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1shirt2shirtredshirtdeadshirt · 9 months

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Sexism in TOS: Worst Offender, or Progressive in Retrospect in Comparison?

I see a lot of folks claim that TOS was the most sexist of the Star Trek shows by a landslide -- and while I agree that it definitely suffered from the sexism of the times, I also have other perspectives to share to give some food for thought.

I am of course not insinuating that TOS isn't sexist -- it is, but I have to ask folks to consider the breadth and depth of Berman's sexism in his run and ask yourself: Was Gene Roddenberry genuinely more sexist in his storytelling and delivery than Rick Berman?

I'm not telling you to feel one way or the other, but all I ask is that you hear me out and consider some perspectives and make your own balanced assessments. Nobody is obligated to share my opinion, but it means a lot just to have folks hear it and see their thoughts on the subject. So here is what I was originally responding to:

Someone's response to this photo:

"Devil's advocate. This was a part of the popular form of cardio during the production time of TNG. Yes, it was heavily sexualised by men, but so is literally every other way women work out. Men have been caught taking pictures of women while trying to do dead lifts, running on tracks and working on sled machines. They post them online to share too. The fact is, there is no way a woman can be shown working out without it going there. And yeah,t hat includes the combat forms of workout they do in Star Trek. Just look at how Dax dresses when she spars with Worf. Yes, they're dating, but still, same goes when 7 does and any other female.

Aerobics routines like this were made dirty and cringy. This was what women wore then by and large. This is how the workout was done. We make it cringy."

My response to them:

"I respect your take, but I disagree on a few fronts.

The miniskirt was chosen by the TOS female cast, not the male cast, specifically requested by Grace LW and affirmed by Nichelle and Majel who would go on to vehemently defend the miniskirt over the years as comfortable and embraced by them.

Grace said it was comfortable and seen as a symbol of female sexual empowerment during the 60s and thought it would be a progressive garment (and turns out that it was, as it was later adapted and worn by male crew as a skant on TNG) -- FYI those were designed by a gay man and Gene approved them.

This was also supposed to be Spock's TMP outfit:

Literally lingerie.

We saw both Uhura (who saves Kirk in from Marlena Mirror Mirror) and Yeoman Landon (the first to initiate combat with a classic Kirk-esque kick to help the Captain being attacked in The Apple) carry out their combat training in their Starfleet uniforms without ever being made to change into any ridiculous workout gear.

In fact, I'd argue Jim Kirk was sexualized even more than the ladies of the week on the show and I saw his naked body more than anyone else's on a fairly regular basis. He wore red yoga tights while topless in Charlie X while the women wore full length gymnastic suits that covered their entire body. If anything, it went out of its way to avoid sexualizing women practicing fitness in those scenes and instead focused on Kirk.

Gene confessed that he asked to have Shatner filmed in suggestive/provocative ways to "give something to the ladies", so he -- as he said -- liked to "film him walking away" or have him conveniently busting out of his shirts in just about every episode as it were, because Shatner apparently had great assets. LOL

Gene made an effort to at least sexualize both if he was going to sexualize one, and he carried that attitude forward in wanting the m/m and f/f scenes in the background on Risa for TNG. He also insisted that the men and women wear skimpy outfits on THAT TNG planet. You know the one. LOL I mean the dudes even had on less than the women:

Gene also gave permission to K/S shippers to have their conventions back in the 70s when he was asked for permission. Gene and Nimoy felt with all the skimpy outfits they had the ladies wear, why not let the ladies and gay men have their fun, too? It's how we ended up with moments like this:

Yes, those are two people dressed up as Kirk and Spock's penises doing interpretive dance. Gene didn't give two damns. LOL

In my eyes, that was a very progressive take on Gene's part for the 60s. It was actually PARAMOUNT STUDIOS who had the big problem with K/S stories and vehemently tried to shut them down. Gene literally hired slash authors on his payroll and even had several slash stories/writers published in his official Star Trek books (The New Voyages & The New Voyages II).

I feel I saw Uhura and women in TOS engaged in more physical combat/altercations defending themselves that Troi or Bev were shown holding their own.

In fact, Kirk used to get furious when someone would "dress up" his female crew members without their consent (Trelane episode, Shore Leave episode) because like his male crew members, he wanted them to be treated professionally and to also have his male crew act professionally.

Berman brought some of his own personal biases into Star Trek that in some ways regressed it. While TOS had blatant sexism and was called on it time and again, that show was made in the 60s -- a solid 21 years before TNG. We as a modern audience understood why some of it was cringe/sexist due to the time period -- look at any other media coming out in the 60s and Star Trek was miles ahead of what other shows were doing.

Compare that to Berman who was churning sexist stuff out when women like Starbuck and Scully were simultaneously on screen on other programs airing, and we had already had Sigourney Weaver and other strong women in Holywood playing respectful roles.

In my eyes, there was no need of the sexism seen in TNG but especially VOY and ENT. There was no excuse for it when other shows were writing women far better and a number of those weren't even set in the future like Trek was, making it age even faster due to having those dated perspectives frequently highlighted.

In the Center Seat documentary as well as "The Fifty Year Mission" book you will find cast members, writers and other studio alumni who attest to this. Some discussions from "The Fifty Year Mission":

"First, Berman was supposed to have been a real sleaze ball . . . According to Terry Farrel, he would go on constantly about how her breasts weren't big enough, how she should do something about it, and how his secretary was a good example to follow as she had huge breasts. She even had to have fittings to get larger bras, and that was all done at his behest.

Later Berman and Braga developed a name for Jeri Ryan's character prior Seven of Nine. They originally called the character "perineum" which if you look it up it is the area between the anus and the scrotum. Later they floated the name "6 of 9". I mean, what does it tell you about where these two were coming from in the development of this character if they had names like that put forward in all seriousness for her?"

Gene Roddenberry also had some of his own more progressive ideas for TNG cut or watered down by Berman. Roddenberry agreed TNG should have homosexual relationships and representation at a con in the 80s and insisted on it in a meeting with his writers -- something Berman later would not honor. Gene wanted the AIDS episode, showing m/m and f/f in the Riza scenes -- these were some of Roddenberry's requests to include in TNG that Berman later stonewalled.

Berman's era was sadly dated by his own misogynist bias, IMO, to the point that it can somewhat hurt the shows he worked on through his cringe egoism and blatant disrespect toward his female cast.

There is a reason why Gene could keep female actresses working with him and Berman had a revolving door of women that he couldn't seem to keep working for him -- he was abhorrent to women, on and off set. Gene wasn't perfect at all, he had a lot of issues himself -- but Berman was a whole other level. Just look at what he did to poor Jolene Blalock, Marina Sirtis and his toxic commenting on her body weight which exacerbated her struggles with eating disorders, or how he treated and talked to Terry Farrell.

Anyway, just some food for thought. I'm not saying anyone is wrong regarding a take like that, but there are a variety of ways to look at this. Gene Roddenberry isn't a saint by any means, but it definitely bothers me how folks will tote the Berman era as if it were the lesser of two evils or the more progressive depiction of women when I felt there were far more concerning portrayals of women in his era with far less justification.

(P.S: I don't event want to go near the sheer amount of "creepy old dude/villain preys on innocent/naïve/scared young woman or little girl" stories there were in Berman's era, either. But that's a whole other can of worms I can write about in a part 2.)

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driaswrld · 6 months

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lovers rock — gojo satoru and geto suguru.

wc : 2.7k

summary : over a bottle of ill-gotten vodka, the trio has a tipsy conversation about kisses.

part of : the star paradox collection.

(comment if u wanna be tagged for tsr!!)

notes : this is heavily based off the fact that reader DID in fact have secret feelings for geto and gojo but never said anything ab it until before the star plasma incident (fic ab that coming soon dw) you may interpret this as reader fell first, they fell harder bcus that's exactly what happened fr

other : satosugu makes fake IDs (based off that one fanart), literally underage drinking??? toru cant hold his alc but wbk this, suguru smokes here too, suggestive convo, mentions of like one curse word i think

current casette : lovers rock - tv girl (anything by tv girl is a tsr song okay?)

The dorms at Tokyo Jujutsu High operate on one solid rule.

All lights out by ten, no exceptions, no buts, ands, ifs or becauses. Curfew is at ten, be in your damn room by ten.

Naturally, Satoru and Suguru mistake ten for twelve.

It’s 9:53 when you walk into your dorm room, and the first thing that greets you are hushed whispers and a smoky smell.

Why is it so dark in here?

From your place at the door frame, your eyes flit to the back of Satoru’s head, silver white strands tickling his nape, uniform replaced with a blue hoodie. Suguru’s sitting across from him, slouched, cross legged like Satoru, hair tied into a ponytail and lips twisted into a thin scowl.

“—wasn’t yours.” Suguru grumbles beneath his breath, a pair of dice clinking softly in his palm, the light from your bedside lamp giving you a sneak peek of the numbers resting.

Three and six. Oh, no, that's definitely five.

“Cost me six hundred yen to get it.”

Satoru seems to ignore him, letting out a huff in defiance.

Suguru grunts, leaning over the side of the bed to pick up a half smoked cigarette, pressing it softly against the edge of your favorite incense holder to collect the stray ash.

“Broke ass.” Satoru mumbles, and though you can’t see his expression from here, you know he’s rolling his eyes. “Freeloader.” Suguru counters, cigarette lodged between his middle and index, and he brings it up to his lips and draws in softly.

He leans forward to drop the dice on Satoru’s leg.

“We’re supposed to split it equally.” You hear a clinking noise coming from Satoru’s lap.

“Like hell we are.” Suguru scoffs, a wisp of smoke leaving his mouth.

“I should get first share, it’s only fair.”

Suguru gets up from the bed, back turned to you as he slides the window open halfway. “We’re not sharing anything.” He flicks the cigarette outside. “I don’t know where your mouth’s been—”

“You tryin’ to fight—”

“Are you two getting high in my room?” Your voice makes them both freeze, and Satoru folds over the bed backwards, head upside down and staring straight at you with a guilty grin, all while Suguru is discreetly trying to fan the rest of the cigarette smoke out the window.

“What gave you that idea?” Suguru murmurs, squinting his eyes to make out your expression in the dim light with a faux innocent smile.

You breathe a chuckle, dropping your bag by the door and clicking it shut behind you. “How did the studying with Nanamin go?” Satoru asks, as if you can’t see him folded over the bed like he’s hiding something while Suguru fans the smoke through the window.

“I fell asleep halfway through, we got boba with Haibara instead.” You say, feeling blindly on the wall for the light switch.

“And you didn’t bring some back for me?” Satoru gasps, near offended.

“Don't change the subject,” you roll your eyes, pinky finger bumping against the light switch, and you flick it upwards with your index. When the light comes on and you face them, your jaw drops.

“Surprise…?” Suguru’s cheeks puff up in a wide thin lipped smile, almost mockingly. Satoru is still hanging off the edge of the bed, cigarette ash curdled on your incense holder, the pair of dice laying on the bedsheets and sure, they kinda made a little mess of your room.

But it's the bottle of vodka sitting between Satoru’s legs that takes the cake.

“You have to be kidding me—”

Suguru shrugs his shoulders, sliding the window fully open, the night air wafting inside.

It's almost curfew. And here they are. You're not even surprised, this is totally in character for them. “Wow, no, Satoru, you're such a rebel?” Satoru kicks his legs back and forth, voice mimicking a girly pitch. “Bad boys are so hot! Tell me all your secrets, toru-kun! None of that?"

“I was there too, idiot.” Suguru grumbles, shoving one of Satoru's legs aside as he steps over to the bedside table to grab the ash covered incense holder.

Satoru flails his legs like Suguru just smacked him, ever so dramatically. “How did you do it though?” You ask, with a near wince, exasperated but curious.

Unexpectedly, Satoru swings the vodka bottle sideways and into Suguru’s arms, the glass making a soft set of clink! sounds from Suguru’s rings as he catches it, both your eyes going wide as Satoru stands on the bed, striking some sort of elaborate pose.

“The date, June fifteenth ‘06—”

You turn to Suguru, confused but he only shrugs in response. “My assistant Sugi-san and I walked into Shinanoya—” Satoru continues his elaborate presentation, meanwhile you and Suguru whisper between his words. "Never call me that again—"

“So that's what you two were doing while you were supposed to be exorcising that curse?”

“He forced me to go along—”

“With these!” Satoru pulls out a mini plastic card, which is supposed to look like an ID, but really it's as flimsy as a piece of paper. You had to admit though, they really did get his good side in the picture. If he even has a bad side, that is.

“And we got the liquor at half price.” Suguru mumbles as you nudge him, and he pulls out his own fake ID, which looks the same as Satoru’s — you think you might want to print these pictures for a scrapbook or something some other time.

“I thought you said it was six hundred yen!”

“I added my service charge.”

“Service? What are you, a whore?”

You take the bottle from Suguru to feel the weight in your hands, and the liquid inside sloshes a little to the side.

Out of sheer curiosity and despite your better senses, you mumble, “Let's play a drinking game then.”

Forty minutes later.

It's drawing near to eleven. The lights are turned off and all that's coming from your dorm room are the sounds of yours and the boys’ whispers and hushed giggles from time to time, barely drowned out by a soft song playing from Suguru’s phone, playlist laying open on his phone, one of Satoru’s picks.

Are you sick of me?

Would you like to be?

“—turn it to your head if you can't answer.” Satoru grins, cheek resting on his palm as he lays across the bed. “Have you ever gotten freaky with a milf?”

A chortle leaves your mouth when Suguru twists his lips into an expression of shock and utter disgust, and you have to cover your mouth to not laugh out loud.

“A milf? Like… forty or something?”

“Not really — just like a hot older woman.” You say.

“Oh, she was around that age then, I guess…” Suguru grumbles, clutching the half empty vodka bottle in one hand, eyes squinted. “I didn't sleep with her though— I don't just… sling dick around like Satoru— I have morals.”

“Says the one who sucked tongue with an elderly woman.”

Suguru scoffs and takes a swig from the bottle, passing it over to you.

You shrug, coming to Suguru’s defense with a mumble. “I mean, Satoru… you are common—”

“Don't pretty it up, he's ran through—”

“Like hell I am!”

The three of you fold over in a fit of laughter, gasping for air, faces hot from the alcohol and the sheer idiocy of the moment.

It takes all your energy to muffle your combined laughs, and Satoru leans over Suguru’s phone to increase the music volume just a little, lightheaded and nearly knocking the vodka out of your hand, mouthing the lyrics with a lopsided toothy grin.

You like a pretty boy

With a pretty voice

“Your turn.” Suguru nods to you and the liquor in your hand sloshes to the side. “Make it good—”

Satoru tries to interrupt but has to cover his mouth to stifle a laugh when you take a whiff of the vodka, head tilting back and mouth forming an ‘o’ shape — sure, you three were already a little tipsy, but you’re pretty sure this is way past your limit.

Not like you could hold your alcohol anyway.

Suguru was the only one who could survive, you and Satoru were certified lightweights by default.

“Dare me to do anything and I’ll throw up on you.” You huff, and both boys raise their arms up in surrender.

It’s these things, small moments like these that make you want to live forever.

Minus the aging part, or maybe with the aging part — if it meant doing stupid stuff with Satoru and Suguru, young or old, you’re sure you’d have no complaints.

Because it’s them.

“You scared?” Satoru chuckles, drawing you out of your thoughts.

The way he says it, in that tone – it’s the same tone that would make you follow him anywhere.

The same tone that makes Suguru roll his eyes so far in the back of his head you’d think he had a leading role in The Conjuring.

“Should I be scared?”

It’s paired with bated breath, and the way Suguru looks up at you, dark eyes glazed over with a hint of inebriation, waterline bordering on crimson from the lit cigarette tucked between his middle and index – it makes you feel naked.

In a way you’ve never felt before.

“That depends,” he murmurs. You gulp. It’s like the air in here has changed, foggy with a foreign feeling surrounding you three. “Do you wanna be scared?”

Suguru takes a deep inhale of his cig, leaning over to breathe out a plume of smoke. You and Satoru inhale it like you’ve neglected oxygen your whole lives.

Maybe if it were anyone else you’d call it want. Or need.

Something in your soul tells you it transcends that.

She might want a kiss before the end of the song—

“Suguru—” His name doesn't get the chance to leave your mouth entirely, Satoru’s thumb and forefinger already have your chin in his grasp, turning your gaze to him instead.

“What’re you looking at him for?” Satoru mumbles, and you hear Suguru stifles a laugh across from you.

“You think he’s gonna save you?”

You want to laugh, it’s a running joke anyway.

No matter what, you run to Suguru to put Satoru in his place. That time Satoru got you kicked out of a movie theater, or the time Satoru tripped you up during a mission in front of the first years, or the time Satoru ate the cheesecake you hid in your mini fridge —

Whenever little name gets her strings pulled by Satoru, she goes running off for Suguru to save her, right?

But it doesn’t feel like he’s talking about that.

“You need me to save you, name?” Suguru chuckles, and from the corner of your eye, you see him pull his hair loose, dark strands cascading over his shoulders.

“Gonna let him call you weak like that?” He chides, and the cool pad of Satoru’s thumb taps against your bottom lip twice, as if challenging you to say something – to give him your attention instead.

“Nah, don’t need a hero.” You whisper, a soft laugh leaving your lips. “Toru might though.”

Suguru bites back a snicker, head tilting back as he draws in another inhale of smoke. “Aw, don’t bully him, name.”

Because love can burn

Like a cigarette

“C’mon, don’t look at him,” Satoru tilts your head in his grasp, a soft grin forming on his face, dimples on showcase. “Look at me.” He whispers, tugging you closer, and you have to tighten your grip on the neck of the bottle so it doesn’t slip, your palms sweating from the proximity.

“Satoru—”

“Don’t double back now, you laughed a bit too hard at me just now, y’know?”

You open your mouth to protest, shivering when the tip of your tongue grazes the pad of his thumb. Satoru makes a noise in the back of his throat, something between a groan and a scoff.

You wonder if the vodka made you imagine the way his pupils dilated. “Just ask the stupid question—” You try to turn your head away in vain, and this time, Suguru laughs at your expense.

“You ever been kissed before?”

And leave you with nothing

You stiffen, gaze snapping up to meet Satoru’s, only to find him dead serious.

Ofcourse you’ve been kissed before. But not like that— not like—

Like… oh no…

And if you start to kiss—

You bring the bottle of vodka to your lips, and both boys watch with amused gazes, and hint of something you don’t have a name for yet.

“You could’ve just—” Satoru’s hand falls loose over your shoulder as you take a swig, and Suguru shifts forward in curiosity. “—said no.”

“Nobody’s kissed you?” Suguru echoes and you grimace from the alcohol and the sheer embarrassment, shoving the open bottle to stand in the space between Satoru’s legs.

“Your turn,” you grumble, wiping remnants of the sweet liquor from your mouth with the back of your palm.

And the record skips—

Satoru and Suguru exchange a look, one you immediately assume is them reading each other’s minds and gearing up to laugh in your face.

Truly, you wouldn’t blame them — because here you are about to graduate in a year and still haven’t gotten your first kiss.

And it’s not like you haven’t like… gotten close to it— it’s just that the circumstances are never perfect and other things always get involved and you get all in your head and your mind just starts to do the thing—

“Hey,” Satoru’s voice brings you out of your thoughts, and your palms go clammy, folded over your lap. “We don’t care about it, it’s nothing.” He whispers.

“Pretty sure there’s nobody who even deserves to kiss you anyway.” You glance over to Suguru, who’s already outing his cigarette and scooting closer.

Flip it over

And sit a little closer

If anything, it makes you swell with shame rather than comfort.

“Not like that, I didn’t mean—”

“Great job, Suguru—”

“As if you were doing any better—”

And despite yourself, you chuckle. They’re idiots. God, they’re fools.

Now, how many men have you kissed?

Satoru’s fingers dip under the collar of your shirt, playing around with the loose thread.

