himself for being able to help her with her problem before the reality of the situation sank in. He nearly hit himself for how stupid he was for suggesting himself. She didn’t know that Danny is Phantom, and that could seriously blow his cover.

-----------------

‘Why do I even bother? There’s hardly ever any ghosts out at this time.’

Phantom groaned inwardly as he flew across Amity Park. The air was chilled with early autumn winds, but of course he still found himself out and about at night despite the cold. The stars blinked in understandment and pity. Orion bowed his head in apology as Danny raced past his school. Well, he didn’t actually bow to him, considering he was a cluster of stars after all, but Danny felt the sentiment within himself anyways.

Honestly, he had no idea why he still did this, patrolling the city. There were hardly any ghosts out at night since all of them fed on people’s attention and love and emotions. But he has happened upon a few in the past so he can’t let himself stop now. It’s also become part of his routine. He plugs in his earbuds to his shitty ipod, hums along to this playlist Sam made him, and scopes the city.

Amity Park was peaceful at night. Like he said, there were no ghosts and it was all just empty streets or the occasional cat roaming the streets. Lamp Posts were the only light to be seen, and it was rather serene. The air smelled less like car emissions and more like fall. Danny appreciated it, even though the act of being out this late directly cut into his sleep time.

Floating down onto the edge of the town’s radio tower, Danny leaned back and closed his eyes for a minute. He would often sit up here and watch the stars on more boring nights, but he was particularly tired tonight. A part of him wanted to retire early and head back home, but the core within him buzzed angrily at even the smallest thought of that. He couldn’t rest after making sure that Amity would be okay while he slept. He couldn’t let her down like that, even though his eyes begged to stay closed.

He could lay up here for a second longer though. Or at least that was what he thought until a sharp clang echoed from behind him.

Instantly he jumped up, clumsily ripping out his earbuds and shoving them into his jumpsuit’s sole pocket. Danny whipped around, shooting up into the sky to try and catch whatever made the racket, yet nothing was there.

What the hell?

With slight hesitance, he lowered himself down to the top of the radio tower again. Taking a few seconds to glance around, his hand automatically reached for his thermos. The radio tower was all steel bars from the top to the bottom, so he could see all the way through it. And now that he was closer, he could see a figure hiding down at the layer right beneath the one he stood at.

Without thinking, Danny became intangible, dropping through the bars and down to the layer below him. Instantly he was on top of the ghost that was stalking him. Pride erupted in his core as he launched both him and the ghost off of the tower. The scenery around him was practically glowing to illuminate their match of strengths. The ghost yelped and started grabbing at Danny as they fell quickly towards the ground.

A second before they crash landed, his opponent wrestled with him, easily flipping him to become underneath them with a growl. A second too late, Danny turned intangible, his back aching from the impact. He shakily pulled them both deep into the ground before soaring back up into the sky. The ghost grabbed onto Danny’s hair and ripped at it, while screaming at him.

“Phantom you horrid beast, let go of me this instant!!”

Gasping a pained breath of air, Danny took the opportunity while the ghost was focused on yanking out his hair- which really hurt by the way- to throw them against the ground. Unfortunately Danny got dragged with them, a factor he upsettingly didn’t consider, and they both went tumbling through a patch of dirt and grass.

Danny rolled through the dirt, clovers flying everywhere and his entire outfit becoming grass stained. His body skipped a few times along the ground like a rock thrown against a river before he finally came to a pained stop. His bones ached and his head got rattled around from the fall. Every fiber of him screamed at him to just lie there for a second before he hurt himself more, but there his core was, still loud as ever.

Now is your chance. Destroy that ghost for even raising a hand against you.

Power surged through him, and suddenly Danny was standing, stalking over to where his opponent- his prey- laid recovering. His nails turned claws bore outwards. They ached to carve into this feeble ghost who dared to challenge him with so little power. Just look at them laying there, glow already so weak, nearly nonexistent…

Nearly…?

“Valerie?”

At the mention of her name, Valerie, the Red Huntress, shot up and launched herself at Danny. Her mask was damaged in their fight, so her hair billowed out of the broken glass, eyes sharp and promising to stab literal daggers into her own opponent, Phantom.

Without warning, her fist collided directly with Danny’s nose, forcing him backwards with a loud yelp. Her leg then kicked outwards, intentionally tripping him back even further. Falling right onto his ass, Danny’s head hit the ground soon after with another loud collision. Pain instantly shot down his spine.

“Huntress wait-”

“How dare you attack me, Ghost! I knew you were nothing but evil, all of you.” Danny held his head in his hands, cradling it as Valerie threatened him. Most of him felt guilty for attacking a human, but the rational part of him said that it was just Valerie and she could take it, and barely counted as human at this point. Most humans aren’t half nano-bot robots or even full vigilante ghost hunters.

Danny finally opened his eyes to look up at her, just to see a Ghost blaster pointed directly at his face. With no more than a scowl, he rolled to the left, dodging her attack. Not even sparing a glance to the grass remnants that burned slightly from where she shot.

