#and it gives wrong answers when asked to solve them

[directdogman]

We asked some of the DT cast for stories from earlier in their lives!

Gingi: "Hmmm... That's a tricky one. Well, there was... Uhhh... Okay, no. Not that. Uhhh... Pass."

Randy: "From MY life? Uhhh... Like, from when I was a kid or something? Uhhh... I, uhhh- Oh! Okay, s-so... I think I was about fourteen, right? Uhhh, my father was kinda... Y'see, he'd yell at me sometimes, like, "Randy, why aren't you GOOD at anything! I didn't raise a lazy QUITTER. You're going to find something that you're GOOD at if you're gonna continue living under this roof!" So, uhhh, I had to learn to play an i-instrument, y'know?

Uhhh, I-I think he picked the clarinet for me 'cause my brothers already played guitar and piano, y'know? Uhhh... Then I was trying to practice it at home... a LOT, and he stormed into the room, SNATCHED it from my hands and snapped it. He went off about how I couldn't do anything right, I was a failure of a son, I didn't live up... [Randy clears his throat] Heh... Anyway, I was relieved! I HATED playing that thing! I could never get my fingers in the right places fast enough, y-y'know?"

Karen: "Hmmm... I don't have many stories from when I was in school. I kinda kept to myself. I wasn't noticed a lot. I liked it better that way. But, when I was seventeen, our class was entered into a regional math competition. Basically, we had to solve equations in our spare time, and whoever got the most right answers got a prize. I did a LOT of them. Fifteen hours worth, one week. I was mostly curious to see how I'd place if I really tried for a short burst of time, see how I ranked. But, I kept going... and I ended up ranking in the top 5. Nationally. 

The organizers invited all of us to a ceremony where they handed out prizes. Our parents too. I watched other people from my class get smaller prizes one by one, for participating and when I didn't get one, I figured they'd just forgotten about me. It happens, I wasn't surprised. But, then out of nowhere, they started handing out scholarships to the top 5 entrants. I was one of the five. 

I can't tell you how it felt to be one of them, to be seen. To be recognized for giving it my all. Anyway. My parents weren't there, they arrived an hour after the whole thing ended, after everyone left. I told them about my win. My mother pointed out that the scholarship would've only covered a portion of my full tuition. I asked why they weren't there. She got angry and said I'd texted her the wrong time. I didn't. We went out for dinner after that. My sister seemed proud." 

Oliver: "Oh, man! Uhhh... Where to begin! Y'know, I was a real menace when I was in school! I wanted the world and I wanted it now! Oh! Oh! Okay, so back when I was in high school, we got all this HAM and then... Oh. Actually, y'know what, that story has a crime in it- Not, like, a BAD one, but...

Okay. Uhhh. Something, uhhh- Oh! I've got it. So, I was six years old, right? My mom came to pick me up from school that day, as per usual! The thing is, it was actually my BIRTHDAY! She didn't give me my present that morning, said she'd show me what she had for me as soon as I got home. I was stoked! I knew it had to be something REALLY gnarly or really pathetic for her NOT to want to show it to me right away and there's no way she would've short-changed me! 

So, we got home and there it was. She'd gotten me a SNAKE. I'd been reading books, talking about 'em CONSTANTLY... I didn't think she'd- Uhhh- It's not- Well, it wasn't a typical gift to give a kid like me, y'know? But, she noticed how much I loved them and wanted me to have one. 

Aw, he was the cutest little guy too! A corn snake! So, y'know, I got to hold him all the time and... Aw, I miss that little guy! I called him Mr Slithers when I first got him, but then we started calling him Schlep! Y'know, like Asclepius? The Greek God with the snakes! Aw, I miss that little guy… We didn't always have much, with my dad gone, but she always made sure I knew how much I meant to her."

Norm: "You want a story from MY life? Pardner, I've been around the world, OFF the world, in one end o' a wormhole and out th' the other SIDE. Where would I begin? Well... I worked at NASA for a spell, but I... Ah, t' hell with all that. I was with the Air Force, back in Korea. I 'member... Back when I was still a Corporal, actin'-Sergeant, th' job wasn't JUS' about shootin' down other planes. Sometimes we also handled folks who surrendered on th' ground, y'know? Admittin' POWS, which we traded back fer our own. 

Anyway, we had this one fella, Choe somethin'... You'll have t' forgive me, it's all a lil fuzzy now. He was a conscript, o' course. He jus' wanted to see th' end of the war. 'Cause o' my rank, it was my job t' oversee th' cataloguin' what he had when we caught him and get him t' sign the completed inventory. The fella had a PPSh-41. Full drum. Doubt he'd ever even fired th' thing... It was MY firs' time holdin' one. Always wondered how they handled. 

I looked at Choe, I looked at my buddy Reggie... Oh. I knew Reggie from all th' way back in Phoenix... He picked up the language better than me. They used t' give us candy in our rations. Hershey's Tropical. Haven't seen any on the shelves since the warp, but… Well, a half-decent candy bar's pretty fillin', good source o' calories, stops yer men from losin' their goddamned minds. Even perfected the recipe fer the climate. Didn't melt like the bars here. Sorry, I'm ramblin' again. 

So, I made Choe an offer, with Reggie's help. We leave the gun offa the form, he gets the candy bar. The, uhhh, gist of what he said t' Reggie was that the gun was o' no use to him now that he'd been captured, but he'd very much like the candy bar. So, we left it off the form and o' course, he signed it. That night, me and Reggie went out, drank a whole bunch o' somaek and fired that thing off 'til we didn't have a single bullet left fer that drum. That night was really somethin'."

God: "Oh, man, have I seen some shit... I mean, hell, I've lived a lot of lives… I know I mightn't look it now, but hey, I had my fair share of jobs, little things for myself to do, friends... But, not anymore. Y'see... Ah. I just had this feelin' set in over time. A realization, I guess you could call it. There was this rot inside me. Every go around, there were these similarities. I'd notice more of 'em each time. I'd know stuff before it happened. I'd know people's thoughts before they'd think 'em... and. It was revolting, what I was doing. Keeping people around me that I knew would outlive me, taking up valuable time, making their lives worse for… Ah, you wouldn't get it.

Anyway, I tried to shove the feelings down for a long time, but sooner or later, I couldn't sleep at night, ignoring what I knew. I was a piece of filth, plain and simple. I made the world worse for being in it, and I couldn't make up for all that time, bein' around people for so long. The only thing I could do to make it up to everyone was to disappear. But, if I just went, people would've missed me. That wasn't right either. They had to know why. So, I went to everyone I knew. Well, anyone who'd care if I left. And I told 'em everything about me. Every bad thing I'd said, done, the things I should've done... What I was, deep down. If I thought of anything I didn't want to say, I said it. With as much detail as I could think up. 

Then, I started walking. I doubt anyone came to look for me. Doesn't really matter now, does it? Heh. I've been wanderin' ever since. You gotta keep your distance from people, y'know? A quick bite and a how-do-ya-do's dandy and all, but any more than that, and you risk getting attached. Or havin' other people get attached to you. Nothin' lasts forever."

Bigfoot: [wistful ape noises]

(It was dark at the foot of the Appalachian mountains. Far above the tapestry of leaves and pine needles, the sky was alight with stars. Distant, yet the dim specks staining the dark expanse above the trees were the only light reaching this place now. A shaggy behemoth sprinted through the foliage at a breakneck pace, knocking any tree unlucky enough to be in its path back with its hefty arms. Never slowing down, never stopping.

Suddenly, a powerful beam shone down from above. Brighter than the moon, glaring like the sun. The giant halted suddenly, locking up as the light hit its lens. It looked up slowly, his gaze trying to meet the light. Barely perceptible amidst the haze, a figure loomed on a branch, its silhouette visible against the sky as the absence of starlight. Its spotlight head flickered as if it was scanning, now the brightest thing against the sky. After a pause, the figure unfurled its wings and gracefully glided to the ground, where it landed. Even against the windless tranquility of the woods, its landing made little sound. The hulking beast didn't stir. He had seen this figure before, always at a distance. Closer each time. Mistakable for the moon against the night sky.

The furred brute thought to flee, but it had seen this figure in flight. He was swift, but it was much swifter. The figure inched gradually closer, its steps slow, deliberate and silent. Slower than it'd had ever moved before. As it stopped right in front of him, its head dimmed, allowing him to see it better. As he studied its slender figure, its head cocked in place, as if scanning him. A dim whir now audible from the bulb. At that moment, the monster felt as if the being was looking into his soul. Its movements were sorrowful and graceful, each movement angled like a bow. It could truly see him.

Slowly, a feathered wing extended towards him, gracefully connecting with the side of his head. The first time he'd felt the contact of another in a quarter of a century. The monster barely shirked, causing her to retract her wing momentarily. As he gazed back towards her, his lens now locked onto the bulb sitting atop the slender body before him, the figure's wing slowly caressed his face. No noises were exchanged, but the beast knew what this touch meant. "You could be happy."

Momentarily remembering who he was, the behemoth retracted. He sighed, his gaze now meeting only the dimly lit leaves at their feet. She too knew what this meant. "There is another." The figure looked down as well, visibly dejected. Not at his rejection, but for fate's cruel acumen. After a silent moment, its wings unfurled and it took flight, disappearing into the branches above them. Unsure of itself, the monster stepped forward, the moon's light glinting between the branches. Regaining its composure, the titan began its sprint again. Never ceasing, never yielding. It would find its family. Even if it had to search every inch of this land.)

Little Billy: "get fucked, narc."

Stabby and Shooty: "Oh, man! Have WE got some stories!" "Lotsa stories! Heh heh heh!" "Y'know, we're kinda bad boys… Hard eggs!" "The hardest! HEH HEH HEH!" "Y'know, we-" "Oh! Oh! Slick! Tell 'em about the time you i-" "…No. Not that one, bro." "What?! It's the most GANGSTER shit either of us h-" "I said DROP IT! OKAY?!" "…" "…" "…" "…" "Sorry, bro…"

Mayor Mingus: "What is this, for a MAGAZINE?! I don't have time for any of this. In case you haven't noticed, I have a CITY to run, and anything I don't do myself WON'T be done correctly. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

("When I was a kid, I used to bring Maw Maw to church. Someone had to. When she got older, she lost much of her sight. Her optical sensors deteriorated and she wouldn't let anyone open up her head to replace them. She never explained why. I was happy to spend time with her, though. Especially since my father never joined us. Like HE'D ever step foot in a church. 

I never believed in any of that malarkey either, to be clear. I don't even think she did, until her later years. Perhaps it comforted her? I guess that's beside the point. After every sermon, we'd go out and get a burger at the Burger Hovel in the mall across the street. Then, we'd go upstairs and she'd try on clothes at the department store. Because of her sight, she couldn't read the tags on her own. She needed me there for that, to know if something would fit. She rarely bought anything. I think she just liked trying them on, being someone else for a little while... It was nice, though. Being useful, helping her do something she couldn't do on her own.")

[mislamicpearl]

They're making us do AI Week at my school next week. We're supposed to come up with activities that will allow (force) the students to use ChatGPT to help them solve problems. I wanna throw up.

If I ever have kids I swear I'm homeschooling them. The ministry of education is just another puppet of the western powers that are actively trying to make everyone stop thinking for themselves.

[mwphisto]

I’m not worth it - Rafayel

Rafayel is genuinely appalled when you tell him that he could find a partner so much more worthy of his love. Not only is he appalled that those words left your lips, he’s utterly appalled that you said them with 100% sincerity.

Better than you? Better than the woman he waited 800 years for? Better than the woman he gave up his entire world for? Better than the woman who owns his heart? Seriously? Do you even hear yourself when you talk?

The anger that flashes across Rafayel’s face has you shrinking back, heart pounding because you realize you are in a world of trouble for saying such a thing. Not just because of the fear, but because he is responding so fiercely to your self deprecating proclamation.

“What?” It’s nothing short of a hiss, a look of genuine disgust on his face. Not at you, but at the heinous idea you dared to utter. “I said I—“ but he cuts you off, a noise of pure anger leaving the artist’s lips.

“I heard you the first time, and I most definitely do not want to hear those words again.”

Then, he’s moving towards you, lithe hands coming up to cup your heated cheeks. The intensity in his gaze urging you to break eye contact but you don’t dare to. “Who do I have to kill?” And you blink, unsure of how to proceed.

“Who do I need to kill?” Again, leaving you lost. “WHO put those god awful thoughts in your pretty little head, cutie? WHO do I need to kill for ever making you doubt your worth of my love and affection.”

And your throat is drying up, because if you give him the honest answer he’d have to kill— “m-me.”

“You?” Rafayel is holding you a little tighter, heart thumping in agony that the creature who could conjure up such evil ideas was none other than yourself.

“What have I done to make you feel like this?” Because clearly he’s done something wrong along the way. Was he too bratty? Too dramatic? Did he make one too many sarcastic comments? Did he act some sort of way that made you question his feelings? He’s spiraling.

“You did nothing! God no, Raf. You’ve done nothing it’s just… me I guess. Self conscious. I-imposter syndrome even! Just… got too lost in my own head and…”

You’re spiraling too, and he can see it just as you picked up on the way he began to lose it. And you still have the audacity to think he wouldn’t burn the world for you? To be able to pick up so easily on his derailing train of thought.

“My love, my entire heart…” he’s coming down, coaching himself mentally to take deep breathes because nothing will get solved if he loses it like he usually does. “… I would destroy the entire world if it meant keeping you happy.”

“I would do whatever you asked me too with no hesitation. You mean everything to me, more than everything. Why would you ever deem yourself unworthy of my love?”

Tears leaked down your cheeks now, not because of your own insecurities but because of how fiercely he was loving you. The way he always had, maybe that was part of the reason you had begun to feel so unsure.

“I think I just…” you sniffle, leaning into Rafayel’s touch as he thumbed away the tears on your cheeks. “…I guess I got so overwhelmed with your love. That… part of me felt undeserving. You’re so handsome, talented, you have a kind soul even though you try to hide it. I’m just… me.”

“Exactly. You’re just you. Perfect in every way. So beautiful, so strong, brave, equally as talented.” His eyes search yours before continuing. “You’re equal amounts of loving and sweet. You put up with my antics like nobody else, you have time for me when nobody ever has.”

“I may not be the easiest lover. I may be dramatic, I may carry my own emotional baggage that I struggle to open up about. But there is one thing I am certain about, one thing I will proudly proclaim with my whole heart. And it’s the fact that I love you more than anything. More than my art, more than my career, more than Lemuira.”

You’re crying hard now, hands holding his wrists. The warmth seeping into his skin as your tears leak down and collect on his palms. He hasn’t let go of your face, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to either. “Please, cutie. My love, my heart, my beautiful girl… the next time you’re feeling like this. Tell me before it becomes unbearable.”

You can only manage a nod, hiccuping as he tugs you close to place kisses all over your face. “I would lay down my life and die for you, so don’t you ever think that you are unworthy of my love. You’re perfect for me, the only woman I could ever want. I waited 800 years for you to return to me, and now that you have, I’m never letting go.”

[atrwriting]

shouldn’t have — lumberjack!logan x fem!reader

listen usually i would hate this plotline but like ?? are yall seeing what im seeing ?? feminism exists and is alive and well until we see this man and suddenly we’re all damsels in distress

as always, warnings: reader was in an abusive relationship, logan the savior (i have issues ok), dom logan, bratty reader, choking, slapping, rough p in v sex, swearing, breeding kink tee hee

mdni!!!1!!1!1!1!11!

————

you had been with your boyfriend — well, now ex-boyfriend — for about three months before you had noticed something was wrong. just a few things, you thought. nothing bad. nothing to worry that much about. it felt like he was doing so many things too much; sleeping, drinking, smoking, video games… yelling…

you thought by getting him a job with some men you knew would be fine — that it would solve every problem. why would it not have? he just needs a job, you thought. just something to get him up in the morning… something to give him purpose…

you were wrong — oh, you were so wrong.

at first, everything was fine — up every day, home every night, and only so many hours at the end of the day could be dedicated to all of those bad little habits you hated so, so much. he was drinking, smoking, playing video games so much less — you almost forgot why you were so annoyed and insistent on this new job in the first place.

...until he stopped coming home before midnight.

...until the yelling got worse.

until he got worse.

you almost left him — almost. until, one night — he asked if you could pick him up from the bar after work so he wouldn’t have to wait before he could drive home. you could've squealed you were so relieved, so happy. it seemed like a step in the right direction, and you were hopeful. you thought the kinks were working themselves out, making it so you could finally work out your issues with him. like the good girlfriend you were, you drove to the bar promptly for half past ten and waited in the parking lot for him.

after a few minutes, you sent a text.

a set of ten minutes had passed as you sat there, waiting.

...then another.

...and then another.

you called him, but there was no answer.

no fucking answer.

you ground your teeth when the call was sent to voicemail. voicemail? fucking voicemail? you stared down at the screen like it mocked you — showing you the reflection of your face in the glass like you were some joke, and embarrassment flooded through you.

all you could think about was self-respect — how if you didn't have any respect for yourself, how could your boyfriend respect you? how could anyone respect you?

it brought tears to your eyes, but you blinked them away.

and there went the last straw…

you got out of the car and slammed the door. you were buzzing with anger, shivering like you were cold. anger filled you, but adrenaline was what carried you on its back through the doors of the bar and past its threshold. it was the only friend you had in that moment, and you grasped at its hand — letting it lead you to your doom.

what you didn't expect what form your doom would take.

…your doom came in the form of a hot blonde with legs and cleavage for days.

she laid horizontal across the bar — shot glass in her belly button, line of salt up her abdomen. you watched a man, dirty from the work day, eye the blonde with hunger in his eyes. he wrapped his dry lips around the rim of the shot glass, and threw his head back. almost immediately, he licked the salt trail with a flat, heavy tongue. the blonde above him giggled at the texture of his tongue on her tanned skin — and once he was done, she grasped both sides of his face and pulled him towards her.

that’s when you saw the guy’s face — smiling and drunk — your boyfriend’s face. men around them hollered as he pushed her against the bar top, kissing her hard. all you could do was stare — adrenaline left you high and dry when you needed it most. you were just cold now — cold, lonely, and embarrassed. so embarrassed. so fucking embarrassed.

“you’re his ol’ lady… aren’t you?”

your head cocked to a stool near you, occupied by one of his coworkers. he had a cigar in his mouth as he cocked an eyebrow at you, barely looking at you. his hand was around two fingers of whisky — and it had never looked so tempting.

“was,” you whispered, politely correcting him and locking eyes with him.

“good,” was all he said before he threw back the rest of his whisky and stood from his chair.

you were still in shock, frozen in place. all you could do was watch as the man pushed through the crowd, and stood in front of your boyfriend. you stared at the man's shoulders — covered by thin flannel that would never stand a chance against the muscles underneath. you gulped as he stood toe to toe with your ex-boyfriend, but the man didn't look half as scared as your ex did.

“you’re fired," was all the man said.

everyone around the man, including the blonde and your boyfriend, went silent. jaws were on the floor — no one knew what to do. what could they do? they weren't expecting this — not when the fun had been going on for so long. the man couldn’t have cared less — he waited for a split moment, awaiting any sort of rebuttal from your ex-boyfriend… and that was when your ex noticed you, staring at him. instead of running to you, begging for forgiveness… he started begging the man that had fired him for his job back.

you scoffed and rolled your eyes. of course.

“not happening, bub,” he spat. “now — i’m going to go buy your ex-girlfriend a drink with your last paycheck. ask your buddies for a loan on the tab with the blonde."

and with that, the man turned on his heel back towards you. when he turned, he didn’t bow his head or look at the floor — he looked straight at you. and for the first time that night, you saw what he really looked like — a man. the man radiated masculinity like he was the poster child for the hard working all-american man. worn jeans, work boots, faded flannel… the works. his body was thick with muscle, and impressive sight that was definitely thanks to his job. the years showed on his face — but in a way that was handsome and reliable. life seemed to have chewed him up and spit him out, but he didn’t look the type to go down without a fight.

with a moment or two, he was in front of you. he sat down on the stool, and patted the one next to him — gesturing to you.

“what’re you having, sweetheart?”

you stared up at him with confusion and surprise in your eyes, but a blush across your cheeks. your mouth fell open, stammering — as if you hadn’t been embarrassed enough tonight. your eyes darted to your ex — the intoxication starting to wear away as realization set in. he lost his job, girlfriend, and ego all in a matter of a moment — and you knew how these things ended.

“i think i should —“

“he won’t bother you,” the man responded, gesturing to the bartender for two more drinks.

you took a cautious step back — eyes on your ex who was talking with his work buddies now, eyeing you and the man. the blonde had been discarded, scoffing as she found herself in a similar position as you — chewed up and spit out, but not willing to fight.

you were fumbling for your keys now, anxiety beginning to take over. you were shaking as you took several steps back, not knowing whether to run or start crying was the better answer.

the man who had stood up for you then stood, sighing. he saw your ex walking towards you now, and he rolled his eyes in the way an owner would be annoyed with a dog going back for something they were explicitly told not to. the man drank his whisky, and handed you the other glass.

the man only had a take one step towards your ex before your ex had stopped in his tracks, eyes and mouth wide.

“got all the time in the world, bub,” the man spoke. the man had his fists balled at his sides — and, within an instant, sharp bones almost two feet long had sprung from between his knuckles. the man didn’t wince — but everyone else did. with a cocked head, he then continued, “do you?”

when your ex didn’t move, and the man was satisfied that none of his friends were going to make a move… he turned on his heel and stalked back toward you.

“finish your drink, sweetheart — we’re leaving.”

within five minutes, you had finished your drink before you went outside. there was logan — same bone swords unsheathed, but now stabbing into black tires on a familiar truck. you smiled — now your ex didn’t have a ride home.

“can i give you a lift?” you asked.

few hours later — there you sat with the man, who you now knew as logan. you were on one side of the couch — you curled in the corner on the end, and him in the middle turned towards you. the alcohol was flowing, so you didn’t need a blanket over you to keep warm. now, sat across from logan, both of you appearing to feel the effects of whisky — all you wanted was his warmth.

“good hostess,” he spoke as you refilled his whisky glass.

you blushed. “nothing compared to what you did for me back there — least i can do.”

“i gotta ask —“ he said, taking a sip. “why him?”

you shrugged. “guess i learned the hard way you can’t change someone who doesn’t want to change.”

he looked at you then — almost through you. you wondered if he could see the same ghosts in your eyes that you could see in his.

he shook his head then, chuckling — appearing to want to break the heavy air. “you’re too young for talk like that, doll — won’t allow it.”

you returned his laugh, realizing you were happy for the subject change. “not every man is like you, logan — first one i met that would’ve done what you did.”

he set his glass down then, and you were struck with the realization of how broad his chest and shoulders were. how the fabric of the stretched across his muscles. how heavy the scent of whisky, maple, wood, and cigar smoke hung on his clothes. you stopped staring at him to meet his eyes then, but he was already looking at you.

logan caught you staring. a blush rose to your cheeks.