They made you laugh, that’s enough for him, always has been. He knows Suguru feels the same, but why… why doesn’t he feel satisfied with just that? Like there's something else he should be doing?

“Not fair,” he mumbles beneath his breath, cheeks flushed as he slumps forward, resting his head in the crook of your neck. You think he might be past his drinking limit, he always gets all babbly like this when he is.

“Not fair?” Suguru questions, resting a hand over his knee.

“Yeah, ‘s just not fair — who wouldn’t wanna kiss her?”

“I’m literally right here—”

“Keep listening then, it’s not like I’m lying or nothing.”

You’re not strong like Satoru and Suguru.

You’d say you’re not as beautiful either, or eve half as smart sometimes – you never compare yourselves to them but in the great grand scheme of things— you’ve never wanted to be kissed anyway, not by anyone you don’t feel for.

Not by someone who doesn’t know you in the ways you don’t want to be known.

Very few

In the way you know Satoru hates alcohol, but he only ever drinks it when you and Suguru are around. The way Suguru never likes taking pictures but manages a smile when you and Satoru pull him in for a group photo.

“If I kissed you, I’d never stop.” Suguru breathes, laying back on the bed, rumble of a sigh leaving his lips.

But you offered me a kiss

In the way they both know what you’re thinking before you even say it. The way grocery runs, 24 hour mart stops, week long missions, midnight talks, belly laughs and breaching curfew feels like a love language – something only the three of you speak – like something so foreign yet so familiar.

Why?

“I don’t think I’d remember to breathe again if I kissed you.” Satoru grumbles in the crook of your neck, somewhere between a yawn and whine. “You could have anyone you want, name, a whole line full of kisses…”

“Never really wanted to be kissed to be honest,” leaves your mouth in a whisper, your eyelids drooping shut.

Such a foolish reason, I’m afraid.

I just wanted… to kiss you.

#★ DRIASWRLD #tsr ⭐️#jujutsu kaisen #satosugu x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #gojo x geto x reader #suguru geto x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #gojo satoru #geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fic #jjk x reader

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moominsuki · 1 year

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✎ᝰ BAKUGOU KATSUKI ; — bakugou hates everything about valentine’s day & nothing could change that. unfortunately for him, nothing is your middle name.

࿄ ! warnings — none. super cute fluff. / note. p2 is here :} enjoy <3

“i hate valentine’s day.”

bakugou and kirishima storm through the streets of tokyo, donning their hero uniforms and watching the public. kirishima rolls his eyes and tightly grabs the shoulder of his friend before he can shake him off in disgust.

“hate is a strong word, bakubro. you dislike valentine’s day. and i don’t believe that for a second. you just haven’t find the right one to love valentine’s with,” kirishima contends as he looks up at the billboards brandished with the latest advertisements going on and on about the latest swarovski bracelet and “the best flowers to get any woman to love you.”

“suckers like you are the reason why that is stupid day is such a big deal,” bakugou grumbles. “you’re gonna celebrate a made up day-” “it’s not made up!” “made up day to bait you into spending all your money on dumb shit. it’s useless and you’re dumb.”

kirishima laughs at bakugou’s cynicism and shakes his head. “like i said, you just haven’t find the right one! no offence, but taking romance advice from you would be like taking advice from denki.” bakugou shoots kirishima a pointed look and he puts his hands up in a surrendered pose.

“i’m just saying, while i buy flowers and a necklace for a lovely lady of mine, you can wallow in your pity party against the most romantic day of the year. that’s the best thing you can do for a girl.” bakugou groans outwardly and turns to look at his friend.

“is this a patrol or a reason for ya to go on and on about your new girlfriend? cos’ it seems like we ain’t scoping for villains and i’m just an ear to hear about how you get your dick wet.”

kirishima’s face curls at bakugou’s crude language and he shoves the blonde somewhat playfully. “firstly, my relationship with my girl is more than that. and secondly, it wouldn’t be manly of me to talk about my sex life.” bakugou scoffs at this.

“so instead you’ll subject me to ya boring love stories? hard pass.”

at this point, both the guys had reached their agency: being so caught up in their conversation about love and whatnot meant they subconsciously arrived at the huge, vast building.

“‘m sure dunceface and pinky will want to hear all about how you spent 15,000 yen on a fucking necklace but i don’t. have i already told you how stupid that was, by the way?”

kirishima sighs and opens the door, “that’s probably the only thing you’ve inputted into this conversation.”

the boys walk into the entrance and the reception is donned with flowers and glitter and pink hearts alike. the display left a sickening taste in bakugou’s mouth. there’s no way he would’ve co-signed something as ugly as this. it was definitely mina or denki or even deku-

“hey you guys! how do you like the look of the downstairs? i figured it’s not as valentine’s-esque as i would’ve liked but the glitter and the tendrils are pink and they’re heart shaped so i think it makes up for the other…” you gesture to the other parts of the decor that cover the entirely of the ground floor, “parts!”

kirishima looks at bakugou tentatively through his peripheral vision and bakugou’s eyebrows are so far raised, they’ve disappeared into the wheat strands adoring his hairline.

“i like it a lot, y/n! i can really feel the loving energy here,” exclaims kirishima and you smile and clap your hands at that.

“that’s so good to hear! some of the others said that it was perfect but didn’t know if you guys would like it as much…” you trail off and look at bakugou. he’s thankful that his mask covers up the movement of his eyes because he couldn’t have hated something more. the sickening colour of fuschia and pale pink messed with his feng shui more than he let on at this moment. if you were dunceface, he would’ve punched you up at this moment. heck, if you were pinky, he would’ve pulled on your ear and chastised you for not telling him first. if you were literally anybody else, you would’ve had an earful.

but you were you.

“i think it looks good,” bakugou hums and he nods before walking away to the elevators at the end of the vast room. you turn to see his moving body and you look at kirishima again in confusion.

“is he okay? are you sure he actually likes it?” you ask kirishima slowly and kirishima waves his hands at you.

“trust me, if he didn’t like it, he would’ve said something. you know bakugou doesn’t beat around the bush.” you smile in relief at that and kirishima quickly says bye to join bakugou in the closing lift.

“hey! wait up, bakugou!” kirishima makes the lift and is immediately welcomed by floating daisies and roses. bakugou stands staring straight out the doors of the elevator, not a lick of emotion on his face.

“so, uh, what was that?” asks kirishima after a lick of silence. bakugou scoffs, “i dunno what you’re talking about.”

kiri notices the tips of bakugou’s ears are red and he ponders on commenting on it before deciding he would prefer life.

“well, if i were you, i would get y/n a gift. but that’s just me though,” whistles the red haired man and bakugou’s eye twitches slightly and he rubs a hand across his face.

“fuck you and stop looking at me like that,” bakugou grumbles as kirishima nods with a knowing look on his face.

“…i heard through the grapevine that y/n really likes tulips and snapdragons - but you didn’t hear it from me!” mentions kirishima and as soon as those elevator doors open, bakugou storms out of there in a flurry, leaving his friend behind.

back in his office, bakugou sits at his desk and runs his fingers through the various decorations on his desk. it was the complete opposite of what his office usually looked like and to him, the runes of pink and red and white were ruining his feng shui. he picks up a card that’s situated on the edge of his desk and he doesn’t even have to open it to know it’s from you.

“dear ka bakugou,

i know the colours and the showiness might get too much for you so here’s a small gift from me before the day of festivities :) i.e. thank you for being a good sport!

love, y/n”

a gift card for his favourite watch brand sat in between the panels of the sickeningly glittery card.

when kirishima came to grab bakugou for lunch, he didn’t bring up the numerous tabs of florists and “gifts for girls you like” on the blond’s computer. and he definitely didn’t bring up the check of 135,000 yen addressed as “y/n’s gift” sitting amongst layers of paperwork.

#bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #there will be a part 2 #i just need to work out what’s gonna happen idk #bakugou drabble #please be kind babies #bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou fluff #✎𓂃stamped: (my hero academia)。°˖⌕#༝˚૮ .♡ katsuki.

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svsss-fanon-exposed · 5 months

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Exposing SVSSS Fanon: 3/∞

CANG QIONG MOUNTAIN'S TWELVE PEAKS HAVE COLOR-CODED UNIFORMS

Rating: CANON

Fanworks will often depict the disciples of Cang Qiong Mountain's twelve peaks in matching, color-coded uniforms to each of their peak. This is not something that is often mentioned in the novel itself, but it is canonically accurate.

However, we do not know many of the peaks' signature colors. The fact that they do have specific uniforms in specific colors is canon, but many of the colors used in fanworks are, in fact, fanon.

In the text, only two peaks have canonically-designated uniform colors.

It is stated that there are set uniforms for all of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect's disciples:

Though the disciples on the peaks had to wear uniforms, there were also many acclaimed cultivators who weren’t subject to these restrictions...

and

Thankfully, on An Ding Peak, trivial matters like assigning rooms and uniforms to newly accepted disciples didn’t require the peak lord’s involvement.

and also a passage here:

Several hundred disciples in uniformly colored robes and furious expressions surrounded the invaders

In the original, the phrase "uniformly colored robes (服色统一)" could be read as all of Cang Qiong Mountain's disciples wearing the same-color uniform, but it could also be read that they were all dressed in uniform, as 服色 denotes both color and style of clothes (notable that "color" in Chinese is a more abstract concept than in English).

This passage isn't clear on its own, but there are other places where it is confirmed that the colors worn by the disciples of various peaks are different, and can be used to tell which peak a disciple belongs to:

[Shen Qingqiu] held his breath, attention rapt, and watched a youth in black rush out... ...The color of his robes confirmed that he really was from Bai Zhan Peak...

Aside from this, Qing Jing Peak's uniforms are the only others that are given a description:

Enveloped in Qing Jing Peak’s many-layered teal uniform, [SQQ] was immaculate and slender, with a great deal of graceful beauty.

While this passage describes the Peak Lord's attire and might not necessarily extend to the disciples, another passage shortly after this says:

A group of teal-robed boys and girls ran down Qing Jing Peak in a trailing conga line, one after another.

This confirms a uniform color used by the peak's disciples.

These passages, however, are the only ones which definitively state a uniform color for any of the twelve peaks-- meaning that we only know that Qing Jing Peak's uniforms are teal (青色）and Bai Zhan Peak's uniforms are black (黑色). Anything other than this is fanon and headcanon.

One more side note-- Luo Binghe is described as wearing white:

A seventeen-year-old youth, slim and tall and graceful, dressed in white robes

But this description only begins after the timeskip at the beginning of Chapter 4 (7S TL). Luo Binghe is, as of now, still a disciple of the sect, and thus would be required to wear a uniform. However, one important change had occured during this time-- Luo Binghe, at the time of the Immortal Alliance Conference, is Qing Jing Peak's head disciple.

The only time another head disciple's appearance is described is regarding Shen Qingqiu:

Shang Qinghua suddenly heard the tinkling of sword tassel pendants, and a youth wearing Qing Jing Peak’s uniform slowly approached him... ... His black hair was neatly tied behind his head with a light-green ribbon...

The color of his uniform is not stated, other than it being Qing Jing Peak's, and the "light-green" color of the hair ribbon is 青色，which is the same color translated as "teal" when describing QJP's uniforms above.

Therefore, one interpretation could be that head disciples of Cang Qiong Mountain's twelve peaks wear white uniforms with accessories in their peaks' designated color.

This, of course, is not explicitly canon and should still be taken as headcanon (I would categorize it as supported or neutral fanon on this blog).

However, the idea that the twelve peaks have each their own uniform colors, and that QJP's is teal and BZP's is black, are canonical facts.

#fanon exposed #svsss #cang qiong mountain #canon

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thedevilspearl · 9 months

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author’s note ʚɞ i’m testing the waters with this one so please be kind about it. please also excuse the pet name sugar tits, i think it’s hot don’t judge me >_<

tags ʚɞ 5.6k words, dark content, mammon x female reader, bully!mammon, dubcon (forced consent), non–consensual photo taking, semi–public sex, (public) groping, blowjob, degradation, name calling, praise, pet names, humiliation kink, breeding kink, dacryphillia. minors do not interact!

ʏᴏᴜ’ᴠᴇ ʜᴀᴅ ɪᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴀᴍᴍᴏɴ and his antics. it’s beyond ridiculous at this point. never did you imagine becoming his target but when you think about it long enough, you realise your whole existence in the devildom was set up to be a laughing stock from the beginning.

back when you had just arrived, he acted as your tour guide but then forced you to cover his dinner duties at home. he helped you with your homework since you were new to the subjects but demanded you pay him back with all of your saved grimm. he even lent you some of his friends to help curb your homesickness only to have them report back every little detail so he could blackmail you later on.

and those kind of things happen when he’s being nice; unfortunately for you, mammon is very rarely nice. not a day goes by where he doesn’t find a way to make your life hell.

mammon, the avatar of greed, the second eldest of the powerful demon brothers, and as he likes to call himself, your first man, rarely shows kindness towards you unless he can gain something from it.

even if he gets nothing in return, he will go out of his way. from tripping you up in hallways to stealing your possessions, and forcing you to complete his homework to treating you like his lackey. anything and everything he does is in some way or another intended to bring you misery.

you’ve grown accustomed to being pushed around and laughed at for the sake of some demon’s entertainment, but there’s something else you’ve also grown used to.

the fact is, mammon gives you more attention than he gives anyone, even himself. and it’s a delusional way to think but it helps you cope with your sorrowful life in the devildom.

you’ve considered confiding in someone; surely the bullying would cease if diavolo found out mammon was harming the student exchange programme like this. but at the end of the day, mammon held more power over you than diavolo himself.

each and every decision you make, reluctantly or otherwise, gives him more power as the days go by. because you have no other choice but to go along with it; and if you don’t want to, he’ll simply blackmail you.

a while ago, you became incredibly close to knocking on lucifer’s door and confessing everything after mammon snapped pictures of you showering and threatened to post them if you didn’t do what he said. lamentably, you gave up on the effort.

if lucifer found out, he would have punished mammon. and after that, you have no doubt mammon would come after you with those big threats again. and you’ve never been in a position strong enough to fight back against him.

the pathetic little human, the bane of his life. yet, he can’t seem to stay away from you. demons are inherently evil creatures, that is a known fact. but after coming to the devildom, you learned demons are, in fact, not all monster.

they have bodies that look human and thoughts and feelings which may be questionable at time but still similar enough to the people in your own world to make you think wait a minute, they’re not all bad.

but that was before mammon revealed his irrational hatred for you. it has nothing to do with him hating humans or those weaker than him and everything to do with his dark, twisted infatuation with you. he’s the definition of cruel and demonic and you feel his animosity deep in your bones, now more than ever.

you don’t know how he did it, but staring at an empty locker where your rad uniform should be sitting boils your blood.

filled with fury, you storm out of the changing rooms in search of the demon.

mammon had already shrunk your sports kit by turning up the temperature when they were getting washed so your usually loose–fitting shorts cling to your thighs and butt. and after getting caught in the rain five minutes ago, you rushed inside to change your sodden white shirt.

but you were foolish to think things would go your way and now you’re storming through rad’s hallways with shorts riding up your ass and your bra fully visible under the wet shirt clinging to you. you’re overflowing with so much rage that you don’t care about the demons eyeing you in the tight clothes or licking their lips as you rush past them.

you spot your nemesis at the end of the hallway and for a moment, your heart stops beating. inhaling deeply, you build the courage to storm up to the white–haired demon.

he’s surrounded by his cronies, laughing at some sleazy joke that came out of his mouth and he refuses to look at you despite you standing in front of him. you know he knows you’re there. but in mammon fashion, he publicly humiliates you once again by completely ignoring you.

meanwhile, a small crowd of hungry demons gathers around you and your heart patters, shying under their interested eyes. but now is not a time to show weakness. now is the time to finally put mammon in his place, which is rather ironic since his place is among the strongest beings in all three realms and you are but a measly human.

“hey!” you shout and he rolls his eyes before finally turning to look at you.

just the sight of him infuriates you, but you’re not sure if the heat growing in your core is rooted from fury or from the way his eyes rake up and down your body. he blue orbs fall to your feet and slowly rise, taking in every detail of your frame.

little do you know, the shape of your body has him salivating. his eyes linger at your thighs, so thick and plush; your hips, so curvaceous and delicious; your tits, so tempting with your perky nipples poking through and your lacey bra visible under the wet shirt.

the tip of his tongue runs under his fangs before wetting his lips as they inch up one side of his face. as attractive as his smirk is, you want to slap it right off his face.

“what’s up, sugar tits?” he quirks his brows, nodding his head to notion the attention he has for the state of your chest, hence the nickname.

you follow his gaze downwards, fully grasping how much of your breasts were on display. you gasp, covering them but it does nothing to hide your entire ass also being showcased.

damn, mammon thinks. you might as well not be wearing any underwear with how tightly your shorts are pressed against your pussy. he can see everything.

“i knew ya were a desperate little thing,” mammon taunts. “but i didn’t think you’d be so dumb to come beg for me in front of everyone.”

“i didn’t come to beg!” you yell, cowering as the crowd fills with laughs and jeers.

“then what did ya come for?” mammon rolls his eyes.

“i came here to…”

“….to what?” mammon steps closer. his scent is intoxicating as it surrounds you. “ya came here to yell at me, the great mammon?”

“n-no….” you mutter, suddenly afraid of his close proximity. with ever step forward he makes, you take one back which ends with your back against the wall and his big frame caging you against it.

he creates a little cave between your bodies that holds barely enough air for you to breathe. just like always, he controls you in any situation. if he doesn’t want you to breathe, he will simply steal all the air you could possibly breathe. and that means locking you tightly between his body and the wall will suffocate you as much as he wants it to, regardless of your pleas for forgiveness.

“i’m sorry....i–i shouldn’t have yelled at you....i didn’t mean to.”

whatever flattery you have in your tone fails to do the job as he closes in, the space between you negligent while you try to figure out a way to escape.

but as your body heats up from mammon forcing proximity, his hands begin to roam your body and you lose the ability to think straight.

“aww, the little human’s blushing. ya like me being this close?” you whimper against him, but he leans in to your ear and whispers, “want me to touch you?”

a quiet but still audible gasp drifts to his ears and he reigns in the delicacy of the sound. such a sweet, pretty sound. he simply needs to hear it again.

“you do, don’t you?” he chuckles lowly. “just say the words and i’ll do it.”

despite every cell in your brain rooting against you, you quietly whisper back to him, “please.... please touch me.”

a rumble sounds in his chest, growling from the pleasure of you inviting him to touch you. the heat radiates from your body, your desperation oozing from your pores. and there’s something else coming from your body, something you’re so ashamed to admit.

mammon’s teasing alone is enough to create wetness between your legs and succumbing to his dominance has your pussy producing more arousal with each throb of your lips.

“ah!” you gasp as a large hand cups your breast. you push his arm away but it only tightens his grip on it. “mammon....”

“these are some sweet tits, mc. shame ya hid ’m from me for so long.”

you have no chance to protest as he moves onto the next, grabbing both your breasts and squeazing hard. you cry out, hoping it would signal for help but it comes out as a moan instead, arousing the audience further.

every demon wants a piece of you, but mammon lays his claim on your body by roaming every inch of it, grabbing every bit of flesh as if it’s the only thing keeping him sane, which might well be true.

with the way he kneads your ass between his rough fingers, you’re just about ready to submit to him completely, to sacrifice your entire body to him so he can have his way and be satisfied.

“fuck,” mammon grumbles as his hands slide lower; you moan and whimper, embarrassed by your helpless position. there’s no way you can come back from this, not when mammon’s hand cups your pussy, rubbing up and down to bring you the relief you so desperately needed. and to his surprise, he finds more than what he expected. “look at that! she soaked through her panties and her shorts.”

“it’s your fault they’re so tight on me....”