“I thought you were a ghost!” Danny shouted as he flew upwards, dodging another shot from Valerie. “You were literally stalking me earlier!”

A blast ricocheted off the radio tower in the background and barely missed Danny’s leg as it came shooting back.

“That's because you are up to no good, ghost!” Another shot was fired that promptly missed. Valerie scowled at the disadvantage she had from being on the ground. She quickly released her hoverboard and hopped onto it, now racing after Phantom. “I was trying to see what you were doing!”

“I was-” He quickly ducked under an ecto shot. “Just doing my patrols!” Danny’s legs merged together, becoming one ghost tail. He zipped past Valerie, circling around the tower climbing up in height at the same time. “I do this literally every day!”

“Therein lies the problem, Phantom.” She hissed his name with pure venom. Head shooting from side to side trying to find where he went, she stood still on the Hoverboard, flying in one spot. Blood thrummed in her ears, adrenaline and hatred pushing her to keep fighting. One hand on the trigger, she began to point it at every little movement she saw.

“You are not fit to be doing patrols. A ghost fighting other ghosts? No one knows your motives, and while you may have the rest of the town tricked, I will not believe that you are a fit ‘protector.’” She quickly whipped around, shooting right behind her, just for it to go through nothing. With a frown she lowered her blaster slightly. “It's all some act you are putting on for whatever it is that you are trying to do.”

Despite her attempt at trying to antagonize him, there came no response, just silence. A bird in a tree nearby, chirped to his children. A few grasshoppers could be heard singing together. Even her hoverboard was emitting a low hum. But no Phantom.

Now frustrated with the games he is obviously playing on her, Valerie shot angrily into the sky. Just aimlessly shooting. It helped release a bit of the anger that she held for the ghost. She was too busy destroying random clouds to notice that her hoverboard buckled slightly under the weight of another person.

A chill swept over her neck suddenly, making her hair stand on end.

The air turned stiff and sour as she finally felt the dry breath of a ghost behind her.

“V a l e r i e . . . “

Her heart raced as she found herself unable to move.

“Y o u r . . . ”

My…?

“Phone is ringing. You might want to answer that."

She was suddenly snapped out of her stupor. Spinning around, she pointed her blaster at Phantom who smiled innocently and simply pointed to her back pocket. Valerie glared at him, and with her free hand, she felt behind her just to find that her phone was indeed ringing. Now directing her glare at her phone, she nearly hit ignore until she caught the name of the caller ID.

Shit! It's her dad.

Fumbling with her phone, she clumsily dropped her blaster, which Phantom picked up to her dismay, and rushed to answer the call.

“Hey dad. Sorry I didn’t see your call sooner, I was..” Phantom caught a kick in the shin, which he inhaled sharply at. “..busy.”

See, Danny was above interrupting one of his classmates while they were on the phone with their parents. Unlucky for him, this specific classmate wanted his pelt on her wall. Still, manners come first, so he chose to float aimlessly and be vaguely distracting while she was on call.

He watched as she spoke in hushed voices to her phone. She kept shooting annoyed glares at him before worriedly turning back to her father.

“No, I know I am out past curfew- I am sorry, I-I just got caught up…”

Her voice trailed off, and Danny could tell she was being scolded by her father. She looked more defensive than he had ever seen her. It was kind of sad to watch actually. His heart panged for the girl.

“Oh- doing what? Uh- I was just…” Her words fumbled around in her mouth, unable to come up with an excuse off the top of her head. Valerie couldn’t help but look over at Phantom for any sort of help, but he was not there.

That ghost- “Ah, sorry Dad, I zoned out.” That's what she gets for trying to trust a ghost. “I am studying at…”

“Danny Fenton’s house.”

He rubbed his eyes in frustration before glancing back over at Valerie. While she seemed more confused than anything else, a bit of tension seemed to leave her shoulders. She was talking more fluidly to her dad, explaining the made up Biology project to him now that she had an idea to build off of.

Part of him wanted to stay to make sure she got everything covered with her dad. While he had no obligation to make sure she was okay, especially since her life was in danger, he still wanted to, as her friend.

Even though they weren’t friends. Not when he was like this.

“Yeah, uh.. You can pick me up at his house…”

Wait what??

Danny shot a panicked look at Valerie who was quickly powering back on her hoverboard, nodding along to the phone. “Yeah, you can come get me now, we just finished up.”

Goddamn it Valerie! He did not expect her to offer to be picked up. Doesn’t she walk home and stuff? He knows it’s late but it’s not like it’s midnight.. Yet…

He was hoping to get at least a final word in to her before he ran off, but she is already soaring up into the sky. No matter what, he can’t let her beat him home. And what is he supposed to tell Jazz?

How does he always get himself into these stupid situations?

With that final thought, he launched off ahead of her, racing back to his house.

—

How does she always get herself into these stupid situations?

That's the exact thought Valerie had as she found herself soaring through the sky above clouds heading directly to FentonWorks.

She has too many questions and she is beyond confused, but she doesn't really have the chance to answer any of them right now. She needed to get to Danny’s house before her dad got there.