“there was a time where men i knew would’ve killed to be served whisky by a pretty girl like you,” he spoke, voice gruff. “time where i would’ve.”

you smiled, insecure under his gaze. “you’re easy on the eyes, lo — can’t imagine you had to put much effort into getting with someone you wanted.”

“oh, doll —“ he spoke, leaning in towards you. his face was barely inches from you, and you wanted him to touch you. you wanted those big, calloused hands on your soft skin — wanted it so fucking bad — but he wouldn’t put them on you. not yet. not quite yet. “sweet, pretty things like you? worth all of the effort in the fucking world.”

you felt one of his hands — his large fucking hands — slide down from your knee, to the side of your thigh. he squeezed lightly on the flesh, loving the feeling of your soft skin. you met his eyes then, dark and hungry. he wasn’t hesitating — he was waiting for your approval or disapproval. he wanted you to know he wanted you, but also that you had the final say.

“y’gonna let me show you how a real man’s supposed to treat a woman?” he asked, tucking a hair behind your ear. “hmm, sugar? climb in my lap, and i’ll show you.”

curiosity killed the cat, but not before it found out what the secret was.

logan fell back against the couch — man spreading, hands on the tops of his thighs with his eyes on you. only on you. there was no more of the adrenaline from earlier, no — but there was the confidence from the warm, dark liquid flowing through your veins. it gave you the push you needed, making you throw a leg over his hips, and sit your ass down right over the tent in his jeans.

“that’s a girl, yeah…” he spoke, his hands ran up and down your thighs. his eyes were raking up and down your body in the way that your ex had looked at the blonde, and it only added to your confidence. you wanted to be wanted — and logan made you feel more sexy than your ex ever had. “tell me, sweetheart — when you look at me, what do you see?”

“a man,” you respond, before you can stop yourself.

he raises his brow then — surprised, but not displeased at your answer. “ — yeah? and what makes me a man?”

you thought for a second, as the alcohol clouded your ability to be witty. you couldn’t pinpoint why — you just knew. while you were thinking, almost stammering — you felt his hand snack underneath your skirt and find your lacy panties. you were struck with the sudden realization of how badly you wanted to show him what they looked like, convinced he would like them — but he wouldn’t let you take off your skirt. you eyed him, confused.

“not yet, doll,” he spoke, voice hoarse. his eyes never left yours. “not taking off this skirt — no matter how much i want to — until you know for sure that i deserve to.”

“logan…!” you grumbled, throwing your head back in mock laughter and frustration. “y’gonna make me beg? come on —"

“beg? not tonight, darlin’,” he laughed. you felt one of his fingers prod at your folds through your panties, poking through your lips to find the hidden sensitive parts of you. you sucked in a sharp breath at the feeling — curious and turned on. “but you are gonna tell me everything you’re going to look for in a man from this point on. when i’m satisfied, then i’ll let you cum.”

“didn’t think you liked games,” you breathed, curiosity, pleasure, and anxiety mixing in your blood.

“i don’t,” he said with finality and sincerity. “i teach lessons, sweetheart — and now i’m gonna teach you how a man should treat you."

“yeah?” you breathed, keeping your lips barely centimeters from his. “and how are you going to accomplish that?”

“rock those pretty hips against my hand, baby —“ he spoke, pressing his fingertips against your clothes core. “and tell me types of guys you're goin' to avoid."

you went to question him, confused — but he pulled you right back in. he pressed two finger tips against your panties, creating the most devious fiction against your sensitive bud. you jumped at the feeling, but he kept your hips steady.

“there’s one —“ he chuckled. “didn’t know how to touch you, yeah? so sensitive — ‘s like he never did.”

“he didn’t know how,” you whined, rolling your hips against his fingers and letting your eyes drift close.

“not surprised,” he grunted. “never a good worker either. so, what’re we avoiding next time, sugar, huh? tell me.”

“i don’t know… i don’t…” your mind was warm and fuzzy now, leaving you unable to answer.

he swatted at the flesh of your ass then, causing your hips to jerk and your eyes to open in shock. he looked up at you, unfazed. “you don’t wanna cum, do you? want me to use you just like him — leave that pussy wet and wanting?”

you giggled. “don’t tempt me.”

his hand reached for your throat, an evil smirk on his lips. “you’re a naughty fucking thing.”

you nodded feverishly, loving the grip on your throat. “for you, lo. i’ll avoid lazy men, i promise —“

“you better,” he warned, his eyes looking up at you with hunger. his wingers were rubbing hard against your clit, and you wanted him oh, so badly to dip into the fabric and roll around your clit or supple hole. “another — tell me. now.”

“careless,” you whined, your hips jerking. “i’ll avoid careless men, logan, i promise —“

“fuck that,” he spat, the grip tightening on your throat. “you’re mine, darlin’.”

he threw you down onto the couch then, landing on your back with a thud. he gave up on his own game, and your confidence bloomed within you. to be so sweet, so pretty — to make a man like logan stumble? forget what he was doing, all because he wanted you so bad? to be in between your plump thighs, round lips, and encircles in those pretty arms? your cheeks were burning pink as your gaze came back into focus above you. there stood logan, on his knees on the couch, as he unbuttoned his flannel with an animalistic chase in his eyes. you couldn’t help but put yourself on your elbows, rubbing your thighs together to keep the friction and heat up. but your eyes? oh, your perfect, big eyes? they were on logan’s. they told you everything you needed to know as he tore off his belt.

“you want me to use you, baby?” he asked as he unzipped his belt. “that’s what my girl wants?”

“by you, lo — a real man,” you breathed, stroking his cock and lining his cock up with the entrance of your pussy.

“good fucking girl,” he growled, plunging his cock into your pussy.

his hips snapped against yours, causing you to jump into the arm rest. you held onto the arm rest, your pillow, to keep you steady. logan liked the sight — pretending that you had your hands tied up above your head as your breasts lifted with your arched back, preening upwards just for him. he watched the shivers run up and down your spine, causing your nipples to peak. he watched them hungrily as they bounced for him and only him, wanting to pull both into his mouth and show you just how greedy real men are.

and when he saw you release the grip held by one hand, and watched it travel down the length of your abdomen, with the end goal of your clit — he swatted your hand away, angry. his gaze — it screamed how fucking dare you?

“fuck off with that shit —“ he spat, pushing your hand back down to hold onto the head rest. “this first time, darlin’? i make you cum — and you lie there, and you take it.”

you whined at his words, your big beautiful eyes on his hungry irises. you folded your lip in between your teeth before you curled your hips up to meet his, wrapped your legs around his hips. never had you been treated with such confidence, such ease — but you wanted him to work for it, see how far he could go to prove to you that he was the best. “you promise, old man? you can keep up?”

the air went still then — but your smirk didn’t falter. it should've, you would realize later. you should've been afraid of the man, knowing what he was capable of when someone tested him. the difference was... logan welcomed the spice in you, as long as it was his to silence. logan’s eyes went wild and dark then, realizing the challenge. he held back so much with you, trying to keep the man awake and the beast dormant — but the greedy girl in you just kept knocking.

he flipped you then — forcing you onto all fours. he bent you over the arm rest, your throat in the crook of his elbow. his free hand groped and pulled at the flesh of your ass, letting go only to smack it. smacksmacksmack. his tough and calloused skin would leave marks, you were sure of it — but it only made your pussy wetter. the sounds were pornographic, filling the room and his nose and ears.

“wasn’t much of a brat tamer, was he?” he spat, fucking into your puffy pussy. his grip on your throat wasn’t tight, but it kept you in control. there was no moving, and there definitely wasn’t enough air to mouth off. “nothing sweet about you — just a greedy fucking girl with the neediest fucking pussy. i'll get'ya there, doll — don't worry now."

you held onto his forearm for dear life, trying to keep your balance as you arched your back up into him. you felt your juices leak around around your sopping wet cunt and down both of your thighs and logan’s. the air was thick with your scent and sounds, pricking at logan’s heightened hearing. your whines — oh, your whines, your fucking whines! — were filling his ribcage and warming every part of him that wasn’t touching you. his lips were sucking at your neck, nipping at the skin . he felt the vibrations of your moans against his lips and he had to fight every instinct to sink his teeth into your shoulder, ruining you for everyone else.

“please — please —“ you choked, smacking against the arm rest. he pulled your free arm back behind your back, forcing you to take everything he gave you.

“not stopping until that pussy creams, baby,” he spat into your ear. his hips were relentless against yours, plunging in and out of your wet folds as he kept them tight and controlled for his use. “when that dumb fuck comes back, to get his stuff? i want him to know who’s pussy this is now. that fucked out look on your face? yeah? that’s all that sack of shit is gonna see before i slam the door in his face.”

“fuck, logan —“ you whimpered. “i’m so close. f-feels so good. please, don’t stop —“

“i know, baby, i know….” he moaned. you reached underneath him, grabbing at his heavy sack and rolling his balls with your finger tips. he jumped at the feeling, curious how a fucked out little thing like you still had so much energy to tease. “never ends with you, huh, does it? always wan’ more?”

“cum with me, lo —“ you choked out. “come on — make me feel it.”

he smacked your ass once more, grasping onto the rippling skin. you could feel your tight muscles, like cement — knowing they would be sore in the morning. you rolled his balls in between your fingers, keeping as controlling of a grip on him as he kept on you. his breaths were ragged against your neck, broken and feverish. your eyes were screwed shut, trying to find his lips in the darkness as you fought with and against logan.

“fill my pussy, baby,” you whined, reaching to any part of him you could grab.

when he saw your eyes, most of the begging in them rather than your tone — he couldn't help it. it took over him before he could even realize it was happening. how could he deny you so,ething you wanted so badly? asked for so sweetly? logan came before you did — much to his dismay, but only for a moment. he felt his skin shiver before his hips snapped forward once to meet yours, trapping you against the arm rest. he rutted into you as the walls of your pussy were coated — dressed in his seed, his spend, his claim. you could hear a growl rumble low in his chest, tearing up at the sound of such a big and strong man at his most vulnerable, his most peaceful state — only for you.

when you reached for your clit again — whining and wanting, ready to take advantage of hearing his satisfied moans in your ear — he smacked your hand away. you scoffed at his movement, but he shut you up quickly. his own fingers found the spot, and his fingers felt better than yours. you should’ve known they would, with the way they attacked you through your panties.

“pussy’s filled to the brim, sugar —“ he grunted. “now i wanna feel it shake while you’re full of me.”

he was so tired, but not his muscles — definitely not his muscles, nor his grip. it held you tight and upright — forcing you to take it in your weak, fucked out state.

“you want me to fuck my cum farther into you, darlin’?” he rasped, fighting his exhaustion through gritted teeth. “i’m too deep, aren’t i? i’ll fuck my cum into your womb if i’m not careful… but you'd like that, wouldn't you? dirty little thing..."

his warning was a threat, but your mind was too soft to realize. too pliant, too ready for him. all you could do was stare off into space as he held you close to him. his fingers spun circles around your puffy clit, his still hard cock piercing into you. “so very deep, lo…”

and when he smacked your clit once before continuing the assault, you came. you came harder than you ever had before — alone, or imagining something in your head as someone else fucked you. it was like your primal nature was being ripped from you, wanting to show and present itself to match logan’s — to show logan you were his match, that you were his equal. you bucked your hips back to meet his, letting the tip of his sensitive cock graze your sensitive walls as you screamed his name. it filled the room more than anything had for him — and it was all he would think about in the days to come. this woman, so worthy and so ready for him — only for him, and all for him.

“that’s it, sweetheart. work for it, that’s right…”

and as his seed slipped into your womb, open and ready for him as you came, you felt his lips press hard, sloppy kisses against your jaw. your own mouth was open, cries falling from it.

“my good girl learned her lesson, didn’t she?” he rasped. “don’t matter now, anyway — no one but me is gonna be in your bed. i'll burn his shit later."

———

i need to touch grass - L xoxo lmk what u think

[oaksgrove]

The Codebreaker

pairing: Platonic!Task Force 141 x Reader

synopsys: You had always kept your distance from the team—focused, distant, and hidden behind a mask. But when a mission goes wrong and you get gravely injured, the team is forced to confront what they’ve never seen: the person behind the mask.

warnings: Angst, injury, near-death experience, trust issues, emotional tension, some swearing, Ghost being protective, emotional revelations, Ghost and Reader’s situationship…

word count: 1798

No one in the 141 knew much about Phantom.

You were a ghost among ghosts, a shadow wrapped in tactical gear. A tech expert, the best they’d ever seen—able to slice through encrypted networks like butter, reroute enemy drones mid-air, and turn any battlefield into a controlled digital playground. If the mission required intel, misdirection, or cyber sabotage, Phantom had it covered before anyone even finished asking.

But off the field?

You blended into the background, as if you were part of the walls. Not unfriendly, just… distant. Spoke only when necessary, never rude but always concise. Answered when asked, nodded when acknowledged, but never lingered in conversations longer than needed.

You weren’t cold, just hard to grasp.

A constant presence but never the center of attention.

The others noticed, of course.

Soap had once muttered to Gaz, "He doesn't take up space."

And he was right.

You never interrupted, never inserted yourself into banter or stories. When you were in the room, you were invisible in a way that had nothing to do with their tactical skills. You occupied the corner of the rec room with a laptop, earbuds in, or sat with a sudoku book in your hands, solving puzzles in complete silence. Always listening but never there in the way the others were.

Even in base, You never exposed their face or body. Gear came off only in private, always ensuring no one caught so much as a glimpse of skin. High-collared undershirts, gloves, layers—never a stray detail out of place.

The team accepted it without question.

Phantom, how you were called, was an expert at keeping unknown.

And everyone just assumed you were a man.

Soap had tried, on multiple occasions, to break through that quiet shell, determined to make some kind of dent.

"Do you ever relax, Phantom?"

"I’m relaxed now."

"Christ, mate, that’s sad."

Phantom hadn’t reacted, just kept solving their sudoku puzzle.

Gaz had once thrown a pack of gum at you during a mission debrief, just to see if you’d catch it without looking. You had, effortlessly, then tossed it back without a word.

Price trusted you without hesitation. He never questioned the silence, never pushed for more than they were willing to give. If Phantom said something was secure, it was secure. If Phantom gave a time frame, Phantom met it.

And Ghost?

Ghost understood you in a way the others didn’t. He never pried, never asked. He knew what it was like to live behind a mask, to carry a name that wasn’t really a name.

Phantom wasn’t close to the team—not in the way they were with each other. But they were part of it. A constant presence, woven into the unit’s rhythm.

And that was enough.

Until the mission where everything fell apart.

"We’re in and out. Quick, clean, no unnecessary noise" Price said, voice steady as he laid out the plan.

A cartel base deep in hostile territory. High-value intel buried in their systems, locked behind multiple layers of encryption. The team needed Phantom to get in, extract the files, and be out before anyone knew they were there.

Easy.

For them, at least.

"I’ll crack their network before we breach," You said, tapping at your wrist console. "Should have access to their security feed before we even hit the ground."

Price nodded. "Ghost, Soap—you’ll be Phantom’s cover. Gaz and I will clear the outer perimeter. We move fast. Any questions?"

No one spoke.

"Good. Wheels up in ten."

Phantom did a final check of their gear, making sure their mask was secure, their gloves snug against their fingers. The mission was simple.

They’d done riskier ops before.

So why did something feel… off?

The op started smoothly.

You breached the cartel’s network before your boots even hit the ground, feeding the enemy false security reports and rerouting camera feeds. The team moved through the compound like shadows, taking down targets with ruthless efficiency.

They reached the objective with zero complications.

Too easy.

You worked fast, fingers flying across their portable console as they pulled the files. They barely glanced up when Ghost muttered, "Make it quick."

A few more keystrokes—then a small confirmation beep.

"Got it."

Price’s voice came through comms. "Extraction point secure. Move."

And that’s when everything went to hell.

The moment they stepped outside, the alarms blared.

"Shite," Soap cursed.

Your blood went cold. "That’s not me. I disabled their systems—"

Gunfire erupted before they could finish the sentence.

The cartel had known they were coming.

A goddamn trap.

"Move!" Price barked, his voice sharp through comms.

The team pushed forward, cutting through enemies as they raced toward the extraction point. You stayed low, recalibrating your wrist console to jam the cartel’s reinforcements.

Everyone was so focused on the fight that they didn’t see the sniper.

Not until it was too late.

A sharp, searing pain tore through your chest.

You staggered, breath catching, as your body folded under the impact. Their gloved hand pressed to their vest, but it was already warm, slick. Blood. Too much of it.

Distantly, you heard Soap’s frantic voice through comms.

"Sniper! Tech's hit—shit, they’re down!"

Boots pounded against the ground—Ghost, closing in fast.

"Stay with me, mate," he ordered, voice tight as he dropped beside them. "Keep your eyes open."

You tried, really tried, but breathing wasn’t working right.

Every inhale rattled, wet and sharp, drowning them from the inside. Panic clawed at their ribs.

Ghost’s hands were on their mask.

"Gotta get this off," he muttered.

A sharp pocket knife was pulled from his belt—a sleek line drawn across your mask—then cool air hit your face.

Ghost froze.

His expression shifted—something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.

And then you blacked out.

When you woke up, you felt like drowning.

Pain swallowed you whole.

It was the first thing you felt, the first thing that told you—you were alive. It burned, sharp and relentless, twisting inside your ribs like a serrated knife. Every breath rattled, wet and broken, lungs struggling to work through the thick haze of agony.

Something beeped steadily nearby. The scent of antiseptic clung to the air, cold and sterile. The weight of blankets pressed down on you, too heavy, too confining.

Hospital.

Your fingers twitched weakly, brushing against the IV in your arm. The world blurred and steadied, the dull light above flickering as you forced your gaze to shift.

You turn your head sluggishly, and that’s when you saw them—you weren't alone.

Price, Ghost, Gaz, and Soap.

They stood around your bed, too still, too silent.

Their usual confidence, their sharp-edged ease—gone. In its place was something heavier. Something unfamiliar.

"How bad?" you rasped.

Soap let out a breath—sharp, unsteady. "You almost died, lass."

Lass.

The word lodged deep, piercing more than the bullet had.

Right, they knew now.

Something cold curled in your stomach.

Price’s voice broke through the heavy quiet. "Shot went through your lung. We barely got you out."

You swallowed, gaze fixed on the IV in your arm. "It doesn’t change anything."

A scoff. Bitter. Tired. Ghost.

"Yeah, it does."

The words weren’t sharp. They weren’t a reprimand, or an accusation.

They were quiet. Weighted.

Gaz ran a hand down his face, exhaling hard. "Bloody hell, Phantom. We didn’t know what to think."

They were still processing it. Still recalibrating everything they thought they knew. Phantom could see it in their faces—the way their eyes traced over her now, like they were seeing her for the first time. Like they were realizing how much they didn’t know.

"Should’ve told us," Price murmured, not unkindly.

Not a command. Not even a question. Just… something else. Something you didn’t know how to name.

You wet your cracked lips. "Would it have made a difference?"

Ghost’s jaw tightened, gaze darkening. "You wouldn’t have been bleeding out on the ground with a mask suffocating you."

Silence.

Cold. Heavy.

Soap let out a breath, rubbing a hand over his face. He looked… lost. Frustrated. "Do you even trust us?"

The question settled like a weight on your chest.

Did you?

You had spent years making sure no one got close enough to ask. It had always been easier that way—no questions, no attachments, no complications.

You opened your mouth.

Then closed it.

Price’s voice was quieter now, steady. "Look, we’re not mad. We just—" He exhaled, shaking his head. "We care, kid. That’s all."

Gaz nodded. "You’re family, Phantom."

Family.

The word dug into your ribs like shrapnel.

Your fingers curled into the stiff fabric of the blanket, lungs too tight, throat raw.

Soap sighed, rubbing his temples. "Christ, lass. We thought we lost you." His voice cracked. Barely noticeable. But it still struck like a bullet between your ribs.

Ghost was silent. Arms crossed, shoulders tense. His usual unreadable mask firmly in place—except for the way his fingers twitched against his sleeve.

Like he was holding something back.

Like he was holding himself together.

You weren’t used to this.

Weren’t used to people giving a damn about whether you came back or not.

"I’m here," you muttered, unsure if it was meant to reassure them or yourself.

Ghost’s eyes stayed on you, unreadable but piercing.

"Yeah," Ghost murmured. "Barely."

You wanted to joke, to brush it off, but there was no dodging this.

Not when you had seen the way they’d looked at you the moment you woke up.

Not when the usual mate had been replaced by lass and she.

Soap let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. "Y’know, I should’ve guessed. You were always too fuckin’ quiet. The real mystery is how we didn’t clock it sooner."

You raised a brow. "Because I made sure you didn’t."

Soap huffed. "Aye, well, I’m starting to think we should’ve pried a little harder."

"You would’ve gotten nowhere," you muttered.

"Yeah, I’m getting that."

There was a long pause, thick with something unspoken.

Then, Ghost shifted closer, standing at the side of the bed. "You’re one of us, Phantom." The words were calm, certain. "Doesn’t matter what’s under the mask. Never did."

Your throat tightened.

Price sighed, stepping forward and placing a careful hand on your shoulder—solid, grounding. "We’ve got your six, Phantom. Always."

Gaz nudged your foot lightly, the closest thing to a brotherly shove he could manage with you stuck in a hospital bed. "Next time, don’t scare the shit out of us, yeah?"

You exhaled a soft, tired laugh. "No promises."

Soap groaned. "Jesus. We’re doomed."

Laughter rippled through the room, something lighter breaking through the tension.

You let your eyes drift over them—these men who had been her teammates, her squadmates, but were now something else entirely.

Family.

It still felt foreign. 

strange even.

But maybe, just maybe…

You could learn to live with it.

taglist: @honestlymassivetrash @pythonmoth

[uss-butterscotch]

It’s Tuesday you know what that meanssss

Part three of my Eddie tries to solve whatever mystery the freshmen and steve are hiding (another between seasons 3&4 fic)

Part 1 Part 2

-

Eddie dropped down next to Gareth on the couch in Jeff’s parents’ garage. Usually when they were all out here together, they’d be practicing, since this was where the drum kit was. Today however, they had agreed to meet up after their most recent Hellfire meeting.

“Okay so, are we gonna talk about it?” Gareth asked, gaze locked on Eddie.

“I mean, I’m not even 100% sure what most of it was.” Eddie said.

“How ‘bout you start from the bathroom.” Jeff offered.

So Eddie started explaining finding Harrington in the bathroom, something clearly wrong. How he figured if anyone knew what was going on it might be Henderson, and he was right.

“Yeah, after you guys left, we tried to ask Mike what it was all about and he said Dustin was the only one who really knew any details, he just knew that Harrington had been having issues with headaches and stuff.” Grant supplied.