“but it’s your fault that you’re this fucking wet,” he reminds you, and you back down with a heavy blush. “you’re the one getting turned on by this, sicko.”

he continues groping you, fondling your tits and squeezing your ass before his hand moves to your front and cups your tight pussy over and over again. you find what energy you have in you to hide your moans but it’s a failed attempt. as quiet as they are, he still hears them.

“fuck,” he groans into your ear, and whispers so no one else can hear his filthy voice. “wanna fuck this pussy so bad.”

“d-don’t….” you whimper, but your resistance earns a harsh grip on your ass. his fingers dig deep into your flesh, sure to leave behind bruises. “stop....”

“hah? you’re telling me, the great mammon, no? darlin’, ya already know how that’s gonna turn out.”

your gaze is blurred by tears — from embarrassment, from shame, from arousal. you can barely understand the plethora of sensations in your body but you do know that mammon touching you is so wrong even if it feels so right.

it confuses you so much that you can’t stop your hand from rising and colliding with his face. at least your gut instincts are still working. you push him away in the moment he is stunned and your palm stings from the slap.

the entire right side of his face burns red as he holds it.

“the fuck?!” he growls, bearing his fangs at you. “you fucking hit me?”

the crowd gasps and mutters as he dives towards you with his fists raised. you brace for impact, ready to be slammed into the wall. he’s never hurt you so badly before, but today just happens to be the day where all lines are crossed.

you gasp, holding up your hands to protect your face but as if time has frozen, you don’t feel the impact coming. when you finally breathe and look up, mammon looks down at you with raging eyes and a contorted face — as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was about to do.

before you can even think to question why he stopped himself, the two demons you least expect to see appear, parting the crowd as they arrive: lucifer, with diavolo trailing behind him.

“what is the meaning of this?” diavolo bellows, his eyes draping down your form.

lucifer’s cheeks burn, not from blushing but rather, anger, embarrassment, humiliation. “what on earth are you wearing?”

regret floods you as you remember your position in their household. and you’ve brought shame onto the brothers for flaunting yourself around rad dressed in what might as well be underwear.

diavolo’s voice is a bit more kind towards you, but he’s definitely pissed. “i’m going to assume you aren’t aware of the dress code within these walls, mc. might i remind you that dressing inappropriately will result in punishment. as will attacking another student. you will both receive detention effective immediately.”

“it was mammon—”

“stop your sputtering,” lucifer snaps. “go change this instant.”

“but….my uniform was stolen.”

“by who?”

you glance slyly to the white–haired demon beside you and your heart hammers. you could tell lucifer now, tell him everything that mammon has ever done to you. but mammon’s death glare scares you. not because of what he might do to you if you snitch, but how you’ll feel if he is ordered to never interact with you again.

you’re sure diavolo would put a stop to the bullying straight away, maybe even move you out of the house of lamentation. but that means you’ll see less of mammon and despite how much you hate him, you’ll feel lonely without his constant unwarranted attention.

“never mind,” you mutter. “i’ll find it.”

you arrived to detention on time, not wanting to anger lucifer any further. thankfully, the eldest had figured out it was mammon who stole your uniform and had him return it. the classroom is empty save for your sorrowful soul.

you hope mammon doesn’t come. he skips detentions just like he skips classes so you’re happy to have some time alone to calm down before heading home.

but as your luck would have it, the demon struts in, spotting you in your seat before striding over to sit beside you.

“you can sit anywhere in the room but you choose to sit next to me?” you scoff. “i thought you were supposed to hate me.”

“i do.”

“then why are you sitting next to me?”

mammon won’t allow that, though. he’s in control. whatever fantasies you have of him being soft and affectionate with you are over the seconds he decides them to be and right now, he puts an end to them by slipping his hand under your blazer and cupping your breast.

“so i can do this.” mammon raises his hand, slowly but it’s still concerning. his fingers brush your hair away from your face and your mind spins from the action. his thumb creeps closer, brushing the soft, sensitive skin of your lips.

you’re afraid to look at him, to see the gentleness hidden beneath his mean facade knowing that you’d fall for it in an instant.

you were beginning to feel the phantom of his touches from earlier, which is nothing if not the biggest red flag. but having his hand places on them again, fondling them eagerly is infinitely better than the memories of his corroding touch.

every second which passes with his hands on you, another part of you is corrupted by him and those few sacred, untouched parts rebel against all odds and finally give you some self–restraint and control.

“don’t touch me!” you whack his arm away and scoot over to the next chair, embarrassed that you almost fell for him again. every single time he teases you with niceties and gentle gestures that border flirtation, you find yourself hoping that it might be real.

but he’s just playing with you like he always has. he wants nothing more than to make you feel like a fool under his charms. your humiliation is food to him.

“come on, you said it was fine earlier. let me do it again.”

“no,” you say firmly. “i don’t want you to touch me anymore.”

mammon huffs. “suit yourself.”

hopefully with a seat between you, he’ll put an end to his interest in you and ignore you just like you’re ignoring him.

but choosing to ignore him would be your biggest mistake because when you glance over, in the corner of your eye you see on his ddd a photo of you naked in the shower. your body jolts at the sight of it.

“what the hell, mammon?!” you scream. “what are you doing?”

“gonna post it on devilgram, duh.”

“wait, mammon! don’t!” you try grabbing for his phone but he yanks your arm away from it and pushes you away.

“come on,” he whistles. “show me your tits.”

“what....”

he threatens you by holding his thumb over the post button. “didn’t want me to touch you, well now you gotta do what i say or i’ll post ’em”

“please, mammon. don’t do this.”

“nuh-uh. you should be on your knees begging me if you want me to stop.”

an inhumane noise releases from your throat. you’re not quite sure what it was — a growl of frustration, a beg for help? you’ll bever know because you’re too busy sinking to your knees pleading for mercy.

“not yet,” mammon stops you before your knees graze the ground. “get your tits out first.”

“what?”

“fuck, how many times do i need to say it?” he stares at you, demanding your obedience and you slowly rise, shamefully removing your blazer. “that’s better.”

his demonic blue–gold eyes cut through your skin and you unbutton your shirt one button at a time, shrugging it off so it falls down your shoulders but still hooked on your elbows. mammon salivates at the sight of your pretty chest.

he’s been waiting to see them since he saw you earlier, but fuck. this is the real deal. your breasts sit nicely in their lacey cups and just like a few hours ago, your slutty nipples poke through.

his hand immediately goes to his crotch and palms himself. you feel sick, disgusted but the way his hand moves against himself and his reddening cheeks turns you on. you try to look away from him, but you simply cannot do so.

“c’mere,” mammon mutters and with the phone in his hand ready to post your nude pictures, you do as he says. “get on your knees.”

when they touch the ground, your body shudders and you settle in front of him. there are no words to describe the way he looks down at you. you almost feel like it’s a blessing to be looked at by him at all.

“take my dick outta my pants.”

“what?”

“are ya dumb or something? take my fucking dick out of my pants.”

you can tell his patience is running thin and you don’t dare to test him further when he waves his ddd in front of your face. you reach up with shaky hands to unzip his pants but he stops you again.

“do it with your mouth.”

what kind of fantasies must he be having to order you to do such a thing? well, they’re the fantasies you play a part in and you’ll play them out exactly as he desires for your own wellbeing, lest the entire devildom see pictures of you naked.

taking the metal zip between your teeth, you pull it down. the button is more difficult to undo but you get there in the end despite mammon cackling at your struggle. next, you bite the fabric before dragging it down his thighs.

the sheer size of his cock amazes you and the ghost of it fills you up just by looking at it. your body is begging for him to be inside you, and you pray he’ll never find out. he ushers you to keep going and in the same way, you pull down his boxers, looking him dead in the eyes as you drag them down with your teeth.

he hisses as his cock is freed, letting it bounce as it twitches to life. cum oozes from his tip and you mindlessly lick your lips.

“suck it.” he says and reluctantly, you inch forward, taking his tip between your lips. your tongue swipes over it, tasting his cum that you can only describe as the only substance you’ll need to survive on from now on.

“fuck,” he groans. “your slutty mouth feels so fucking good.”

your pussy throbs each and every time he calls you a slut no matter how much you hate it and he inspires you to take him deeper in your mouth in hopes of him calling you it again. his fat cock fills your cheeks and you move back and forth, tongue running along his shaft.

he’s thick and hard, too big to fit in your mouth and you can only imagine the size of it tearing your pussy walls apart when he finally finds his home in there.

“ya looked so fucking hot in those shorts,” he grunts. “bet ya loved every minute of it, strutting around like a slut.”

“i’m not,” you mumble around his cock. “i’m not a slut.”

mammon scoffs, somehow able to understand your muffled words while his cock sits heavy in your mouth. he tuts as you pull back, drenching his cock in your saliva. “don’t lie to me, sweetheart. i know what a dirty little slut ya.”

“no…”

“every demon in that hallway was looking at ya and all i could smell was your sweet pussy leaking for me. bet they could all smell it too. bet they wanted ya as bad as i do.”

mammon….wants you?

now, that’s not something you ever thought of being a possibility. but as the words slip from his lips, your lower body heats up even more. there is so much desperation growing between your legs and you can’t hold back.

your nimble fingers find their way between your legs and mammon uses his foot to lift up your skirt and peek at the dirty things you do to yourself underneath it. god, your eyes are just so needy for him as he watches your fingers push in and out of your pussy.

the only thing blocking his view are the panties you pulled to the side and he orders you to take them off. it pains you to obey him again but the ache in your belly hurts so much more. if you listen to him well enough, maybe he’ll fill you up and finally put your body at ease.

after all that’s happened, the only thing you want right now is his fat cock stuffing you to the hilt instead of your amateur fingers which do not dare to match the level of pleasure mammon’s cock can give you.

swallowing bitterly, you gently place your soaked panties in the hand he holds out, feeling your arousal drip down your thighs already.

“you’re such a naughty girl, getting wet like this,” he teases, rubbing his thumb over the soggy patch on your panties. “so fucking bad.”

“i’m not!” you move away from him completely and plead on your knees. “i’m good, i’ve been nothing but good to you and you treat me so horribly!”

mammon supposes he should feel bad seeing you cry, but your cute little sniffles and the way your teary eyes look up at him through sodden lashes, well, it does make him feel bad….for what he’s about to do to you.

“aww, baby,” his hand snakes his hand under your chin. your skin burns from the way his fingers feel so right around your neck. his touch is gentle, guiding you up onto your feet and your knees are so weak that you begrudgingly lean on him for support. “i didn’t mean to make ya cry.”

his voice is soft as he feigns a pout while spouting such a lie. making you cry is a reward for mammon. you wouldn’t be surprised if he was getting off on this.

“what did i do to deserve this?” you whimper.

“oh darlin’” he kisses your cheek, nuzzling into your neck. the softness in his voice is foreign, and the gentle graze of his lips teasing your skin is addicting. “do you want me to stop?”

“huh?”

“want me to stop being mean to ya?”

freeing himself from the intoxicating scent of your pulse, he holds his face close to you with a hand on either side of yours, thumbs stroking your hot cheeks and wiping away tears. a sick feeling builds in your stomach, but a desperate, needy ache grows faster and stronger.

and as loud as they both are, you can only listen to one bodily instinct at a time.

nodding slowly, you don’t tear your eyes away from his hoping he will see how pathetic and miserable and desperate you are. you’d do anything if it means he’ll stop harassing you.

mammon’s wide smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes and he leans in, surprising you when his lips touch yours. your eyes grow to an abstractly large size and you don’t dare to move as he glides his lips against yours.

one arm wraps around your waist, pulling you flush against him and his cock presses into your tummy while the other snakes around your shoulders, grabbing your scalp and holding your head in place. despite your best efforts to push him away, you remain with your lips locked onto his.

they’re both hot and cold at the same time, both gentle and destructive. all of your walls break down as he pries your sorry lips apart, swiping his tongue along them before devouring your mouth whole.

you moan and gasp against him, beating his chest with your fists but he refuses to let you go and to your dismay — or delight, you can’t quite tell — his hips begin moving. he grinds into your body, rubbing his bare cock along your tummy and leaving cum stains on your clothes.

every alarm in your body rings loudly and you lose the ability to breathe. your mind fogs up from the lack of air but you’re sure he’s doing this on purpose, not allowing you a single ounce of it and if one manages to slip past your lips, he steals it right away.

you know how he works. what mammon wants, mammon gets and while he deprives you of oxygen, he’s waiting for you to give in.

he forces his tongue deep in your mouth but the feel of it is new and draws out a deeper beast within you, greed and excitement growing in your core. while his cock ruts against you, your hands find it and you slowly stroke him, spreading his pre–cum along his length.

“that’s it. keep doing that,” he groans, lips only inches apart. “good girl.”

a whimper escapes you as the words roll of his tongue and your pussy erupts in sparks.

“what’s that, huh? you like it when i call you good girl?” biting your lip, you nod eagerly, earning another proud smile from him. “hm, maybe i should keep calling ya it. but then again, you’re nothing but a worthless slut.”

mammon grabs a fistful of your hair and pushes you to the cold, hard ground. before you can wiggle away, he has you locked in place with your arms pinned down at the sides and your legs stretched on either side of his hips.

“mammon!” you yelp. “please, no….”

“dontcha ya want me to stop being mean to ya?” he questions, eyes filled with madness as he yanks down your bra and gropes your breasts. holding you in place as you writhe against him, mammon leans down and takes your nipple between his lips. “i’ll stop if you let me fuck your sweet little pussy. it’s a good deal, ain’t it?”

it’s the most horrific deal you’ve ever heard but you’re beyond reasoning at this point. the two things you desire most — for him to fuck you dumb on his cock and for him to stop bullying you — he can give to you right now. there’s no harm in killing two birds with one stone, right? if he’s going to be mean about it, you’ve no choice but to take it given it’s the only chance you’ll ever have to free yourself from him.

“fuck, your tits are so sweet.” he can’t stop playing with them, squeezing them, slapping them and marvelling at the way they jiggle, then pinching your nipples and pulling them taught before releasing them and taking them in his mouth again.

“ah!” you moan. “mammon, don’t…” but the warmth of his lips is welcomed by your body and you arch into him.

burying his face into your breasts, he sucks and bites for what feels like hours, covering your mounds with bruises and when he rises with a gasp, his lips are covered in his saliva. his mini–makeout session with your breasts makes every hair on your body stand tall, all the while, your pussy leaks onto the ground beneath you.

mammon grabs both of your breasts, blessing each of his hands with their softness and rubs his cock head over your puffy lips.

“fucking sugar tits, alright,” he jokes. “ya like it when i call ya that?”

you shake your head violently but the truth is, you haven’t stopped thinking about it since he called you it earlier. it’s such a ridiculous name, so degrading and obscene. yet, your hole clenches over nothing when he calls you it.

“that’s right, sugar tits. i can feel your pussy throbbing against me.” mammon warns. “you’re gonna cum while i call ya sugar tits, ain’t ya?”

shaking your head again, you cry no’s and stop’s but each of them fly past his ears. but a guttural feeling deep down knows you’re glad he won’t listen. your pussy aches for his cock to fill you up, for your name to roll off his lips while he fucks his cum far into your pussy.

“you want this, don’t ya?”

“no,” you sob.

“don’t lie to me, bitch. you know you want it.”

“i don’t!”

oh, but you do.

you want this more than anything but you’d rather him not know because it would only give him more fuel to ruin you with.

“yes, you fucking do,” he forces the answer for you. his grabs his cock and prods it against your hole. it’s so wet and slippery that he almost falls deep inside but he’s using the last remainders of his control to hear you say the words he’s wanted to hear for so long. “you fucking want this. tell me you want this.”

you whine. struggling against him but he pushes you down with his ungodly strength.

“say it or i’ll post the fucking pictures.”

“i want it!” you yelp, the words blurting out against your will. “please, mammon. i want it!”

“that’s what i fucking thought.”

and with that, mammon pushes himself past your hole, his leaking tip digging its way into your pussy. your legs fly in the air as you feel him stretch your walls unbelievably wide.

“fuck! mammon!”

“your pussy’s sucking me in, baby,” he grunts with each thrust. “i knew ya wanted my cock this bad.”

with each rock of his hips, your body drags against the ground and he pins you down in place again, arms at your side and body spread wide for him. his eyes latch onto your tits bouncing with every thrust.

they mesmerise him, the way they knock up and down with each hard thrust acting as hypnosis for the demon and he grows desperate for release.

“fuck, sugar tits,” you clench at the pet name. it’s so humiliating but it feels so fucking good, as good as his cock battering your insides. “such a fucking slut enjoying my cock like this.”

he spits insult after insult, mocking you for your weakness against him. “nothin’ but a dirty little human desperate for some demon cock, huh? bet that’s why ya let me fuck around with ya for so long, because ya wanted this to happen, wanted me to fill your tiny little hole with my cum. isn’t that right?”

“no,” you shake your head, but you’re quickly met with his hands gripping your face harshly. “i mean, yes! yes i wanted this!”

“keep going….” he ruts harder, knocking your insides in the right way.

“i wanted this for so long, mammon!” you cry. “wanted your cock so bad i let you treat me like dirt all this time!”

“that’s right,” mammon groans. “i’m always fucking right about ya. nothin’ but a slutty little hole for me. gonna fucking breed ya with all of my cum, and no one’s ever gonna touch ya but me.”

“oh!” you moan, relishing in the words spilling from his lips. you know he doesn’t mean anything special by it, but you’re so blissed out from his cock that for a moment, it feels real. you’re his and his only in the empty classroom and you feel….special. “mammon, it’s so good!”

“yeah? my cock’s making ya feel good?”

“yes!”

“fucking hell, sugar tits loves my cock,” he yells for the whole school to hear, laughing at your the way your pussy tightens when he says it. “go on, you say it too.”

“huh?” you whine.

“fucking say it, scream it. need the whole fucking devildom to here ya being a slut for me.”

“but—”

“say it, angel. or ya don’t get to cum,” he grins seeing the desperation in your eyes, so obedient to him just for an orgasm. how much more pathetic can you get? “go on, be a good girl and say it.”

“i….i love mammon’s cock….”

“louder.”

“i love mammon’s cock,” you repeat but he still isn’t satisfied. he thrusts into you particularly harshly, a yelp escaping your lips and you hear his message loud and clear, screaming, “i love the great mammon’s cock!”

“that’s right, sugar tits,” he leans down. “ya gonna cum now?”

you nod fervently, desperate for release. his cock drags along your clenching walls, awakening the hidden sweet spots as your nectar leaks around him. “wanna cum! please!”

“go ahead, baby,” he ruts with a deep groan, coming close to the edge himself. “i’m gonna finish inside your filthy little pussy.”

“hhm,” you moan. “you shouldn’t!”

“but i’m gonna anyway.”

all it takes as one more thrust to feel ropes of mammon’s hot cum spurting out into your pussy. his thumb finds your clit and pinches it, pulls it, then circles it roughly while pushing his cum deeper inside you with his cock. seconds later, ecstasy washes over you and your body loses control, spasming against his cock as you arch deeper into it. your walls are painted white with his cum and his cocks remains sheathed in your pussy as you writhe through your prolonged orgasm.

“fuck!” you squeal. “it feels so fucking good!”

“holy shit,” mammon groans, hissing when he finally pulls out from your hot mess of a pussy. “that was fucking amazing, huh?”

he falls back, watching your body twitch and tremble and his cum pours out from between your legs, giving him the perfect idea. he reaches for his ddd and opens the camera, facing it towards your blissed the fuck out body.

“hey, sugar tits,” you look at him, haunted by the sick grin on his face. “smile for the camera.”

“wait, mammon—”

“shaddup,” he mumbles and seconds later, several snaps of his camera sound. you yelp, covering your chest and closing your legs in a weak attempt. but mammon’s strength is far to superior to yours and he yanks your legs back open. “i gotcha now, angel.”

“what…?”

he snaps several more pictures and even a short film of his cum gushing out of your pussy. “fuck, i could sell these for some real grimm.”

the way his eyes light up terrifies you and you want nothing more than to curl up into a ball and cease to exist. if he did, your life in the devildom would truly be over. you’d have no dignity remaining from what little of it was left anyway.