While flying, she took a quick second to ponder why the hell Phantom suggested she show up to Danny’s house. Did he know Danny? Was he waiting there to surprise attack her? Or is this just an elaborate set up to get her laughed at by a cute boy from her class.

All were perfectly plausible to her and it infuriated her that she could pinpoint which reason it was. God forbid that he was trying to help her. That wasn’t how Phantom worked.

What a fool she was to trust him.

She quickly arrived at the large half-laboratory-half-house. Dropping onto the sidewalk and ducking into the alleyway closest to the building, she deactivated her Red Huntress outfit and shrunk away her hoverboard.

Working up the nerves, Valerie walked up to FentonWorks. She stared up at it before going to knock on the door before she hesitated, hand paused right before knocking.

A large part of her still screamed to run, but she knew she couldn’t afford to do that right now. She would just explain to Danny that she needed to use him as a cover, and he would understand. He skips class half of the time and she is sure he wouldn’t want his parents to know that.

A shiver washed over her and she quickly whipped around, expecting to find Phantom but there was nothing there but the night air.

God, she must be going crazy. First trusting a Ghost, now feeling things that aren't there. With a loud huff, Valerie finally knocked on the door.

The door instantaneously swung open to reveal Danny who seemed beyond out of breath.

“Ah, Danny!”

“Val-” He wheezed out, clutching his stomach. He held a hand up to ask for a second as he panted against the door frame. Valerie just watched with awkward helplessness as he caught his breath.

It took an embarrassingly long second for him to look back up to her, his face flushed. “Sorry- just uh.. Went on a run, then…. Ran down the stairs.. To…” He stared at her for a second with a vaguely confused look. “Answer the door… What are you doing here?”

“Im…. working on a group project with you apparently.” She put it bluntly, hoping he would catch on fast enough.

“But we don't have a project together?”

Of course this couldn’t have been that simple. “No, just- ugh.” Valerie nearly slapped herself in the forehead. Why was this so stupidly difficult? “Can I just come inside to explain it? My dad will be here soon.”

Danny slipped backwards into the house, holding the door open for her. Inside the house she was greeted with a living room littered with family pictures and random ghost hunting equipment tossed to the side. One photo caught her eye of who she assumed to be Danny from when he was in middle school.

He had longer hair then but seemed to be shrunk into himself. He donned a dark blue NASA hoodie and a crooked smile. The hoodie seemed too big, and the smile seemed too forced. Something about the photo shot a slight pang in Valerie’s chest. He just seemed unlike himself there.

“Ah, don't look at that one. I keep telling Mom to take it down but she insists on keeping it.”

Glancing up at Danny, she had to remark that he seemed to grow into himself over the years. She didn’t know him when he was younger, but he seemed happier now. Mostly. Right now he seemed embarrassed and a bit annoyed, but overall he didn’t seem to curl into himself as much.

It made Valerie happy that he was able to find himself.

“You had longer hair back then.” She offered with a teasing smile. He simply frowned back at her, though it didn’t seem to meet his eyes which shined brightly. “What? I like it!”

“Well you would agree with my parents then.” His hand moved to scratch the back of his neck somewhat awkwardly. There was a second of silence before he dropped his hand and turned to Valerie fully. “Soo, what is up?”

Right, back to why she was here. “You skip school a lot so I assumed you would understand that I needed a cover for my dad.” She explained, watching as he frowned again at her comment. “Don’t even pretend it’s not true. You run out of class every other period.”

“Yeah well…” He didn’t have an argument to that, but she didn’t have to point it out like that. “I have things I need to do…..”

“Oh yes, I am sure you do.” Valerie rolled her eyes. “Unlike whatever you ‘have to do’, I really was busy today. So please cover for me when my dad gets here. We were just working on a biology project together. I will do the talking so you don't have to worry about anything.”

She pushed past him and set her bag down on the couch, pulling out her phone checking to see if her dad texted her.

The room seemed to flicker slightly before another shudder washed over her. Her heart rate spiked as she quickly spun around to punch the ghost sneaking up behind her, just for her to make direct contact with Danny’s nose.

The force of the punch made Danny trip over his own feet, falling straight onto the floor with a loud yelp. Valerie gasped and quickly ran over to him.

“Danny! Oh my god I am so sorry-”

“Man, what is your problem?? I let you into my house, I cover for you, and then out of nowhere you punch me!!” He exclaimed while holding his nose in his hand. A bit of blood dripped past his fingers onto the floor.

“I really didn't mean to, I just thought you were a ghost.” She attempted to explain, but it just seemed to make him more upset.

“Oh and that justifies punching me??” He began to pull himself up off the floor, before Valerie leaned down to try and help him up but he just pushed her off of him. “Don't. We don’t need you thinking I'm a ghost again and jumping me.”

He shoved past her, heading into the kitchen. Valerie quickly followed after him, abandoning her bag on the couch. “Look, I said it was an accident. I have been on edge recently. I didn’t mean to attack you.

“On edge of what Val? What has got you so freaked out that you had to take it out on me?” The sink began running as Danny wet a napkin for his nose. The air was thick with tension on both ends. While she was trying to apologize, he just kept antagonizing her.