“One hell of a headache.” Eddie said, shaking his head. “I mean, the guy was on the floor, he could barely form coherent sentences until Mike and Dustin started having it out in the hallway.”

“Yeah, what was that all about?” Gareth pressed.

Eddie shrugged. “To be honest it was kind of hard for me to follow. Every time they said anything I felt like I was missing half of the story.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “But what I did hear confirmed something i’ve been suspicious about for a while.”

“What?” Jeff quirked an eyebrow at him.

“They’re hiding something. All three of them and Harrington.” He looked to his friends’ faces to see their reaction. Most of them looked curious.

“Have you noticed, when they talk about certain things, they start to say something, then stop and change what they were going to say?” He asked.

Gareth was nodding. “Yeah, and none of them will give a straight answer on how exactly Henderson got so close with Harrington.”

“And,” Eddie said, just remembering another detail, “Wheeler said something like ‘we would have died in the tunnels without him.’ What fucking tunnels?”

He received a round of shrugs and head shakes in response.

Eddie leaned back in his seat, bringing his fingertips together like he was a villain in some shitty action movie. “Boys, I believe we find ourselves with a puzzle of our own to solve.”

Eddie figured Henderson would be the easiest to crack, with his inability to shut up about things he knew a lot about. Sinclair was far too good at deflecting and brushing things off, and nobody was willing to try to break through Wheeler’s attitude.

After about two weeks of trying to pry any details he could from Dustin, he had an epiphany. It came to him as he drove past Family Video, Harrington’s beemer sitting in the parking lot, and the man himself visible through the window reshelving an armful of tapes.

He could just ask Harrington.

As soon as he had the thought he physically recoiled. What had happened to him in just a few short weeks that a thought like that almost seemed not insane? He couldn’t just talk to the former Basket Ball Team Captain, Keg King, Prom King, Steve Harrington. It was just too weird. And Eddie was comfortable with weird but this was like, against the laws of nature territory.

Then he had a second epiphany. As he sat at the red light, he watched Harrington start walking toward the next aisle over, looking behind himself at something, and clip his shoulder on on the corner of the shelf, sending his neatly stacked movies tumbling to the ground. As the light turned green, he saw the answer to his problem step into view and help Harrington pick up the tapes and he began formulating his plan.

~

In a move worthy of every self respecting John Hughes movie, Eddie positioned himself perfectly and silently behind the open door of Robin Buckley’s locker so that when she slammed it shut, she was met with his mischievous smirk.

She let out a short yelp of surprise, then punched him, not so gently in the shoulder. “What the hell, Munson?”

“Firstly: Ow,” he started, rubbing the spot he could already feel a bruise forming, “Secondly: has Harrington’s penchant for getting into fistfights rubbed off on you so easily, my dear Lady?”

She scoffed. “Ok firstly,” she said mockingly, “keep calling me ‘Lady’ and I’ll do a lot more than punch you in your stupid vest-“

Eddie made a sound of offense at the insult to his beloved battle vest, but Robin kept going.

“And second: Steve’s only gotten into one fist fight on purpose. By your logic, I could say you have a penchant for repeating senior year.”

“Low blow. You know, I’m almost too hurt to even do what I came here to do.” Eddie brought the back of his hand to his forehead, miming fainting.

Robin hummed in faux consideration. “Did it maybe occur to you that was my goal?”

Eddie gasped, overdramatic as always. “Oh, Buckley, don’t tell me the evil King Steve has turned you against your fellow freak!”

Robin rolled her eyes. “Steve is not evil,” she said, slinging her bag over her shoulder, “and if I don’t get to work before 3:00, he’s going to pick the movie playing on every tv in the store, and it’s gonna be that stupid star wars movie and if I have to see those alien teddy bears one more time I’m gonna gouge out my eyes with quarters.”

Eddie winced at the mental image that painted and jogged a little to keep up with her brisk pace toward the front doors. Robin pushed through them harshly and continued out into the waning sunshine of early fall.

Without turning back to face him, she asked, “And what’s your deal with Steve anyway, why do you keep bringing him up?”

Eddie, having finally caught up to her, only a little out of breath said, “Let me give you a ride, there’s something I need to pick your brain about.”

This, mercifully, made Robin pause. “If this is about whether or not Steve and I are dating, or sleeping together, or whatever, it’s a big fat ‘no’.”

Eddie shook his head. “Do you really think I’d stoop to the low of common high school gossip?”

Her eyes roamed over him, seemingly trying to sus out his ulterior motives, weighing them against the effort of walking all the way downtown.

Finally, she let out an exasperated groan. “Fine, but if any of your questions piss me off we ride the rest of the way in silence.”

Eddie agreed to her terms and led her across the parking lot to his van. Once they were settled in the front seat, Eddie practically flew out of the parking lot.

“Well, Munson,” Robin said through gritted teeth, knuckles white as she held the handle above the door, “what do you want to know?”

“Ok, most importantly, how do Henderson and Harrington even know each other, outside of, I guess, Dustin being friends with Wheeler and Harrington dating Wheeler’s sister?”

She pointed an accusatory finger at him. “Aha! So this is about Steve! What’s your deal with him?”

Eddie held up a hand. “It’s not just about Harrington. It’s about how my newest lost sheep are keeping secrets and he seems to be at the center of them.”

Robin crossed her arms and sunk into her chair without responding.

Eddie glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “Oh come on, Buckley, you really don’t think it’s weird that the head asshole of the school just suddenly starts hanging out with a bunch of middle school dweebs? One of whom, might I add, is his ex-girlfriend’s little brother?”

“Head asshole, two years ago,” Robin jabbed back, “You’re telling me you didn’t notice when he lost all his friends and only hung out with his ex and the guy she left him for? How Billy terrorized him just as much, if not more, than he and Tommy ever did to anyone else? Sure they were assholes and a general nuisance, but Steve never held someone down and punched them until they blacked out.”

When Eddie couldn’t come up with an answer quick enough, Robin barreled on. “You’re so intent on putting people you don’t like in little boxes so you can step on them like the lunch trays you’re always destroying,” she glared at him, now clearly genuinely angry instead of just playfully annoyed, “you of all people should know that sometimes there’s more to people than what you might assume just by looking at them.”

They were stopped at the same light that Eddie had had his original epiphany at and Robin seemed to deem the car ride over. Before Eddie could even process her words fully, she had slid out of the passenger seat and slammed the door as she marched toward the Family Video parking lot. Even after the light turned green, Eddie found himself watching Robin storm into the store, catching a glimpse of the man in question meeting her at the door and placing a soothing hand on her shoulder. When Harrington looked out the glass door and saw him, still idling in his van, Eddie punched the gas all the way to Jeff’s house.

Part 4

[yukkiji]

soft reset

when your boyfriend kenma starts burning out from the pressure of developing his new game, you decide to help him unwind—in your own intimate way—even if it means slipping under his desk while he's live on stream.

haikyuu masterlist. leave a little stardust on my ko-fi

starring. kozume kenma x fem!reader

genre: fluff, romance, smut, timeskip!kenma

wc: 6.8k

warning: 18+ mdni., smut. nsfw. unprotected sex. cunnilingus. oral sex (receiving and giving), praise kink, softdom!kenma, established relationship, domestic setting, multiple orgasms, spanking

life with kenma is quiet, but never boring.

you live together in a cozy house just outside the city—a place that still smells faintly of new paint and the sage candle you always forget to blow out. the air inside is always warm, like a weighted blanket, buzzing gently with the soft hum of kenma’s pc behind his office door. a hoodie of his is usually hanging over a chair. a half-empty boba cup sits on a coaster with some game dev scribbles tucked underneath. takeout boxes come and go like visitors.

the two of you have routines. but they’re soft around the edges. comfortable. familiar. easy.

kenma is currently neck-deep in his new game. that means longer hours at his desk, occasional grunts of frustration, and a more muted tone than usual, even when he's lying beside you at night, staring at the ceiling with tired golden eyes.

you know he won't ask for help—not out loud. but he’s been letting you test his builds lately, and that’s as much of an invitation as you’re going to get.

so, you start leaving sticky notes.

little ones. bright neon colors in your handwriting, dotting the edges of his monitor, nestled between his controller stands, sometimes slipped into the folds of his hoodie sleeves.

“your dialogue coding is getting better. that one npc made me snort my tea.”

“new soundtrack = chef’s kiss.”

“i’m not saying i’d die for this side quest, but i’m not not saying it.”

“this game’s so good it’s criminal.”

and the one you left last night, placed just under his mouse pad:

“if this game gets any hotter, i might need a cooldown in your lap.”

you honestly didn’t expect a reaction. kenma has always been unreadable when he wants to be. sometimes he blushes when you flirt; sometimes he just blinks like you’ve asked him to solve a riddle in an alien language.

but today…

today feels different.

it starts when you pad quietly into his gaming room, the soft plush of your socks muffling each step against the hardwood floor. his camera’s on—you can see the tiny green led above his monitor, the live preview window tucked in the corner of the screen showing his face in soft lighting, blurred slightly by the filter he uses to keep things pretty and distant.

he’s been streaming for over two hours. his posture is wrong for the game he’s playing—something peaceful, a cozy farming sim—but his shoulders are locked tight, his jaw set. he moves with precision, with rhythm, but no ease. his voice, smooth and low, dances easily enough through chat interaction, but you know the tone beneath it. it’s the one he gets when he’s on autopilot. pushing through. running on fumes.

you slowly kneeled in front of him, careful to stay just out of frame. the glow of the monitor painted soft light across your face, flickering gently as the game carried on without you.

"baby… what are you doing?" kenma mouthed the words more than he spoke them, barely moving his lips, careful not to let his mic catch anything. his eyes flicked from the screen to you, then quickly back again, as if looking too long might give him away.

you didn’t answer—just tilted your head slightly, giving him that innocent look he knew far too well. the kind that meant you weren’t planning on being innocent for long.

your fingers found the waistband of his sweatpants, thumbs sliding under the soft fabric. his breath caught. and then, slowly, deliberately, you began to undo the drawstrings.

he froze.

it was subtle—just a tiny shift in his posture, a barely-there twitch in his jaw, but you saw it. felt it. the effort it took for him not to react.

he knew exactly what you were doing.

and you knew exactly how long it would take before he cracked.

his voice returned, quieter now, strained in that barely-audible way that told you he was trying to stay composed, for the sake of the stream. "you’re serious?"

you looked up at him through your lashes, lips curving just slightly. then you eased the sweatpants down a little further.

his hand hovered near the mic toggle. his other gripped the edge of the desk. every inch of him was still as his eyes flicked once to the small camera light—still on.

still live.

and you were still kneeling.

a single muscle jumped in his jaw. his voice, when it came again, was barely more than breath.

“…you’re gonna get me killed.”

but he didn’t stop you.

not even close.

“don’t mind me, babe. just keep doing your thing,” you murmured, voice low and syrup-sweet as your hand curled around him.

he was already half-hard, the heat of him pulsing against your palm before you’d even started moving. the weight, the way his breath hitched the second your fingers tightened just slightly—it made you smile.

kenma’s jaw clenched. he adjusted slightly in his chair, posture stiff, trying to maintain some illusion of composure for the camera still trained on him. his hand hadn’t left the mouse, but his movements were no longer precise. the clicks were slower, more hesitant.

you dragged your hand down the length of him, then back up in a steady stroke, just enough to make his thighs twitch beneath you.

kenma went back to his stream, while you were still stroking him. an awkwardness in his tone is slightly masked by forced calm, but you can hear the subtle waver underneath whenever he answers. his sentences come slower, his usual ease fractured by the way your fingers keep working him—slow, deliberate, mercilessly patient.

he jolts—just slightly—when your mouth wraps around him without warning, his thighs tensing beneath your touch. a sharp, almost imperceptible inhale hitches in his chest, caught just behind his mic. he covers it with a fake cough, hand flying to the mute button for a beat too long.

his knuckles go white on the armrest as you sink lower, tongue dragging slow and warm along the underside of him.

you feel his hips twitch, his composure slipping one thin layer at a time.

still muted, he glances down at you, eyes wide and dark. his voice, when he unmutes, is pitched lower—slightly breathless, just shy of unsteady.

“yeah… no, i’m good,” he says to chat, smiling faintly at his screen. “just got distracted.”

you hum around him in answer. he stiffens.

the sound you make—low, deliberate—sends a shiver down his spine, and kenma’s hips twitch in response. his hand drifts from the mouse to clutch the edge of the desk, fingers curling tight like he needs something to anchor him, to keep him from slipping completely.

you love the way he feels—how he fits, how he reacts. whether he's buried in your mouth or pressed deep inside you, it's the same electrifying heat that spreads low and slow in your core. just the taste of him, the weight of him, has your body aching with want.

without even thinking, you shift in place, your hips instinctively pressing down against nothing, chasing friction. you're getting wet—need pooling and pulsing as the tension climbs. it's maddening, being this close to him and not filled.

kenma’s breathing has gone uneven, jaw tight, and his eyes are locked straight ahead—focused on the screen but seeing none of it. you start to move in a rhythm now, deliberate and steady, each glide of your mouth carefully controlled, paced with purpose.

he’s trembling under the surface, the kind of restraint that looks calm to everyone else but you. you can feel it—how close he is, how he’s trying to hold himself together for just another second.

but he won’t last long.

one of his hands slips off the keyboard, hovering for a moment before it finds your hair. his fingers thread through it slowly, almost reverently, as if grounding himself in the feel of you. the stream rolls on—his voice tight and frayed around the edges—but everything else has narrowed down to this: the warmth of your mouth, the steady rhythm, the helpless tension building in his gut.

you hum around him, a soft sound of encouragement, and the vibration shoots up his spine. his grip in your hair tightens involuntarily—not harsh, but needy. his thighs shift beneath you, restless.

he tries to speak, something about the game, maybe even a reply to chat, but it stutters on his tongue and fades out. his control is thinning, unraveling with each second you stay wrapped around him.

and you—completely in control, completely calm—can feel it. the way his breathing's gone shallow, how his hand trembles against your scalp. he’s close. you know it. and you’re not planning to let up.

not until he breaks.

his fingers tremble at the nape of your neck. he’s trying—genuinely trying—to keep his voice level, to play it off like everything’s fine. but the words on stream have started to taper off. a long pause. then another. his hand, still buried in your hair, gives a telling tug.

“mm… guys, i think i’m gonna… cut it here.”

he clears his throat, swallowing thickly, like he’s trying to shake the edge from his voice. “sorry. my head’s… kinda killing me all of a sudden. think i’m coming down with something.”

his chat floods with concern. hearts. quick wishes to rest. he mutters a soft thank you, already moving to shut everything down—mic muted, camera off. the second the screen fades to black, his whole body slumps back into the chair with a sharp, quiet exhale.

“you’re evil,” he breathes, looking down at you with glassy eyes, skin flushed. his voice is low now—just for you. a hoarse mix of disbelief and want. “you know that, right?”

you glance up at him through your lashes, your hand still wrapped around him, moving with slow, deliberate strokes. the corners of your mouth curve in a teasing smile.

“why’d you end the stream?” you murmur, your voice low, warm with mischief. “i kind of wanted to see you lose it while still on cam.”

kenma lets out a breath that’s half a laugh, half a groan—caught somewhere between amusement and restraint. his hand finds your hair again, fingers threading through gently at first, then tugging with more purpose as his hips shift forward, searching for more of your warmth.

“you’re impossible,” he mutters under his breath, voice thick, a little frayed around the edges.

but he doesn’t ask you to stop.

his head tips back, lips parting in a quiet gasp as the pleasure crests higher. his thighs tense beneath your hands, and his voice drops to a breathy whisper. “i’m close… baby, i’m gonna—”

his hips twitch, and then he’s spilling into your mouth with a quiet, broken moan. you hold him there gently, letting him ride it out, not moving too fast—just letting him feel.

when you pull back, you tilt your head up slightly, mouth still open in teasing defiance. his flushed face darkens even more as his gaze locks onto you, both stunned and aroused.

“swallow for me,” he murmurs, voice low and thick.

you do, slowly, deliberately, and when you’re done, he leans forward without hesitation, pulling you up from the floor. his lips meet yours in a kiss that’s not rushed, but deep and hungry, full of something that feels heavier than just desire.

his hands frame your face, thumbs brushing gently along your cheeks like you’re something he never wants to forget — like memorizing the feeling of you is as important as breathing.

the room feels warmer now, like the hum of his pc and the muted glow from the led lights have become part of the quiet spell between you. his fingers wander lower, slipping beneath the edge of your silk nightgown, slow and searching. when he realizes you’re not wearing anything underneath, he pauses — amber eyes meeting yours, amused and hungry all at once.

“no panties, baby?” he murmurs, voice low and threaded with affection, like he already knows the answer but loves hearing you admit it.

you only smile, your hands slipping under the hem of his hoodie to feel the warmth of his skin. "didn’t think i’d need them."

he huffs a laugh — barely — before leaning in and kissing you again, deeper this time. like he's grounding himself in the taste of you, the smell of your hair, the soft drag of silk against his fingertips.

“you’re trouble,” he whispers against your lips.

“only for you.”

kenma doesn’t say anything right away. he just smiles — that quiet, crooked kind of smile that never quite reaches anyone else but you — and settles you down in his chair, pulling you gently back against his chest. the leather is cool beneath your thighs, but all you feel is the warmth of him, the way his body fits so naturally around yours.

he parts your legs with care, resting each over the wide arms of the chair. the position leaves you open, vulnerable — but never unsafe. not with him. you can feel him against you, firm and unrelenting, pressing right where you’re already aching. a soft, involuntary roll of your hips has you grinding against him for friction.

but kenma’s hand catches your thigh, firm and grounding.

“no teasing, baby,” he murmurs, mouth close to your ear. “you already had your fun.”

you pout, making a small sound of protest, but he only chuckles — that low, lazy laugh that always sends a shiver down your spine. his fingers trail along your thigh, slow and feather-light as he lifts the hem of your nightgown. his breath hitches when he sees you — already wet, already waiting.

“no panties…” he says again, quieter this time. “you knew exactly what you were doing.”

his fingertips trace the inside of your thigh, close enough to tease, not close enough to satisfy. you shift your hips again, just slightly — needy. he smirks against your neck.

“patience,” he says, voice warm but commanding. “i’ll take care of you.”

and with that, his hand slides lower, purposeful now.

his fingers finally find you — warm, slick, and already pulsing with need. he hums quietly against your neck, the sound low and appreciative, almost reverent.

“already this wet for me,” he murmurs, dragging his fingers through the heat of you, slow and deliberate. “just from touching me?”

you nod, breath catching as his fingers circle with maddening precision. his other hand is on your waist, keeping you still against him, even though your hips keep twitching forward on instinct, chasing more.

“kenma,” you whisper, reaching for his wrist.

but he doesn’t let you take control.

“uh-uh,” he breathes against the shell of your ear, pressing a kiss there. “you get to feel, not lead.”

his fingers press in slowly — one first, then another — curling just right. you gasp, arching slightly, your body responding instantly. he watches over your shoulder, eyes dark, jaw tight.

“look at you,” he murmurs, voice threading between fondness and possessiveness. “falling apart already and i’ve barely started.”

you’re trembling now, his fingers working a slow, patient rhythm while he keeps you spread for him, your legs draped over the arms of his chair. he’s everywhere — behind you, inside you, breathing you in like you’re something sacred. the chair creaks quietly beneath you both, the only sound aside from your breath, your whimpers, and the quiet, wet sounds of him loving you.

“i want to hear you,” he says suddenly, his voice quiet but firm. “let me hear how much you want me.”

you can barely manage words — only broken sounds that dissolve into moans when he brushes that one spot inside you just right. your head drops back onto his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut.

and he smiles.

“good girl.”

then, without warning, his fingers begin to move faster — deliberate, controlled, but unrelenting. the sudden shift makes your breath hitch, and your body tenses in his lap, the pleasure sharp and overwhelming.

one of your hands flies to his arm, nails digging in for something to anchor yourself with. the other reaches up, guiding his free hand to your chest, needing more of him — everywhere, all at once.

kenma gets the message. his palm slips under the silk fabric, fingers brushing over your breast before squeezing softly, teasing your nipple between his fingers. at the same time, he keeps his pace below, dragging you closer and closer to the edge with maddening precision.

his lips find your neck, pressing kisses that grow slower, deeper — lingering on the sensitive spots that make your toes curl.

“you’re so responsive tonight,” he murmurs, voice thick with heat, his breath fanning over your skin. “you feel everything, don’t you?”

you can’t answer — your mouth is open, but all that escapes are soft gasps and whimpers, your head rolling to the side to give him more access. every nerve feels like it’s on fire, and the coil low in your belly tightens with each stroke of his fingers, each pull of his lips.

he groans low against your throat. “you’re close, aren’t you?”

you nod, a shiver running through you.

“then let go for me,” he whispers, pressing his fingers deeper, right where you need him. “come for me.”

that’s all it takes.

your body tightens around his touch as the pleasure crests — hot, overwhelming — and then it crashes over you in waves. you tremble in his arms, breath catching, fingers digging into his as you fall apart, his name slipping from your lips again and again like a prayer.

kenma holds you through it, still stroking you gently, soothing the aftershocks while murmuring soft praises into your ear.

“just like that,” he breathes. “that’s my girl.”

your legs feel like they're made of air when you try to stand, muscles still trembling from the high. kenma’s arms wrap around your waist in an instant, steadying you. he keeps you close, grounding you.

his fingers, still glistening with your release, lift between you. without breaking eye contact, he brings them to his lips and licks them clean — slow, deliberate, savoring. the heat in his gaze doesn’t waver.

you feel your core clench again at the sight. it’s almost unfair, how effortlessly he can unravel you.

kenma leans in, lips brushing yours in a kiss that’s all tongue and tenderness, low heat simmering between you. when he pulls back, his voice is soft but firm.

“come on,” he says, nudging your nose with his. “let’s take this to the bedroom.”

kenma lifts you up easily, his arms strong and secure beneath your thighs as you instinctively wrap yourself around him. your nightgown falls around your waist, forgotten, as he carries you through the soft-lit hallway, every step purposeful.

his lips press against your shoulder, your collarbone, anywhere he can reach as you cling to him. the steady thump of his heart beneath your chest only makes you more aware of your own racing pulse.

when you reach the bedroom, he lowers you gently onto the bed like you’re something precious. his eyes sweep over you—soft, but hungry.

“you look too good like this,” he murmurs, crawling over you slowly, deliberately. “i don’t think i’ll last long.”

kenma’s lips trail over your skin, soft and deliberate—your neck, your collarbone, the swell of your chest. he doesn’t rush. every kiss feels like he’s memorizing you, savoring the way your body responds beneath him.

he took his time at your chest, his lips wrapping around one nipple, sucking softly while his fingers toyed with the other—gently rolling, massaging, giving each the attention it deserved.