“you said you’s stop!” you cry. “you promised you wouldn’t mess with me anymore if i let you fuck me!”

“ya didn’t actually believe that, did ya?”

the world comes crashing down on your heavy, aching body and you’re overcome with violent sobbing. all hope is lost; there’s nothing good left for you now. mammon has made sure of that.

“why? why are you doing this to me?”

“because you’re nothing but a worthless slut. but you’re fun to play with, i’ll give ya that.”

every nerve on your body aches with humiliation. and what’s worse is knowing mammon gets off to it every single time.

how could you ever think you would mean something to him? you know your place full and well yet you still strived to be something more to him, when in reality, all you are is a toy for him to play with, a pathetic human designed for him to ruin in every way.

“p-please….” you sob. “please don’t tell anyone.

“that’s right, angel. you better do everything i say from now on, or else the entire fucking devildom is gonna know how much of a greedy slut ya are. fuck, ya were so fucking desperate for me to breed ya.”

your heart collapses into your stomach; you were a fool to ever believe him. his words and his touches twisted their way into your core and you gave into your sickly attraction to him. but what’s done is done and the best you can do now is some damage control.

“y–you won’t show the pictures to anyone….right?”

mammon scoffs with his devilish grin refusing to leave his face. your skin tingles as he glares at you. despite his terrible attention span and low grades, mammon is smart when he wants to be and smart he is by hacking away at all of your strength, leaving you with nothing but weakness and in the position he’s been wanting you in since the beginning.

“i won’t….for a price,” he grins. “what are ya willing to do to stop me from showing ‘em?”

with one question spilling from his lips, your mind shatters upon the realisation that your existence is now in his hands. you swallow, giving up on all of your pride and courage and hoping desperation will help you. and you really hope it will because that’s all you have left.

“anything. i’ll do anything.”

“good,” his eyes are dark like deep water as he leans over you again, engulfing your pitiful body in his scent. your heart races, tears soaking your eyes as you officially sign away your life to him. “because from now on, you’re the great mammon’s personal slut.”

#♡ pearl’s writing #obey me x reader #obey me #obey me smut #mammon x reader #obey me mammon #obey me shall we date #obey me mammon smut #obey me x reader smut #obey me x female reader #tw: dark content

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uhohdad · 9 months

Text

EXPERIMENTAL

it’s been awhile since i’ve written please mind the rust

to be continued? maybe?? let me know if you want more

Summary: Konig helps Researcher!Reader with a new technology they’ve been developing.

AO3 Link: X

PART TWO: X

Word Count: 5,4k

Warnings: Flirting, Sexual Content, NSFW, Reader x Konig, talk of standard war stuff, Reader is a bit of a pervert. Non-con Voyeurism. Reader has anxious thoughts/low-self esteem-ish? No use of y/n, reader’s gender/sex is incomprehensible, cause I do for the girls the gays and the theys.

NSFW UNDER CUT

You never thought you’d end up working for the government, but the opportunity was too good. Where else would you find a grant to experiment if not for the generous funding of the military industrial complex? You should have known. Research is research, you told yourself, and the pay is too good to pass up on.

Most of your time was spent in the lab. For the most part, you had worked alone, spending up to 14 hours a day working on your project. It had been months, but you’re sure your developments will forever change warfare.

How many deaths will your creations be responsible for? How much blood on your hands?

No. It’s just a job.

You let out a deep sigh. Usually you have background noise - music, a show, a podcast - something to help ward off the obsessive thoughts. But today you had visitors coming.

You had requested a test subject for a beta version of your project. A soldier to help work out the bugs before the final version gets sent on the battlefield.

Battlefield.

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about-

A knock interrupted your internal conflict. You looked up, your eyes meeting the visitor through the circular glass pane of the swinging door. Just his eyes, as the visitor wore a black mask that draped from underneath a helmet, flowing over his shoulders and down his chest. You couldn’t help the concerned look that crossed your face as you hesitantly waved him in.

The door creaked as it opened and the man stepped in. You shoulders eased a bit when you noticed the uniform previously obscured by the door, confirming he was a soldier from the base and not an intruder in a mask. You couldn’t help but tense again once you noticed his stature. Even from across the room you could tell he was well over 6’5. You’re sure he could reach his hand up and touch the ceiling with ease. Muscles with enough mass and definition to be seen even under the uniform.

What are they feeding these boys?

“Hi! I mean- hi. Uh,” Your introduction was shaky, but it was on par for your typical social interactions. After giving him your name, you asked for his.

“Konig,” He responded, his deep voice and coarse accent catching you off guard once again.

“Ha, yes. Nice to meet you.” You took a deep breath in hopes to conceal your fluster before continuing, “You’re here to help me test the new tech, right?”

Tech. When did you start using slang? Trying to be cool, huh?

Shut up.

Konig shifts in his spot a few paces from the door, not daring to step any closer to you. You’re wonder if you were coming off as too cold. “Uh, yes.” He clears his throat, “Just let me know what you need from me.”

Okay, straight to the point. You can do that. You’re happy to move on from the unsteady introduction. “Right,” You turn your attention from him to your laptop and the project in front of you. You hold up your device for him to see. He takes this as his invitation to move closer to get a better look, his black boots making their presence known as they stepped across the tile. The device resembled an earpiece - a small black strip attached to a coiled wire that ends with a sensible black base. “It doesn’t have a name. Yet.” You find yourself struggling to make eye contact with Konig, “Uh, here, it might be easier to just show you.” You flip the laptop around so he can see the screen. He’s standing right next to you now, and it’s hard not to notice how small you feel standing next to this giant of a man.

His bicep is the width of my head.

Stop it.

You try to smother your distracted thoughts as you put the device behind your ear and turn it on. A transparent projection in the shape of a curved rectangle covers your eyes, overlaying your view of the lab.

Konig watched silently as the screen on your laptop changed, now displaying your view through the lens. “This device is powered by AI.” You felt more confident now. You weren’t great at small talk but your work was your comfort zone.

“The possibilities are endless. Without being fed blueprints or GPS - it’s able to scan & provide a map of a building before you even set foot in it, and give you the safest path trajectories.” You make some adjustments from the laptop, and the projection overlays filters on your vision. Directional arrows appear, showing the easiest exit from the lab with coordinates and distance countdown to destination.

You continue, “Target identification.” You look at Konig from behind the transparent projection. He meets your eyes before quickly shifting his gaze back to the laptop, where he could see himself outlined in a bright red overlay.

“Scanning capabilities, even through solid objects. It can identify any object you want. Not just objects, either.” You turn your gaze toward the lab wall. Konig watches carefully as the faded outlines of workers on the base from rooms away appear, their heart rates and heat map registering from beyond the cold tile walls.

Konig stares, impossible to read.

“And uhm,” you pick up an additional device from the table, a thin square chip, “This is an attachment for your, er, weapon.” You cringe a bit at this feature, “The AI has aim assist, too. You know self driving cars? Ah, well, it hasn’t been fully tested yet, but in addition to auto aim it- uhm,” You can’t help but let out a nervous laugh, trailing off.

“It shoots for you.” Konig finishes so you don’t have to.

You wonder if the guilt is obvious.

It might as well be you out there in the field, taking lives. He’s probably disgusted with you under that hood, you think.

You purse your lips for a moment, “Yes. But we’re just scratching the surface. This technology is capable of-“

“It’s brilliant,”

Konig is skilled in the art of catching you off guard. He tilts his head, curiously eyeing in your direction. You wonder if he’s looking at your features or the projection,

“You made this yourself?”

You study him back, trying to figure out if he was mocking you, but unable to decipher his expression from under his hood. The AI continued to monitor him on your vision, and you felt as if you were violating his privacy by watching his heart rate slightly spike as he looked you over.

He must be lying.

You turned the device off and set it on the table, “Yes. It’s not perfect, but I’m hoping you can help me work out all the flaws.”

His stared quietly for a moment and you felt dread pool in your stomach, wishing you could see his expression under his hood. “I’d be honored to.”

A shaky smile formed on your face. You could no longer read his heart rate, but you found yourself wanting to believe the sincerity of his voice. “Let’s get started.”

You pick up another matching set of devices, two thin c-shaped bands, before continuing, “Obviously you can’t take a laptop out in the field. These are portable remotes.” Konig watches attentively as you place one of the bracelet shaped device on your wrist, tapping on it to summon another projection. “I tried to make it as user-friendly as possible. We can make adjustments if needed before launch.” You hold out the device toward him. “For you.”

He looks hesitantly at the device. Instead of taking it from you, he places his arm out on the table in front of you.

You’re distracted by your own remote and a moment passes before you register he hasn’t taken it from you. You glance over at his outstretched arm before meeting his eyes.

He sees your confused look and explains, “I just- I don’t want to break it.” Konig knows his own strength and he knows the worth of your project. He doesn’t want to accidentally apply too much pressure and ruin your work.

A nervous laugh escapes you, but you oblige him. You made this device for the battlefield, it’s meant to withstand more than a man. Even an extra large, muscular-

Stop it.

You’re not going to push. You carefully take his forearm in your hand, adjusting the device to his wrist. You try not think about how muscular and hard his forearms are, and try even harder not to think about how hard his biceps would be. And you definitively try not to think about how hard his-

Stop it.

“That comfortable?”

His voice is low, “Yes. Thank you.”

“Of course,” leaves your mouth, a little breathier than you intended.

Your face burns and you’re sure he’s got you pinned. You wish you could ask to borrow his mask.

It’s been a long time since you’ve experienced intimacy, okay? You’ve been confined to these four walls for months now, devoid of human touch. You’d be frothing at the mouth for anything bipedal at this point, let alone the mysterious superhuman sitting across from you.

You’re at a disadvantage, to say the least.

You can’t even look at him.

Konig carefully taps on the device on his wrist, activating his remote. The projection appears and he moves his arm to get a closer look. “This is the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen.”

If he didn’t notice your blush before he was sure to now. “Oh! I don’t-“ Another nervous laugh, “It’s nothing. Let’s get you calibrated.”

You pick up the earpiece and hand it to him, still avoiding his gaze. You’re forced to meet his eyes again when he doesn’t take it. There’s no way you could handle putting this one on for him. This time you reassure him, “It’s okay. I know it’s small, but it’s durable. I promise.”

He carefully takes it from you, and you try not to notice the electricity you feel when his fingers graze yours. He reaches under his hood, the fabric warping as he places the device behind his ear and turned it on, the same way he watched you do it. He then waited patiently for your guidance.

You put your earpiece on before making a few adjustments on your bracelets projection. “Okay! We should be synced now. Go ahead and pull up your settings.”

You take him through the customizations, telling him how to switch between visual overlays, how to use multiple at once. Display adjustments, how to use the intercom. He watches intently, never interrupting.

“I hope I’m not boring you.”

“Boring me?” Konig stares at you, eyes saturated with disbelief at your doubt. “It’s incredible.”

You feel the warmth creep up on your cheeks again. All of the doubts and moral dilemmas you’ve been mulling over the past few years seem to melt away when Konig compliments you.

“Want to take it for a drive?”

“Absolutely.”

—————————————————-

It’s been awhile since you’ve been out on the field. The passed months have been spent under the florescent lights of the lab, hunched over your laptop as you fought with code. Feeling accomplished when you made a step forward in progress, followed quickly by a sinking feeling as you tried not to think of the consequences of each development.

It was nice to feel the sun for a change.

Konig followed a few steps behind you, both sets of boots crunching on the gravel beneath you. Few words had been exchanged. There was something about unreadable people made you nervous, but you tried not to let it show.

You stopped once in front of the empty shoot house, looking up to the soldier that towered over you.

“I had weapons development make us a prototype gun to pair with the AI. It’s for testing purposes only, so it doesn’t shoot real bullets.” You pointed at the faux shotgun propped up against the outer wall of the shoot house. “The auto aim chip is already attached. It’s going to be something to get used to.”

You continue, “I’ve placed the AI on test. It will simulate the conditions of a mission in a way that adjusts to your learning speed. Obviously once you get used the system we’ll have test runs with real people, but for now I just want you to get used to the overlays. If you get stumped, just let me know. I’ll be able to hear and see what you can from out here. I’m synced in to your device, too, so if you can’t figure out the adjustments, or can’t access your device, I can take care of that for you remotely.”

“Understood.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the way he spoke to you like you had seniority, with the utmost respect. It made you feel important. Really it should be the other way around - a nerdy weakling in the presence of an experienced and powerful soldier. You briefly wonder what exactly a man of his stature is capable of. He looks like he could pick up a grown man and snap him in half like a toothpick. Let alone what he could do to you…

You force yourself to stay on topic, but your smile lingers, “Any questions for me?”

You still can’t decipher what’s going on under the mask, but his voice is soft, as soft as it can be under his rigid accent, “Negative.” He walks over to the prop gun and picks it up, handling it expertly. Even though it’s a replica, he still opens the chamber and curiously peaks inside. Watching his big hands run over the realistic firearm caused an intoxicating mixture of fear and arousal to wash over you, manifesting as a tightness in your lower gut. You can’t remember the last time someone made you feel this way. Dizzy and excited and nervous.

It didn’t help that you’ve spent the last few months practically isolated and without intimacy.

He’s going to be the death of me.

Stop it. We’re just excited about testing the project. It’s a long time coming.

He would make me come a long time.

Stop. It.

After you watch him disappear into the shoot house, you turn on the intercom, “Konig? Can you hear me?”

“Affirmative.”

His gravely voice flooding your intercom is not helping your dirty thoughts. You pull up his view on your projection. “Okay, I have your video feed. Are you ready for the simulation?”

He cocks the prop gun so loud you could hear it from inside the building in addition to the comm. “Affirmative.”

Oh, fuck.

The knot in your stomach doubles and you think your knees might just buckle. You shift in your spot in the dirt to steady yourself, gravel scraping under your shoe.

You hear your name over the comm. “You still there?” Your attention is brought back to his view. You can see the world from his eye level and get taken aback at how different it looks compared to yours.

“Sorry,” you clear your throat, raising your arm equipped with the wrist remote, “Okay, in 3… 2… 1…” You press the button to start his test simulation.

You watch as Konig looks around. He’s got target scan activated, and the AI has overlaid fake targets onto his projection for him to hunt and eliminate.

You watch carefully, scanning the screen for any imperfections in your coding. The guide seems to be working smoothly, directing Konig through the maze-like hallways of the shoot house with ease. The placement of targets are generated randomly and you’ll have to crunch the numbers later to verify, but it seems to have accurately calculated the most efficient route, directing him accordingly. You try to ignore the sound of Konigs hitched breathing over your receiver and try even harder to ignore the way it’s making you feel. Instead you make sure the auto aim function is activated.

“Approaching first target.” He says over the comm and you can help but smile at how serious he is taking it. You remember your first time in the range, testing out the auto aim on the simulations. How silly you felt. Like a child playing with a toy gun. You think it’s sweet he’s indulging you.

His steps become quieter as he rounds the corner and his breathing slows. He pauses briefly before quickly jumping out at the target. You can tell the auto aim takes over and the shotgun pulls against his grip with the force of a strong magnet. It’s alarming at first, you remember, the gun taking control from you.

It’s not like that, of course. You designed it to be a teammate. Able to identify and terminate a threat before the user had even registered it was there. It was meant to protect the user, to defend their life.

That’s what you tried to tell yourself anyway. It was easier to swallow than thinking of it as the automatic killing robot it really was.

You kept the auto-fire function off for now. Partially because you wanted to slowly transition him into the AI features. Partially because you were ashamed.

You watch as Konig takes back control of the gun. He’ll learn how to work with it instead of against it soon, you remember the same struggle you had yourself in early testing. He fires at the target, a projection of an enemy soldier the AI had slowed for training purposes. Konig pulls the trigger and you hear the sound of gunshots. In real life, of course, nothing had fired. But the AI simulation was designed to immerse the player, imitating the feel of the battlefield. From Konig’s perspective he may as well just shot through a human heart. Other than the learning curve of your designs- it seems natural for him.

It was not natural for you when you had experienced the simulation. If anything it was just a fully immersible prediction of the consequences to your actions. Fuck Around and Find Out™️ now coming to an VR headset near you.

You watched his target drop & fade away in a dust of pixels, a design change you made after being unable to bear the look of replicated dead soldiers lying limp on the floor.

It’s just a job.

“Konig? How did that feel?” You wished you could see his face on the screen before remembering you wouldn’t have been able to see anything behind his hood anyway. You briefly consider a self-facing camera, but wonder if it would be for the improvement of the design or for self-serving reasons. You’d have to think of another good purpose to add it to the final product later.

“It’s a lot faster than I am.” He stuck with the facts, not wanting to cause a misunderstanding if it was strange for him to get used to.

“That’s the idea. Weird, right?” You offered, your smile lifting the tone of your voice.

“Very.” You could tell he was smiling too. “I want to try a few more - I’ll get used to it.”

He continues through the shoot house, approaching the next simulated targets. He’s slowing learning to work with the AI, letting it guide him as he controls the trigger. You watch as your program learns his skill, escalating the challenge first by increasing enemy speed and difficulty, then by adding multiple targets at a time.

You can tell this man is a trained killer, even just from watching a trial. It’s clear he’d easily be able to handle a real mission with ease - your advancements or no. Watching his gloved hands grip the gun, his quickened breathing, made the tightness in your lower half hard to ignore. It felt wrong how his rugged demeanor turned you on.

He continued without faltering, navigating the shoot house’s maze-like layout with the help of your guidance program. Despite your reservations, you decide it’s time to add an additional integration. “Konig, the gun you’re using is fully compatible with the weapon chip. As in, trigger capabilities. If you’d like, you can turn on auto fire.”

There’s a slight pause, and you’re worried he’s realized the full implications of such a technology. You’re relieved when he finally speaks over the intercom, “I think I turned it on.”

You verify on his feed before responding, “You got it. Let me know if you need anything.”

Holding your breath, you observe your AI work. He rounds another corner and approaches two more targets. Your code was capable of identifying each target’s imminent threat level, eliminating them in order of danger to the user. You hear Konig’s breath hitch when the gun operates with a mind of its own, mowing down the simulated targets without hesitation. Each shot effectively tearing through the most vulnerable areas of the targets.

“Meine güte…” He mutters, taking a moment to register what had just happened. You watch his feed pan down to his gun, his hands turning it over to examine it in disbelief.

You wonder what he’s thinking as you watch those strong hands work. If he thinks you’re a monster for creating such a brutal and mindless killing machine.

“Konig?” Your voice is dripping with uncertainty, but it’s your job to collect his feedback, “All good?”

You watch his thumb stroke the forend before his gaze shifts up, “I think I might be out of a job.”

You let out a laugh, words pouring out of your mouth before you can stop them, “Well, I don’t think we’d be able to replace you.”

Ah, shit.

You’re hoping you didn’t lay all your cards on the table, but you don’t dare let the silence hang, forging on, “Human supervision is still needed when it comes to technology like this. You know, wouldn’t want it to turn evil and try to take over the population.”

You’re hoping you saved it, but the few seconds before he responds seem like a lifetime.

“Well if it was made by you, I don’t think it would be capable of turning evil.”

Your brain short circuits and your mouth parts as you ready to respond, but find that you’re unable.

What did he mean by that? If he was implying that you weren’t evil enough to negatively influence a code, then he didn��t know you. Of course he didn’t, he just met you.

Was he implying you were too smart of a programmer to let a technology go faulty? Then he REALLY didn’t know you. You think briefly to your failed prototypes. How long it took to work out the bug of the AI mistakenly registering civilian children as threats.

Ugh.

Whatever the implications, you understand that Konig just complemented you. Something you were not still not equipped to handle, demonstrated by your slack jaw and wide eyes you’re thankful he can’t see. All accompanied by a warm feeling that spreads across your chest.

He’s just being nice.

Sexual attraction, that you could handle.

Not a crush.

This is a no-crushing zone, you decide.