She really thought she liked him and now he just keeps getting on her nerves. She really didn’t mean to hurt him, but she would have sworn she felt the chill of a ghost behind her. That was something she had gotten really good at detecting recently. It is nearly never wrong so god forgive her for trusting it.

Before she could answer, Danny turned around to face her, shooting her another glare. He seemed beyond disheveled now that she was getting an even closer look at him. It all seems well hidden but he has a poorly hidden bruise on his cheek that must have been cleaned off with the napkin. It made even more guilt eat at her for hurting him when he already seemed off.

Right now he seemed to resemble the Danny she saw in the photo earlier. How did she mess it up with him that fast?

Hesitation raced through her before she pushed through it, walking up to Danny. He winced away from her, but she just took the napkin gently from his hands. As softly as she could, she leaned his head backwards a bit and held the napkin up to his nose. It was a bit of an awkward position, but she knew this helped keep the blood from spilling the best.

“I really am sorry Danny.. I took up….. Another job..” She stared down at the bloody napkin with a frown. “It has been stressful but I really wanted to help my dad however I could. He doesn't want me to so I have been having to hide it, but… it really isn't fun. It's stressful and has been wearing on me a lot and has left me paranoid I suppose.”

Danny watched her with a slight hesitation as she spoke. She was just glad he wasn’t pushing her away. “It is no excuse, but I just thought you would want to know.”

While it wasn’t the whole truth, it was the closest she has ever gotten to telling anyone. It lifted a bit of the anxiety that laid on her heart.

A moment passed between them before Danny spoke up. “I understand. I really do Val. I am sorry for lashing out at you as well.” He gently motioned her to step back as he took the napkin back. He pinched his nose for a minute before standing up straight again. His eyes softened from the glare he previously held. “It's not easy holding onto a secret that big and not being able to tell anyone, even your closest friends. I get it.”

Tossing the napkin out before grabbing another one, Danny sighed to himself quietly. Valerie just stood there as he took a second to think. “I know I am not the most ideal person to talk to, I bet. There's probably loads of people you would wanna talk to about your stuff before me, but I understand you, I really do, and I am here to listen if you ever want to talk.”

There weren’t many people Valerie would trust talking to about any of her struggles, but especially not Ghost hunting. Danny wasn’t on that list either, at least not until tonight. She has her doubts about how well he actually understands, but there was something so genuine in his eyes that she couldn’t help but trust him.

“...Okay.. Thank you Danny, I appreciate it.”

He shot her a slightly bloody thumbs up and a goofy lopsided grin. “Anytime Val.”

They held eye contact which made Valerie feel soft inside in a way she hasn’t felt in a long time. In perfect timing though, there was a knock on the door.

“Ah, I bet that was my dad, I should get going.” She explained, nodding towards the entranceway.

“Oh definitely.” Danny said, following her out back into the living room while she grabbed her bag. He beat her to the door and opened it for her. “It was nice having you over, to work on the project.” He quickly added as she left.

She just rolled her eyes with a small smile. “Of course. Thanks for having me.” Valerie waved goodbye to Danny as she walked down the steps to the street with her dad. She loaded her stuff into the front seat with her as her dad started the car.

Finally she could relax.

“What happened to his nose? It seemed busted up. Did you do that Valerie? I thought you stopped the whole ‘fighting your classmates’ thing.”

Nevermind apparently.

#Valentine's Core Exchange 2024 #danny phantom #danny fenton #valerie gray #fanfic #dp fanfic #dp fic #danny/valerie #not beta read #im not a writer so im sorry if this sucks lol #creoastra

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knives-in-the-dishwater · 11 months

Text

I've been meaning to do an "everyday carry" post for a while, but I've only recently had time to lay everything out. Details below the fold.

items pictured here (starting in the top left, going down roughly in columns):

sketch wallet clutch

20 oz water bottle (usually used for coffee, kombucha, or Gatorade)

64 oz water bottle (exclusively used for water)

earbud case

pocket mirror

UAG phone case (phone, which is being used to take this picture, is a Motorola moto-G power)

rope dart

Bluetooth multimedia controls (mounted on an armband)

notebook

paracord (550lb, approx. 12 feet)

stamps

Mantis Con Brillo fixed edge tanto (with paracord handle)

alumina ceramic sharpening rod (handle broke off, but it's still usable)

two emery boards

Burt's Bees lip balm

small tools roll

sharpie

pilot g-2 pen

6 inch steel needle (used as hair pin)

small diamond rake (in small tools roll)

large diamond rake (in small tools roll)

small hook rake (in small tools roll)

large hook rake (in small tools roll)

three tension tools (in small tools roll)

angled tweezers (in small tools roll)

small-tip screwdriver (in small tools roll)

ring sizer (in small tools roll; I don't really need to carry this but it's in the roll so it doesn't get lost)

large-tip screwdriver (in small tools roll)

needle-tip tweezers (in small tools roll)

keyring

karambit

three nine-inch throwing spikes (with sheath)

sunblock

sunglasses

glasses case (with microfiber cleaning cloth)

Bradley Kimura XI balisong with G10 scales and paracord latch (scales made by Squid Industries before they were a company; just one person with a cnc mill on reddit)

contents of Sketch Wallet:

1.0 mm Ohuhu drawing pen

0.05 mm Ohuhu drawing pen

brush-tip Ohuhu drawing pen

0.5 mm Kuru Toga mechanical pencil w/ red lead

three blank playing cards

sketch book

close-up of earbuds. Moondrop Arias with FiiO UTWS3 drivers and memory-foam tips. minor damage to the left side has been mitigated with a small elastic band used as a spacer.

lmk if y'all have any questions or wanna see anything in better detail.