"kenma…" you whined, breath hitching, “stop teasing.”

he only chuckled against your skin, the vibration making you shiver. “but you’re so easy to tease,” he murmured, eyes glinting with mischief as he met your gaze.

his lips moved to your other nipple, lavishing it with the same slow, careful attention. you tangled your fingers in his hair, gripping just enough to make him moan softly against you—the sound vibrating through your chest and straight down your spine.

kenma’s kisses trailed lower, slow and unhurried, like he wanted to memorize every inch of you with his mouth. from your chest, he pressed kisses down your stomach, pausing every now and then to nip lightly at the sensitive skin. you gasped, your fingers still threaded in his hair as his warmth moved further down.

when he finally settled between your thighs, he looked up at you—eyes heavy, lips slightly parted. his hands slid along your hips, holding you gently, as though grounding himself before diving in.

“just relax for me,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin.

kenma took his time, kissing a slow path down your body, his touch reverent like you were something rare—something he didn’t want to rush. you felt his fingers trail along your thigh before he settled between them, spreading you open with care.

he looked up once, catching your gaze. “let me take care of you,” he said softly, and then he was leaning in, his mouth finding you with practiced ease.

kenma always made it feel like more than just pleasure—like devotion. every stroke of his tongue was deliberate, slow at first, savoring. he groaned quietly as he tasted you, his hands firm on your hips to keep you steady as your legs threatened to tremble.

he was greedy for it—your sounds, your reactions, the way you gripped the sheets and whispered his name like it was the only word you knew. you could feel him hum against you, the vibration deep, coaxing even more out of you.

you arched into him, breath hitching. “kenma—”

he didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down. his mouth moved in perfect rhythm, chasing your release like it was the only thing that mattered.

your fingers tangled in his hair, your hips instinctively moving against his mouth as pleasure surged through you in waves. kenma held you firmly, not letting up, coaxing every last bit of your release with lips and tongue as though he could memorize your taste, your sounds, the way your body responded to him.

your thighs trembled around his shoulders, your chest heaving with every breath. “kenma… i—” your voice broke on the edge of another cry.

he pulled back only when he was sure you’d ridden the high completely, his lips and chin glistening, eyes dark and half-lidded with hunger. he kissed the inside of your thigh before finally looking up at you with a lazy, satisfied smile.

“still with me?” he asked, his voice low and teasing, brushing his knuckles along your thigh as if he wasn’t already driving you wild.

you could barely nod, your body loose and warm. “barely,” you whispered, your voice hoarse and filled with a kind of awe.

kenma crawled up your body, kissing along your skin again, slower now, as if grounding you.

he kissed your lips, soft but insistent, letting you taste yourself on him. “you drive me insane,” he murmured, his forehead resting against yours.

then you felt him, hard and ready, pressing against your thigh.

“think you can take a little more?” he asked, eyes locked on yours.

your answer was a breathless nod, your fingers already reaching for him.

kenma peeled off the hoodie he was wearing, the soft fabric sliding off his shoulders. years of volleyball had carved subtle definition into his frame — lean muscle, toned arms, a strength that never flaunted itself but was always there, just beneath the surface.

your eyes followed the motion, drinking in the sight of him. he wasn’t showy about his body — he never had been — but the quiet confidence in the way he moved was more than enough to make your pulse race.

catching your gaze, kenma gave a faint smirk, lowering himself between your legs again. “you’re staring,” he murmured, brushing a hand over your side. his touch was warm, grounding, full of intent.

“can you blame me?” you replied softly, pulling him closer until his chest was pressed against yours.

his forehead rested against yours for a moment as he breathed you in. “i just want to make you feel good,” he whispered.

then, with slow, deliberate movement, he shifted, positioning himself against you. one hand cupped your jaw while the other guided himself to your entrance.

“ready?” he asked, voice low, careful — not because he doubted you, but because he always wanted to be sure.

kenma guides himself slowly, carefully, and when his tip finally meets your warmth, your breath catches — a soft gasp slipping from your lips.

he stills for a second, eyes flicking up to meet yours, searching for any hesitation. but you only nod, your fingers tightening around his arms, urging him closer.

he presses forward with aching slowness, every inch a stretch that makes your back arch and your lips part. the moment is thick with heat, but also something unspoken — trust, connection, the quiet reverence in the way he touches you like you’re something sacred.

“you feel… incredible,” he murmurs, voice barely audible as he sinks in deeper. his forehead falls to your shoulder, his breath shuddering against your skin.

you wrap your legs around his waist, drawing him closer, and he responds with a deep groan — the sound low, restrained. he gives you a moment to adjust, holding you close, grounding both of you in the shared intensity.

then, his hips move — slow, deliberate — drawing a moan from your throat as your body melts beneath his. he rocks into you with care, but every movement is full of intent, of need. his hands find yours, fingers weaving together, grounding you both as he sets a rhythm that sends warmth coiling deep in your belly.

“just like that,” he breathes into your ear. “i’ve got you.”

your gasp melted into a sigh as kenma held you close, his forehead resting against yours. his movements were slow at first, careful, as if memorizing every part of you. he kissed your temple, then your cheek, his hands cradling your waist with a gentleness that made your chest ache.

“you feel so good,” he whispered, his voice barely audible but thick with emotion.

you could only hold onto him, nails digging lightly into his back, grounding yourself in the moment. the world felt small — just you, him, and the warmth blooming between you.

kenma looked at you then, eyes dark but soft. “tell me if it’s too much,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

you shook your head, breathless. “don’t stop.”

he smiled, something quiet and tender. and he didn’t. his rhythm deepened, steady and certain, every touch saying what words couldn’t. you weren’t just connected — you were intertwined.

kenma’s pace stayed measured, like he was savoring every second, every soft sound that left your lips. his hand found yours and laced your fingers together, grounding you further as your bodies moved in sync — a quiet rhythm built on trust and closeness.

you felt your body react to him instinctively — the way his movements reached that perfect rhythm, the way his voice wrapped around you like warmth. kenma's breath hitched when he felt the way your body tightened around him, and he slowed just enough to press a kiss to your temple.

"you're close, aren't you?" he murmured, his voice low and breathless. "i can feel it."

you nodded, your fingers curling against his back as you buried your face in the crook of his neck, breath trembling against his skin. he held you tighter — not to control, but to keep you grounded, tethered to him.

“words, baby,” he murmured, voice rough near your ear. “need to hear you.”

“ugh… yes, kenma. please,” you breathed, the desperation in your voice making his heart stutter.

he smiled, lips brushing yours in a soft, lingering kiss. “that’s my girl.”

one of his hands slipped between you, fingers finding your clit with practiced ease. he began to rub slow, deliberate circles, coaxing you closer with every motion — his rhythm unrelenting, but full of care. you gasped into his mouth, your thighs tightening around his hips as your body began to tremble under the wave building inside you.

“just like that,” he whispered, his forehead pressed to yours. “you’re doing so well for me.”

your body trembled beneath him, every nerve alight as he continued to move with you — slow, intentional, like he didn’t want to miss a single reaction you gave him. his fingers remained on your skin, drawing soft circles, guiding you closer and closer.

“almost there, baby?” he whispered against your ear, his voice a low, soothing hum.

you nodded again, eyes fluttering shut as the wave built. kenma leaned in, kissing the corner of your mouth, your cheek, your jaw — like he was trying to hold you together even as he helped you fall apart.

and when the release finally came, it was warm and overwhelming — your name caught in his throat, your body arching into his as he held you through it. his fingers didn’t stop until he felt you pulse around him, clenching tightly. that was all it took.

with a low, strained groan, kenma followed, hips stuttering as he pressed deeper. the warmth of his release filled you almost instantly, making you gasp at the sensation. he buried his face against your neck, breath heavy, arms trembling slightly as he held onto you like he never wanted to let go.

the room was quiet save for the sound of your mingled breathing — hearts still racing, skin flushed and sticky with heat.

kenma didn’t speak right away. he just kissed your shoulder softly, then pulled back enough to look at you, his gaze half-lidded but tender.

“we’re not done yet, baby,” he murmured, voice low and teasing.

his hands trailed down your sides with purpose, and before you could catch your breath, he gently guided you to turn, his touch both reassuring and firm. now you were on your knees, the sheets cool beneath your skin and his presence warm behind you.

you felt him press close, his hands exploring slowly, as if memorizing every inch of you all over again. a quiet moan escaped your lips as he leaned forward, his breath hot against your shoulder.

“still doing okay?” he asked, a hint of playfulness tucked beneath the concern in his voice.

you nodded, breathless, already anticipating what was next.

kenma’s body was warm against yours, his touch steady and slow as he guided your hips just right. you could feel the pressure of him behind you, the way he teased at your entrance with deliberate, featherlight motion — a silent promise that made your breath hitch.

he leaned over you, lips brushing your ear. “you feel too good,” he whispered, voice rough and reverent.

your hands gripped the sheets, knuckles pale, as he finally moved with more intent — slow at first, savoring every moment, every sound you made. the connection between you sparked anew, heady and overwhelming, and all you could do was let yourself feel it — every pulse, every shiver, every breath you took together.

when he finally entered you again, your body reacted instantly — a sharp gasp, a moan torn from your lips, your muscles trembling under the weight of overstimulation. every nerve felt alive, your skin tingling where his hands steadied your hips.

“still with me?” he murmured, his voice low and strained, pressed right behind your ear.

you nodded, eyes fluttering shut, overwhelmed by the intensity but craving more of it — more of him. each slow, deliberate movement pushed you closer to the edge again, your breath hitching with every deep thrust.

kenma’s fingers stayed locked with yours, his grip tight — not just for you, but for himself too. the room was filled with the rhythm of your connection: the sound of skin meeting skin, breathy moans tangled with soft groans, the kind of music only two people completely lost in each other could make.

his pace never faltered, steady and deep, every movement hitting that spot that made you shudder. you could feel how close he was again — the way his breath hitched, the subtle tremble in his hold, the quiet curse he let slip against your shoulder.

“you feel so good,” he whispered, voice hoarse, like he was holding on by a thread.

he kissed along your back, each press of his lips sending a ripple of shivers through you. the contrast of his tenderness against the intensity of his rhythm made everything feel more heightened, more intimate — like he was trying to show you, with every breath and every touch, just how deeply he felt it too.

“you’re doing so good for me,” he murmured against your skin, voice low and ragged.

your body responded instinctively, leaning into every word, every motion. the sensation built again — not just the physical, but the emotional weight of it all. it was consuming, a shared fire pulling you both closer to the edge, tethered by more than just touch.

his arm curled securely around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, while his other hand slid up to your chest, fingers splaying gently over your heartbeat. your back pressed flush against his bare chest, the heat of his skin matching yours, slick and electric with every movement.

kenma’s pace quickened, each motion purposeful, building upon the tension already thick between you. you could feel his breath against your ear — staggered, heavy, and desperate — matching the rhythm he set.

“you feel so good,” he whispered, voice low and breathless, as if the words were pulled straight from his core. “so perfect.”

every inch of you was alive beneath his touch. the way he held you — like you were something precious and irreplaceable — only deepened the intensity between you, making the pleasure that much harder to hold back.

he turned your face gently toward his, capturing your lips in a deep, breath-stealing kiss. it was messy, uncoordinated with urgency, lips parting between panting breaths and soft moans. his hand slid lower, finding that sensitive spot between your thighs, fingers moving in slow, deliberate circles that made your body twitch beneath him.

the other hand cupped your chest, thumb brushing over your skin with just enough pressure to make you gasp into his mouth. the sensations layered — the heat, the closeness, the way he murmured your name between kisses — until you could barely tell where your body ended and his began.

"kenma, can i please come?" you whimpered against his lips, your voice trembling with need.

"go on, baby," he murmured, brushing his lips against your cheek. "you deserve it."

with those words, everything unraveled. your fourth release crashed over you like a wave — intense and consuming. your body tensed and trembled in his arms, a breathless cry leaving your lips as he held you through it, never letting go.

kenma followed moments after, his release finding you again, warm and deep, leaving you feeling full and overwhelmed in the best way. the shared intensity lingered between you, breath mingling, bodies pressed tightly together.

he pressed soft, lingering kisses to your neck and shoulder, his lips barely parting between quiet, reverent praises — like every word was just for you.

kenma gently laid you down on the bed, his touch never leaving you. his hands moved slowly over your sides, massaging tenderly, easing the lingering tremble in your muscles. he leaned in, brushing soft kisses along your shoulder, your neck, your jaw — each one slow and purposeful.

between kisses, you heard the low murmur of his voice, barely more than a breath against your skin.

"mine," he whispered, possessive but gentle. "good girl."

kenma stayed close, his chest pressed to your back, breath still warm against your shoulder. the room had gone quiet now, save for the soft hum of your shared breaths and the distant ticking of the clock on the wall. his fingers moved slowly along your side, not with intent — just comfort, like he needed to feel you to know this was real.

you let out a small, content sigh, burying your face into the crook of his neck, where your warmth and his seemed to melt together. “you’re quieter than usual,” you whispered, your voice soft and sleepy.

he made a quiet sound, almost like a laugh. “just thinking,” he murmured, pressing a slow kiss to your temple. “you… really helped.”

you pulled back just enough to look up at him, eyes still heavy with exhaustion but full of quiet affection. “helped how?”

his thumb gently brushed your cheek as he looked at you. “i don’t know. everything’s loud lately — in my head. work. people. expectations. but when i’m here with you, it’s like the volume just… shuts off.”

your heart tugged at that, at how vulnerable his voice had gotten, at how carefully he let you see the pieces of himself he kept hidden from the rest of the world.

you leaned in, kissed his collarbone softly, then nuzzled against his skin. “i like it when you're like this,” you said quietly. “soft. real.”

kenma rested his chin lightly on the top of your head. “i’m always real with you,” he murmured. “even if i don’t know how to say everything out loud… you hear me anyway.”

the room stilled again, but this time the silence felt intentional — sacred, even. like nothing more needed to be said.

his hand slipped beneath the covers, coming to rest over your stomach, fingers splaying protectively. he pulled you a little closer, the warmth of him pressed fully along your spine. “you’re mine,” he murmured again, half-asleep but still clear. “always.”

you felt your heart flutter, soothed more than you expected by the quiet claim. your body, still tender and spent, finally began to relax completely. you let your hand reach back to rest over his, lacing your fingers gently with his own.

“did i destress you already?” you teased, voice thick with exhaustion and something sweeter.

kenma chuckled softly against your shoulder. “you did more than that,” he said, kissing the back of your neck again. “you brought me back.”

your eyes slipped shut at that, a slow smile curling on your lips. his hand didn’t leave yours, and the gentle rise and fall of his chest against your back began to lull you both toward sleep. the air was warm, his body even warmer, and for the first time in days — maybe weeks — your mind wasn’t racing. there was just him, and the steady rhythm of the two of you breathing together.

“i love you,” you whispered into the quiet, not even sure if he was still fully awake.

but he heard you.

“i love you too,” he murmured back, softer than anything, but real.

and in that warmth, tangled together beneath the covers, you both drifted — slowly, peacefully — into sleep.

[woozivrsefactry]

jeon wonwoo as your study partner

study partner wonwoo who always helps you through the topics you find difficult in class

study partner wonwoo who loves spending time with you to study but is also so shy and nervous all the time

study partner wonwoo who is so excited when you ask the slightest details about his games and ends up yapping about the whole lore of the game and he's so cute when he does that you don't even stop him even though you barely understand

study partner wonwoo who makes extra tidy notes since he started studying with you so he could impress you with them when you ask to send his notes to you

study partner wonwoo who giggles when you get bored and doodle on his arm/notebook

study partner wonwoo who will be ready to join you on facetime anytime however late at night to solve your doubts before any tests or exams.

study partner wonwoo who is so handsome you cant help but lust over

study partner wonwoo for whom you start dressing progressively sluttier during your little studdy sessions

study partner wonwoo who cant keep his eyes off your pebble nipples under your t-shirt, since you have clearly foregone wearing a bra

study partner wonwoo who gets an hard on looking at your soft milky thighs naked below your tiny shorts and tries to escape to the bathroom to relieve himself before you hold a grasp of him

study partner wonwoo who has has a totally fucked out expression when you give him a blowjob

study partner wonwoo who soon fucks into you balls deep at an exhilarating pace, making you scream like a bitch from porn star

study partner wonwoo whose dominating side surfaces now that you have broken the dam

study partner wonwoo who edges you while making you answer the questions he asks you from your textbook, only letting you cum if you can manage to answer all right and punishes you with a slap on your pussy for every wrong answer

study partner wonwoo who is still bit of a loser and is all shy and nervous as he finally asks you out on a date

[matchatarot]

Hi my little Bunny! For my first ever tumblr tarot reading I decided to connect with your spirit team and ask them what message they would like to share with you. To pick a pile don’t overthink it; choose the one that draws you in the most while thinking about the reading’s intent. Hope it resonates!

Love, Matcha ♡

☆ masterlist

Pile 1 ₊˚. ༄

My love stop being so hard on yourself! We love you so much! Everything you need is in your own heart, your light is so loving, so beautiful, so healing, so creative, let it out! Stop looking at other’s expectations of who they want you to be and instead be guided by your inner light. You are not stuck like you think you are! You have everything you need right now. Set yourself free from those mental chains. You are your own saviour. Spend time with yourself, not just spending time alone, actually getting to know yourself. You need to integrate the shadows, get to know the dark parts of yourself and also get to know what makes your heart full of love and what makes you shine. You don’t need to address other’s doubts when it comes to your path. You're the one that knows best.

11:11, 333, 369hz

↳ book a personal reading with me on ko-fi ★

Pile 2 ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ☆

You did it! You listened to us! You’ve let go of that thing that kept holding you back and we’re so proud of you. You don’t have to look back, because you did what had to be done and now so much is coming for you! If you knew how many great things we have prepared for your life you would simply not believe it. Get ready! You changed for the best! The new You deserves compensation for all the work you did to better yourself, to be kind. You give hope to others, you’re a treasure, and we’re so lucky to have you on earth. Don’t worry, you did the hard work and now your blessings are coming, settle in your new mindset, your new body. You’re more connected to your soul than you’ve ever been. Balance, justice, harmony and love are coming your way. Don’t stop dreaming, continue evolving.

Wild World by Cat Steven’s, 222, 888

↳ book a personal reading with me on ko-fi ★

Pile 3 ‧₊˚♡

Take a deep breath with me, please. There’s something heavy in your energy, there’s something you need to address that you’ve been scared of. But there’s no answer in looking away. Do your research, ask the opinions of your peers, and whatever you do start putting your energy into solving this matter, you need it to continue building your future. There’s an addiction controlling your thoughts, what is it? I think you need to talk to someone before you start heading in the wrong direction, there’s some work you’re doing that can’t bear any fruits because you’re not addressing that one thing. The anxiety and the fears are just gonna get worse if you don’t. Please drink enough water and get enough rest. Tune yourself to your intuition. You got this! We love you.

555, 888, 333, 639hz

↳ book a personal reading with me on ko-fi ★

decks used for this reading: l’oracle du chemin spirituel by Valérie Defour & Valérie Saussez, the angel’s tarot by Doreen Virtue & Radleigh Valentine, modern witch tarot deck by Lisa Steele

[atlabeth]

too sweet

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: a night out makes hotch realize a few too many things.

a/n: me??? writing for criminal minds again out of nowhere??? what is going on. and i do not have an answer i was just in a hotch mood bc he's fine asf and i finally have the confidence to write for him here we are lol. hope u enjoy this short lil thing

wc: 2.4k

warning(s): alcohol consumption, a sexual joke or two, written in one go so might be a mess! aaron is all in his head but this is basically all fluff

Hotch can’t focus. 

Mostly because he can’t stop glancing over at you. Normally it’s not a problem—he’d lost count of how many times he’d distracted himself from mounds of paperwork by meeting your eyes through his office window, often accompanied by a smile that made even his heart beat a little faster—and especially now, it shouldn’t be a problem. 

You and Derek have had some kind of bet going on during the past few nights out—you didn’t believe he was as charming and suave as he claimed, and Morgan was all too happy to prove you wrong.

You bet that he couldn’t get at least five numbers every night, and come last Thursday, Morgan took the win at the end of the evening with a smile on his face. As punishment, the first round of their next night out was on you. 

And that’s nice, sure. Hotch is always thankful that his team can still joke around and have fun with each other despite everything they have to deal with each day. He hopes they keep the light in their eyes as long as possible, especially the younger ones. He’s fine with being the stick in the mud, the one who never smiles, the iron willed chief that scares local uniforms.

Hotch is not so fine with the way he feels right now. 

It’s a busy night at the bar, which is understandable. Hotch is sure half the precinct is out alongside them, celebrating the BAU finally solving the case that had torn them to shreds over the past week. You, Reid, and Garcia put the threads together an hour into scouring through evidence, and the unsub was cuffed before noon. 

Certainly something to celebrate—there’s a reason the whole team agreed to go out tonight and leave tomorrow. Even Rossi decided to join when he learned you would be buying, but he’s already abandoned them in favor of catching up with some old friends. Hotch even thinks they might have another round in their future because of their solve, courtesy of the local chief. They had a long night ahead of them. 

But you haven’t gotten the drinks yet, and Hotch wonders how long it’ll take even after you do. Because some officer is trying to talk you up, and you’re smiling and laughing along and giving him every bit of your attention. 

Hotch recognized him the moment he set eyes upon him, even in plain clothes. He’s some joke of an officer from the station, and he’s been trying to get your number—or even just get your attention—throughout their whole visit. Always sidling up to you during debriefs, specifically giving you any information or evidence he finds—Hotch has overheard him asking for your number more than once. 

Hotch has been so focused on the case he’s not even sure if you’ve rejected him or not, and the mere thought is enough to annoy him. If he wasn’t equally as sure of your ability to defend yourself and afraid of overstepping with you, he would have stepped in. 

But it makes sense. The officer is young and handsome, you’re young and pretty—not to mention you have a way of lighting up any room you step into. Hotch spent the whole first month of your employment wondering why you would want to do a job like this. He’s spent the rest of it thankful that you did. 

You’re sharp as a whip, naturally, but you’ve also done wonders for the team atmosphere. It’s hard to feel down with a smile like yours beaming his way. The job weighs you down like it does everyone, but you still manage to lift everyone’s spirits on the jet ride back before they jump into the next case. It’s impressive. 

It’s also trouble. You’ve been part of the BAU for almost two years now, and Hotch has spent just as much time tearing his eyes away from you as he has working. It’s wrong, and it’s wholly inappropriate in terms of your working relationship—he’s your boss, for god’s sake. 

But sometimes, Hotch will be beating himself up over one thing or another on a case, and you’ll plant yourself in his vicinity and refuse to leave until you’ve helped him work through it. If you ever tire of the FBI, he thinks you have a second calling as an elementary school teacher. 