The warm feeling needs to stay below the belt, thank you very much.

It’s obvious you’re joking, but your voice has a different tone when you finally gather yourself. Softer, bordering on dispirited, “Well, I don’t know about that. Y’know, I once programmed a toaster to cook my toast the perfect amount every time. I wanted it to spring out at exactly the right speed & distance to land square on my plate. Like you see in cartoons, y’know? It worked for a little… but one day it starting burning all my toast to char and shooting it max speed at my ceiling. I think it got mad it’s life purpose was making my breakfast.”

You hear Konig laugh for the first time. A raspy, hearty laugh that floods your comm and fuels that warm feeling in your chest, much to your dismay. You nose scrunches as you watch the shake of his feed slow. “There are worse purposes.”

You didn’t even give yourself the space to dissect the implications on that one. The smile is apparent in your voice, “I’ll let the toaster know.”

Konig finished out the trial after getting used to a few more overlays. You confirmed you had everything you needed for the day before letting Konig know you could wrap up.

He met you at the entrance of the shoot house, handing over the gun to you. It took you a moment to get readjusted to his size. He was tall enough to block the entire sun, casting you in his shadow.

You hold the barrel of the gun with one hand, resting the butt on the dirt. With your other hand you remove your earpiece, “Thank you for your help today. Really.” You say, forced to tilt your head back to look up at him. “If you’re interested, I’d love to continue trials with you.”

“It was my pleasure. I’d be happy to help.”

He tried to take off his wrist remote before you stopped him, “You can hang on to that. I have all your data on mine. It would be good for my research if you got used to the overlays outside of here. I don’t want to assume your time, but I think it may be helpful in assisting you with your duties.”

Konig shifts in his spot, “I don’t want anything to happen to it.”

You smile at him, pleased he’s being so respectful of your work. “Don’t worry. If you manage to damage it, then it’s not good enough for launch. Even breaking it will be valuable research.”

He considers this before hesitantly dropping his arm.

You continue, “Just promise you’ll share your thoughts with me. I don’t know what the life of a soldier is like, I don’t always know what’s best for you guys. Your feedback will be important in tailoring the design to fit your needs. It’s just a prototype, so you can be honest.”

His eyes stare down at you from under his hood and you can’t help but avoid his intimidating gaze by looking at the black paint around his eyes.

“I promise,” He says definitively and it’s obvious he means it.

You have his word.

——————————————————————

Back in the lab, you take a deep breath as you set your prototypes down. You had parted ways with Konig at the shoot house and haven’t been able to stop thinking about him.

You take the ear piece and remove the chip from the prototype gun in order to transfer the data to your laptop. You had a long night ahead of you reviewing footage and analyzing the AI results, but you knew your focus was going to be elsewhere.

You hoped your distracted thoughts would subside after eating an early dinner and watching an episode of your most recent show binge, but it doesn’t help.

You can’t stop thinking about the soldier with a laugh so wonderful you’d do about anything to hear it again.

You did your best to stay on task and turned your attention to your laptop, opening the software you designed to store its data.

It finally loads and what displays makes you gasp, your hand instinctively shooting up to cover your mouth.

Konig’s feed is still live.

Your eyes dart over to your ear piece, confirming it’s turned off. He couldn’t hear you on the comm. His overlay projection is turned off, but he must not have powered the unit completely down, and you neglected to end the feed.

You still don’t dare make a sound. You sit frozen, staring down at the screen with wide eyes.

He’s not wearing the headset, no. You can tell the camera is sitting on something at hip-height, maybe a table or a bed. Definitely not Konig-height. You can’t see much, your view is facing the wall of what you can tell is a modest-sized room.

It’s five-thirty now, you guess he’s clocked out and went back to his quarters for the evening.

This is so wrong.

You were violating his privacy. You should just disconnect the feed now, and forget about it.

You should.

But you don’t.

Instead you slowly lower your hands, lips pursed. It’s not long before Konig comes in to view.

The only thing he has on is a towel wrapped around his waist. His head was cropped out of view, but you can see his chest and his pecs are as chiseled as you had imaged them. Abs you hadn’t previously considered begging for your attention. The towel is dangerously low and goddamnit he’s got V lines, of course he does, and you can feel the warmth pool in your lower abdomen again.

This is so so wrong.

You should end it. End the feed, end the software, end the project. You’ve already crossed so many lines and if anyone found out about this you’d be discharged so fast it would make your head spin.

You’re seriously considering if it’s worth being outed as a pervert and forfeiting your grant just to ogle at the ultimate beefcake while Konig gets comfortable on his cot, face still out of frame. You’ve got a view of his side now, showcasing the middle of his chest down. You can see the definition on his abdominal muscles and you silently thank yourself for opting for choosing the higher resolution camera for your project.

He moves his arms out of frame once he gets the towel adjusted, you’re assuming to prop them behind his head.

He lays still for a few minutes, and you wish you could see his face. You were almost done talking yourself into closing the feed when his arm comes back in to view. Strong hands and forearms followed by massive biceps.

Your breath hitches again when you realize he’s reaching down for the towel. He unwraps it delicately, letting each end hang off the side of the bed.

He’s fully naked now, and it’s official-

You’re a pervert.

His cock sits at half attention and he wraps his hands around it, stroking it absentmindedly.

Oh, fuck.

Your mouth hangs slack and you can’t help but let out a squeak. You double check to make sure you’re still in your software and didn’t somehow accidentally open PornHub. But no, you were definitely watching Konig rut into his hand, teasing himself to arousal.

It doesn’t take long for his cock to reach full attention, leaking precum from the swollen tip. Even scaled next to his oversized hands you can tell it’s huge.

He reaches down to cup his balls briefly before returning to his shaft, wrapping his hand around it and stroking gently.

You can’t stop watching now- you’re locked in, eyes glued to the screen and you don’t think you’ve so much as blinked this entire time.

You watch as he picks up the pace, biceps flexing as he fucks his hand faster.

A low moan comes through the speakers of your laptop. You scramble for the volume controls, reducing it until you were sure no one passing by in the hall could hear.

It’s addicting, his moans. Deep and gravely and you can’t help but close your eyes and imagine what it would be like for him to be moaning in your ear instead of over a screen. For him to be fucking you instead of his hand. Moaning like he’s approaching a release he hasn’t felt in decades.

When you open your eyes again he’s stroking faster, his whole body tensing, a glossy shine forming on his defined muscles. You can’t help but stare at his bicep as it flexes to jerk his cock.

Even without seeing his face, you can tell he’s getting close.

His cock is a blur as he pumps vigorously. His breath quickens before suddenly hitching, muscles fully clenched as he comes, the first few drops landing on his stomach and thighs.

His whole body constricts as the waves of the pleasure wash over him. You can tell it’s intense.

His pumping slows and his seed spills over his knuckles and down his shaft as he squeezes out the last of it, quivering at the sensitivity.

His muscles relax and he sinks back into his cot, wiping his hand on the towel. He lays still for a few moments, the sound of him catching his breath and his rising and falling chest takes stage. Until he removes the towel from underneath him, wiping away his mess.

You’re staring, eyes wider than when you started. Your knuckles lighten as you grip the stool beneath you. It wasn’t the finish that shocked you, no.

Not the size of the load that spilled from his huge cock.

Not the way he had bucked his hips, desperate for the touch.

Not the way his muscles had rippled through the phases of orgasm.

You were shocked because as he finished;

Konig had moaned your name.

Part two

#könig #könig mw2 #könig cod #könig call of duty #fic #konig x reader #konig x you #call of duty #modern warefare ii #mw2 #smut #konig fic #x reader #uhohwriting

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heespect · 27 days

Text

꒰ Unforgattable . . ‧₊˚✩

pairing :: non-idol!Jake x nerd!reader

trope :: rivals academy

sinopse :: You used to be the standout student in the class, of course, that was until Jake came into your life. However, you would be wrong to think that he would want to be in your shoes. In fact, he wanted you.

wc :: 2,1k

You've always been proud of being the number one student in the classroom.

Owner of excellent grades, standout student, and class representative for almost three consecutive years. This was Park (y/n), the darling of both parents and teachers. To be honest, most of the time you'd be defined as a "nerd," but that was never a problem for you.

No matter what your peers said, at the end of the day, it was always (y/n) who would shine the brightest in school and consequently secure a good quality of life in the future due to your efforts and studies in the present.

Your life had been like this since childhood, nothing had changed, and even if it did, there were few chances of someone appearing and being better than you in studies.

But lo and behold, the universe decided to send a specific person your way this year: Jake Sim.

Jake was the Australian boy whose family suddenly decided to move from the country and ended up in Korea. You remember when you met him, he was sitting at the back of the room, hanging out with a troublesome boy you had never spoken to.

He wasn't ugly, in fact, he was very handsome, but you didn't care about high school romances at the time. The Australian was basically a good-looking and popular boy, definitely not some rare kind of nerd.

But curiously, that turned out to be the opposite.

It was a spring afternoon, the sun shining excessively warm, making the students sweat under their hot uniforms. Lunchtime had ended a few minutes ago, and as a good representative, you were helping to bring order among your classmates, making sure everything would be in place before the physics teacher arrived.

As usual, Jake and Lee Heeseung - the boy he befriended the first time he arrived - came in, chatting animatedly about some topic that wasn't of your interest.

"Go to your seat, Lee..." You ordered patiently, lifting your chin towards your seat.

Heeseung grumbled, shrugging his shoulders and winking at some girl as he dragged himself to his seat with Jake by his side.

The Australian, on the other hand, looked at you, for the first time since he joined your class. It was a different look, nothing special, but you swore you saw a fleeting smile.

The teacher finally enters the room, and the murmurs gradually cease until there is a vast silence. As a good student, you sit in the front row, with good posture and pencils immediately in hand, ready to write down the lesson topic.

"Good afternoon, students, sorry for the delay!" Professor Choi opens, spreading endless spreadsheets on his desk. "Long afternoon correcting papers and crying over your terrible grades..."

The teacher chirped, eliciting some laughs from the students. Gradually, he instructed the room to be silent, then began the class.

"Alright, can anyone tell me what singularity is?" The man squints, looking around the room sternly.

Once again, like the nerd you usually are, your hand is immediately raised, waving exaggeratedly for the teacher's attention.

"No one else?" He insists, letting out a sigh before directing his attention to you with a warm smile. "Go ahead, Miss Park."

"A singularity is a region of space where the curvature of space-time becomes infinite, sir," you recite without missing a beat. "The concept was first introduced in Einstein's General Theory of Relativity, where he predicted that if the mass of a star exceeded a certain point, the gravitational force it exerts would become so intense that it would collapse, creating a black hole."

Nerd. Definitely a prime example of a nerd...

"Correct!" Professor Choi smiles proudly. He greatly appreciates students who are as passionate about the subject as he is, and you are one of the brightest people he's ever had the pleasure of teaching.

"Tell me..." He prompts, always seeking to push his students that extra mile, "Could you explain what you mentioned about the General Theory of Relativity?"

"The other day, I came across an analogy while studying. I thought it explained Einstein's theory quite well," you continue. "Imagine a mattress, right? That represents space-time. If you were to sit on it, your weight would cause it to sag. That represents the mass of large objects in the universe, like planets and stars, exerting forces on space-time." You illustrate your explanation with small gestures, biting your lower lip as you try to accurately replicate the phenomenon with outstretched palms. "If you have a lot of matter and energy in one place, the mattress would sag so much that the object would disappear into it, like in a black hole. Right at the center of one, nothing from inside would be able to escape. Not even light. And there's your singularity!"

Professor Choi displayed a wide smile, attentively nodding during his lengthy explanation that lasted almost four minutes. The room was silent, no one could refute his speech, nobody even knew about the subject, and many were just focused on letting the class pass in the most tedious way.

"Excuse me, Mr. Choi?" A voice emerged, distant and probably spoken from the back of the room.

The older man squinted, searching for the figure calling him and immediately focusing on the newcomer. On Jake.

"Yes, how can I help you, Mr. Jake Sim?" The man cleared his throat, probably guessing it might just be a request to go to the bathroom.

"She's wrong..."

His eyes widened, it seemed like the whole world was collapsing at that moment. Simultaneously, all heads turned back in a domino effect, staring perplexedly at the poor boy. You weren't any different, turning your head so fast you could almost break your neck.

The professor looked surprised, but at the same time excited by the sudden appearance of the boy. Well, it wasn't common for many students to participate in his physics class, let alone boys who sat at the back of the room and were almost always unnoticed.

But of course, Jake was different.

He leaned back in his chair with a drawling voice: "She said that nothing can escape a black hole."

"And?" You scoff, feeling your head throbbing: "Are you telling me Einstein was wrong?"

"I'm not saying he's wrong, princess." He quickly retorted, before adding "Stephen Hawking did it. In the 70s."

Teacher Choi was practically on tiptoes at this point, finally starting to see where the boy was leading his argument.

"He found out that black holes evaporate, releasing energy slowly." Jake shrugged: "So, when that happens, where does all the information contained in it go? If it really can't escape, it's not like it can just disappear, be created, or destroyed..." He paused: "It's a paradox."

First, there was a pause. No one seemed to breathe in that environment. Then came the realization.

Professor Choi recovered from his shock-induced pause, applauding him in front of the class.

"Whoa, that's amazing, Jake!" The man was still speechless, but with an impressed look, he turned towards you: "I'm sorry, (y/n)... But Jake is right..."

After that day, your whole life seemed to change.

Sure, it might have seemed like an exaggeration to an outsider, but only God knows how your head was in that moment.

Jake was unbelievably good at every subject, and when I say good, I'm not exaggerating. He could probably ace any math-related subject, he's good at sports, good with languages, and in any stupid club he could get into.

And it annoyed you. It felt like he was committing a sin.

During the first semester, you didn't care much. The tests were already approaching and even if Jake continued to be the new favorite among the teachers, maybe he wouldn't be so good at tests.

You spent almost three weeks studying in advance, reviewing every single detail, and striving for a good score. It was indeed a tough week at school: the tests seemed harder than expected, but fortunately, you had studied all the topics.

Surely, you would be at the top of the school score.

Or not.

Sim Jake 100/100

Park (y/n) 100/100

Two... The damn number two was the cause of your downfall.

As soon as the results came out, you were the first to squeeze into the crowd of students, struggling to get any glimpse of the big board showing the average scores of the students. As always, you imagined yourself being in the top 1, as you always did, but this time it was different.

You were a top 2, you could have done better, but you didn't. You could have answered two more questions correctly, but you didn't.

Heavens, your academic validation practically screamed within you.

"98? You did well, (y/n)," one of your classmates congratulated you from behind, then continued: "oh, Jake must have studied a lot..."

"Whatever, it must have just been luck," you grumbled irritably, marching away from the crowd of students.

You couldn't simply dismiss that score; the next one would be better.

The library was nearly empty, save for the grouchy old lady guarding the entrance.

You walked hurriedly between the shelves, carrying books and notebooks in your arms, almost making them turn red from the weight. Your desk was cluttered with study materials, with hardly any space left for more books.

"Hey, I think this is yours!" You hear a voice behind you, but you didn't even need to turn around to guess whose it was.

"Hm, I don't think so..." you respond indifferently, looking over your shoulder to see the tall figure of Jake Sim right behind you.

And heavens, how handsome Jake looked that afternoon...

"But I saw you carrying this!" He shrugged, beginning to follow when left behind.

"I don't need it, you can put it back if you want."

"What's your problem with me?" Jake muttered softly, sighing heavily.

You decide to ignore him. There were several problems you could list, but suddenly they all seemed too trivial to voice aloud.

"None."

"That's not how it seems."

"What do you expect me to do?" You mock with false humor, forcing a smile and turning to face him.

"Is it because I said you were wrong in physics class?" He raised an eyebrow, taking a step forward.

"No," you deny, not budging an inch.

"Well, even if it were, it's not my fault if you were wrong, princess."

"Don't call me princess," you scoff, already exhausted from conversing with the Australian who was definitely more daring that day.

"You didn't complain the first time I called you that!" He quickly adds, "And it suits you."

Maybe it was the tension of the moment, you were so nervous and grouchy that you didn't realize how close he was getting to you. Jake, on the other hand, just flashed a wide mischievous smile, slowly encroaching any kind of space with you.

"Damn, you're quite the challenge, princess," he grumbles, rolling his eyes. His hands fumble among the shelves of horror books, putting the notebook in your hands.

"That book isn't here, Jake," you roll your eyes, about to put the book back in its place.

"I don't care about stupid books, Park. I want you."

And then, he simply kisses you.

You freeze in place, eyes wide open and almost ready to push him away. Jake, however, keeps his eyes closed and remains still, only his lips pressed against yours.

There was no movement, almost as if he wanted to ensure he wouldn't get slapped during the first few seconds, before finally starting to move.

His lips slowly moved against yours, his arms wrapping around your waist. You closed your eyes, instinctively putting your arms around his neck.

Jake pulled you closer to him, his tongue beginning to invade your mouth until both were vying for space, moving in harmony.

The kiss that lasted a few minutes suddenly broke, the two students panting as they stared at each other motionless.

"Damn (y/n), I don't want good grades, I want to kiss you," he concludes breathlessly, giving one last seal between your lips.

Well, screw being in second place. Kissing Jake Sim in the library was more unforgettable...

#★ (ℋ) 𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 - 𝒲𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌 #enhypen imagines #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fic #enhypen headcanons #enhypen x reader #sim jaeyun #enhypen jake #enhypen jaeyun #jake x reader #jake ff #sim jake #sim jake x reader #sim jake x you

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sadhours · 11 months

Note

Harringrove x reader. ur left sharing a small tent sleeping. boyfriend billy on the right steve the left. your feeling some sexual tension w billy despite you both agreeing not to do anything with ur friends. but he wakes up noticing u staring at his pretty face. He can’t help it-moving even closer to u and kisses you. Eating you up. It’s so sloppy. So intimate and cosy. It’s so loud that Steve wakes up. Once he sees you and billy kissing he moves closer behind you and 😳 double p-

1st billy- then when Steve’s about to insert himself you feel slightly nervous- and you whisper Billy’s name. He brings your head onto his neck praising you to take steve. Once steves inside you and ur comfortable-that’s it. They’re using you for their release. Hard and fast. You hold onto Billy’s muscular form almost crying with how good it feels.

some Harringrove moments- maybe they feel their cocks rubbing against each other at one point ?

Sorry for such the detail I’m not too sure abt it- I’ll let you cook this up or change it - inspired from ur amazing Harringrove smut. I’ve never ever requested Harringrove x reader and some may say I have had my big amount of ideas 🤠

🤤🤤🤤

absolutely, being sandwiched between the two of them is my fckn dream

It’s almost like a cruel joke— the way Steve ended up in the same tent as you and Billy. You’re sure it’s been done on purpose because you’d off-handedly mentioned to Billy that Steve looked good in his Scoops Ahoy! uniform the other day. You and Billy were getting some ice cream after your shifts at the pool ended, Steve and him had become quick friends recently. You weren’t exactly sure how it had happened but they were hanging out suddenly and Steve gave you guys discounts whenever you stopped by to get ice cream. Anyways, you’d both witnessed Steve getting shot down by a group of girls and Billy had laughed, suggesting that it was the dumb uniform to which you shrugged and said he looked cute in it. Immediately afterwards, you looked at him with wide eyes, expecting Billy to be angry but he actually seemed amused— intrigued even.

When Billy invited Steve along to the little camping trip with your guys’ group you were shocked at first but figured, they’re friends now so it wasn’t weird. Until it was time for bed and Steve followed you and Billy into your tiny, two-man tent. But it was totally fine, it wouldn’t be weird because you and Billy discussed not having sex during the trip for the sake of your friends. You were loud, everyone would know and you didn’t want to subject them to that.