#edc #everyday carry

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melanodis · 3 months

Note

plex michaels insides must be an absolute nightmare of poor cable management. bro looks like one of those shoddily built pcs youd find for like $20 on ebay that would spontaneously combust if you ever turned it on in there. its a good thing they scooped out his guts before crawling up in there cause theyd be getting all tangled up in all that metal like a pair of cheap earbuds in ur pocket. jeremy sticking his hands in there to fix him is like shoving yourself elbows deep in a tumbleweed made out of steel wool. its all metal wires and cables and eyeballs in there and theyre all constantly squirming and writhing and getting all tangled up in each other its a mess. motherfucker could have a family of rats living in there and hed never know because their nest would look just like his mass of cables. get this man some zip ties so jeremy can go through and organize those fuckin things properly god PLEASE

sorry I thought about jeremy putting his hands in there again and I blacked out

It's a necessary evil, and he does feel bad for doing it, but Jeremy will usually taze him in order to shut Ennard down temporarily so he can get some work done without it trying to grab at his hands and undo any organization he does with each session... though it will get undone eventually. It's like a snake; refuses to be restrained and will do anything in their power to break anything that tries, they've gotta BREATHE man, even if that means squirming around freely and causing quite the anxiety. It's like the feeling of bees buzzing in your bones. But at least while Ennard is unconscious, Michael can have an hour or two of quiet with Jeremy without all the nauseating static in his ears, even if he can't really talk without their voicebox. They don't really get to talk one on one that often anymore; Jeremy is well aware that Michael is... yknow, aware, but that it's not himself speaking most of the time.

Not sure if anyone's ever actually noticed, but his eyes will be purple when Ennard is active (with Ballora's eyes) and just plain white when not, like every other iteration.

#arc.txt #pizzaplex owner au #michael afton #jeremy fitzgerald #jeremike #ask.txt #nineliabilityrisk

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every-lemon · 11 months

Text

prompto and gladio running buddies short fic

I wrote this for ramel a while back and shared it in the ffxv book club discord server; figured I'd polish it up a bit and share it while AO3 is down. it issss 808 words, gen, prompto & gladio friendship times! post-high school, pre-canon

Prompto’s alarm clock goes off at 5:15 a.m.

The trick, he’s learned, is to just start moving before you really have a chance to think about it. It’s easy when you’re so tired, anyway. No questions asked. Just roll out of bed groggily and stumble towards the bathroom before you can talk yourself out of it.

(It’s all too easy to convince someone who’s already mostly-asleep to just stay that way.)

Like every morning, Prompto washes his face, brushes his teeth while scrolling on his phone, and changes into the running clothes he left folded on the stool the night before: shorts, a tank top, and socks. He keeps yesterday’s sweatband on. He’ll swap it out when he showers later.

The kitchen’s gray and empty when he pads downstairs; the microwave clock says 5:13. His earbuds are waiting by the front door, as are his running shoes, unlaced and waiting to be done up properly. He hums to himself while he pulls the laces taught, checking to make sure the fit’s right before tying them. The spare key goes into the little mesh pocket in the waistband of his shorts; the earbuds, of course, go in his ears.

There. All set. He hits play on his running mix, the bass on a pop song playing probably-too-loud straight into his eardrums, then opens the door to go.

Cool air hits him. Overnight, it’s gone from summer heat to fall chill. He shivers, but there’s no use grabbing a hoodie — it’s not that cold, he’s just not used to it yet. He’ll just end up wanting to ditch it halfway through.

No, the real way to warm up is to run.

So off he goes, pulling the door shut behind him and making sure it’s locked, then jogging down off the steps and setting out down the sidewalk. He falls into his usual pace, brisk and upbeat to match the tempo of the song.

It’s about a mile through neighborhood sidewalks until when he reaches the nice trail: wide, lined with gravel, cutting through the green space that winds throughout Insomnia like a little garden. It’s busy, popular with runners and bikers and hikers alike, but at this hour it’s not terrible. He smiles and nods to each person he passes, whether or not they look up — easier just to do it and not think about it.

Even with the bass beat of some in-the-club-dance-remix in his ears, he hears Gladio coming up behind him before he sees him and steels himself for a hearty thump on his shoulder,, which comes the next moment.

“Hey, big guy,” he greets back, taking an earbud out and slowing down just a tick to Gladio’s preferred pace. “You’re up early today.”