Sometimes the hotel they’re staying at will have truly shitty coffee, worse than they’re used to at the BAU, and you’ll already be in the lobby with a tray full of the team’s orders. Hotch never recalls telling you his order—you just figured it out, and you remembered it. 

Sometimes his gaze will drift your way, and he’ll find you already staring at him. You look away just as quickly as he does, and it makes him wonder. 

Hotch has made a living off of studying the behavior of others. More often than not, he finds himself profiling his co-workers just out of instinct. His job is to know what others are thinking. 

But god. When it comes to you, Hotch doesn’t think he’s ever felt more unsure in his life. Especially when you look at him the same way he wants to for weeks, then act nothing but proper another day; when you fall asleep against his shoulder on the jet one night and entertain some desk jockey another night. 

It makes him feel like a highschooler again, trying to figure out if Haley really liked him or if she was just playing around, and it’s more embarrassing than it should be. Especially when he’s still dealing with the lingering emotions from the divorce. 

“Hotch.” JJ’s voice is enough to break him out of his trance, and he blinks as he turns to her. At least someone paid him the mercy to dispel his thoughts, even if only for a temporary time. 

“What?” 

“Did you hear a single word I said?” she asks, a slight smile curving on her lips. 

“Of course,” he responds. “The chief’s over there talking with the commissioner. He’s the same guy who made your life difficult the last time we were in Milwaukee.” 

JJ’s eyebrows shoot up, and she nods. “I didn’t think you were listening.” 

“I think he just got lucky,” Morgan cuts in, his gaze darting over to you momentarily. “I think you were too focused on our drinks.” 

Reid frowns. “I don’t think he was focused on the drinks. He’s—” 

“Just making sure they’re still coming,” Hotch interrupts, and he straightens his tie. Today really has been a long one—usually, he’s better at covering these things up. “And I wasn’t lucky. I was listening.” 

“Trust me,” Morgan says with a laugh, “I’m watchin’ her until I’ve got a glass in my hand. She’s not getting out of this after the way she bragged this whole month.” 

“The stupidest thing to make a bet on,” Prentiss remarks, “especially with you.” 

“She said she just wanted to prove you wrong,” Reid contributes. “She thinks you’re too cocky.” 

Morgan grins. “It’s not cocky if you can back it up.” 

Hotch’s attention goes back to you, and you’ve finally gotten their drinks. You’re loading them onto a tray like you’re the bartender yourself, and his brows crease. Maybe he should have gone up with you. 

“Do you think she needs help?” he asks. How obvious is too obvious? Why does it feel like his brain only works at half power whenever it comes to you? 

“She’ll be fine,” Prentiss says. “And if she needs it, that guy talking her up can help.” 

“Jason Rodriguez,” Reid remarks. “He hung around her the whole time we were trying to pinpoint a location, and he wasn’t any help, which makes sense because he's practically desk-bound at the precinct. I’m surprised she got any work done.” 

JJ chuckles. “I’m surprised he hasn’t given up yet. He’s been following her around all week, like some lost puppy.” 

Morgan shrugs. “I dunno. She seems pretty into him.” 

“I don’t think ex-frat boys are her type,” Prentiss says wryly. Hotch doesn’t think so either, but he doesn’t say anything. Contributing to this kind of conversation is certainly too obvious.  

“I doubt we’ll be back here for a while. She might as well.” Morgan smiled. “She probably needs a win after such an embarrassing loss.” 

Thankfully, before Hotch has to keep pretending not to care about this topic, you walk over carrying a tray of cocktails—and you’re alone. The subject of their previous conversation seems lost in the crowd, and he feels a dangerous amount of relief. 

“Are you all talking about me?” you drawl. 

“You know we are, sweetheart. Thought you were never gonna get here.” Morgan sits up, smiling at you. “What’d my win get us?” 

“Long Island Iced Teas,” you muse as you set the tray down. “Enjoy it, because I’m gonna be working some overtime to make up for all these.” 

Morgan grins as he takes his drink. “You should’ve never doubted my skills.” 

“I’m surprised you didn’t need any help,” Prentiss says. “You’ve done this before, huh?” 

“Bartended my way through college.” You slide into the booth next to Hotch, just a bit too close for a bit too long, and he hopes that no one can see his chest still for a moment. It’s impressive that he still hasn’t figured out how to lessen the effect you have on him. “I’ve probably got better hands than you, Morgan.” 

“Do we need to make another bet?” he asks. “Because I’d love to clean out your wallet.” 

“Maybe wait another month before you prey on any more poor, defenseless agents,” you croon, and Morgan laughs. 

He pivots the conversation away from you when you pick up your drink and take a sip, and you look at Hotch. Whenever your gaze is on him, you make him feel like he’s the only person in the room. He’s sure you never look at anyone else that way, but Hotch wonders how much of that is his mind trying to justify his imagination. 

“I’m surprised you agreed with this,” you say, mercifully interrupting his thoughts. “I thought you’d want us to go back tonight.” 

“You all earned a night out after the work you did,” Hotch says. He thinks about taking a drink, but he decides against it, at least for now. He can barely trust his sober mind. 

“You’ve earned it too,” you say. “We wouldn’t be anywhere without you, Hotch. You keep us all together.” 

He shakes his head. “I don’t think I ever would’ve connected the dots like you and Reid can with Garcia. I hate unsubs with secret codes.” 

“I’ve always liked puzzles,” you muse. “There’s nothin’ like it when it all finally clicks.” 

Hotch hums, and for a moment, he’s silent. Your gaze remains fully on him, and that might be why he has trouble thinking. It’s too easy to get lost in your eyes. 

“What did that guy say?” Hotch finally manages to ask, because he honestly can’t help it. Morgan’s points actually worried him a bit, and he wonders what that says about him. Ex-frat boy certainly isn’t your type, but someone forgettable for a one night stand isn’t the most absurd thing in the world. 

Your brows knit together as you drink some more. “What guy?”

“The officer you were talking with,” he says. “He seemed to like you.” 

He’d been flirting with you since the moment you stepped into the precinct, actually, desperate for your attention, but Hotch didn’t really want to say that. He’s sure you noticed either way, if the rest of the team did. 

“Oh. Him.” You shrug. “He’s nice, I guess. Definitely a looker. But he’s got nothing beneath that hair.” 

“Morgan’s surprised you didn’t bring him back,” Hotch says. He wonders if he’s pushing too much, and again, he feels like a highschooler testing the waters. Do you know what you do to him? What you reduce him to? 

You shrug as you take a sip. “If he knows what’s good for him, he knows he doesn’t have a chance. My attention’s on someone else.” 

Prentiss calls your name and you get drawn back into the middle of the team’s conversation, and thankfully, Hotch has a chance to digest your words—and the stunner of a smile you flash at him before you get pulled into their talk. 

His decision to not drink seems even wiser, now. Hotch has to loosen his tie, and he ignores Reid watching him. It’s futile trying to hide anything from Spencer Reid—the kid already knows everything. 

Again, it's dangerous how much satisfaction he gets from it—from knowing you never really paid that officer a second thought. You didn’t smile at him the way you smile at Hotch. You don’t smile at anyone the way you smile at Hotch. He thought he was imagining it at first, or that he was just a bit too stuck up, but it was the honest truth. You paid him special attention, and he couldn’t blame the warmth in his chest from the thought on any alcohol. 

He tunes back into the conversation just to hear Morgan demand you pay for his next drink. 

“You’re lucky I’m feeling generous,” you say. 

He puts a hand to his chest. “Generous? You’re just paying what you owe me.” 

You laugh and shake your head. “Pick your poison, pretty boy.” 

“How do you feel about tequila?” 

You make a noise of disgust and shake your head. “As long as I don’t have to drink it.” 

“You’re just paying, sweetheart.” Morgan’s eyes dart to Hotch, and he nods as he grins. “One for me and our fearless leader.” 

Hotch shakes his head. “Someone has to get us back to the hotel.” 

“That’s what cabs are for!” Prentiss exclaims. “Don’t be such a stick in the mud, Hotchner. You deserve to let a little loose.” 

“It takes most people an hour to process a drink,” Reid contributes, “so you’ll be fine before we leave if you want to drive.” 

“Come on, Hotch,” you say, and you nudge his shoulder. “You might as well—I’m paying.” 

“...Fine,” he says, and the whole team cheers. Even Reid smiles. 

“Y’know, you can smile tonight, Hotch,” you say with one of your own before you down the rest of your drink and stand up.

And one actually tugs at his lips. It feels a lot hotter in this bar with your eyes sparkling and you beaming right at him, and he fights the need to shed his jacket. Your grin somehow grows. 

“That’s what I came out to see,” you remark as you pick your wallet back up from the table. “I expect another when I get back, Hotch. There’s a lot to celebrate tonight.” 

Yeah, he thinks as he watches you go. There just might be. 

[rosalinrabbit]

Dealer

Blue Banisters Tracklist

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader 

Warnings: Mentions of illegal activity and trafficking and generally creepy behavior, arguing, boss/employee relationship, implied age gap, smut, sex, slight BDSM vibes, dom!Hotch x sub!Reader, spanking, degradation, praise, slight choking, oral sex, penetrative sex. 

Summary: You’ve been working at the BAU for nearly two years ever since you crossed Aaron Hotchner’s path while working undercover. When you’re asked to go undercover again to solve a case, you take a huge risk and disobey Hotch. Unfortunately for you, he thinks you need to be punished. 

Word Count: 4.9k

A/N: I may not have time for kinktober but I do have time for a lil halloween themed aaron fanfic

You are in charge of your own media consumption. Please read responsibly.

Do not translate or re-upload any of my work. Works are only cross-posted on AO3.

You met Aaron Hotchner in the middle of a particularly cold November. A ridiculous coincidence, really. You’d heard of him, even sent in a recent application to work for his team, though had some doubts you’d ever hear back. The BAU was a tough, tight-knit group. And even though you were working a case, you wondered if this might make the entirely wrong impression.

You worked for the FBI, in the Human Trafficking division. You’d been undercover for a little over two months, posing as a young grad student with a shady second job at a club. You weren’t a stripper, but you were dressed in a black latex bunny girl suit, complete with faux sleeve cuffs, a ribbon tied in a bow at your hip, a collar, a set of ears, and a fluffy white tail. Your job description, according to your boss, was a waitress. And you weren’t the only undercover agent at the club.

It had been a strange hotbed of criminal activity. Clearly enough so that the FBI had to show up for one reason or another. The outfit was too tight to conceal a proper weapon, all you had on you was a wire and a knife. You had to rely a lot on the others staking out the club, and you noticed one of them had just gotten distracted despite one of your targets acting quite shifty in the corner. This particular target you despised the most. You could tell something was very off about him, and as you were fed details of the case and studied the frequent customers at the bar, you were quite sure it was him. The guy wasn’t a seller, but you were quite sure he was buying. The girls he bought never showed up again.

That was when you noticed Aaron Hotchner enter the club with two other members of the BAU. Your eyes flickered between them and your target. They weren’t looking at him. They made the same mistake you initially made, focusing on the wrong guy. You’d spent enough time working the case to know, but your superior had never mentioned the BAU involving themselves in this particular case. 

Taking a deep breath and plastering on your customer service smile, you walked over to Agent Hotchner holding the tray of champagne glasses.

“First time here?” You asked, tilting your head to the side as you offered them drinks.

One of the other agents, a very muscular-looking black man, answered for the three of them. “Yeah, mind if we ask you a few questions?”

You smiled. “Of course. How may I assist you?” You batted your lashes, unwilling to give up your ruse even in the presence of other federal agents. You’d worked too hard for this.

“Are there any men that frequent this club, ones that you and the other workers know to stay away from?” 

“Most of the repeat customers are, surprisingly, not too bad. But there’s a few lingering around that the workers know to be careful of.” You watched your target from the corner of your eye, making sure not to look too long to tip anyone off. You watched him eye a girl who’s friend had just left to go to the bathroom. “I can point out a few, but I think you can usually tell just by looking at them,” you shrugged, putting a hand on your barely concealed hip. You carefully caught the eye of the man you were speaking to and pointedly glanced to the corner where the most suspicious regulars tended to gather. 

“That’s all, ma’am. Thank you for your time.”

You smiled at the three of them, watching closely as they moved toward the wrong man. Just your luck, your target stood up at the same time as the other guy did, and they both went in opposite directions.

Attempting to casually wade through the busy crowd, you couldn’t seem to catch the eye of your undercover partner, but you saw the target talk to the girl sitting alone before luring her towards the back. Quickly, you managed to pass the tray to another worker before looking back, catching agent Hotchner staring at you. You wished there was a way to signal that you could use his help, but you didn’t know him. Instead, you mouthed the words “wrong guy” to him across the crowded floor, music blaring in your ears as you quickly turned and tried to quietly follow the man through the back of the club. 

That night, you had managed to not only get a recording of the man talking to your “boss” about their second business, but also witnessed him inject the girl in the backroom with a tranquilizer. After finally retrieving your handcuffs and pistol from your partner, you both managed to tackle and arrest the two men, and requested backup to gather evidence at the club and pick up the handcuffed men.

It must have been a ridiculous sight, you in a bunny girl costume with your gun now holstered to your hip once more, holding the handcuffed arms of a criminal behind his back in a cold dark alley. When you finally got them loaded into the cars, you turned to see Aaron Hotchner watching you. 

“Hello again,” you greeted a bit nervously, no longer playing a character and now just an FBI agent standing in hardly any clothes in front of a higher-ranking agent. “I’m Agent y/l/n, FBI, Human Trafficking division,” you held your hand out. 

He shook it. “Agent Aaron Hotchner. Unit Chief of the BAU. You tried to warn me back there,” he commented, taking off his own jacket and coming closer to offer it to you. You gave him an unsure look, and he returned it with an insistent one. 

“Thank you, sir. And yes, but it’s hard to do much of that in a busy nightclub,” you shrugged, putting the jacket over yourself and finally getting both relief from the cold and from the embarrassment of showing so much leg and cleavage in front of the man you really wanted to work under. For! Work for. Although, he was quite tall. And quite handsome.

“Still. You did a good job. It seemed like you caught something we didn’t. How could you tell we were looking into the wrong guy?”

“I’ve been working on this case for over two months. At first, I had the same assumption. But something from the profile was missing. I watched them both, and eventually came to the conclusion that I got it wrong the first time.”

“What I’m really asking is how you knew who we were going in there for.”

“Oh, I just watched you. I knew when you came in. He was the first guy your gaze really stuck on.” 

His expression showed the slightest hint of amusement. “Are you interested in a job?”

You smiled. “Very much so.”

“Send me your resume.”

“It’s already submitted for the open position, sir.”

He nodded, giving you a strange look.

“I expect I’ll see you again soon, then,” and he started to walk away.

“Wait, your jacket!”

“You can return it later. At your interview.”

That night was almost two years ago. The two of you had been a nearly inseparable pair ever since. You knew how to read him across a room, and he knew how to read you. You figured that was why he always had you with him. 

Just two months in, he told you he might be leaving the BAU after getting suspended for two weeks. His wife didn’t want him to work anymore. Said that his job isn’t who he is, just what he does.

You seemed to shock him by looking at him like you always did when the two of you spoke. As if the entire thing was obvious.

“I don’t think she can possibly understand how much we care about what we do. How what we do is who we are, and we know not everyone can do it. You’re one of the best, Hotch. You can be a good father and a good agent. Unfortunately, whether you can be a good husband and a good agent? That is an opinion left up to your wife. Her definition is what really matters, not yours.” 

You’d stood up from the chair across from his desk then, trying to hide the distress at the possibility of rarely seeing and never working with him again.

“I.. The team” you quickly corrected yourself, “doesn’t want you to leave. But I think what matters the most is what you want, Hotch. You only get one life. This is your career. This is the path you chose.” You took a deep breath. “Don’t let her choose for you, but you can choose her. We would all understand.”

He stayed. And your relationship had slowly taken a much more tense and strange turn. You were in-sync. Knew each other too well. Your heart skipped a beat when he looked at you. You both noticed the lingering looks, but never said a thing about it. You did everything you always do, together. Especially since his divorce. You shared rooms, meals, notes, just about everything. Your leg was always slightly pressed against his when sitting next to him. His arm was often placed behind you when the two of you were walking somewhere in an unknown environment. Close. You were close.

Yet your relationship had never crossed the line. The meals were usually take out, the rooms had two beds, the time spent together was all under the guise of “work.” Just work. 

And nearly two years since that first fateful night that you met Aaron Hotchner, you were back in the stupid bunny suit.

It was all Derek’s fault, you were convinced. It was his idea, and Emily, Penelope, and Derek all thought it would be funny to put you back in the costume that started it all.

You had to go undercover at a club during a Halloween party. This unsub was a freak, and everyone dressed in costumes certainly didn’t ease your nerves about the whole thing.

Crossing your arms with a huff as you exited the bathroom at the local precinct, you glared at Derek who had picked out the costume. Spencer turned around from whatever he was working on and nearly spit out his water and started coughing.

“Is this necessary? I can’t even carry a gun on me…”

“You wore it undercover before. Come on, Bunny!” You frowned at the use of your nickname. The one you got from the night you first met Derek, Hotch, and Rossi.  “I thought you’d be comfortable in a familiar outfit,” he teased. “Besides, we need you to fit the victimology. Young attractive girls having fun at parties.” While this would certainly be considered harassment in any other unit with any other team, you adored Derek. You couldn’t help but smirk a little bit at his comment.

“You’re such a jerk,” you said unseriously. “Besides, I was pretending to be a worker back then. I couldn’t say no to my boss. You, however, aren’t my boss.”

It was then that Emily and Hotch came into the room, and Emily’s jaw dropped.

“Why do you look so hot!” she exclaimed, dramatically setting the files down on the table in front of her.

“This is the outfit Derek picked for me,” you sighed. “Look familiar?” You did a dramatic turn in front of them, trying to keep your eyes off of Hotch in embarrassment.

“I could never forget,” Hotch shook his head, clearly amused, but he looked tense. You narrowed your eyes at him a bit. 

“I’ll wear it for old times sake, and because I know you guys will actually cover me.”

Derek, Hotch, and Emily went with you to the club. You were in Chicago, and Derek warned you that the parties could get a bit wild. Sitting in the back of the SUV, you couldn’t help but ask. “So, where’s your costumes?”

“Men in Black,” Hotch replied as though it were obvious.

Derek turned to look at you in the back, and pulled a cat ears headband out of nowhere, putting it on his head.

“We match.”

You all entered the club separately, and it wasn’t long until you were trying to fend people off left and right. It was getting difficult, as well. You hadn’t been in a relationship in a long time, and the lack of attention was getting to you. Well, at the very least, this evening showed you that you could still pull off the bunny suit. 

You were being hit on by a very attractive older man, and nearly giving in to his flirting, until something caught your eye. Someone that matched the description of the unsub. You snapped back into reality. Watching the man closely as he moved through the crowd. You apologized to the older man before moving to follow, also trying to find where Hotch and Derek might be, but you couldn’t see them. Despite your heart pounding in your chest, you managed to strike up a conversation with the unsub at the bar. You played the innocent young girl as much as possible, while trying to not seem too conveniently naive. Your goal was now to try and get him out of the club, away from other people. He was more than likely carrying a gun on him, and you knew whatever you were doing was dangerous.

Yet as he asked you if you wanted to go somewhere quieter, feigning that he couldn’t hear what you were saying, you agreed, hoping to appeal to his ego and not raise any alarm. You turned back to the busy club, eyes desperately searching for someone familiar, and you found him. He was up on the second floor, looking right at you. This time, he recognized the look you were giving him, his grip on the railing tightened and he shook his head, discouraging whatever the hell you thought you were about to do. And you didn’t listen. 

“You knew better than to go off and do that,” he scolded harshly, his anger seeping off of him and you felt yourself flinch. It was later that night. After the unsub attacked you in an alley not far from the club, you had managed to take him down without any assistance before Hotch and Derek made it to where you were. This was made much easier by the alcohol you had encouraged him to drink while speaking with him at the bar…

“And what the hell did you think you were doing, flirting ON THE JOB?” his voice rose and filled the hotel room the two of you shared.

“With the unsub?” You asked incredulously. “You asked me to go undercover! I got the guy! We had evidence, he’s in custody! Why are we arguing over this? It doesn’t even matter.”

This had been going on for five minutes already, starting since he shut the door to your shared hotel room. You hadn’t even changed out of the stupid costume as you sat perched on the corner of your bed with your arms crossed. The only part you had taken off were the stupid ears, now left on the nightstand.

“Not with the unsub, you were talking to someone else before. I saw you. What were you thinking?!” 

“I don’t know, maybe that I haven’t been on so much as a date since I started working for the BAU? I got the job done, I don’t know why you’re so mad because I talked to someone who was interested in me for less than a minute!”

“You can’t take going undercover as an opportunity to inflate your ego because you’re lonely.”

You stood up then, in complete shock at the words coming out of his mouth. You didn’t even look him in the eye.

“That was low,” you murmured, suddenly moving around the room to throw your belongings back into your bag.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Leaving.”

“Y/n, wait. Listen to me-”

“No!” you stopped him as he tried to approach you. “Just because you think you know me doesn’t mean you get to throw it in my face. That’s fucking low. I have given up so much for this job, so much for you.”

“I never asked you to give up anything for me.” You zipped your bag and looked up at him. “And I don’t think I know you. I do know you. And if you want me to stop, tell me and I will, but I don’t think you’ll need to.”

“What do you think you’re-“ the end of your sentence broke off in a small yelp as he approached you and quickly had you bent over his lap as he sat on the edge of your bed, delivering a harsh slap to your ass. 

You let out a moan at the sensation, unable to bite it back because of how much he had surprised you.

“Are you familiar with the color system?”

You were reeling from shock, but nodded your head. 

“Words, y/n. I need you to understand how to use it if you want to.”

“Red means stop, yellow means slow down, green is all good.”

“Yes. Color?”

“Green,” you responded readily.

 He kept talking, and kept spanking your ass harshly as he did so.

“Do you have any idea,” slap “how many times I’ve thought about doing this to you?” slap “Even the first god damn time I saw you in this ridiculous outfit,” slap “looking like such a little whore,” slap “I wanted to bend you over my lap just like this. You certainly misbehave enough to deserve it.” 

Your legs were squeezing together as you let out broken moans at the sensation of his large hand spanking you over and over, you could feel yourself getting wetter by the second when he suddenly grabbed your face and made you look at him, craning your neck from where you were placed on his lap.

“Is this what you wanted?” You nodded, looking into his eyes. “Say it.”

“Yes, sir,” you managed. 

“Good girl,” he praised. “Get on your knees.”

He released you and you slid off of him and onto the floor, kneeling in front of where he sat on the edge of the bed. 

You bit your lip as you tried not to squirm on the floor, waiting for him to unbuckle his belt. He paused before doing so to look at you. Another look asking if you were really okay with this. You smiled at him, nodding, and he swiftly took his length out, causing you to nearly whimper at the size and the look of it. He was rock hard, and the tip was oozing precum. 