Billy’s keeping up his end of the deal, eyes closed and steady breathing. The moonlight peeking into the tent shines beautifully on his face and you’re most definitely staring. He’s so pretty it makes your stomach do flips, you could stare him all day and in fact, when you have the time, you do. You watch his eyes barely move behind his lids, you’re a little impressed by how quickly he can fall asleep. As your eyes rake over the curve of his nose you can’t help but reach your fingertips up to brush against it. Billy’s face squishes up in reaction, his eyes blinking open to meet yours and a lazy smirk spreads across his lips. He turns on his side, facing you completely and copies your earlier movement, brushing his fingertips from the bridge of your nose to its tip. You giggle softly and something shifts in the mood, Billy grabs onto your jaw and leans down to press his lips to yours. The kiss is hungry, Billy grunts softly into it before biting your lower lip and tugging on it. You gasp softly and he takes the opportunity to lick eagerly into your mouth, hand moving from your jaw to your breast and squeezing it through your thin tank top. It’s so sloppy and you try to focus on Billy and not Steve’s back pressed against your own but you panic a little bit, knowing he’s bound to wake up to your and Billy’s sounds.

Your boyfriend doesn’t seem to care, shoving his hand down the front of your pajama pants and underwear, cupping your pussy in his hand as he sucks on your tongue. There’s no possible way you can stop the little moans erupting from you, especially when Billy slides his fingers between your folds. Your whole body feels on fire and you can’t deny you’re turned on by the fact that Steve’s so close while Billy fingers you. However, you feel Steve turn over and you freeze, pressing your palm to Billy’s chest to push him back an inch.

“Shh,” your boyfriend smiles at you, “It’s okay, right Harrington?”

You feel Steve’s hand snake over your hip and you feel his breath against your ear, “I don’t mind at all.”

Suddenly, you’re sure they’ve planned this and while you think you should be upset, you’re not. You’re incredibly aroused by it, actually. Billy must feel as much as his fingers slip inside your aching hole with ease and he smirks at you.

“Is this okay?” Steve asks you softly, his hand moving up to cup your breast, “If I join?”

You knit your eyebrows together, wanting to say yes immediately but looking to Billy for reassurance.

“It’s up to you, darlin’,” Billy purrs, lowering his lips against yours.

You gasp as Steve squeezes your tit and Billy curls his fingers inside, “Yes, I want it!”

You feel Steve’s lips curl against your neck just as Billy lets out a soft chuckle before he’s licking back into your mouth. It’s already pretty overstimulating but your body tingles all over when you feel Steve licking and kissing your neck. You moan but it’s stifled by Billy’s tongue while he pumps his fingers in and out of you. Billy pulls away, saliva connecting between your lips and he makes a guttural noise as he looks over to where Steve’s sucking bruises into your skin.

He sits up, his fingers still inside you and it’s a team effort between the boys as they awkwardly pull your pajamas and underwear down. Steve grabs a hold of your thigh and pulls your leg over his waist, spreading your legs wide as your boyfriend fingers you relentlessly. Steve’s long fingers find your clit and he rubs circles against it, breathing heavy in your ear.

“Oh, fuck,” you whine, eyebrows raising as your chest heaves with your own labored breathing.

Billy bites his lip, watching as his fingers disappear inside your dripping pussy.

“You’re so wet,” Billy comments, voice low, “Thinking about Steve in his uniform?”

Your face flushes, eyes widening at Billy while Steve scoffs beside you, “Got a thing for sailors?”

Billy chuckles, “She’s got a thing for pretty boys. Don’t ya, sweetheart?”

You can’t even answer, you’re not sure any words would come out so instead you nod, hips writhing against the pair of hands on you. The sounds that do come out of you are euphorically induced, uncontrollable. You’ve always been loud, Billy had to keep his hand over your mouth most times. Out here in the forest, he doesn’t seem to care and you’re too blissed out to even think about it. Everything feels too wonderful. Steve’s kissing your jaw and cheek and Billy reaches his free hand up and turns your face to Steve, groaning when Steve licks into your mouth. It’s different kissing Steve but it’s not bad, he’s not as eager as Billy, he’s slower.

Billy sighs softly and you can’t help but open your eyes and look over at him. He’s got his left hand wrapped around his cock, stroking lazily as he watches you kiss Steve while still thrusting his fingers inside you, but his pace has slowed. It’s fucking hot, seeing Billy so worked up at the sight of you kissing his friend. Steve grinds his hips up and you can feel his erection against the back of your thighs. You feel like you’ve won the fucking lottery or something. Two of the hottest men you’ve ever seen, right here at the same time. You don’t feel so guilty about your crush on Steve anymore.

“Fuck,” Billy exhales, squeezing at the base of his cock. “So hot.”

Steve leans back from the kiss and easily maneuvers you on top of him, your back against his chest. When Billy pulls his fingers out, you stubbornly whine at the loss but Steve’s holding your legs open as Billy positions himself between them. He slaps the head of his cock against your pussy and you moan out, leaning your head back against Steve’s shoulder. Your boyfriend doesn’t tease anymore, prodding his tip against your entrance.

“Pull her legs up, Harrington,” he instructs and Steve obeys, hands smoothing over the backs of your thighs and he holds them up for Billy.

Billy sinks in, groaning lowly as he bottoms out. You cry out, eyes squeezing shut at the sensation of Billy stretching you out.

“Jesus,” Steve comments, “She’s loud.”

“Yeah,” Billy grunts, “Have to fucking gag her half the time.”

The way they’re talking about you and not to you is surprisingly hot, you kind of like feeling like an object to them. You’re totally happy to let them use you however they please.

“Your dick is thick as hell, though,” Steve muses, “Poor thing probably can’t help herself.”

Billy laughs lowly, rolling his hips which pulls another sound from you and Billy tsks, “Feels good, doll? Am I stretching that tight pussy out?”

“Uh-huh,” you whine and you can feel Steve groan, the sound from his chest vibrates against your back.

“Just you wait,” he says beneath you and your eyes widen up at Billy.

He smirks, licking his tongue against his bottom lip and nods, “Oh, yeah, we’re gonna stretch you out nice and good, baby.”

“Billy…” you whine out, reaching up to grab onto his shoulders while he thrusts his cock deeper.

“You ready?” Billy asks and you look up at him with uncertainty. He pouts, stroking your cheek with his thumb, “I think she needs to be warmed up a little more, Harrington.”

“I can help,” Steve props his knee up so he can keep your thigh held up for Billy while he moves his hand around to rub at your clit again.

“Ah, perfect,” Billy drawls, “She’ll be ready after she cums.”

He pistons his hips quicker as Steve works against your clit, it’s all so intoxicating and you already feel like your floating up to the clouds. You keep your eyes open, watching your boyfriends face intently as he fucks you open. Billy looks almost drunk, glassy eyes with his lips parted and his eyebrows knit together. He’s so beautiful it makes you feel dizzy. The head of his cock pounding against your g-spot helps, along with Steve’s firm fingers playing at your clit. The pressure building up in your stomach is working quicker than ever before, you’re not even sure how that’s possible. Billy’s gotten to know your body well, he can make you cum pretty quickly when he wants to but this is entirely new. You can’t even bring your orgasm along this fast by yourself.

“Fuck, oh fuck,” you blubber, “i’m… oh my fucking god!”

The pair of them double down, Billy thrusts even harder and Steve rubs your clit faster. You see white as your orgasm crashes into you, causing your body to seize and then thrash between the men. You’re screaming, you’re sure of it, your throat feels raw when you come to, panting against Billy’s mouth, you can’t even remember when he put his lips against yours. You blink repeatedly as he pulls away, this almost devious look in his eyes.

“Goddamn,” Steve grunts.

Billy pulls out of you and lays down on his back, grabbing you and pulling you on top of him. He kisses you deeply, smoothing his hands over your ass before he slips his cock back inside of you. You whine, feeling like you might actually cry. He wraps his arms around your middle and keeps kissing you through the whimpers you make. Then you feel Steve’s cock poking against you and your eyes widen again, looking to Billy with panic. He rubs his big hands against the small of your back.

“Billy…” you whisper, voice shaky.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he coos, “You can take him too.”

You bite your lip, nodding to your boyfriend as you wait for the stretch of your life. You’re nervous but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t fantasize about this. “Okay,” you breathe, smiling at Billy.

Steve slides in alongside Billy and they both make low, throaty groans and you’re preening at the sounds. It helps the burn, knowing they’re enjoying the feel of their cocks rubbing against each others. You think about the possibilities of this becomes a regular thing with them. You’d really like to kiss the both of them at the same time. You press your forehead against Billy’s shoulder, trying to get adjusted to the feeling of two thick cocks stretching you out.

“Such a good little cock slut,” Billy purrs and Steve’s hips jerk at his words, urging himself deeper inside you which pulls a cry from your chest.

“Fuck, sorry,” Steve apologizes, hands grabbing onto your hips while Billy’s wrap against the back of your neck.

“No… felt good,” you whimper, grabbing onto Billy’s bulging biceps.

They both seem to take that as the go ahead, rolling their hips and your mind goes fuzzy. Their fingers are bruising where each of them holds you, thrusting in sync brutally. The noises they make flood your ears and you might’ve died and gone to heaven. It’s excruciating, how stuffed and satisfying it feels.

“Fuuuuuck,” you moan out, turning your face to catch Billy’s lips in a dazed kiss. Steve’s hand smooths up your back and grabs a fistful of your hair while he thrusts up inside you. He pushes your face down against Billy’s, forcing the kiss deeper.

Billy’s hands move down to your ass and he pulls your cheeks apart, holding you open while the two of them drill into you. It feels almost unreal, but you chase the fact that this is reality, you’ve really got Steve and Billy’s cocks stretching you out.

“Such a good girl,” Billy purrs.

“Mm, doing so well,” Steve supplies just as Billy smacks your ass.

The praise sends you over the moon, your eyes flutter closed. This is beyond your expectations. This is wonderful. This is earth shattering. This is fucking everything and you’re absolutely drunk on it. They’re fucking you raw, so hard and fast and you’re feeling used in the best way possible. You’re hoping and praying this turns into a regular thing.

“Wish you could see her face, Stevie,” Billy growls, “She looks so fucked out.”

Steve kisses against your cheek before pulling your hair to turn your face so he can see it, “Still with us, sweetheart?”

“Unh…” if they thought you were capable of the English language at this point, they’re sorely mistaken. You’re an absolute puddle. Words barely have any meaning, all you know is you’ve never experienced ecstasy like this and you’re fucking loving every second.

They each give a pleased little laugh, both breathless as they try to feign control, like they’re not both so close on the edge. You feel special, so so so deeply special and on top of the fucking world. The sheer stretch of the two of them shoved inside you made your eyes cross, had your whole body shaking, was so irrevocably pleasurable that you weren’t sure you could recover. They’d fuck you dumb, that much was guaranteed. You realize tears are streaming down your face only when Billy’s wiping them away and kissing you softly.

“You’re taking us so well, baby,” he encourages, “you’re doing so good, you’re such a good girl for me.”

“Billy….” You whine out, grateful you remember any words, particularly your boyfriends name. “Billy, billy….” You chant it because it grounds you, keeps you tied to reality.

Their thrusts match in desperation, both making incredibly pretty sounds that make your ears hot. It’s matched by their strong, big hands moving over your body. There’s a pair grabbing onto your tits, they must be Steve’s judging by the angle which means Billy’s are the pair gripping and pulling at your ass. You’re elated, floating practically as they fuck into you relentlessly. It’s brutal, rough in the way you need. Steve pulls you up by your hair, your back flush against his chest and he kisses you deeply. Billy digs his fingers in your hips, eyes scanning up and down your body and then to where you and Steve are sloppily making out. Steve moves his hand down and presses his fingers to your clit.

“Fuck,” you choke out, all the sensations they’re serving you is becoming almost too much. You can’t tell if you want to push them away or pull them closer.

“Baby,” Billy coos, smoothing his hand up over your side, “Sweetheart, you gonna cum for us?”

“Uh-huh…” you whine, “M’so close… feels so good.”

Steve kisses against your ear before whispering, “Come on, babygirl. Give us what we want.”

You’re sent over the edge, your second orgasm ripping through you with a cry and everything goes fuzzy for a few seconds. Then Steve’s pushing you back down, pistons his hips faster while Billy’s rock up to meet his thrusts. Billy captures your lips in a kiss, there’s hands running all over along your body but you can’t tell who’s who. Then Steve makes a strangled groan and you feel his cum filling you up, at least you’re assuming it’s his by the noise he makes. Billy hums against your lips, moving his hips harder into you and then he’s making a similar sound to Steve and you feel more cum filling you up and you whimper, holding onto Billy’s muscular chest for dear life. The feeling of their cum mixing together inside you is unmatched and you make a small whine as they each pull out of you. Steve collapses beside you and you remain clinging to Billy. You fall asleep like that, Billy rubbing soothing circles against your back and whispering softly how good you did and how beautiful you are.

When you wake up, you feel sticky and honestly, dirty. A shower would be greatly appreciated but as you open your eyes you’re reminded that you’ll be in the forest for one more night so a dip in lake is gonna have to do instead. You hear Steve mumbling something incoherent sleepily and feel Billy’s breath against your face and then you realize you’re sandwiched between the two of them, they’re both holding you tightly. It’s a wonderful thing to wake up to. You feel so warm inside.

Billy kisses your cheek and then nudges his nose against yours, “Good morning, darling.”

You hum, “Morning.”

Steve mumbles something again from behind you and tightens his grip on you.

“Can we do that again?” you whisper to Billy, blushing.

He smirks down at you, “What do you think we’re doing tonight, doll?”

#harringrove x you #harringrove x reader #billy x steve x you #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove smut #billy x steve x reader

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dwobbitfromtheshire · 5 months

Text

Stuck Between a Jock and a Metalhead

Summary: Nancy, on a whim, decides to visit Steve at Scoops Ahoy, which leads to her overhearing confessions from Steve that leads her to think about the decisions she's made. A few days later, she decides to come back. She finds him being hit on by the town freak. What's a girl to do? Oh, get stuck in a freezer with the both of them.

A/N: Oops, I made this chapter a little angsty. I do love Nancy now, flaws and all. Oh, the title is a play on for stuck between a rock and a hard place. Thought it was funny.

Chapter One

Nancy Wheeler was confident in her decisions, to say the least. She never really doubted when she was in the right. It was a constant struggle, though, to look at someone's else's side of things. It was why she loved looking at the facts, put plain and simply before her. The facts are that she was interning at the local newspaper and that the news reporters seemed to hate women or look down on them at least. They surely didn't respect them.

"I mean, like what year are we in now? There are tons of female news reporters. Get ahead of the times!" Nancy complained.

"Well, there's a reason why people call this town so conservative. Will this town ever be willing to change?" Steve asked, shaking an invisible magic eight ball. "Sources say: unlikely. I mean, now, they really won't be subject to change with the way this mall moved in and took away their businesses."

"The same mall you work at?" Nancy asked in amusement. "By the way, what the hell are you wearing?"

"I can't believe you're just now noticing. This is my uniform," Steve said and flipped the hat back onto his head.

Nancy had stopped by Scoops Ahoy after coming into the mall to try to find Holly a birthday gift. She had spotted Steve behind the counter and had to stop in. Now, here they were, in the back room conversing like old friends. Steve stood up from the table and slowly twirled around before striking a pose. His back was to her, and he peered over his shoulder, his hand over his mouth as though he was shocked. His rear end was sticking out. He looked like he got caught doing something he shouldn't. Nancy burst into a fit of giggles.

"You're an idiot, Steve Harrington," Nancy said softly.

"And you're - uh - anyway, yes, this is my uniform. It's completely fucking embarrassing but not as embarrassing as being too stupid to get into anywhere," Steve said.

"Despite what I said before, you're not stupid. Although, you can be an idiot at times. It's not who you are, and if your dad ever makes you feel like that, then just send him my way. I'll kick his ass," Nancy said.

"You're the only person in the world I believe could actually take that asshole," Steve said.

"Thanks. I should probably go. I told mom I would be home soon," Nancy said, getting up.

"One thing first, and I'm not sure it was my place to say, but this job of yours. . .you're not getting paid, your skills aren't being put to good use, you have to ask what else am I getting out of this? What else am I learning?" Steve asked.

"Well, I'm learning what not to do," she said, and he laughed.

"You know, it's okay to give up something that's not working for you, and it's okay to fight for it. Whatever decision that works best for you, Nancy, it's okay," Steve said.

"Stop saying okay. I hate that word," Nancy said softly.

It made her stomach turn the way he said it softly, reminding her of the way he said it that night he told her to go with Jonathan. A small portion of guilt nestled in her stomach. She shook it away and smiled.

"It was good to see you again, Steve," Nancy said. "We should talk again soon."

"Definitely," Steve grinned. "Did I help at all?"

"Yeah, actually, you did," Nancy said.

As she walked out of the break room, she passed Steve’s co-worker Robin. She gave Nancy the stink eye. She wondered if it was because she thought there was something between her and Steve. Was Robin jealous of her? Did she want to date Steve? Or was she dating Steve? God, Nancy hoped not. She blushed, realizing that she had no right to be jealous of someone she didn't have any interest in anymore. . .or did she? Nancy walked briskly away, moving out of the parlor and towards the exit as quickly as possible. Halfway towards the exit, Nancy realized that she had left her purse. When she walked back in, there was a closed for lunch sign out front. She went in and headed towards the break room. She paused by the door when she heard her name.

"You're friends with your ex?" Robin asked. "That's a little. . . Unusual."

"I take what I can get," Steve said.

"What does that mean?" She asked and paused. "What? Are you still in love with her?"

Nancy sucked in a breath and waited hopefully for the right answer.

"I mean, I don't know. I guess so. How does one fully stop loving Nancy Wheeler?" Steve asked. "I just want her to be happy. If Jonathan makes her happy, then I'm happy, too."

"It doesn't kill you inside every time you hang out to see her with another guy?" Robin asked.

"Well, this is the first time we hung out in a while. After it all. . .ended, Nancy invited me to have lunch with her Jonathan, but I couldn't. . .it was too painful. I spent lunch in my car blasting Careless Whisper and crying. I got my heart broken, and I didn't have any friends. I mean, the friends I had I walked away from. They were assholes, yes, but I knew Tommy all of my life, and he wasn't always like that. My parents were never home, still aren't, and I just had no one. The kids I started to babysit helped a lot, but considering they were kids and one of them was Nancy's brother, I couldn't exactly talk to them about this," Steve said. "Before we broke up, I tried everything to befriend Jonathan because I knew how much he meant to Nancy. I guess I just didn't want to admit how much."

Nancy pressed her hand to her mouth, tears filling her eyes as she tried to muffle her sobs. She didn't know anything about all of that or the fact that Steve tried to make friends with Jonathan.

"You didn't want to lose her. The fact that you tried to befriend him says a lot about you," Robin said. "I wouldn't have been able to do that."

"I can't hate her for making the choice that she did. I was never enough to be it for her, but I respect her choice even if I don't like it. I can't force her - " Steve choked up. "I can't force her to love me."

"So pathetic," Robin said softly with a hint of affection and Steve laughed.

"Definitely pathetic," Steve said and paused. "I miss her so much that it's stupid. I just wish that I could move on. I think I'm trying too hard. I guess I can't force that either."

"I think I can help with that," Robin said in a mischievous voice. "It requires me taking over the whiteboard, though. What are your preferences?"

"Men, women," Steve said.

"I meant like how do you want me to tease you mercilessly while I do this, but that is. . . That is good to know," Robin said. "Um, right, thanks for telling me."

Crying softly, Nancy quietly and quickly walked away. She'd get her purse some other time. She ran all the way to the bathroom and locked herself in a stall. What he had said then was something she always suspected about Steve, but she never asked, never wanted to be pushy about that part of his life in case he wasn't aware, but turns out, he was. It was all the other stuff that was overwhelming her. She couldn't stop picturing Steve alone in his car, crying. She had so wanted to believe that he had been fine, that he wouldn't be affected by what happened. Or maybe she just hoped that he wouldn't care because it was easier to escape the fact that she fucked up. She didn't intend to hurt Steve, but she did it anyway, and maybe there was another reason why she didn't want to think about how he felt or that moment at the school. She didn't want to think about him walking away from her after begging her to tell him that she loved him. She didn't want to think about him telling her it was okay or hearing him call himself a shitty boyfriend. It was easier to ignore all of that than to admit that she didn't feel like she deserved him.