“It’s nice to catch you,” Gladio says. He’s in a plain black athletic shirt and gym shorts, rather than the official Crownsguard workout attire. No jacket, either, but Prompto’s never seen Gladio shiver. “I get slow if there’s no one to keep up with.”

“Glad to help!” Prompto says, grinning. And he really, really is.

Usually, it’s Gladio peeling him off the floor of the training room, barking at him to keep going, and asking him to please do something, anything about those noodle arms. (And Prompto’s guns are coming along nicely, thankyouverymuch!! . . . but it’s slow going.) So it’s nice to feel strong and confident about this one thing. Like he’s not a complete and utter lost cause.

“Think you could get Noct to come with?” Gladio asks after a while of silently jogging along, his breaths coming in puffs. Prompto doesn’t do him the disservice of slowing down, though. Gladio’s got good stamina, even if this pace is a stretch for his bulk.

“I couldn’t get Noct to wake up this early for anything, I don’t think. Not even like, video games and junk food. Not that those are super appealing at five in the morning.”

“Bet he’d get up . . . early to fish,” Gladio says, breaking in the middle to suck down a breath.

Prompto snorts at that. “Maybe? Yeah, you know what, you’re probably right about that. Noct is pretty weird about fishing.”

The wheeze Gladio makes might be a laugh.

To his credit, he keeps pace with Prompto all the way until they reach the point where the trail splits. Prompto will head left, back home to shower and get ready for work, and Gladio will head right, to the parking lot where a a chauffeur waits to bring him back to the Amicitia manor before his work at the Citadel begins.

“Thanks for the run, Blondie,” Gladio says, slowing to a walk as they reach the end. “Glad one of us has such good endurance.”

Prompto can feel himself flush at the praise, but he just lifts a hand in a cheerful wave and keeps on running home.

#ffxv #ffxv fanfiction #my fic #prompto argentum #gladiolus amicitia #post-brotherhood pre-canon

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disintegratedfingers · 22 days

Text

Quirk: Unknown Warnings for this chapter: Small mention of blood, a student being trapped. Otherwise we're all good :) (Proofread ✅)

Chapter 1, Pt. 2 - Tryout

Each faux villian robot held a certain amount of points;

Easy Villians - 1 point

Medium Villians - 2 points

Hard Villians - 3 points

Arena Traps - 0 points

And if immobilized, points would be rewarded to the examinee who took it down. There were only 10 minutes for this practical.

You stood in the mob of examinees, hands clasped behind your back, forcing your posture to straighten. Energy flowed within the group, tickling your skin. Kids muttered to one another. Others boasted that they would earn enough points to pass at the top.

What would become of you? With such little control with your quirk...

"And... begin!" A shout was heard from somewhere up high, and everyone swiveled their heads to the sound. You looked up, confused.

"What's wrong? The test's started! Run! Run!!" Present Mic pumped his fists. "The die is cast!"

Immediately, the students fled and dispersed in a frenzy. You, frozen in the moment, stood on shaky legs. Sweat trickled down your neck, but a new confidence rose when you saw the skinny, green-haired boy trembling in his spot. You wouldn't be last, atleast.

A selfish mindset was appropriate for this exam, you thought.

Turning away with a huff, you sprinted into the mock-city streets. Explosions and clashes of metal could be heard. You wobbled slightly, but quickly popped in some earbuds to block out the sounds.

A girl with streaked, blue hair shot water from her hands at one of the faux villians, seemingly having some trouble when it shot fiery beams back. So, from behind, you snuck up on the robot and stared intently at it's back. Willing it to crumble, you watched as the iron and steel creased together and cracked.

It crashed to the ground with sparks flicking from torn wires. You smiled; the warmth of accomplishment filled your chest. "That's two points..." Even when the water quirk girl gave you a frustrated look, you gazed around for another opponent.

"DIE!!" You heard a muffled roar from above, seeing a huge explosion and a boy swinging his arm in midair. Instinctively you cowered as shards of metal and glass fell. Your arms were cut and bleeding, but your determination did not waver.

"Where..." a larger robot - a 3 pointer - appeared from around the block, glowering down at your smaller frame. It rotated its arm to face you with a laser. Sucking in some air, you just barely dodged the blast, recovering quickly and standing back up.

The bot aimed again, but this time you were ready. You glared daggers into its arm. "Break, break, break-" you clenched your fists, eyes squinted as you worked your mind.

SHEU-

The fire came and you hissed through gritted teeth, but apon opening your eyes, a long dart of fizzing light floated in front of your face. You jumped out of the way as it dissolved in mid air. Letting go of your breath, it fell to the ground, and so did the robot.

"Five points!" You recalled enthusiastically, although it surely wasn't much, nor nearly enough compared to others. Your head throbbed with the effort.

"Move it!" Someone shoved past you, scraping against your shoulder. Turning, you saw a boy with spiky, blonde hair stomping away, hands clenched. A rigid ardor radiated off him.

"Really...?" You growled under your breath at the gesture, forcing yourself to focus. Other students were battling robots around you... what could be done now?