Slowly, you leaned in and licked his cock tentatively, before he grabbed your hair and pushed you down on his length eliciting a muffled moan from you as you fought not to choke. He started thrusting into your mouth slowly, and at the sound of his groans you nearly lost it. His voice was already like a drug for you, hearing it in such an erotic state was driving you crazy. So much so that you tried to sneak your hand down and rub against your throbbing clit, desperate for any kind of friction. You only got away with it for a few moments before he noticed, taking his free hand and pulling your arm away.

“What kind of girl gets so drenched just from sucking off her boss’s dick? Hm?” 

He pulled you off of his cock just for a moment, and instead of answering, you just whimpered, pressing your thighs together, and he brought you back down to his cock. He started fucking your mouth again, and you kept moving your hips, grinding into nothing as you desperately sought relief. 

“Are you really that desperate?” He pulled you off again, and you nodded pathetically, spit dripping from your mouth and eyes glazed over. 

“Words, baby.”

“Yes,” you nodded again. “Please.”

“Are you gonna be a good girl?”

“Yes, sir.”

“On the bed.”

You scrambled off the floor to do as you were told, hurrying over to the closest bed which just so happened to be the one you had claimed during your stay, but he stopped you.

“No,” his voice was quick and firm. “I want you on my bed.”

Your mouth dropped open slightly at his words, making you slightly curious about just how deep his instinct to claim you as “his” went. Happily, you followed his request and quickly found yourself on the other side of the room. Rather than sit and face the wall, you were feeling a little bold, and got on all fours with your ass prominently on display.  

“What a well-behaved bunny,” he mused as he took off his clothes, leaving you twitching and desperate for him, with your neck craning to the side as your cheek was against the duvet. You quietly stared as he unbuttoned his shirt, and quickly got restless when he began to reveal more of his skin.

It felt like forever until he was on the bed behind you, his cock sheathed in a condom and pressing against your still-clothed ass.

“Is this what you wanted?”

“Yes.” 

“Color?”

“Green.”

“Do you want to let me use you? Or do you just want to cum?” He asked, his voice in a deep tone and his large hand reaching to caress your neck, gently grabbing your hair between his fingers and guiding your head up to look at him. It felt like an interrogation the way he questioned you, but it drastically increased the tension, and only made you want him more, and he shifted you slightly so your back was now against his chest, firmly in his hold.

“Mm, both.”

He chuckled from behind you. One of his hands was now gripping your breast which was barely hidden. The bodice of the costume relied on flimsy see-through straps to stay up, and he was quick to tear them off, making no more than a quick snapping sound before they were thrown somewhere on the floor. You felt him begin to press kisses to the side of your neck as he pulled the top of the fabric down, revealing your breasts and hungrily kneading them with one hand. With the other, his hand was traveling down your hip and across the front of your thighs before he hooked the fabric that covered your soaked entrance with his finger and moved it to the side. You gasped at the feeling of his hand moving directly against your clit, still impatient to cum even though it was well worth the wait.

 “Damn, you’re perfect.” The praise has you reeling as you rocked against him slightly. He lowered you back to where you had been, on all fours, and you could feel himself lining his cock up with your entrance behind you. “Ready, bunny?”

You nodded, and he easily entered you in a single thrust, no doubt thanks to how absurdly wet you had become. Despite the ease of entrance, the stretch felt brutal, it had you gasping and clutching the bedding under you.

He felt so big, and you hadn’t been fucked in a while. 

“Oh god,” you whimpered. “Sir, you’re so big.”

He let out a groan that had you clenching around his length, and pushing your hips back against him. His thick fingers found your hips and gripped them tightly as he pulled out almost to the tip and slammed back into you. You hadn’t realized how gentle he had started out until he began to pound into you at full force, each thrust making your legs tremble as his length hit the deepest spots inside of you. 

Given that you had already been so worked up from sucking him off, and were still riding the end of an adrenaline high from your work in the field earlier that night, your orgasm was rapidly approaching, only encouraged by the way Aaron had gently caressed any part of your body he could reach with one hand while the other still had a white hot grip on your hips. 

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to mess with the big bad wolves, bunny?” He murmured in your ear, aware of just how close you were and he knew exactly how to push you over the edge. Your eyes rolled back when his large hand found its way to your neck, squeezing gently but enough for you to feel it. Your legs shook uncontrollably as that coil inside you snapped and you let out a broken cry at the intensity of the orgasm washing over you. His movements only faltered slightly, otherwise unaffected by the way your walls had suffocated his cock.

You didn’t have the time or awareness to register just how quickly his movements were, as he pulled out of you, unzipped the back of your costume, quickly tore it entirely off your body, and flipped you over to face him. Your face flushed as you tried to catch your breath.

“Ooh, look at you,” he groaned. “Perfect little bunny.” Despite his mockingly sweet tone, he shoved himself back into you roughly, earning a cry from your lips as your oversensitive pussy took him in once more. The pleasure he was giving you was so intense, doubled by your years-long crush for the man who was giving it to you. You were so sensitive it felt almost cruel, but you didn’t want him to stop. His hand explored your body, gripping your bare hips and squeezing your breasts, putting his hands everywhere he’d never been able to before.

“Please,” you breathed out after a particularly sharp thrust, reaching for one of his hands but struggling to get your bearings enough to get a hold of it.

“Please what, bunny?”

The only response you could give was a drawn-out moan, but at your struggle, he placed a hand in your searching one, and you immediately brought it right to your throat.

“You want me to squeeze or just hold?”

“Hold,” you murmured, blushing that he stopped to check, the moment becoming more tender than either of you had intended. He kept a firm hold around your neck without choking you, just keeping you in place. Showing his power over you.

“You’re such a dirty bunny,” he murmured, resuming his sharp thrusts as you bit your lip to muffle the whines coming from your throat. You could feel how intensely you were pulsing around him, the sight of him over you with his hand around your neck causing your eyes to roll back as he fucked you into oblivion, slowly devolving to a blubbering and begging mess.

“Fuck, please! Please pleaseplease- sir-“ you slurred, hardly aware of anything except him as his cock brushed against every sensitive spot inside of you. While his thrusts had been deep and controlled and measured, your begging seemed to cause his pace to falter.

“Pretty Bunny,” he groaned, “cum again for me, make a mess on my dick.”

Your nails dug into his arms as you let out a cry, an odd deep feeling of relief settling over you as you came again with him buried inside of you, feeling as though all your nerves were on fire. His thrusts were starting to grow more erratic as he stared down at you, watching you as you sunk deeper into bliss, becoming less and less aware of what was around you. 

“Eyes on me, Bunny,” he panted, hand squeezing your throat gently for a moment just to get your attention. Your eyes opened, locking onto his as soon as you comprehended what he had asked, staring up at him  “Fuck, your eyes are so pretty.” Even in your blissed-out state, you hadn’t expected such a genuine compliment, staring at him in wonder as his movements slowed.

“Please, wanna feel you cum in me,” you whined, rocking your hips against him as he moved his hand from your throat to tightly grip your hip, trying to pull you further into him as he slammed into you, letting out a deep groan as he came, spilling into the condom while sheathed inside of you. You couldn’t help but moan at the feeling of him throbbing, and winced when he slowly began to pull out of you before disposing of the condom and laying next to you, pulling you into his arms. The two of you stayed like that for a long moment after you wiggled your way further into his grasp and laid your head next to his chest. 

“You’re really warm,” you sighed happily, trying to escape the chilly air of the room. He laughed, a sound you rarely heard from him. 

“I was jealous,” he murmured above you. Your mind was still hazy, body feeling heavy but tingly with pleasure.

“Huh?” You managed to question through the fog, eyes opening to look at him.

“When I saw you talking to that guy. I was jealous.”

“Is that why you got so mad?” You teased.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean what I said, I shouldn’t have yelled.”

“No, but I won’t mind getting reprimanded more often…”

“Greedy,” he smiled. 

You sighed happily. “We really came full circle, didn’t we?”

He nodded. “Took us long enough. Derek has been telling me I need to ask you out since we met at that party two years ago.”

"The bunny girl outfit never fails," you murmured, smiling at him.

"On you? Never."

[bitchy-craft]

PICK A CARD: what they say about you behind your back

Hello and welcome to this reading! Here I will tell you what they say about you behind your back. I hope you enjoy this reading!

NOTE: I have opened a KoFi page! If you have wanted to buy a reading from me but couldn't due to not having PayPal, I now have this option as well!

masterpost > paid readings > patreon masterlist

The extended version of this reading can be found on my patreon, the link of which is here

Pile 1:

You specific person doesn’t really talk much about you when you aren’t around. They, for some reason, don’t have much of a need to talk about you to the people around them. There are moments where their friends will mention you and ask a question and they will of course, answer it, but your specific person will never talk about you with much enthusiasm and in great detail. This person that you have in mind is a very private person when it comes to you, they believe that your relationship with them should be ‘protected’ and that other people do not really need to know about everything that goes on behind closed doors. You might sometimes feel like this person you have in mind is excluding you from fun outings with their friends or even family, and I do have to unfortunately tell you that this is the case. If you ask them they will truly not be able to give you an answer as to why they do all this, but they are definitely aware of it. So be careful when you ask and they start denying all about it; because they are lying and you know what you experience best.

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Pile 2:

Your specific person talks about you a lot. They are engulfed and captivated by you. Every time something fun happens they will talk about it to their friends, if someone is talking about something that happened to them and something happened between the two of you that is very similar they will bring it up immediately. Your specific person loves talking about you because they see you as such an amazing an fun person. They will talk about your hobbies, your dreams and what you want to achieve in life, every little accomplishment you have had they will tell their family about it. It is absolutely adorable and exciting for everyone around them to see and witness. There is nothing but positive words that come out of your specific person’s mouth when it comes to you. There aren’t really any big issues between the two of you, and even if they are they would never mention it to outsiders if it hasn’t been solved between the two of you yet; even though they talk about you a lot they also know when to stay quiet about things and when to keep things for a later moment. They love yapping, but they also know and understand social decency.

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Pile 3:

Your specific person usually talks well about you behind your back to people around them, but there are a couple of people where they sometimes complain to. If there is someone in their social circle of whom you are afraid of that they speak negatively about them, then I unfortunately have to tell you that this is indeed the case. Your specific person isn’t completely talking shit about you and saying awful things in order to hurt you, but whenever you guys have fights or little discussions it will end up with other people. Your specific person really doesn’t see anything wrong with this although they understand you would most likely prefer that this does not occur at all. They simply see talking about their personal issues to people they deem close to them as ways of processing their emotions and possibly hearing about different opinions and sides of the story, or they simply look for support to get through a time they find difficult. Your specific person doesn’t really know you don’t like these conversations to happen because to them this topic hasn’t been spoken enough about yet, and they also believe you do the same with your friends hence why they don’t see it as anything different.

extended reading > paid readings

[4ever-me]

Your boyfriend gets jealous of you hanging out with your friends.

🫧 Pairing: Baekjin X Fem!Reader

🫧 Warnings: jealousy, unprotected sex, Dom!Baekjin, impact play(?), strength kink(very light), Baekjin is a little sensitive, degradation (whore).

does not follow the drama's storyline, so all the characters are of legal age. Minors DNI

🫧 A/N: This was a request, so I hope you like it. <3 English isn't my first language

You had just come back from an afternoon with your friends: Baku, Gotak, Sieun and Juntae. Your boyfriend, Baekjin, had already shown how uncomfortable he felt about you hanging out with them, but they were just your friends, and you were already friends with them before you met your boyfriend. You had nothing to do with Baku and Baekjin's fights.

He always asked you to hang out with him and his henchmen, but you thought they were idiots and preferred to stay with your friends. You didn't hang out with them as often after Baekjin told you he didn't like them. But that wouldn't make you completely distance yourself from your friends.

You were on your way to the bowling alley where Baekjin spent half of his time. He had called asking you to come to his office. You go downstairs, seeing several young people gambling, smoking and drinking; you see some guys from the Union and go straight to your boyfriend's office.

You stop at the door, knocking and waiting for his answer. When you hear his muffled voice, you go in and close the door right away.  You see Baekjin studying, staring at the papers as he writes. Your body walks towards his desk, stopping in front of it; the boy continues writing without even threatening to look at you. He puts down his pen, touches his cell phone, sees the time it took him to solve the problem, stops the timer and looks at you for the first time that night. His beautiful, drawn eyes look at you firmly and perhaps a little angry, different from the normal look he always gives you.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, trying to understand his look. He doesn’t answer, just stares at you. And that’s when it hits you: he’s jealous. He knows you were with Baku and his friends.

“Look, I’m sorry! I know you don’t like this, but my friends are important to me too!” You try to make his anger subside, but he just turns his head, giving you a sideways, ironic smile, before looking back at you. He stands up and stops in front of you with his face close to yours.

"No need to be jealous. They're just my friends..." Before you can finish speaking, he grabs your neck, pushing you against the wall; without letting go of your neck, he presses his body against yours.

"I don't care if they're your friends; I'm your boyfriend and I don't like you going out with them!" He squeezes your neck and you feel the air leaving your lungs. And you're not lying when you say you're loving it.

Your eyes close, feeling your panties get wet. He lets go of your neck, slapping the side of your face; not too hard, but enough to turn your face to the side.

"Look at me when I talk to you!" He grabs your face, forcing you to look at him. "Isn't one man enough for you? Do you need five to satisfy yourself?" He mocks, spitting mean words in your face. You whimper, trying to speak. He lets go of your cheek, holding your neck again, but without squeezing.

"I just need you..." Your voice is low.

"That's good to know" He smiles, caressing her face "So next time, obey me when I say you won't go out with those guys." He slaps your face again.

Baekjin slips his hands under your skirt, easily ripping your panties. You jump in fright and he doesn't even give you time to recover before pulling the fabric of your shirt, making the buttons pop off.

He pulls down his pants, grabbing your legs and making them intertwine around his waist, lifting you off the ground with ease. He thrusts his already hard cock into your wet pussy, you gasp at the sudden stretch, feeling it burn, since he hadn't prepared you. He doesn't wait and starts moving, you grip his shoulders tightly.

Your boyfriend wasn't usually rough in sex, he was calm and delicate, always caressing you and touching you as if you were going to break, but you loved it when he fucked you hard like that.

You see him looking at where you're connected, opening his mouth a little in a silent moan. You know he's sensitive and especially when he's inside you, and you know he's holding back as much as he can.  He comes out of his trance and holds your legs tighter, before moving with even more force, you moan and close your eyes, he lets go of one of your legs, grabbing your face and squeezing it, you open your eyes.

"Look at me" He says firmly "You're already so sensitive that you can't even keep your eyes open." He mocks again. The hand that was on your face goes down to the middle of your legs, rubbing your sensitive bud, you get closer to his face trying to kiss his lips, but he pulls away smiling.

"I don't kiss whores" He pulls your bra down, staring at your breasts. You whimper, squeezing yourself around him, feeling your orgasm approaching, but he stops, taking you off the wall, going towards the table, dropping everything you had on it, and laying you down, moving quickly again, he grabs your breast, squeezing it. He moans softly, looking back at your pussy that grips his cock tightly.  He speeds up, you feel his cock twitching inside you and you feel your orgasm approaching again, he starts rubbing your clit, you tremble and scream his name, when you reach your climax. You feel the warm sperm inside you and Baekjin lies on top of you, breathing heavily in your ear, before speaking.

"I expect you to obey me from now on."

[crazycurly-77]

Flowers for Mrs. Gibbs

Fandom: NCIS

Pairing: Gibbs x reader

Warnings: pure fluff

Dear @dreamy-state-of-mind, thank you for the wonderful prompt for this story. Enjoy!

Everything seemed normal that day. There was no case to solve, no special incidents and nothing. It was pure routine.

And it was normal for messengers to come and go. But it was unusual, however, for them to bring flowers.

The young man who brought them was apparently practical, because he stood in the middle of the bullpen and called out loudly:

“Flowers for Mrs. Gibbs!!”

His voice faded away and silence spread. In fact, it was dead silent, because everyone had abruptly stopped what they were doing and interrupted their conversations. You would have heard it if a pin had dropped.

Tony confidently walked up to the boy and said: “There must be some confusion. There is only one Mr. Gibbs here.”

But the messenger remained persistent:

“No, no, no. I’ve been instructed to give these flowers to Mrs. Y/N Gibbs.”

At that moment, you and Gibbs came out of the principal's office and wondered why everyone was so quiet.

Obviously it had something to do with Tony and a flower delivery man who were standing in the middle of the desks.

When Tony saw you coming towards him, he said with relief: “Hey boss, Y/N. Nice to see you here.”

Gibbs just looked at him sternly: “DiNozzo. Don't you have anything to do?”

“Uhm, yes, boss,” he replied before looking at you: “But the boy is bringing flowers for you. He just wrote down the wrong name.”

Since you could imagine what the “problem” was, especially after the conversation with the principal, you just smiled at Tony and left it to Jethro to sort it out.

Unlike you, Gibbs didn't bat an eyelid, but just raised both eyebrows and asked interestedly: “So? Which one?” The question was actually superfluous because he knew the answer, but he just had too much fun teasing Tony a little.

"The flowers are for Mrs. Y/N Gibbs, Sir," the boy replied with his head held high and a firm voice, as if he were giving a prize.

"I already told him that it must be a misunderstanding, boss. But he absolutely doesn't want to believe it," Tony hurried to explain.

"Who are the flowers from?" Jethro wanted to know.

"From Mr. Tobias Fornell," the flower man answered.

Against all expectations, Gibbs laughed out loud and you ran your hand over your face. The colleagues had expected a lot, but not that the boss seemed to be very amused by the mix-up.

When he had calmed down enough, he grinned, shook his head and muttered:

"Good old Fornell..."

The messenger was slowly becoming restless, because this had been going on for far too long.

"Sir, I have to move on. Am I in the right place or not?" he wanted to know.

Gibbs smiled at him, pressed a tip into his hand and replied:

"Yes, you're in the right place. Give me the flowers."

"Thank you, Sir. Have a nice day!" the boy called, gave him the bouquet and ran to the elevator.

Tony still couldn't believe how such a gross mix-up could have happened: "We've worked with the FBI so many times and they still can't get it right. They really have no idea if they mix up names so massively."

Gibbs was in his element. He grinned at him, handed you the bouquet, leaned over to you and gave you a short but loving kiss on the lips.

As the boss intended, DiNozzo stood there and stared at him with his mouth wide open.

But Jethro couldn't help himself and went one step further. He looked at his team member and said with a broad grin: "That's because it wasn't a mix-up."

At the same time, you raised your hand and showed him your new ring.

Tony's jaw dropped.

Then Gibbs went grinning to his desk and you went to the elevator towards the forensic lab that you share with Abby and you were sure that she already knew the news by the time you got to her place.

The End

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Tags: @ilovemark1951, @hobby27, @dreamy-state-of-mind

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[sscieloz]

Live my life

band!aespa x groupie!reader

Synopsis: It’s been less than a year since the band Aespa was created. Karina, Minjeong, Giselle and Ningning travel all over the country with nothing but a few gigs, little money and much love for the music. They’re far from superstars, and they still don’t have a lot to offer, and there’s something they can’t quite grasp: why you, the band’s most faithful fan, follows them blindly.

Warnings: smut. lowk confusing… but it’s the aesthetic

Word count: 9.9k

Notes: I HAVE RETURNED FROM THE DEAD 😤😤 I was obsessed w the MV as soon as it was out so I wrote this!!

pt.1 | pt.2 | pt.3 | pt.4

—

“Do you think it’ll fit?” Ningning’s hesitation is easily explained by the amount of suitcases hanging from the small hood of the car. The four girls agreed to bring each a single backpack of clothes for themselves, so the instruments and sound equipment could also be transported.

Clearly, it was still too much.

“It has to.” Winter answers, her tiny frame reaching up as she tries to grab one of the big suitcases herself. With Ningning’s help, she manages to do it, and they both stare at the car, wondering about an adjustment that would work.

Just as both girls imagined how to rearrange the space, Giselle and Karina stepped down the house's stairs, frowning.

Karina, is, as always, not amused by the struggle placed in front of her, but Giselle scoffs, judging her bandmates for not having things ready yet. They were supposed to pack their stuff in the car while she and Karina prepared their snacks and made sure all the windows and doors were closed, so they’d find no surprises once they got back home from their trip. Now, they’d leave later than expected, which would result in them facing the road at night— which was exactly what they were avoiding.

This day was starting to piss her off.

“What are you doing?” Giselle crossed her arms against her chest, trying her best to not sound as irritated as she was. They all knew, though. The girls know each other too well.

“Playing Tetris.” Minjeong stared back at her, with a tone that was just as presumptuous. “What does it look like we’re doing, Gigi? The space is obviously too fucking small for all of our stuff.”

Karina takes a step further before Giselle is able to open her mouth and give her friend a petty response. Her clumsy hands rearranged the suitcases so fast the three girls barely registered her actions, closing the hood of the car in a quick motion so everything wouldn’t fall off.

“Mhm, you won’t be able to see much of what’s behind the car, Gigi, but I don’t think it can get any better than that.”

The girls simply stare, impressed by Karina’s skills.

“So… problem solved?” Ningning asks, and they all nod.

Without a word, the four girls enter the small car, squeezing themselves as they prepare for their small trip. It wasn’t uncommon for the band to spend hours stuck in Giselle’s stepfather’s old 2000 Civic, but the lack of space was always annoying, making them all feel packed in like sardines. However, the vehicle was the only option they had to make their way to nearby cities to perform, so they avoided making any complaints.

The band was just about an hour into their 4-hour drive when Giselle pulled over, cursing under her breath.

“Fuck.” She mutters, biting her nails as she looks at the line of cars being stopped by the police, just a few miles ahead. Her face was even paler than usual, which set the girls on alert mode immediately— out of the four of them, Giselle was the least likely to panic at any unusual situation.

As soon as her body tensed, the Uchinaga felt long, lithe hands on her neck, applying just the right amount of pressure to soothe her, filling her with reassurance. Karina’s, naturally. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Yeah, why did we stop?” Ningning adds to Karina’s question, just as curious.

Minjeong’s brows furrow and she adjusts her posture, trying to stare at the horizon in the same position Giselle was, from the passenger’s seat instead. As always, she’s quick to understand the situation. “They’re stopping the cars ahead, but it’s just their normal procedure. They’ll stop us, of course, since we’re young girls traveling by ourselves with a bunch of luggage, but we’ve got nothing to hide, so… keep going, unnie. It’s fine.”

Seconds went by before Giselle grunted, a tense atmosphere hanging in the air while she fidgeted her fingers. Only then, her answer came, barely in a murmur. “I don’t have a license.” She could only hope they hadn’t heard her.

Judging from the way her bandmates’ mouths opened in shock they all started to speak together, though, they did.