Jonathan doesn't deserve for her to think that way either because her relationship with him means something, doesn't it? Everything happened so quickly. Maybe that was why she wanted it to happen so fast. Why she had acted the way she did with her feelings for Jonathan? She wanted to destroy her relationship with Steve, to make him hate her the way she hated herself, and she wanted him to feel guilty the way that she did with Barb. She was so mad at her before she died. Why couldn't Barb have understood that it was her choice to have sex with Steve? That the moment he talked to her, it was decided, and the very moment his lips touched hers. She bought a new bra, bought a new sweater, and she even lied to her mom about why she needed birth control.

"This isn't you, Nance," Barb had said.

"Why couldn't you have just gone home?" Nancy whispered to the empty bathroom.

The real person she wanted to be angry with was Barb, and how grotesque was that? How could she be angry at Barb for being in the wrong place at the wrong time? No, because if Barb had gone home and just let her make her choice, then Barb would still be alive. Nancy's stomach rolled. That's what Steve represented, not his guilt because he did nothing, but her own for being so angry with Barb before she died and for being angry after. The real person to be angry with, she knew, was Dr. Brenner. He was the man who started all of this, who led Barbara to her death. If she could bring him back and kill him again, she'd kill him a thousand times. She couldn't go down that road again. She knew the risks she took when she sought justice for Barb. She risked the whole damn town to do it. She wasn't sure she could put something like on Steve again because she still loved him, and he deserved better than that. Nancy wiped her face and came out of the bathroom to find Robin leaning against the wall. She was holding her purse.

"You left this. I saw you run in here. Damn, you're fast," Robin said and handed her the purse.

"Thanks," Nancy said, taking the purse and Robin narrowed her eyes at her.

"You came back for the purse. You heard us," Robin said, and Nancy didn't say anything. "You still love him."

"He deserves better," Nancy said.

"Doesn't he also deserve to make that choice for himself?" Robin asked.

"I - why do you care so much?" Nancy asked.

"I'm a firm believer in second chances. Without them, I wouldn't be here. My mother thought she'd never see my father again or to tell how she felt, but the chance came around again, so . . . Here I am," Robin said, raising her hands up in a shrug. "Gotta believe that there's hope for everyone."

Nancy stared at her for a moment, trying to figure her out. She washed her hands and dried them off.

"Don't tell Steve about this," Nancy said softly.

"Tell him what?" Robin shrugged and left the bathroom.

When Nancy walked into the house, Holly was playing barber shop with Mike's hair while he screeched that she was pulling his hair on purpose. Judging by the mischievous look on Holly's face, she was. Nancy smiled and shook her head before walking into the kitchen where her mother was making lunch.

"Hey, Nance. Did you find what you were looking for at the mall?" Karen asked.

"I think so," Nancy said softly as she stared at her mother.

She realized then where the choice she made with Jonathan was leading her. It was the path that she thought Steve would lead her down to: an unhappy marriage. She still liked Jonathan right now, and she wanted to continue to like him. Not that her mom didn't love her dad. It's just that she didn't like him very much. She wanted a partner that she not only liked but loved as well.

"We like Steve, but we don't love Steve," Murrary had taunted.

Nancy blushed furiously. He had been wrong. She should have said something then, defended Steve then because it was true. She liked Steve, and she loved him too. As much as she cared for Jonathan, as much as she liked him, she didn't love him the way that she loved Steve. The more she thought about Steve, the more she started to remember everything that she loved about their relationship. She remembered nights when they would curl up and watch Tom Cruise movies. They would both gush and giggle over him. Thinking about it now, he definitely had a crush on him like she did. She remembered watching him bake, and when a Bob Seger song came on, he would pull her in his arms to dance. He wasn't afraid to let her lead either. It wasn't just Bob Seger. It was Queen, Bowie, and Madonna. Occasionally, it was stuff like Eddie Van Halen, too. She loved the fact that he didn't just have a particular genre that he loved. He appreciated all sorts. And when she had to babysit Holly, he would come over to help, and he was always so good with her. He was good with both Holly and Mike. She loved the way that he wasn't afraid to be an absolute dork. Her dad was a quiet man, but he always some managed to pull a conversation out of Ted, and he loved to help her mother in the kitchen. She remembered all if without the cloud of guilt weighing her down.

"Nancy, honey, are you okay?" Karen asked.

"I messed everything up," Nancy burst into tears.

Chapter Two

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crypticbunnygirl · 1 year

Text

Military Ball

This fanfic is based off of the post by @apathetickun !! I did change up the dialouge a little bit but i wouldnt have had the idea if it wasnt for their post!!

I am open to construtive critisim! just be nice!:)

Words: 1.1k

Summary: You go a military ball with the task force.

You are going to be late.

You're going to be late to a military ball, of all things! Soap said it wouldn’t be a bad idea to go, see all of us dressed up. Price agreed which was a shock, saying it would be refreshing to see our teammates out of the uniform, ya know switch it up.

So here you are showing up late. You weren’t trying to be late but where they are holding the ball is a long drive and traffic was a problem. Eventually you show up, 45 minutes late but hey you got here. You let a calm sigh as you walk towards the doors. Before you open them you check your phone camera to make sure you look presentable. You open the door and head in. As you walk in you notice a few people turn their heads. You brush it off and look for your team. You see Ghost as that man is hard to miss in a room. Soap, Gaz, and Price all see you and wave. You give them a small wave back.

“You're late, lass!” Soap chuckles.

“Ya ya, I know.” You say.

“Lovely dress.” Gaz comments.

“Thanks. I haven’t worn one in a while.” You say. You can Ghosts eyes on you. You had harbored feelings for your lieutenant for a while now.

“How about some drinks?” Soap suggests.

“Sure, bourbon?” You say, a unanimous yes for the team. Soap nods and walks to the bar. You glance at Ghost. He looks phenomenal in his suit, although you think he looks good all the time, but this just feels different. Soap comes back with the drinks. You end up downing it.

“Damn lass didn’t know you could do that.” Soap comments with a sly smirk. You roll your eyes.

“She’s probably trying to get comfortable.” Ghost says. I nod

“Ya, loosen up a little.” You chime.

“We should do shots.” You suggest. “Just a few!” You add. Soap nods.

“Oh definitely! We are having fun tonight!” Soap says rushing to the bar. You hear Ghost let out a small sigh.

“Bored, Lt?” You ask.

“A little but watching Johnny get wasted at a military ball is entertaining.” He says, you nod.

“Ya it is.” You say, wanting to continue the conversation but not knowing what to say. Soap comes back with the shots. You watch Ghost lift his mask up to take a sip of his bourbon. God how you wanted to kiss them. You quickly look away with a light blush on your face.

“Y/n you're a genius, shots are a great idea!” Soap says, downing two.

“Maybe calm down a little. I’m not driving anyone home.” Price says. As the night progressed on Soap drank more, you had calmed down since you were driving. Before you released people were slow dancing. Price, Gaz, and Soap and found a table to sit at since Soap wasn’t being the smartest, but hey whats new. You shift your gaze to Ghost who is working on his second glass of bourbon, while you work on a glass of white wine.

“Do you like dancing, Ghost?” You ask, the drinks getting to you. It takes a moment for him to answer.

“No, not really.” He says. You nod, feeling weirdly disappointed. You take a sip from your drink trying to think of a way to change the subject.

“Do you like dancing, y/n?” He asks. You nod.

“Ya, but never got asked.” I say with a small chuckle. You take another sip of wine and watch as Ghost takes a sip of his drink. You watch Ghost set his drink down and turn his body to you.

“.....Would you like to dance?” He asks, holding his hand out. You're taken aback by the situation unfolding in front of you. You can’t tell but Ghost is freaking out underneath the mask.

“I would love to, ghost.” You say resting your hand in his. As you guys walked to the dance floor you started panicking a little. You were going to dance with your lieutenant, the man you have feelings for. Now you're facing him, face flushed red. He sets his hands on your hips and you put yours around his neck.

“You look good tonight, ghost.” You say.

“Call me Simon.” He says.

“Well, then you good Simon.” You say. You can’t see but he is losing his mind, the nights he’s spent thinking about you, how you invaded his everyday thoughts. You don’t know the effect you have on him.

“Love the dress.” He says, his eyes roaming your body.

“Thank you.” You say, your bodies slowly swaying to the music and leaving little room between the two of you. You could stay like this forever, in his arms, you feel at peace and like the world is quiet for once. You feel as though you are the only two people here. Just you and Simon. It's perfect. You couldn’t ask for anything better than this.

“Can I tell you something?” You ask.

“Of course.” He says. You lean up to his ear, thinking with your heart not your head.

“I like you, Simon.” You whisper.

“Oh, do you now?” He asks.

“Yep.” You say, popping the p. “You're just so perfect. I know you have been through a lot and I just want to show that not everything in this world is cruel and unjust. I want you to be able to feel the love you should have gotten and should be getting.” You add, letting your feelings pour out of you. Before you can get another word out you feel Simon’s lips on yours. His hands pulling you close.

“I like you too, y/n.” He says. You didn’t care about anything else right now. You felt like you were on cloud 9. You kiss him again. His lips moving against yours and his hands on your hips. Then you hear whistling and apploses, right there's other people here. You feel your face get red.

“Fucking hell.” He mumbles, his hand still on the small of your back.

“Well, shall we join our teammates for the rest of the night?” You say.

“What if we left?” He suggests.

“You know what, ya, my feet hurt.” You say. You say your goodbyes and Simon walks you out to your car, which isn’t too far from his.

“I’ll call you in the morning and we can have a clear conversation about this ok?” Simon says. You nod.

“Of course.” You say smiling. Simon kisses you one last time before you guys have to go your separate ways. This night turned out to be a good one.

#simon riley x reader #simon riley fluff #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon riley imagine #cod mw2 ghost #ghost call of duty #ghost riley #cod ghost #ghost simon riley #simon ghost riley my favorite man #cod #cod fanfic #cod fandom

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artificial-transmutations · 9 months

Text

Transformation Letter: Dian

Hello. My name is Dian and I wouldn't mind transforming into anything or anyone. I'm an single 38 bisexual teacher, whom works out twice per week. My students would most likely describe me as the boring brown math teacher with the medium length black hair.

It wouldn't be right to say that today it is your favorite day of the year. To be honest, it's not even clear if you even have a favorite day of the year, at least regarding to your job.

Not anymore, at least. With your 38 years, you are teaching math for over ten years now. Ten years of reiterating the same and same again to your students. It is what people describe one of the biggest boons of teaching math: The subject never changes. While your colleagues have to integrate some new events or discoveries into their lessons every now and then, math never changes.

So, why is today one of the days you look most forward to? Because it's time for curve sketching again. This is both the subject you discovered your passion for math with and the point in the curriculum where you can see clearly which students are able to grasp the concepts of math - and which are too dumb.

Still, calling that one of your highlights sheds a sorry light on your academic career. Becoming a teacher *seemed* like a good idea, but the truth is that the endless repetitions are mind-numbingly dumb. You could have gotten a research job at university, but you decided to become a teacher. Ever since, every day is the same, every week, every year. Everything is on repeat. Teaching, driving home, working out twice a week, like a clockwork, summer holidays, winter holidays, one and the same.

You shake away the thought and sigh before entering your classroom and begin your lesson. You have the feeling you will lose half of your students today, intellectually, but you can hardly feel sorry. Math in school isn't hard. There is no reason for anyone not to get it.

So, you drone on and slowly approach one of the central milestones of the subject.

"And, as h approaches zero, we narrow in to the slope of the curve on that singular value for x. That is what we call a dancing quotient."

You look into the confused faces of your students. What did you just say? No, this is wrong. You try again.

"Sorry. The diffuse quo..." You trail off. Something is not quite right with you. You should know the word for that... thing. You look at the blackboard again. A big line with letters above and below, some arrows and a drawing of some curve. If you are honest, you don't understand fuck about all that. Weren't you supposed to teach math? Where are the numbers? What are letters doing in math.

"Is everything alright, Sir?" one of your students asks. Something else is wrong. When you look at your hand holding the chalk, it is way darker than it is supposed to look.

"Excuse me..." you mumble, surprised how deep your voice sounds. You exit the classroom and head towards the nearest bathroom, almost running.

The world seems wrong, too. It's like you’re looking at it from way too high. When you finally arrive and look at the mirror, you notice that your clothes are tight and constricting. Looking back from the mirror is another man, not the 38 year old math teacher you are used seeing every morning. The face looking back at you is younger, twenty-something. And it is Black, African American heritage, definitely. You can see your medium length black hair receding into your scalp, leaving you with the shortest buzz cut, as your nostrils become wider.

Not just your face changed! Your muscles grow and your shoulders expand, bringing your clothes that are riding high close to the breaking point. They don't break, however, but reform into a simple work uniform, covering your massive black body. At your groin, you can see the ample bulge of your dick and it makes you smile contently. You might not be the smartest, but you sure are both the strongest and best endowed man around here.

You give the mirror one last wipe and begin to clean the toilets with the janitorial equipment in your cart. Being a janitor in school is good work and doesn't require much of an education. That's why you even clean the toilets happily. However, it doesn't really pay well, either, so, recently you have gotten a second job as a bouncer in front of a gay club.

You don't mind the club visitors ogling your body or touching it from time to time, so the combination of both jobs makes for a diverse and eventful life! The strange letter you sent two weeks ago is already well forgotten.

Another one of those Transformation Letters. You, too can send one, over at my riot page!

#TransformationLetter #male transformation #muscle transformation #racial transformation

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dreaaspeaks · 7 months

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How Tokio Hotel members would be in Hogwarts

idk why no one has thought of this but thanks to my irl, this idea has been rotting away at my brain (these ain't my gifs ya'll)

Bill Kaulitz

I know some people might disagree but Bill is a Slytherin, HEAR ME OUT

he is ambitious, cunning and highly persuasive

He is definitely one of those students that no one really knows why at face value why he got into his house

People presume, if he isn't in uniform, that he is a Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw

He takes his passions and ambitions very seriously and is willing to overwork both himself and sometimes unintentionally, the people around him to reach his goals

I feel like he hates potions and transfiguration but loves more easy going subjects like Care for Magical Creatures and Divination

He probably likes the idea of Defence Against the Dark Arts but hates the amount of essays required

Bill took Astronomy because it looked and sounded cool but after he saw the graph paper on his table during the first lesson, he has been trying to drop it ever since

No one believes that him and Tom are related let alone twins, people just thought that their last names were a coincidence

Very personable so I think he would be quite popular amongst students but his dislike for too much authority doesn't make him too popular amongst professors teaching subjects he doesn't like

Professors teaching subjects he is passionate about however, LOVE HIM

always doing random extra studies just because he wanted to and for extra credit

The type to not study and fail for subjects he hates

But will still pass even if he didn't study when it comes to subjects he likes

Likes to watch Quidditch matches to support his friends but will rather die than get on a broom

Barely passed Flying in first year

Is that one friends that knows everything about everyone in Slytherin and surprisingly, Hufflepuff (why? even he's not sure)

Has gotten so many detentions because of going against dress code

He bedazzled his robe and tie with fabric pens, bleach and rhinestones and never changed them back no matter how many warnings he got

He got asked to the yule ball by a Beaubatoux boy and istg Bill laughed at first thinking it was a joke

When he realised the guy was fr he said he would think about it and get back to him

He literally put off thinking about it until Tom and Georg sat him down to talk about it so he could finally make a decision

Bill said yes to the date literally three days before the ball but mumbled it so fast and left so fast that Gustav had to repeat what Bill said to the boy

Tom Kaulitz

Tom would be a Gryffindor.

Do I need to elaborate?

okay I probably should

He is less outwardly warm compared to Bill but he is more reliable

Tom is a loyal mf especially when it comes to his friends

However, he is in Gryffindor because he is very much willing to take a leap of faith

He is impulsive when it comes to a lot of things especially when it comes to school life

Went to Quidditch tryouts during second year as a dare from Georg and Bill with neither expecting him to do well

Bitch came out of tryouts with a Quidditch uniform and an inflated ego

Plays chaser for Quidditch team, pretty good player and uses Quidditch practice as an excuse to put off every other subject

"Why isn't the essay finished? It was due three days ago"

"Quidditch practice..."

that convo happened on the last week of school and he fully thought the Professor would buy it

To say he sucks at Potions is an understatement

When he found out he could drop potions in 6th year he ran a lap around the Gryffindor common room

He goes to every house party and gets absolutely smashed

SO.MANY.RUMORS

He is surrounded by rumors, literally unless they are in his inner circle, no one really knows what is true or fake when it comes to Tom

People think he is some mean asshole that pushes people away from Bill but in reality he is just protective when it comes to who Bill mixes with since Bill is in Slytherin

Plays the student population's need to drama well so he is a traditionally popular type of guy

At some point he ends up ACTUALLY liking a girl and everyone doesn't recognise him, like he is stumbling over himself and begging to do projects for just a slight chance to do the project with her

Starts to show off more during Quidditch games like tries to do tricks

almost falls off his broom but he will deny it and swear to Merlin that he meant to slip off the broom

Georg Listing

he is a Ravenclaw you cannot change my mind

He isn't like the nerdy super studious type of Ravenclaw (but really is any Raven though?)

He is the seven cups of coffee in the morning, two hours of sleep a night and getting constantly distracted by small side topics when studying type of Ravenclaw

off topic but I think he would be a muggle born who just adjusted really quickly to wizard life??

He would be into Defence Against the Dark Arts and charms like the hands on subjects mixed with essays

He HATES herbology, he could never keep the plants alive no matter how hard he tried

No one thinks he studies like everyone writes him off as the guy who didn't study because he doesn't do homework but he does really well in tests

Horrible credit

Great grades

Georg doesn't really speak up in class unless necessary and I see him falling asleep during Astronomy class

Like when his voice dropped after puberty people didn't even realise it was him talking because he talked so little in class

OUTSIDE OF CLASS HOWEVER

he parties just as much as Tom but stays more sober just incase they come across Professors

Georg plays Beater for Ravenclaw after he was asked to go to tryouts

When Tom and Georg are on the field together it is a bloodbath, Georg targets Tom and only Tom

One of those lowkey popular students, think Cedric Diggory

always helping the guys study and convincing them to at least study a bit

He isn't a sought after guy as a tutor but will accept to help anyone if asked

Kinda scary looking and isn't as open as Bill nor as big a party animal as Tom so he isn't approached very often by younger students tbh kinda feared for no reason, Gustav makes fun of him about it a lot

When it comes to dating at Hogs he is very straightforward, think how Fred asked Angelina

Romantic enough for it to be endearing but not too much for it to be creepy to a random cute girl yk?

Is definitely a Quidditch player boyfriend if you get where I'm going like will make the girl wear his jersey at his game and would magically become a better player after getting into a r/s

Gustav Schafer

I know people will argue that he is a Hufflepuff but like bffr have you actually seen how he acts on Tokio Hotel TV??