'Maybe if I finish off a villian that somebody has already beaten up... it's whoever completes the job, right?' Plus, it was easier for you to control something of littler strength.

Your eyes darted around, entertained and mislead by all the action. Finally, you took notice to the guy with the glasses, watching as he ran full speed towards an opponent and delivered a powerful kick to the side. It crashed into the building you were leaning against, brick crumbling as dust sweeped in.

You skidded out into the open, eyes shining as you saw that the robot still had some potential, creaking as it tried to move. Before the other student could reach it, you came forward and slapped a hand onto the metal, closing your eyes and straining your mind.

Holding your breath... fingertips tingling... eventually you felt the metal split and grow hot as the electricity leaked out. It whirred and buzzed until it lay in motionless pieces. The villian was done.

"Surely that's cheating!" Your eyes snapped open to a strict voice beside you.

"The goal is to-" You started, annoyance surging through your veins. The examinee with the glasses was staring at you in dissapointment but also in thought.

"Well, I assume that whichever student completely immobilizes the faux villian gains the point," he sliced the air with his hand, eyebrows furrowed.

"Yeah I figured," you sigh shakily.

"I'll allow this advantage to you, but no more," he gave a swift bow and sprinted off towards another attacker. You shook your head. This was a slow and unpromising journey.

"4 minutes, two seconds remaining!" Present Mic's voice reverberated throughout the grounds, slightly muffled over your earbuds.

CRASH!

"Watch out!!" A whirl of bodies flew past you and spilled into the streets as a huge Arena Trap bot slammed its arm into the road. The gush of force ran up your legs and stabbed your body, making you falter. Charred brick met your shoulder, stabilizing you, atleast for the moment.

Through the dusty debris, the skinny, green-haired boy could be made out, just a few yards away. He ran forward and jumped with such force that he flew many paces upward. Pure determination reeked from his body as he sent a fist to the bot's dented exterior.

It slammed backward, bright explosions illuminating the ground below. The student began to fall...

"What...?" You grew concerned, but scoffed at the stupidity. "He jumps that high and can't land again?"

You also spotted a limp figure below the scene; a girl with her lower half crushed under rock. She seemed to notice the boy, too, squeezing her eyes shut as she pressed her fingers together

"Oh crud-" you could pick up faint pain, watching her cringe in a struggle to escape. This was a selfish game... but also a blood battle.

Pure fear swallowed you whole, forcing you to stand still. Who would die first?

The green-haired boy was still free falling, limbs waving limply at his sides. Your arms raised, prepared to shield your eyes. However... the boy suddenly stopped descending, mere inches from the ground. Silence sweeped over the space.

"And... release," the girl sperated her fingers and sighed, eyes drooping closed as she swallowed hard.

You rocketed forward, straight to her side.

"Don't move too much- you could rip a muscle or something," you frantically looked over her, searching for a way to pull her out. She groaned, eyes watering as sweat dripped down her face.

You swiftly hooked your arm across her torso, pushing off of your leg. Inch by inch she was tugged out. Eventually, you had her standing on shaky legs. She looked exhausted.

"Can you walk?" You took a step back, reaching a hand out when the girl wobbled slightly.

"I'm alright, thanks," she laughed nervously, looking over at the limp body of the student she saved... who saved her. If he hadn't defended her, the robot would have crushed her.

He groaned in agony, face buried in the dust as he gripped his bloody arm. You sighed, nerves agitated from the adrenaline.

"It's all over!!!" Present Mic's voice boomed throughout the field.

A small crowd gathered around the limp boy, as you wobbled away a bit. The thick emotion and exhaustion was worsening your state.

"Make way, make way!" A little, old lady hobbled through the huddle, waddling over to the curly-haired boy.

"Ah, well, son," she gruffed. "so your own beloved quirk did this to you? Almost looks as though your body's not used to it..." the crowd stood in small mumblings as they watched the lady approach him.

"...she's the backbone of U.A.," you picked up whispers. Sharply, her lips shot out and kissed the boy's head. Students' eye's widened in shock and realization, and so did yours.

"Thanks to her, such ferocious exams can be held at U.A...." You reflected under your breath, amazed at how the examinee's arm turned completely back to normal.

"This one'll be fine," she looked around. "Any other hurt kids?"

_______

First action packed scenes >:D

What's your quirk??? Why do you have so little control over it? Why does it hurt? Stick around :°

#bnha #bnha fanfic #bnha fanfiction #bnha fic #mha #mha fanfic #mha headcanons #Mha #Bnha #bnha spoilers #bnha x reader #Mha x reader #my hero academia x reader #mha imagines #mha fluff

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cowboygreeting · 3 months

Text

𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚒. 𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚎 𝚒. 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚍𝚞𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜

cw: drug mention

Canvas saddle bag. Mnemosyne steno pad – A5, of course. Two LEUCHTTERM1917 Drehgriffel – ballpoint pens, black and red ink, moss and orange barrels. Extra-firm Blackwing pencil. Steel Blackwing pencil sharpener. Travel-sized Neutrogena Norwegian hand cream, half-empty. 16oz water bottle, insulated, with a little sippy straw. Loop earplugs, case hooked onto one of the straps. Vape. Vape charger. Extra juice cart. Protein bar, in case he's hungry. Two extra protein bars, in case someone else is hungry. No cellphone, not allowed that here, but his Discman and his earbuds fit inconspicuously enough, so he slides them in as well. He can wear them for the walk over. It might help to soothe his nerves a little.