Such a selective hearing, huh. She always had to yell at them at least three times for someone to get up from the living room and do the dishes, whenever they were home.

“What the fuck, unnie?”

“Do you really drive us illegally? Girl, we go everywhere by car!”

“I can’t believe you’re so damn irresponsible, I fucking swe—“

Karina stops their banter by out-screaming the two younger girls, a few minutes after Giselle had shrieked down on her seat so much she could merge with it anytime. “Wait! Wait.” Three pairs of eyes stare at her, inquiring. The quietness was odd, but it didn’t last much anyway. “I thought you had your permit taken last month?”

It’s Giselle’s turn to roll her eyes, then. “I literally told you I failed. Do you pay attention to anything I say?”

Despite the situation they found themselves in, Minjeong and Ningning couldn’t help but giggle. It wasn’t news that Karina’s got her head up in the clouds, but her innocence was always funny to the girls. Despite being the oldest, she’s just a big puppy, after all.

And she looks outraged, ears red at the thought of being fooled by Aeri.

“What? we even celebrated!” Her face comes to the realization, as Minjeong tries to hide her laughter with a fake coughing fit. Winter’s blonde hair blows effortlessly when she turns her head to the window, in an obvious attempt to escape Giselle’s piercing stare. “Oh! Was that why you were being such a jerk the entire night, at the club?”

Giselle ruffles her hair in frustration but nods anyway. “Yes, that was the reason. Thanks for reminding us of that wonderful day, Jiminnie.”

Ningning taps on Karina’s shoulder, in hopes of offering some comfort to the desolated girl. She whistles, then looks from Aeri to Minjeong as if hoping they’d pull a permit out of nowhere and start driving again. Once it’s clear none of them would provide any solution, she does so herself, lifting her hips to grab her phone from the back pocket of her jeans.

“I’ll call Y/n.” Is all she says, clicking on the red number with 13 missed calls on the screen. “She’ll do something about it.”

Karina’s even more outraged, then, staring at Ningning in disbelief. She tries to reach out for her friend’s phone, but the maknae pulls her hand away with a huff. “Why do you even have her number, anyway?”

Sure, you’d be at their presentation, even if it were at a nearby town, hours away from where they lived. Somehow, you always show up. The girls couldn’t even remember when it happened; all they know is that they played at Ningning’s cousin’s club once, and from then on there you were, accompanying them in every step. You took pictures, edited videos to upload on their YouTube channel, and even helped them get some gigs every once in a while. It’s difficult for the girls to understand the reason you spend so much time and effort with them— a broke, nugu band who’s been doing this for a little over a year, yet there you were. Their first and most faithful fan, ready to drop everything and help them with any situation, at any given time.

Just like now.

Nonetheless, they had agreed to keep you at an arm's distance, only so the lines wouldn’t get too blurry. With time, they got to know you better, and it was noticeable you were as spoiled, obsessive, and explosive as you were sweet and passionate about the things you liked.

Truth be told, you scared them a little.

“I thought we had agreed on not talking to the psycho anymore,” Minjeong commented, resting her head on the window.

Ningning pauses at that, muting herself on the phone for a moment before answering, straightforwardly. “Well, do you want to get there or not?”

Her honesty is harsh enough that Minjeong lifts her palms in surrender, while Karina and Giselle share a knowing look. Ning’s right, naturally —what matters is that they get to the club on time.

“Fine,” The blonde sighs, turning to point at Karina. “But you’ll have to handle that nightmare of a weirdo. Don’t let her freak out or anything, like she did last time.”

“Why do I always have to do it?” Karina pouts, rolling her eyes. “Come on! What the fuck.”

Giselle giggles, grateful that Karina can’t reach out to punch her as she nods. “I agree… it’s a leader’s duty.”

With her brows furrowed and her rosy lips, the oldest member of the band looks much like a doll, adorable in all of her mannerisms. Even when she scoffs, it doesn���t come out nearly as rude and intimidating as she intends it to be. She still looks like a painting, so pretty Ningning pokes her playfully, brushing the irritation out of Karina with her ticklish fingers. Once she’s left ticklish in her seat, Ningning drops her phone, done with her call.

“Y/n said she’ll be here soon.” She announces, and the girls hum faintly in response. It’s enough for her to giggle, reaching out for her bag in hopes of finding a snack. “Don’t be too excited, damn...”

“I just hope she doesn’t take long,” Giselle mutters, ignoring the glares she gets by being to blame for their current situation.

“Well, if someone had just passed their driving test, we wouldn’t—”

The Uchinaga turns to Winter so fast her neck makes a weird noise. “Shut the fuck up, Minjeong.” Her tone is full of mockery, which is dangerous. Giselle gets irritated easily, but it’s hard to get her mad. Whenever she does, though… None of the girls like that. “I don’t see you driving around either.”

Minjeong, who’d rather die than recognize she doesn’t excel at something, puts a hand on her chest with the comment. Her face is quickly filled with red and, in a minute, she’s defending herself as if she’s just received a 5-year sentence.

As much as their banter is entertaining, Ningning still clings onto Karina on the backseat, resting her head on her unnie’s shoulders.

“I do hope Y/n arrives soon.” She tells her friend, closing her eyes despite the noisy background.

Karina smiles, ruffling the maknae’s hair with tenderness as she relaxes beside the oldest. “Don’t worry, Ning. She will.”

If there’s something she’s sure of, is that you don’t play when it comes to their band. Be it for good or for worse.

—

“Hello, cuties.” You say, tapping your knuckles on the driver’s window to gather attention. It works: the girls all jump in their seats, cursing under their breaths as they try to gather themselves from the scare. “Your knight in shining armor has come! Hurry, hurry! You’re running late.”

It had been less than an hour since Ningning’s call, so there’s no way you could’ve reached them so quickly. None of them say those words out loud, of course— some questions are better left unanswered.

“Here comes the devil.” Minjeong mumbles. The smile she gives you is drenched in feigned politeness, yet yours is sincere, bluntly ignoring her grumpiness with a wave of your hand.

“Hi, Y/n.” Karina greets you as the four girls get out of the car. You hug each one of them energetically, clearly pleased to be urged to help.

It doesn’t even bother you that Giselle, Winter, and Ningning only mumble, not paying you much attention. If only, your happiness would take long to wear off.

Still swooning, you gesture to the van that’s parked beside their car where a handsome, baby-faced boy waves at the girls with ease.

“My brother won this van at a bet a few days ago, and fortunately, he lent it to us. It’s more fitting for a band anyway.” You gesture at their car, still explaining. “Gyu can take your stepdad’s car back to your house, Gigi. Don’t worry.”

They already know Beomgyu from the previous times he’s dropped you off at their rehearsals and shows, so it’s nothing new. Although Giselle doesn’t seem convinced about your idea, she reluctantly gives him the car keys anyway. There’s no other option; she can’t just leave the car on the road, even though giving it to a stranger makes her uneasy.

“Thank you, Beomgyu-ssi.” The girls bow at him, thankful for the extra space, to which he simply nods.

The girls are quick to transport the suitcases to the van, stretching their legs out as they sigh with contentment. It’s like they can finally breathe, now that they’re not cramped in a tiny space. Even Minjeong is smiling, her little banter with Giselle being long forgotten by now.

Giselle is in the passenger’s seat, this time, and she’s surprised to see how easy it is to talk to a happy Y/n. You laugh and gossip over other bands the girls come across sometimes, and you tell them the entire story of how Beomgyu actually got the van. Time flies by while you’re on the wheel, and soon enough the four girls find themselves at the back door of the club, fixing their instruments for the time they go on stage.

—

“Do you get all those insane takes with this old-ass camera?” Ning asks curiously, holding the straightener against her hair as she watches you record Winter, who’s busy tuning her bass and pretending you don’t exist.

“It’s vintage, unnie.” You correct her, zooming in on the blonde girl’s delicate hands and her precise movements against the cords. “It has amazing quality, still.” Because Ningning is still staring, clearly waiting for a more direct answer, you add, “Yes. Pretty Much. Hey Minjeongie, look at the camera so I can get a better shot of you.”

All Winter gives you is an irritated look as she scrunches her nose and shakes her head. The girls enjoy arriving early at their events so they’re able to gather a few minutes of quietude, strictly to relax and focus on not letting the nerves overcome their abilities to shine on stage. You know that— it’s something you’ve seen them do countless times before. You find it adorable how they’d just close their eyes and try to control their breaths, fingers tapping their thighs to ease the anxiety that always comes with the wait of going on stage. No matter how many times they perform, the thrill will always be the same.

Although you don’t mind interrupting Winter’s time of focusing at all. Seeing you won’t give in, Winter scoffs, dropping the bass onto her lap. “Be polite, Y/n. Say please.”

Her intentions are as obvious as daylight. She’s mocking you, defiant like the insufferable being she is. Out of the four girls, Minjeong is the most stubborn, and you’re much alike. She was the one you got into most arguments with, none of you backing down from the opportunity of being right.

Said banter is the reason you turn and adjust the camera focus to Ningning, instead of giving in to the blonde girl. Yizhuo looks pretty as always, smiling at you as you kneel to get a take of her from a better angle.

You’re immediately interrupted by the same girl who was irritated by your presence just seconds ago. In a blink, Winter’s hands go to your chin, forcing you to face her with an assertive grip. “No. Film me.” Her porcelain skin shines against her dark eyes, who pop out even more, making her intimidating aura stand out in the small room as she adds with an icy, commanding tone, “And have manners.”

God, you’d gladly take her down just to get rid of that cocky tone.

“Stare at the fucking camera so you can have some decent solo shots, Winter unnie.” Your reply comes immediately, tone dripping with venom, “Please.”

Winter’s face is so red you’re afraid she’s going to combust at any second. She never spares hurtful words during arguments, and you’re ready for her to give it all. Disaster is set to happen until Giselle pops her head backstage, looking for you. Her eyes disappear and her cheeks flare up as soon as she meets your face, breaking the tension with a smile once her presence unintentionally ends the small battle you were having with Winter.

“Y/n!” She calls, handing out her hand to help you stand up. “Could you come help us with the drums, please? The guys from the bar are trying, but they’re so damn useless… We need you.”

You look away and Winter’s grip on you fades, although her trimmed nails still scratch your jaw as she lets her hand fall to her sides and returns to the couch, tuning her bass as if she had never been interrupted.

“Sure, Gigi. Let’s go.” It’s impossible to not smile back, allowing yourself to be guided through the narrow stairs of the place until you arrive at the stage. You don’t bother saying goodbye to either Ningning or Winter, knowing you’re going back to them as soon as you’re done.

The two younger girls are left by themselves, in silence for the first time since you arrived to pick them up, hours ago. It’s unsettling yet peaceful; not uncomfortable by any means. They’ve known each other for too long by now, so being with each other is more than natural— it’s one’s absence that is unsettling.

After giving her hair a few finishing touches, Ningning turns to her bandmate, pulling the chair beside her as she gestures for Minjeong to sit. Its leather cover is torn and the comfort is long gone, but they don’t mind. They’ve performed in far more awful places anyway.

“Okay, I’m done! Be still while I do your makeup, now, unnie.” Minjeong does as told, closing her eyes while the maknae starts moisturizing her skin.

The silence has Winter’s mind replaying the previous banter nonstop. She tries to stay silent, but the memory of your petty smirk is enough to leave her fuming, pumping with rage.

“Can you believe her, Ning? That fucking bitch, ugh. She’s so insufferable.”

“Oh, definitely.” Ningning smiles, thankful Minjeong has her eyes closed. She lets out a small giggle, still focused on brushing the concealer through her friend’s face. “God forbid someone puts you in your place, right unnie?”

She nearly doesn’t escape the highlighter Minjeong throws in her direction, now laughing freely as she continues with her task.

—

Aespa is a band of many talents.

The girls all met during sophomore year of high school, all trapped in detention for the day (as much as Minjeong would rather die than admit she’s ever gotten detention in her life). Even though they differ in personalities, in a clear contrast of cultures, manners, and experiences — their differences somehow added to each other until there wasn’t something missing anymore. The feeling of longing and loneliness that had accompanied them for so many years had finally ceased. After that, the girls found themselves at peace: the world was finally silent, as long as they were together. No matter how chaotic it was, Karina, Minjeong, Giselle, and Ningning knew they’d like nothing else but to be together.

Luckily, they all shared two main passions: the love for music and the desire for attention, so being in a band together was something that happened rather naturally. The members all agreed, then, that Karina should be the leader. She was soft-spoken, calm, and had the experience in the industry the others lacked, from being a child model. It was the right decision: the oldest would do anything to protect her girls, and knew just the right people to ask for opportunities. They weren’t famous, nor did they make enough money to live off exclusively from the music, but it was enough, for now.

They had trouble understanding you, though. It was hard to grasp why on earth would they have someone so faithful, so committed to following their every move when they weren’t even famous? They didn’t have money, influence, or anything to offer you whatsoever. Yet you were always there, giving them your endless support without asking for anything in exchange. You could be a handful sometimes, sure, but still… your commitment was something that left the girls constantly wondering.

Because you’re special. The world will see this too, someday. is what you’d always answer, followed by a giggle and a wave of your hand, muttering about how it all wasn’t that big of a deal.

But as Giselle watches you help them relocate their instruments and set the tripods and cameras straight, she wonders if that’s truly it.

“Hey, Gigi.” You smile at her, looking down at the ground once you realize you’re the object of her piercing, focused gaze. “Are you and the other girls ready to go? Everything’s in order here.”

Now isn’t the time for that, though, Aeri reminds herself. As of now, the only thing she should focus on is her upcoming stage. Music is one of the many things she was strict with: she pushed herself to nothing but perfection, no matter where she was performing.

The other girls are quick to follow your call, grabbing their instruments and getting into their starter positions as they’ve done countless times before. They all adjust their mics to the perfect height until Karina is the only one left in the center, tapping hers to make sure she sounds loud and clear. Ningning’s hands fiddle with her drumsticks nervously, paddling along with her whole body— surely from the energy drinks she’s had minutes before, while Minjeong and Giselle stay each on one side of the stage, waiting for their leader’s cue.

Offering free tickets for those who arrived before 11 PM was a great strategy that many clubs implemented to fill up their spaces. And even though you’re well aware the girls are known enough to gather such a crowd without that stunt, you’re glad to have a full house staring at the small stage with expectation.

Karina waits until you’re done with your camera’s finishing touches up to speak, her voice echoing through the noise so easily that your hands stop adjusting the device’s focus to pay attention to her. With a smile so big her eyes grow small, her face is like a beacon, gathering all the focus to herself without the need for a spotlight.

“Goodnight! I’m Karina, and those are my bandmates: Minjeong, Giselle, and Ningning.” She points to each of her friends, who bow and wave excitedly, still waiting for her cue. “And we’re AESPA! We hope you like our music, we’ve worked hard on our songs! Please enjoy.”

With that, Ningning taps on her drumsticks, as they’ve done countless times before. Minjeong’s bass and Giselle’s guitar sync with Karina’s voice as soon as they start playing, the melody echoing through the place like physical particles. Music is more than just a part of their lives: it’s who they are, how they express themselves, what they breathe, and it’s easy to forget they’re at a shitty pub and not at a fancy festival. As long as their voices and instruments are harmonizing together, the girls get lost in their passion and nothing else matters.

Even though they’re a new group— barely a year into the industry, original songs are not something that lack from their setlist. The public is screaming, the girls are jumping as they sing and dance along the rhythm and you try your best to capture their best angles, but the distraction in the form of a sin that is Karina prevents you from doing a good job. Her dark eyes glow in the dark, giving her an angelic aura as her strong voice reverberates through the place with ease, despite her shitty mic. It’s an impressive crowd they’re performing for, but she’s only staring at you. Preventing you to breathe or even move, afraid she’d lose her interest and look elsewhere.

No, you’d have none of that. Like all the girls, Karina was yours: you’d share her utter attention with no one.

So you stay at the front line, with your hands holding onto the camera as your head is held up in a frozen frame, looking at her.

You’d always look at her.

—

The afterparties are always one of the girls’ favorite events. The adrenaline rush is still present, giving them tons of energy to drink and party with strangers. They are constantly showered with compliments, being pampered, and indulged with all the attention they crave. It’s part of the reasons why they deal with music, obviously: Minjeong, Giselle, Ningning, and Karina. Because the desire to be seen and recognized for their music is a feeling they’ve been looking for ever since they can remember.

And that’s exactly what they were indulging in before hearing a loud crack from outside of the backstage room. The noise, followed by a bunch of ugly screams, startles the four girls, who exchange a quick, worried glance before storming down straight into the sideway alley.

“Damn.” Ningning whistles, covering her mouth with her hand to hide the smile coming from her lips. At her side, Minjeong and Karina are equally shocked and frozen at the scene unraveling in front of them.

People usually use the dark alley to smoke and get a break from the noisy, heated space of the club. Instead, the four girls find a huddle of girls so entwined with one another it’s hard to tell how many there are. Four, maybe five? Of them are vividly screaming, kicking, tugging, and pulling hairs. Despite the mess, the girls realize there’s one that keeps beating the shit out of them, which is impressive due to being gravely outnumbered.

As the commotion stops for seconds once the strangers become aware of the newer company, it’s easier to tell a specific head of honey hair apart from the others.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Minjeong’s murmur doesn’t come off nearly as disappointed as she intends to. If anything, she’s also holding back her laughter while you prove that one does not need that many muscles to win off a fight.

“Go Y/n!” Karina claps, cheering. None of the three girls make any move towards the scene, so Giselle turns her head towards them in disbelief.

The Japanese girl shrugs, quickly making her way onto the ground to break off the fight. She’s always been strong, and her time spent at the gym pays off as she grabs you by the waist and throws you over her shoulder, heading back to the backstage room as if you weigh nothing. Any attempts of resisting are useless, yet you don’t make Giselle’s job any easier— your kicking and screaming are now directed at her, hands curling into fists while you use your entire strength to hit her muscled back.

“Put me DOWN! I’m not done with those whores.” Your feverish voice is ignored by the four girls, who are used to your tantrums by now.

They know you’re naturally provocative, and never one to back down from a fight, even if you were in the wrong. And, somehow, you were good at it too: even if you left bruised and scratched, your opponents would somehow always turn out worse.

“Sorry ladies, we have some issues to deal with. If you excuse us.” As the group goes back inside, Ningning offers the poor beaten-up girls a calculated smile before closing the door on their faces. She doesn’t bother to check in on them— they’re strangers, after all.

You’re thrown onto the worn-out sofa with little care, suddenly staring at four serious faces. The funny atmosphere of the fight is long gone, so you cross your arms under your chest and grunt, face held high to put up with their judgmental looks.

This is their job, and they can’t have you causing trouble over anything. You’re associated with them by now, whether they like it or not. It’d be an awful occurrence.

“So, troublemaker, tell us.” Giselle is the first to speak, brushing the bangs out of her face. Even after carrying you for solid minutes, she still looks flawless, much different from your disheveled self. “What had you beating their asses out there?”

There’s a pout on your lips, and the defiant air in the room stirs up their nerves. It’s an annoying interruption of the fun they were having just now, and the alcohol makes it hard for them to stay patient.

Minjeong takes half a step forward, her hands messing up your hair even more. “Speak, Y/n. We have better things to do.”

She doesn’t coddle you, tone cold as it always was when directed towards you, but you don’t mind. If anything, you take pride in making her life a bit more difficult every time. You know they won’t give you their attention for much longer, though, which is why you take a deep sigh.

“I was defending your honor, you idiots!” You gesticulate towards the door, huffing. “Those whores were out there, talking about you, speaking the most vile things… I had to do something. You should be thanking me, and not look so pissed.” You roll your eyes, muttering the rest to yourself as you sink on the dirty couch. “You never acknowledge anything I do anyway.”

It had felt too hot inside, so you passed the backstage area to gather some fresh air at the alley when you encountered the group of girls. They were in love with the band, obviously, and were very vocal about the things they’d let the girls do to them: how their leather clothes were so tight and how hot they were… Hearing such things being said about your girls made your blood boil. They were yours, and no one else had the right to desire them like that. So you were quick to take action and make sure everyone knew who Giselle, Winter, Karina, and Ningning belonged to. As a matter of fact, It was a successful attempt: after the lesson you taught them, those girls would think twice before saying anything again.

Your gaslighting does little to the band; it’s easy to look further into your façade now that they know you. They don’t pity you in the slightest, well aware you’re one to be cautious around.

Karina smiles at your act. She can’t help it if the pout on your lips makes you so adorable, and your crossed arms are the reason your send nudes crop top rides up so your boobs are even more evident. “Which things, Y/n? What were they saying, exactly?”

“What they said doesn’t matter.” You huff, dismissing Karina’s question with a wave of your hand. “The important thing is that they’ve been dealt with, and your honor is intact. You’re welcome.”

The electronic music is loud, and it’s easy to feel the rhythm reverberating through the furniture, sending electric waves to your bones that rile you up even more. You’re energized, ready to go back to the crowd, drink, smoke, and stir up some trouble again.

Aeri must’ve been thinking the same thing since she merely shakes her head and leaves without a word. Ning is the next one to follow, proceeded by Minjeong, who rolls her eyes and points her finger right at your face.

“You’re such a menace, Y/n. Acting like an animal… you can’t behave at all.” You’re used to the disdain in her voice, so the only thing you do is mirror her snobbish stare as you watch her leave.

Unlike her bandmate, Karina’s eyes are kind— even though you’ve just messed up hard. You’re the only ones left in the room, you realize, as she holds out her hand to you. With her presence, the music ceases, and the only thing you can focus on is the sound of her heartbeat, and how her little chin mole goes up to match her smile, which is equally sweet.

Sweet, patient, and definitely too good for you: that’s Karina, a soul that should stay untouched, not yet ruined by the world and by other people.

Too bad that you’ve never been one to do the right thing.

You navigate towards her in a magnetic motion, taking her help so fast your bodies nearly crash once you get up from the couch. Instead of complaining or making fun of you for being so abrupt, Karina takes her free hand to your face, cupping your cheek before carefully wiping the dirt from your skin.

“Troublemaker.” She repeats Giselle’s words from earlier, although they sound almost reverent when said in her raspy voice, tired from the crazy routine they live with. “She’s a bit right, don’t you think?” The smirk on her lips is playful, and she toys with you. “You keep us on our toes, for sure. I guess someone has to.”

She doesn’t mind. If anything, Karina misses your presence when you’re gone— which is thankfully, a rare occasion. Sure, you’re stubborn, spoiled, and very annoying, but the band somehow needs you to keep their engines running. She knows the other girls feel the same way about you too, even if they’re good at not making it known.

Being with Karina feels right. She’s Aespa’s peace, their leader, and their oldest member. And, just like everybody that has ever met her, you long to be around the older girl.

“Let’s go back to the party, Jimin unnie.” You tell her, crossing your arms behind her neck. If there’s anything she’d want you to do, you would. Gladly. “I want to dance.”