Gustav would be a Gryffindor

He would be a Gryffindor in like a Dean Thomas kinda way

If Tom was Cormac, Gustav would be Dean

Becomes besties with the House Elves during first year because he got lost on the way to potions

Never went to Bill's dorm because he is scared shitless of the Black Lake and that damn squid

the muggle born that never got used to magic

Like he would be sorting out his trunk or cleaning his house and halfway through he remembers he went to fucking magic school for 7 years

BIG Quidditch fan

Paints his face and has merch like the whole nine yards

If Tom misses ONE shot during a game, he would not hear the end of it from Gustav for like a month

Refuses to use a quill

Will straight up in front of a Professor use a pen

He would not get an owl, Georg talks so much shit about it because they can't write to each other the 'aesthetic' way

Gustav just gives people his email/number

Naturally with that he isn't the best in DADA or Transfigurations but he would be good in Herbology and Arithmancy

Throws Tom under the bus SO OFTEN

That's why everyone thinks he is so sweet and innocent, he would push Tom into the way of a Professor on the way back to the common room from a party

Sends Howlers to his friends as pranks

He doesn't know he's popular but he is popular and gets so many confessions every day but just shrugs them off

Like the confession letter could be from the hottest girl in their year and he would go

"Awe that's sweet"

AND MOVE ON

He is a sweetheart so he will ask a close friend to the Ball if he isn't interested in anyone

Even if he isn't interested in a romantic way he will still make it very cute and sweet to make his date feel special

If he is asking a girl on a actual date he would bring her to HoneyDukes and insist to pay for all her sweets

That's his big move, the HoneyDukes date (It's his thing)

(anyways so this is the first post of miiiine kinda long ngl)

#tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel #tokio hotel imagine #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz x y/n #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz imagines #georg listing #georg listing x reader #georg listing imagines #gustav schäfer #gustav schafer x reader #early 2000s #fanfic #harry potter au

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notoriousdogooder · 1 year

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there is so much potential in having an art class as an option. the current school is fine as it is, and adding one more class would fuck up the schedule, but thats not stopping me from thinking about it.

in this hypothetical art class, all of the school Li's are there for maximum chaos, all seated next to each other. theyre separated ingame for a reason, and the interactions will sure as hell be cluttered, but by god it'd be sooo funny to have whitney throw paint at robin.

classes will range from standard still life drawing to nude ones, where everyones had to strip for the class at least once . not completely naked, not unless they want to.

whitney is easy, they'd have zero shame and would face PC while spreading their legs, not shy about sneaking a hand to touch themselves, everyone in the class has a picture of them at least slightly aroused in their sketchbooks. they're poses are the most slutty looking, they've always got a hand between they're legs, spreading for a good angle, goading everyone to get their good side.

pure sydney would be a mess when asked to strip, hiding themselves even with their underwear on, whitney colors their skin in with pink because of their full body blush. the more corrupt, the more sensually they'll pose, PC could even ask fem syd to lose the bra or masc syd not to hide their bulge. it'll get to the point where they hope they're called to strip, flaunting everything, getting aroused from the attention.

when it comes to kylar, most of the class is disappointed or uninterested, but depending on if they're assets are bigger, the classes opinion of them change for the entire period. they face PC, and PC solely, making direct eye contact, clearly aroused. usually, it's kylar making the picture, but having PC's attention on them like this is driving them wild. you could defiantly boss them around on what type of pose to do.

mmmhhh robin <3, from interactions in winter's class with other students, we can see that people are interested in them, so students will appreciate being able to see whats under their uniform. low confidence will need encouragement from PC and/or pressuring from the teacher. like sydney, they'll at least have they're underwear on, and their poses are less rigid the more confident they become, until there's a point where PC can ask they strip completely. they'll still be shy about it, but they'll strip, and having an audience of people who are seemingly interested in their body will boost their confidence.

in the classes, the hallway, library, anywhere, students could talk about what they saw in art class, talking about the pictures they snuck, and whose bodies they want to see next time. it'll go like:

"Everyone can see what Whitney's packing under the uniform, but oh my god, to actually see it!" "Right! I swear I saw it twitch!"

"I think if Kylar showed more cleavage, people would think more of them, to be honest." "At least you got to see it! All of the creeps attention was on that orphan kid, I didn't even see nipples."

"I go to the temple everyday after school! How am I even going to face Sydney after today's class!" "Maybe if you ask nice, they'll pose for a private drawing." "Shut up!"

"Robin's face is covered in freckles, but I didn't think they where, you know, everywhere." "There's a mole on their left butt cheek shaped like a crescent moon." "... Just how close were you sitting to them?"

Obviously, insecurities are apart of the equation, and PC can get bullied and teased if supply doesn't meet demand, student harassment will increase even more, with people asking to get a better look for their sketchbook. not to mention the amount of people that'll be taking pictures, there will be a point where PC or another student will be working under Leighton to snap a few

for the teacher, I was thinking a mix of sirrus and mickey, easy going, not phased by the human body. definitely asks for private drawing sessions, where either PC or they will be the subject. when they're the subject, there will be an option to move closer for a better look, for the drawing of course. when PC is the subject, they'll keep their distance, but the more sessions there are, the closer they'll move, drawing in a special sketchbook only taken out in these sessions.

a possible art competition, where there's an option for regular still life, scenery paintings, with the lewder option being, of course, lewd pictures and sculptors, with any Li of your choice as the subject. said hypothetical teacher having their own work around, just for show, and PC recognizing a faceless painting or sculpture of them as the main attraction.

#hypothetical art teacher is at least leighton's age and they know each other but art teach is the lesser evil #also can you imagine how mess uniforms are gonna get??#and the body writing potential??#the hand prints people imagine the hand prints #on the ass and chest the groin the neck #degrees of lewdity #degrees of lewdity whitney #degrees of lewdity kylar #degrees of lewdity sydney #degrees of lewdity robin #whitney the bully #kylar the loner #sydney the fallen #sydney the faithful #robin the orphan

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petrichor-idyllic · 1 year

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ON YOUR OWN PT. 3

MASTERLIST | MINHO MASTERLIST

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

Request for @d4n1elll4

SUMMARY: Follow up from part 2. Last part. Fem! Reader x Minho. Reader x Platonic! Gladers. Movie based fic.

You've only just found Minho now he's been taken away from you. WCKD has kidnapped your boyfriend, and you're going to do whatever it takes to get him back. Fortunately for you, you're accompanied with a bunch of equally stubborn, angry teenagers (and an old man).

Okay, so, you're getting a bigger time skip than you do in the films and we're heading straight into the Last City shit because I am not writing the entirety of TDC for a second time. Sorry. I'm also not writing Newt's death explicitly, because I did that for "Warmth in Cold Places" and it killed me lmao.

Also, I may or may not have changed your subject number to X in the last part, because it sounds way cooler. Not that it's used here, but just so you know.

WARNINGS: Inappropriate language, you're mad, everyone's favourite dumb dog is actually not present in this for a bit- you can't sneak into a building with Quest, sorry, WICKED being WCKD because movies. Let's go get your man.

You never really considered yourself rebellious. You never really had much reason to be. You didn't have anyone to disobey in the Maze, and the Scorch was a blur of chaos.

So, joining the forefront of the Right Arm felt scary, but definitely the right thing to do.

After six painful months and a mistake regarding a train carriage, you and Thomas were just about ready to go in guns blazing.

The desitations: The Last City.

A cool, and kind of daunting name.

Yours and Thomas' plan went wrong fairly quickly with Newt and Frypan immediately foiling it- only for you to get stuck in a tunnel full of Cranks and having to be saved by Brenda and Jorge. Again.

Then you ended up nearly dying via WCKD missiles just outside the City and somehow coincidentally ended up bumping into an old "friend" of the Gladers.

The word "friend" being used loosely since Thomas immediately tried to murder Gally.

Next step: kidnap Teresa and force her to perform minor surgery before using her to break into the WCKD building.

It's definitely been an interesting experience.

But, you're doing this for Minho. All of you are, he protected everyone in the Maze and the boys think the world of him- and your weird connection to him and feelings is more than enough for you to join in.

You had a boyfriend for a whole entire day before he got kidnapped- that's gotta be a record.

You, Newt, Thomas and Gally are tasked with getting the WCKD Subjects and Minho out of the building, then find Brenda and Frypan to get out with the kids and then you're smooth sailing to the Safe Haven. You've lent Quest to Brenda to play emotional support animal for when you escape- mainly because he'd be a bit of a giveaway in the tower.

It's a somewhat simple plan.

Though, with Newt showing symptoms of the Flare, the promise of giving Gally's Allies access to the WCKD database and putting your lives in the hands of Teresa once again- you have more than enough to worry about.

Adorn in WCKD uniform that you managed to get ahold of via Gally, you successfully slip through the City.

"You sure this is a good idea?" Newt asks you as you stand in the building. You're both waiting for Thomas to enter with Teresa, and then you'll find Gally.

"We're in too deep now, man," Newt isn't the only one on edge. This is the most dangerous thing any of you have done and with Newt's dwindling health- you have to do it fast.

Newt nods forwards, towards the doors as Teresa passes through with a masked Thomas not far behind. Passing through the security entrance, you both walk towards them.

Joining them, Newt leads the way, passing by the parking lot and Gally tagging on.

You come to some doors that Gally has to open and you all stand around in the stair way, waiting. Newt's coughing is simply a bitter reminder.

Gally manages to grant his friends access to the building and as soon as the doors open, you all open fire on anyone in your way.

Clearing all the Guards, you start to open the cells containing the kids.

Taking your mask off, you meet the scared faces of a bunch of teenagers- most of them even younger than you are.

It makes you feel ill.

"Come on, you're safe now- we're getting you outta here," you usher them along, bringing them into the main area of the holding bay.

Gally attempts to get information out someone about a vault. "Guy," he says, "this might take some time."

But that's not what's getting to you.

Despite searching every cell, you can't find who you're looking for.

"He's not here," Newt confirms and your heart sinks all over again.

"Where is he?" Thomas stands in front of Teresa, his feelings for her clearly being overshadowed by pure anger.

The girl looks around, almost like she's unsure herself. "I don't know," she admits. "But I can find out."

Using one of the computers, she looks up Minho's subject number and finds his location.

Her face drops. "Somebody's moved him up to the medical wing. Thomas, that's on the other side of the building."

"Okay, take me to him."

"Alright, I'm coming with you," Newt adds.

"Yeah, me too." There's no way you're not going after him as well.

"Newt, no you're not," Thomas states, attempting to take charge. "You have to stay here, wait with Gally for the serum."

"You can't do this on your own." Newt tries to argue.

"I have (Y/N); I'll be fine."

"I've known him as long as I can remember, Tommy- Minho comes first, remember? I'm coming with you."

Thomas looks at you, but all you offer is a shrug. Newt has just as much of a right to help his best friend as you do. It just means you're working on borrowed time.

"Just go," Gally snaps. "You're wasting time. I'll get the serum. We'll meet you out back."

"Okay, fine," Thomas huffs, "let's go." He grabs Teresa again. "Come on."

Putting your masks back on, Gally wishes you good luck and you start making your way through the building again.

You reach an elevator, with Thomas getting agitated when it doesn't come straight away. The three of you stand behind Teresa once you get it, watching the doors slowly close.

Only for a hand to block it.

"Hold it," Janson says, stepping into the lift. And it's like everyone collectively holds their breath.

"You're working late," he says to Teresa after what feels like forever. "See, that's what I like about you, Teresa. No matter how bleak things get, you just... Well, you never give up. Times like this, you need a friend you can count on."

"I'll bear that in mind," Teresa says, clearly tense.

"There is one thing you should know," Janson continues. "One friend to another. Thomas is here." She looks at him, feigning subtle shock. You adjust your hold on your gun. "A surveillance picked him up outside the walls. Ava didn't want you to know, but there is a chance that he may try to contact you. And if he does, well, I'd like to think I'd be your first call."

"Are you going to kill him?" She asks.

"Would that be a problem?"

The door beeps, opening on your floor.

"This is me," Teresa says and you all look at each other before awkwardly shuffling past Janson, with Thomas being sure to knock into him.

You all pick up again, with Teresa trying to convince Thomas that the serum won't save Newt. Which makes your stomach drop, even if it doesn't affect Thomas.

Newt is quick to shut it down.

She desperately tries to convince him to run tests as he makes her open another door.

"I promise I can protect you."

"Oh yeah?" Thomas rips his mask off. "Like you protected Minho?"

"What are you doing?" You hiss.

"How many of us is it gonna take?" He shoves Newt away as the blond also tries to stop him from whatever dumb move he's making. "How many people do you have to round up? Torture? Kill? Huh? When the hell does it stop?"

"It stops when we find a cure." Teresa's voice wavers slightly.

"There is no goddamn cure!"

"Don't waste your breath, Teresa."

Well, that's brilliant.

Janson rounds the corner of the glass walkways, gun in hand. "He made his choice long ago."

"Drop it, kid!" A Guard yells, approaching from another direction.

Thomas grabs Teresa, pulling her in front of him and holding a gun to her head. "Back up. Tell them to back off!"

"Hey, Thomas, come on," Janson's smarmy voice makes you cringe. "It's me. I've known you longer than you can remember. You're not gonna shoot her."

"You don't think so?"

"Okay," Janson lowers his gun. "Go on, then. Shoot her. Prove me wrong." There's a pause as Thomas adjusts his gun, both you and Newt looking at each other. You know he can't. "Shoot her."

Teresa suddenly elbows Thomas in the ribs, turning around and shoving him, making him stumble into you and Newt. The three of you fall backwards behind the glass safety door as she shuts it.

They start firing at the bulletproof glass.

Newt takes his mask off, you following suit as the three of you walk away.

Newt is a grim sight to witness as you storm the halls. Without Teresa's directions, you're kind of running blind. But you know he's here somewhere as you hide behind a wall from the WCKD personal.

Chaos erupts around you as you turn a hall, coming face to face with Ava Paige. Thomas goes to shoot her, but Newt is quick to grab the boy as rapid fire comes your way.

Dipping and running. You all shout Minho's name as you storm the building, shooting anyone that gets too close or doesn't listen.

The entire building is chasing you. It's like an adrenaline junkies wet dream. But running low on ammo is definitely not ideal.

Newt throws a granade, paralysing everyone in the area with the sparks.

And then you're up again.

Only to get stopped by another Guard.

"You three! Freeze!"

With no ammo left and very little choice, you all freeze, probably not intentionally. Just out of shock. "Get down on the ground! Now!"

You all consider it for a second.

Until someone comes flying at him, slamming the Guard's body into the wall and letting out an animalistic scream before grabbing the guy's shirt and throwing him through a nearby window.

You blankly stare at the boy for a second, Thomas and Newt reacting before you do.

"Minho!" They gasp, stumbling towards him and throwing their arms around him.

"Is this real?" He asks, looking between them.

He's definitely seen better days. He looks rough, and is very clearly homicidal with rage.

And that's when he looks at you.

He softens for a second, letting out a sigh of relief as tears of happiness threaten to overwhelm you.

You rush forward, the boys giving you some space, you also throw your arms around him. He hugs you back, giving himself a second to burying his face in your hair.

He pulls away. "Are you okay?"

You give him a frantic nod. "Are you?"

He doesn't have time to respond as another herd of Guards come around the corner.

"Go! Go!" Thomas yells and you start booking it through the building once again.

Getting cornered again, you slip into a random room, barricading the door and desperately searching for a way out.

That's when the drilling noise starts.

"Any ideas?" Minho asks.

"Maybe," Thomas responds after staring out the window.

Throwing a giant metal canister through the window, it shatters on impact. It's dizzying watching the shards of glass vanish into the water several hundred feet below.

"Okay," Thomas clears his throat. "It's doable. Just need a little running start."

You look at Minho, who looks at Newt, who looks at you.

This is how you die.

"You sure about this?" Minho asks.

"Not really." Thomas responds.

"Brilliant." You groan.

"Nice pep talk," Minho's sarcasm is still there at least.

"Yeah, we're all bloody inspired."

The door flies open. "Shit," Thomas whispers as you all stumble to get your feet under you.

Running forward, you all dive out of the window.

It's enough to give you a heart attack, but as you hit the cold water, you're reminded that you're very much still alive.

One after another, you all rise again.

And Thomas flips Janson off. Because of course.

Scrambling out of the water, you're immediately confronted by more WCKD members.

That's until they're shot by one of their own.

Well, Gally.

That's going to be hard to explain to Minho later.

○ ○ ○

The next hour of your life is a blur.

So much happened that your brain has blurred most of it out.

The City got attacked by Gally's friends, Newt got considerably worse and you, Gally and Minho made a mad sprint to get him the serum.

But it was too late.

Newt's bloodied, veiny corpse with a knife sticking out of his chest will haunt you for life. Minho and Frypan's reactions breaking your heart as you and Brenda stood there motionless.

Thomas vanished for a while, and you had to save him from a burning building whilst Teresa helped, watching her get engulfed by the flames.

Thomas had been shot. And it was a mad rush to get him back to the Safe Haven whilst Minho was completely distraught. The thought of losing two friends would've killed him.

But, somehow, you made it.

Thomas was patched up by the medical professionals of the Safe Haven and people started to settle in.

It's been a week since the events of the Last City.

Minho has been attached to you at the hip, but he's been quiet. The Glader got used to moving at a million miles an hour, so now they're forced to face what they've been through.

"Minho?" You managed to convince Vince to give you a hut, mainly because he took a shine to you because he was impressed by your bold nature.

Minho lies on your shared bed, Quest curled next to him with his head on your boyfriend's chest as Minho mindlessly pets him. You'd been helping around the camp, so, you'd given Minho some space today.

You'd actually spent a lot of time looking at the Stone- a block in the centre of the Safe Haven with the names of those you'd lost carved into it.

You're one of the few people here that had no names to stain the stone. You'd obviously lost people, but they were important to someone else before you, so you let the Gladers say their names.

You know you'll never understand what Minho's going through. You didn't have anyone to bond with in the Maze, but you're still grieving. Even if it is worse for him.

Walking over to the bed, he plays with your placid dog's ears, not even acknowledged you yet. Until you lay next to him.

"You okay?" You ask as you scoot up to him, Quest laying on the other side.

"Hm? Yeah," he mumbles, moving his arm to come under your head as you snuggle into his chest. "Just... thinkin'."

"You're always thinking."

"Got shuck all else to do," he smirks at you and you roll your eyes.

"What you thinking about?"

There's a pause, and you don't really need to ask. "You miss him?"

He scoffs. "'Course I do. It's... just so weird without him, yanno?"

"Yeah, but it'll get better."

"I know, I know."

"And I'm here if you ever wanna talk about it."

He looks at your out of the corner of his eye. "I know. Thank you." You kiss him on the cheek and his smile seems more genuine.

Suddenly, he dives on you, making you shriek as he kisses you. He climbs on top of you, deepening the kiss as your hands come to the back of his neck, pulling him closer as your legs tangle together.

He also startles Quest, who jumps off the bed and starts batking his head off.

The kiss becomes heated, Minho clearly using the physical as an outlet for his emotions.

"I love you," he mumbles between kisses.

Then he freezes, pulling away.

You grin as his face goes red. "You love me?"

"Ugh," he groans, sitting back on his knees. "Shut up."

You chuckle, liking seeing the flustered version of your boyfriend.

"I love you too... shuckface." You're not quite used to Glader slang still, but it makes him grin.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, of course, I do."

He dives on you again, making Quest start again.

"Shut up, Quest!" You snap at the same time, before looking at each other and bursting into a fit of giggles.

"You need to learn to control your damn mutt," he mumbles, practically into your lips.

"He's your dog too now, yanno?"

"Shuck, you're right," he smirks, flopping down next to you. "C'mere, boy." He pats his chest, and Quest makes no effort to ease his weight as he dives on the boy, making him groan and you laugh.

Quest sprawls across the pair of you, not caring how uncomfortable you are.

You smile to yourself as Minho messes with Quest, pushing his head and making the dog snap at him.

Things might be hard at the moment, but that's okay. You're safe and things will get better.

And you somehow still have your dog. And now you have the other Gladers, and most importantly Minho.

Things will be okay, because you're not on your own anymore.

DONE.

Not my most satisfying ending for sure, but there's only so much I can do when our love interest is MIA for most of the movie.

Anyway, I hope y'all enjoyed this mini-series, it was kinda fun :))

#tmr fanfiction #tmr minho #tmr imagines #minho the maze runner #minho tmr #minho tmr x reader #minho maze runner #the maze runner #🌿 petri writes #🌿 petri writes tmr #🌿 petri tmr minho #🍃 petri tmr

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