He still has two hours before the orientation starts. So at least one and a half before he's reasonably allowed to leave his room. And hypothetically, he could leave his room at any time, he doesn't think they lock them in at night; it would be nice, maybe go for an early morning stroll — early, early morning stroll — hit his vape (he's not about to test the smoke detector sensitivity on his first night, thank you) in peace and try to stop his chest from thudding like it's been since he'd arrived, but — he hasn't. Nobody's told him the rules, and if there's one thing Seth likes, it's guidelines. Acceptable parameters. Or something to gauge off of — someone else to make the mistake, ask the question first. He will if he has to, but if he doesn't have to —

— well. The time passes anyways. He fixes his hair in the mirror twice, combing the pomade through and fussing with it until it looks bad enough that he has to take a do-over – Blind Barber, for the record. Smells like amber and tonka. Delicious. He loves the notes of almond. Leaves a little earlier than he told himself he would to give Rohan a little wake up call; he yanks the blanket off the bed like he did when they were in college, and tosses a bar at his head, only wincing a little when it actually hits him. It's soothing and familiar enough that, for a moment, when he slips his earbuds in and starts down the hall, it feels a little more like a university dorm than it does a hospital wing.

The feeling carries him through the door and into a chair with an empty seat beside it. His bag lands in the seat next to him, which he hopes his colleagues take as a hint, because it's never stopped feeling embarrassing to be an adult saying sorry, saving this for someone, but he is, so. He pulls his notepad and pens from his bag, lays them out on the table in front of him, and dates the first page, ORIENTATION in big block letters at the top. He's one of the first, and only pulls his earbuds out and shuts his Discman off as more of the others start filing in. The room starts to swell with sound and movement — just shuffling and murmurs, but it's enough for the wind to fall from his sails completely when he raises his head and starts looking around.

Not a lot of familiar faces. Some too familiar, but impossible to place. Enough to give him the lightheaded, dizzy feeling that's plagued him — most of his life, but flares any time anyone at the Foundation has him doing anything but minding his own business. Ro's explained the difference between amnestics and dissociatives a million times, but the shit they dose them with just feels like ketamine with tendrils. And, God, are people talking already? It's all ringing in his ears and the RBF he knows he's making and wishes he wasn't – eye contact and smile, goddammit – he'd to stop his lip from twitching first. It takes him a second. He's used to it. Hopefully, the smile that follows – once he feels like a person again – isn't as alarming as it feels.

Rohan's filled the seat beside him at some point during his little episode, slung his bag on the back of his seat, and between the jab at his ribs and the water bottle he's retrieved for Seth, he's able to check back in, with enough time to start sketching down names and impressions — chicken scratch that can't be read over his shoulder and an inconsistent shorthand that'd be harder to decode than it's worth if they could, but the sounds of pen on paper is unmistakable. He watches for people's reactions to the fact of his note-taking. Sorry, folks. That's what he's here for. Studying you.

God. Do any of these people want to be here?

It's almost a comfort, the grimness emanating from so many corners of the room. The assurance he's not the only one with concerns, and the — freedom from being the biggest buzzkill of the pack. He might be sour on the assignment, but he can sit through an orientation like a professional, more than — the operatives among them especially — seem to be able to manage. A kick under the table seems to signal his turn and he refreshes his smile, fully human and mostly authentic this time – trying to be, at the very least.

"Hey everybody! I'm – Cowboy Greeting?" It's half a question when he says it, call sign still foreign and gaudy in his voice. "But Seth's fine, whatever you prefer. It's, uh – well. I'm looking forward to getting to work with all of you; most for the first time, I believe, though I know I have one or two past co-conspirators in the room."

The chuckle he chases that with is half-hearted, maybe more artificial than the overhead LEDs, and painfully social worker-coded. Jesus Christ. And his mouth is even drier, almost as dry as the room. A fucking mess. A debacle, no saving it. "I'm a junior researcher, currently under AEED.. I haven't been here long, but I've bounced between a few different departments and facilities as part of my work — kind of big-picture policy review? Are people doing what they're supposed to do, do we want them doing what they're supposed to be doing right now, looking at outcomes, that sort of thing. My background prior to starting with the Foundation was in social work and nonprofit policy, so."

Definitely the most long-winded description of paper-pushing legitimacy-bestowing bullshit he could give — and maybe that would've been a better approach for some of his new colleagues, but he's never been in the business of giving his bosses a reason to eliminate his position, and he's not about to start.

"Anyways. Again. Really excited to work with all of you. And if anyone's looking for a gym buddy for their time here, definitely hit me up. Know that's gonna be my first stop after we're done the official tour."

First stop. Definitely. Right after a vape break. He's going to need it.

#fhq.seth #fhq.intros #drug mention tw

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