She smiles back at you, looking at the half-open door before nodding. “As you wish, Y/n.”

—

Aespa’s hotel room for the night is precarious, to say the least. The wallpaper is peeling from the walls, the furniture is dusty— and the small dining table seems to barely handle your laptop and media equipment. The bed makes too many weird noises at the slightest movement, and the smell of mold is a bit unsettling for those with a decent sense of smell.

It’s Minjeong’s job to deal with their spending and to book their stays, whenever the band wanders off their hometown. Her father works as a treasurer at a well-established company and has taught her how to handle her own money from a young age. Sometimes, though, she tends to spend too little, given the fact that they still did not earn much with their performances, and the five girls would end up in situations like the current one. Not that they truly minded: they had two rooms to sleep in and breakfast by the morning, which was more than enough. They would handle the rest.

Karina, Giselle, Ningning, and Minjeong are all rockstars, it’s natural for them to thrive under attention. They live for it, and you love to record their pretty faces. Out of all the experiences of being with the girls, getting to take pictures and videos of their performances and looks— be it before, during, or after their shows. Editing might also be a pain and sometimes feel like a chore, but it was also something you enjoyed doing.

Besides, the praises and the proud, enamored look Giselle, Ningning, Karina, and Minjeong gave you whenever you updated something new to their channel and social media was something you looked forward to, naturally. In fact, you’re so focused on your task that you barely notice a sudden wave of hot breath on your shoulder.

“How far are you, yet?” Karina’s wet hair clings to your neck as you breathe in her post-bath scent, so refreshing. You’re unable to see her sulk behind you, but her whiny tone is enough for you to figure her feelings out before she adds, “Also, why am I the one with the least videos, Y/n?”

You don’t even stop your work to look at the vocalist, who stares at your laptop’s screen with expectation: the answer is obvious to anyone who has ever had the privilege of getting to know Aespa's leader."

“Because I’m always too busy looking at you to focus on anything else.” The words leave your mouth immediately, exposing facts. “But I’ll improve for next time if that’s what you wish.”

Doing anything after Karina opens her mouth is impossible. Her angelic voice and sharp moves draw all the attention to her immediately; one would be completely insane to not be mesmerized by her. By all of her.

“It is.” She nods, still so close you’re able to feel her body pressed against you through the chair’s cracks. Like a kitten, Karina purrs, finally breaking the tension between you by pressing small, wet kisses to your neck. “Y/n…”

You’re doomed. You’ve known that ever since she left the bathroom, with wet hair and red, swollen lips that did little to hide what she was up to while the shower was running.

Karina’s long, purple-painted nails scratch your neck, forcing you to pay attention to her— as if you’d do anything else. You’re quick to comply, closing your laptop as you stand up and walk away from the oldest member, onto your backpack. Her confused brows are adorable, but the realization comes soon once she reckons the camera on your hands. By then, there’s a dirty smirk on both of your lips; you know she loves this as much as you do.

“Are you up for another show, doll?”

Karina nods, suddenly shy from all the dirty thoughts going through her head. Her skin throbs, and there’s a familiar sensation building up in her core from the anticipation.

After waiting for the camera to be well adjusted and centered in front of the bed, with the familiar red dot announcing the recording, she turns around, removing her robe with practiced ease. The silk fabric of her robe cascades from her back, exposing her milky skin in its most perfect form. She’s indeed like a doll; body still untouched, announcing it’s been a while since she’s had any fun, and her Venus dimples flare up with every step she takes towards the bed. Her curves are perfectly enhanced by her sensual walk— she knows so, grabbing her hair out of the way so you’re able to get a clear shot of her body.

You’re so lucky to even have the privilege of looking at her. Karina seems to think the same thing; her knowing smile turns malicious just as she sits on the bed, spreading her legs out for your delight. Playing around with her is almost a routine, by now: Karina needs something, someone to be her stress-relief, and you’re more than eager to help.

However, seeing her bare and so eager to welcome your touch was something you’d crave forever. No matter how many times it happened: you’d always be hungry for the slightest glimpse of her pretty pussy.

And it was no secret that Karina loved to show off, so you drink on her like you haven’t had a single drop of liquor in ages.

It had indeed been too long.

“How do I look, baby?” Her voice is soft, calm as she looks deep inside your eyes and taps on her pussy with two of her fingers. A small strand of wetness lingers between her fingers and her slit, and she takes her fingers forward to make a show for seconds longer. It’s only when the strand dissipates that Karina brings her fingers into her mouth, taking them in ever so naturally. You don’t even register the whine that comes from your lips once she releases them with a ‘bop’, right after licking them clean.

“Absolutely stunning.” Your answer comes in a heartbeat, which pleases her deeply. In a blink, you’re in front of her on the bed, although still careful to not cover up her frame for the camera. Not that you have to worry about that; Karina is well aware of her best angles. “As always.” You lick your lips, eager to have your mouth on her, licking every part of her body until she’s more than satisfied, coated with your saliva.

But you know better than to touch her without permission, so you simply wait, aware she needs more indulgence than merely a few words. You run your hands up and down her legs, ever so obedient, hoping she’ll allow you to touch her.

Instead, her fingers go up to her chest, groping her big, voluptuous breasts. She’s so evil— Karina knows how obsessed you are with her boobs, “You caused so much trouble today, Y/n… I shouldn’t let you touch me at all.”

Her feigned innocence only adds to your desire, dampening your pussy even more. Even though you’re burning up, you can’t help but be in awe by how much of a goddess she looks, and it takes everything in you to not just grab her by the ankles and suck on her clit until she was screaming and leaking white from her pussy. Still staring at you, Karina twists her nipples and moans, biting her lip as she breathes in deeply.

You’re already throbbing yourself, and she’s done nothing. That’s the amount of power she has over you.

“I’ve been bad.” You nod almost eagerly, ready to do whatever she commands you to if it means you’ll get to pleasure her. “Can I still have you, though? Promise to make you feel super good.”

At first look, Karina might be the most inviting one out of all of the girls, but you know better than to fall into her trap: just like her bandmates, the leader thrives on playing games, manipulating people, and fooling around. Thankfully to both you and her, you’re happy to indulge in all of her wishes. So you add, battling your lashes at her as you take off your clothes yourself, not bothering for a command on this matter. “I’ll do my best for unnie…”

Karina’s eyes darken at the sight of your naked body; it’s so empowering to know she’s just as affected by you, and she runs her fingers through your hair with practiced ease. Taking her silence as an encouragement, you lie down until your face is lined up with her soaked cunt, blowing warm, rapid breaths onto her sex.

She smiles, then, caressing your cheek before giving it a light tap. “Go get the strap, baby.” Your smile fades immediately, and you contemplate ignoring her words until she’s changed your mind before your cheek is met with more of Karina’s fingers, her touch stronger this time. “Now.”

You huff, muttering incoherences because she’s such a bitch, ruining all of your plans, but still do as told, grabbing the strap without much further fussing. With the toy in hands, you return to the edge of the bed, staring at her with a puzzled look on your face.

“Are you going to use it?” You ask, curious. Taking Karina’s cock was something you always looked forward to, and the sight of her pounding onto you was enough for your walls to clench, eager to welcome her.

Karina launches forward before you even finish your question, grabbing your thighs with practiced ease as her fingers brush your pussy. The surprise touch makes you let out a loud moan, which stirs up a laugh on the older girl.

“If only you’d behaved today… I had so many things planned for us to do.” Karina’s voice sounds almost regretful, making you kneel once again, “No, baby. Tonight’s only about me. Now suck.”

There’s little time for you to think her thoughts through. Your mind goes blank, and you open your mouth to give her a show this time, reversing the roles. Always eager to please, you gag on her cock. Saliva drips onto the sheets as she shoves it down your throat, but you don’t seem to care, emptying your mind to give her will over you to use you like a toy. She’s not sweet or slow by any means— Karina’s innocent smile, welcoming posture, and puppy-like personality make a good disguise for hiding how dirty she is. Part of her tells herself it’s wrong, and that’s why she tries to reject how much her body craves rougher actions, but the truth is that the hiding and the expectation also turn her on.

Those thoughts hover in your mind as you bob on her strap, looking at the leader through your lashes while you gather all your focus on giving your best for her. You try to look your best, and give your best for Aespa’s leader: she deserves nothing less, after all. It seems to be enough for Karina, who sighs at the sight of you staring from behind your lashes with your hair all over the place ever since her tangling hands went to your scalp, encouraging you to keep going for so long you’ve lost track of time.

“Beautiful. You look so beautiful like this, baby.” She murmurs with a low, sultry tone as she takes the strap from your mouth and seals your lips in a slow kiss. You’re starved for her; your boobs press together when you deepen the kiss, desperate for more. At this point you’re already soaked, leaving a deep, wet spot on the sheets— and your skin burns. “Don’t be rude. Say thank you.”

Such a tease, she is. You roll your eyes at her trying to rile you up, and she laughs. “Don’t even.” You mutter, rolling your eyes at her.

Karina’s hands go to your thighs, caressing your skin as she motions for you to get up once again. “You’re so stubborn.” She chants, adjusting the strap on you. Per her request, you lay back on the bed as soon as you’re done, somehow managing to sink under the shallow pillows.

There’s such a mean smirk dancing around her lips. Your cunt aches and it’s borderline painful; sweat covers your body and you’re nearly sure you’ll go insane if you don’t give her all the pleasure she’s worthy of very soon. All you want is to eat her out until she’s breathless, porcelain skin all marked begging for you to stop. Then, you’d lick her clean, making her cum so many times there’d be plenty of milk dripping from her hole for you to drink on. All yours. She’s all yours to tend to.

“Why don’t you just let me do it already…” You whine, drawing your head back when she grabs one of your nipples and twists— the friction feels so good it sends a hit of pleasure straight to your pussy.

Instead of indulging your needs, Karina laughs, and there’s a hidden mockery in her tone that only adds to your frustration. She comes close until her hips rest on your thighs, with the strap being the only thing that keeps a distance between you. Before you’re able to test her patience even more, she positions the dick on her entrance, slightly rocking back and forth so it hits deliciously against her clit.

“You can look.” She says, grabbing your shoulders to steady herself. “But you can’t touch. Understood, baby?”

Karina’s eyes, big and expressive, stare at you with feigned innocence as one of her hands caresses your jaw, lifting your face so you’d stare at her. Having her making such luscious sounds so close to you is like a death penalty. Karina’s mouth hangs slightly open, and you gulp whenever she aligns the fake dick with her entrance, giving you a serious look that makes it clear that she expects an answer to her command.

A huge bitch, she is. A hot, sexy, and huge bitch. It’s nearly impossible to stay still, but you can see the challenge in her eyes as soon as she cocks her head at you. Although her little act of defiance is silent, her intentions are as clear as day: she wants you to humiliate yourself: to beg for forgiveness so you’ll maybe get granted the privilege of touching her.

So you smile back, placing your hands on your hips and doing nothing else, even if you’re itching to run your tongue all over her body. “As you wish, unnie.”

Karina is so wet, of course she is— it’s not hard to leave her drenched. The dick slides in easily, and she takes her time with taking down its inches. Your grip on her hips turns slightly stronger at the sight of her looking so angelical, as her big, soft boobs are all in display to your face. That earns you a censoring look, and you move your hands with another eye-roll. There's nothing more you want but to touch her.

After a few breaths, Karina finds a steady pace, bouncing on your lap. The gushing sounds of her pussy that echo through the room are nearly pornographic, and you find yourself letting out desperate whimpers, too.

“So good.” She murmurs, lost in pleasure. Her grip on your shoulders tightens, and you feel her muscles tensing up.

You can’t help it— watching her pleasure herself is almost too much. Without much thinking, your fingers make their way to her clit, circling her hardened as you study her, testing out the waters. She lets out a gasp at the sensation, closing her eyes to enjoy the way her lower abdomen kept building up the tension. The tingling sensation increases with the rhythm of your strokes, along with her moves, and it doesn’t take much further for Karina to cum.

Just as always, Karina’s strong voice fills the room as she takes her head back, clenching her pussy once the waves of pleasure hit her with strong motions. Her entire body trembles, and she relies on you to keep her steady.

“You look the prettiest when you cum.” You tell her, after a few moments of silence.

The laugh she lets out is weak, more like a giggle as Karina sighs deeply, carelessly throwing herself on your side of the bed. She turns to you, then, so close your noses are nearly touching, disregarding your words as if you hadn’t said anything at all. “And you can’t ever behave, can you?”

You mirror her smirk, pecking her lips before shaking your head. “You like it that way, though.”

The two of you stay in a comfortable silence, one you don’t mind at all. The girls have had some busy, tiring weeks, and you know Karina needs rest. She’s tired—they all are, so the tension relief was well welcomed by the oldest girl. Despite being all sweaty and breathless, Karina is much less anxious now that you’ve helped her relax. She runs her fingers through your body, taking her time until she reaches your pussy. It delights her to feel how soaked you are: she’s aware of the amount of power she holds over you, and the fact that you’re gulping, still throbbing yourself, is something so empowering to her.

It makes her insides tingle all over again, asking for more.

“Jimin…” You whine again, opening your legs to give the girl better access to your entrance. You need her to touch you or else you’ll explode.

Two of her fingers enter your cunt before you can cry any further, hitting a fast pace without warning. The action is well welcomed, and you hold her wrist, motioning to go further. But Karina loves to make you frustrated; it’s almost as if she thrives on it: just like they made their way inside, her fingers are gone, and her mean smirk is back.

“You haven’t behaved at all today.” She repeats herself, laughing as she kisses your pout away. You bite her lip in response, which makes her pull your face away, although she’s still giggling. “You’ll get nothing tonight, baby. I’m sorry.”

You narrow your eyes at her, “You’re such a fucking liar! You’re not sorry at all!”

Karina turns her back to you, making a show of ignoring you as she grabs the covers just as a big yawn hits her. “Goodnight to you too, pretty. Sleep tight,” You roll your eyes, ready to give her a sneaky remark when she adds, “Oh, and don’t forget to turn off the camera. We don’t want you running out of battery or anything, do we?”

“You’re such a bitch.” Although you still get up and do as told, knowing she’s partially right.

Karina waits patiently for you to return to bed, with her small eyes and big smile. The sensuality and roughness from earlier have been replaced by her usual bubbly self, which you adore just as much. It has always been amusing to you how easily it is for her to just switch back and forth from the luscious, gorgeous woman she is to her puppy personality, and you adore her either way.

You hop into her arms, humming when she fills your neck with small, wet kisses.

“You have to behave, silly.” Is what she tells you, biting your skin gently. You’re one to bruise easily, you both know it as much. However, you say nothing, allowing her to do as she pleases. “Otherwise you won’t get a reward.”

“We’ll see about that.” You murmur, happy to get lost in her cuddles. “I sure need something after that torture session.”

Your words cause you to be pushed back, although you know Karina’s only joking.“Oh my God! Go to sleep, Y/n. Goodnight.”

“Ugh.” Is all you answer, closing your arms around her waist.

“Y/n.”

“Right, right.” You sigh, “Goodnight, cutie. Can I get a kiss?”

The hand that goes through your face is enough of an answer.

“Sleep. We’ll have a busy day tomorrow.” She commands.

And because it’s Karina, you obey. You’d always hail the band’s leader.

Your personal camgirl.

—

Breakfast has always been something you’d skip if you could. It’s a pain to wake up so early, and you need at least an hour to be somewhat presentable and another two until you can properly talk to anyone. However, the soon you leave this shitty hotel the better, so you resume sitting beside Giselle and Ningning while they talk excitedly. You chew on your bread with scrambled eggs with perhaps too much patience, still marveling at how composed they look despite running on 5 hours of sleep.

“So, we’ve got good news. Amazing news, actually. Like, the greatest news ever.” Ningning’s nearly jumping in her seat, her eyes darting from you, then Giselle, Minjeong, and finally to Karina multiple times in seconds. Yizhuo plays with her hands, nudging Karina while nearly dying of anxiety. “Unnie, would you please tell them? Go, go.”

The excitement in her tone captures enough of your attention; you, Giselle, and Minejong collectively sit up straighter, exchanging a confused look. The fact that they know as little as you do is comforting, and stirs up a nice, warm feeling of being included within your heart. The girls could be harsh and a little mean sometimes, naturally, but there are times when they’re also very sweet.

Karina laughs, pinching Ning’s cheeks. Even though Ningning pretends she despises it, you love to baby her and spoil her rotten.

“You can do it, Ning.” She encourages her baby girl to speak up, loving the smile that brightens up the maknae’s lips after the command. “Go ahead, tell them what we’re doing next.”

With her leader’s blessing, Ningning lets out a happy squeal and launches herself upwards. The upper half of her body hangs on the breakfast table as she looks around before whispering as if the topic is top-secret.

“So, this guy approached me after our show.” She stops abruptly at your reactions, waving her hands, “Hey, don’t make such faces! He wasn’t a weirdo or anything, I promise. Anyway, he came up and said he worked for AKT Music Ent. and that he liked our music and thought we had potential.” Ningning pauses, looking up to her leader for reassurance. Once Karina nods, giving her a knowing smile, she adds, “And then I told him to talk to Karina, of course, because she’s our leader and all… but basically, he invited us to compete at The Box, next month. Can you believe it?”

“You’re fucking with us.” Minjeong answers, in awe. She looks at Karina, with her mouth still slightly open in shock. “Please tell me you’re serious. That this isn’t a joke or anything.”

Karina has a proud look on her face as she nods. “It’s a thing. We’re doing it.”

“HELL YES!” Giselle screams, laughing loudly. She reaches out her arms and squeezes you and Ningning in a tight hug, her embrace so strong it’s borderline suffocating. Not that you mind— if anything, it fills you with warmth to be with them in their first big accomplishment. “WE’RE PLAYING IN THE BOX! OH MY FUCKING GOD. WE ARE AMAZING!”

Minjeong and Karina laugh at her reaction, just as happy from the news. Taking part in the event is an amazing opportunity for them: the mere thought of performing at the stage is enough to give them goosebumps, both of fear and excitement.

The Box is a week-long competition where the top 3 winners get a 2-year long contract, each signed with one of the Big 3 music companies of the country: SM, JYP or YG. It’s an elite program where successful bands have gained popularity and recognition, like SNSD. It’s set at a big, open area at the countryside and held much like a festival: the event has become more and more capitalized with every passing year. The companies make sure to hold a big show out of the entire thing, broadcasting the events that happen simultaneously 24/7— numerous interviews, commercials are shot by the participants to support the sponsors of the competition, which helps them to make their debut on national television. There are various foods, restaurants and parties being held at all times. It’s also a great opportunity for fans of nugu bands to personally interact with them, and actually super nice to meet other bands and artists. Besides the main goal, being at the event alone is a huge honor and opportunity for the band to grow as artists. They certainly won’t take for granted.

Minjeong claps excitedly. “We need to celebrate!”

“Absolutely.” Giselle agrees, looking with disgust at the men who kept sitting at the nearby tables even though it was still fairly early, and the Diner was still empty. “At home, though. Let’s get out of here, please.”

The five of you exchange a knowing look, collectively getting up at the same time as you grab your belongings and hurry to leave the shitty hotel. Your hearts are filled with pride, and you couldn’t be happier for them.

“You deserve this.” Is what you tell them, breaking the steady silence that reigned in the car. The girls look at you, all returning from dreamland.

Even though their only response is a faint hum, the satisfaction on their faces tells you they needed to hear that. “This is only a result of your hard work. All the hours of practice, the shitty-ass places you played at before, the No’s you’ve gotten… It’s going to work out, trust me.”

Karina’s arms go to your neck, in a gentle caress as she adds, looking at her bandmates. Her best friends. “Y/n is right. We got this.”

There’s nothing they can’t do, as long as they’re together.

[imnotlostimlooking]

I hate the Eddie story line that's happening. Like I hate that they are putting him through all this bullshit over a mistake that he made because of years of trauma. And i hate reading stories where people make it out like he was cheating on Marisol. Maybe he wasn't great for sneaking around with another woman but if you really look at it? Nothing remotely romantic or sexual was going on. Eddie saw this woman who was a clone of his dead wife and latched onto her because of this, as if she could somehow solve all the answers he'd never gotten even tho he logically knew she couldn't. They spent a lot of time together and maybe some of the things they did seemed romantic but he was always detached with her.

Its never said in the show but this man was raised (using the term loosely) by a Mexican father in an extremely catholic household and so I'm betting all my money on the fact that when his girlfriend got pregnant at 19 it wasn't HIS choice to get married. Even if he was the one to suggest it, it would have been because it was 'the right thing to do'. He was a baby. Having a baby.

He joined the army and came back with ptsd up the whazoo to parents who were raising his child like he was their own, giving him the love they'd never given Eddie, and a wife who resented him. His wife left him with a child he didn't know how to care for and parents who wanted to take Christopher away from him because he worked 3 jobs to get on his feet.

This man moved to LA and yeah he found the 118 and a family but his life revolved around work and Christopher and 'finding him a mother' which he canonically said. It never even seemed as though he wanted to be dating when he was with those women, more perfunctory than anything, even tho he didn't realize it.

And then he meets this woman who looks just like his dead wife who left him and came back and divorced him and died and she storms his fucking castle in cosplay and forces him to open up when he's clearly uncomfortable with it and his child walks in.

And yeah, it's fucking terrible. Like the worst. Oh my god poor Christopher seeing that. Poor Marisol thinking he's been cheating on her this whole time. But also. Poor fucking Eddie. Poor fucking Eddie because he didn't ask that fucking woman to show up at his goddamn house. He didn't ask her to dress like his dead fuxking wife and try and fix all his trauma. Yeah what he did wasn't right, but he cut shit off and that should have been that. He didn't ask to be fixed and he certainly didn't ask for whatever the hell rhat was.

And then his child calls his grandparents to come get him which is fair cause he's a child right? Kids do things like that. But they come and take him without even a call to Eddie. Their son. Who they are supposed to love and cherish. They don't ask what happened. They don't ask if he's okay. They just place blame and steal his child and Eddie let's them because Eddie has trauma and he 'knows' he's never been good enough for his kid and this is just the nail in the coffin so he should let him go right? And they fuxking take him.

But now? Like moving to Texas? Go get your fucking child and bring him home. He's a child. He does not make the fucking decisions. It should not even have lasted that long that he was in el Paso in the first place. Why is no one telling him that he's the fucking parent in this situation. Why is no one telling him rhat he's good enough. That he's an amazing father. That his parents are manipulating his trauma. That yeah maybe he fucked up but he didn't do anything actually WRONG.

And im reading all this fics where he is groveling and saying or being accused of cheating and im like wtf. Disgusting. I hate it. Let him be fucking A+ parent dad Eddie again cause I'm tired of this shit. Go to his parents house. Tell them to fuxk all the way off. Tell your kid to pack his shit he can be mad in LA in therapy.