#had this idea and had to write it down immediately

[mooningningg]

۶ৎ JJK Men reads thirsty tweets! with nanami.

nanami sits alone in the studio chair, perfectly straight posture, tailored suit crisp and completely out of place against the chaotic neon set behind him. he glances once at the camera, then at the laminated card in his hand. he already looks mildly annoyed, which is to say—normal.

a producer’s voice chimes off-camera. “we’re rolling. go ahead whenever you’re ready, mr. nanami.”

he exhales slowly through his nose. “very well.”

he stares at the card. hesitates. “…i don’t have twitter.”

a beat. he looks dead into the camera. “i’d like to make that very clear before we begin.” he adjusts his tie like he’s about to read a public statement.

tweet #1

“nanami can fold me like his damn button-up. that’s all. thank you.”

he pauses. blinks. “…i don’t even iron my own shirts.”

he flips the card over as if that’ll change the content. “is this… meant to be complimentary?”

someone off-camera snickers. nanami exhales again. “next one.”

tweet #2

“nanami is so fine i’d let him ruin my credit score. respectfully.”

his brow furrows. “that’s a terrible idea.”

he says it so plainly, so sincerely, it’s even funnier. “why would you let someone jeopardize your financial future because you find them attractive?”

a pause. “…thank you, though.” he moves on.

tweet #3

“he got that 9-5 then beat-it-up-after-office-hours kind of energy. mr. nanami if you’re free after your shift pls rearrange my organs.”

he stares. stares longer. “…i have no medical training.”

he places the card down slowly. “also, i’m not sure what the first half of that sentence means. are they referring to combat?”

off-camera: “no, sir.”

“right.” he straightens the cuffs of his sleeves. “then i don’t think i’m the kind of person they’re looking for.”

tweet #4

“nanami gives off real daddy energy and i’d like to be adopted immediately.”

he tilts his head, confused. “i wasn’t aware i had children.”

he reads it again, then mutters, “...do they mean it literally?”

off-camera: “uh. not really.”

“hm.” he sits in silence for a second. “…i don’t think i’m comfortable being called ‘daddy’ by strangers. but i appreciate the… sentiment.”

tweet #5

“if nanami told me to stop breathing i’d ask if he wanted me to do it slow or fast.”

he blinks. “don’t do that.”

there’s a beat. he looks directly at the camera again, calm but serious. “please keep breathing.”

tweet #6

“i’d let nanami spit in my mouth and say thank you. sir.”

he pinches the bridge of his nose. “…what is wrong with you people?”

off-camera laughter erupts. nanami lets the silence hang, composing himself. “i’m not sure when spitting became something people… enjoyed. but it’s unhygienic. and odd.”

he folds the card and sets it aside like it personally offended him. “i don’t believe in disrespecting others’ interests, but i do believe in dental health.”

final thoughts?

nanami straightens in his seat. “i’d like to apologize to any viewers expecting insightful commentary.”

he adjusts his watch. “i now understand why my students were laughing when they said i ‘go viral for breathing.’ i thought it was just a turn of phrase.”

a pause. “...also. please stop calling me daddy.” he stands. buttons his coat. bows slightly.

“thank you for your time.” and just like that, nanami kento walks off set—thoroughly disturbed, vaguely flustered, and still somehow more composed than anyone else ever will be.

۶ৎ notes, puh lease im laughing at my own writing...

[that-one-girl2020]

Hello :3

Can you saja boys x rumi sisters skit

Where she gets collab with other boy group and the saja boys getting jealous hehe

Seething

Saja Boys x Rumi’s Sister! Reader

A/N: If you guys can not guess my bias by the end of this then I will be very disappointed in you. This is a combination of a few requests I’ve gotten because a lot of people wanna see jealous Saja Boys apparently.

Synopsis: You have debuted as a solo artist and that’s great! Especially since you’re getting so many offers for different projects and collabs now. But not when it pulls your attention from your boys, who begin to quietly seethe.

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the songs and have no relation to the media references I use in my works!

CW: Jealousy, possessiveness, cursing, use of ‘Oppa,’ not much else…? (Lemme know if I left anything out)

Word Count: 2.2k

Master List || KPDH Series || RR Series

(Reminder: Baby = Jum, Romance = Chungae, Mystery = Hyeon, Abby = Kwan)

You were very excited.

You didn’t realize it when you first debuted, but it turns out that as a solo artist, it was easier for you to collaborate with other artists, groups, and projects. It was much easier for your schedule to be worked around instead of having to work around the schedule for a group. Therefore, you were surprised but ecstatic at all the offers for collaborations, movie roles, voice overs, and guest appearances.

But you were especially excited for this one. You and another artist had been approached by Blizzard Entertainment to produce a song for the release of their game, Diablo IV. Which led to a lot of time being spent with the artist you were collaborating with. Min Yoongi, aka, Suga of BTS.

You had briefly met Yoongi before when you were doing visuals for Huntr/x, the two groups having collaborated once. They got along, they were still in touch even now, but you had been part of the background at the time. So imagine your surprise when Yoongi remembered you during the first introductory meeting between your two teams.

After that, all your meetings were just the two of you. And when you had told the man that you had never played the game before, only watched some play through videos on YouTube to get a feel for it, he had immediately sat you down to at least play through the first one with him. It was surprising how well you and the quiet, introspective man got along.

Meanwhile, the boys weren’t very happy. Well, they were and they weren’t.

They were happy that you were getting so many job offers and growing your career, of course. They were so proud of you, they were your biggest fans—no matter what the girls said. But you were also spending way too much time on this collaboration, in their opinion.

You still came back to the apartment most nights, the ones you didn’t spend at the Tower, and you still cuddled with them and ate with them and went on dates with them when you had the free time. It was just that when you weren’t working on the collaboration, you were talking about how nice Yoongi was, how he brought you a drink that he knew you liked, how he was so great at writing music, and how his gummy smile was cute.

It was getting to be a bit much. The boys had taken to just kissing you to make you shut up or crossing their arms and pouting.

They had even tried to convince Bobby to let them go with you to film your music video in Europe but Bobby put his foot down and even took away their private jet privileges. And the girls’ too for good measure.

So they had no idea what to expect when the music video finally did drop. They were of course having a watch party, the YouTube screen slowly counting down as they gathered in the living area of the Tower.

“Oh, this is gonna be so good!” Zoey cheered, sitting in between her girlfriends with an oversized bowl of popcorn and candy.

“I’ve seen some beta videos, so I’m expecting this to be freaking sick,” Mira grabbed a handful, popping some into her mouth.

Rumi nodded in agreement, “Oh yeah, if this is anywhere near the quality of her other music videos, then this is gonna be a cinematic masterpiece.” Rumi looked down when the boys didn’t say anything. They were all curled tightly around you, Kwan behind you, Jum and Chungae clinging to your arms, and Jinu and Hyeon on your legs. “You guys good…?”

“I can’t feel my anything,” You remarked bluntly but in acceptance. You weren’t moving an inch if they had any say in it.

The boys were quiet, stewing.

“Oh, hush, hush, hush! It’s starting!” Zoey bounced, grabbing at her girlfriends in her excitement.

You scoffed playfully as the boys perked up, “What, it’s my song and I can’t even talk—“

“Shhhhh!” Eight different people hushed you.

“Okay then…”

“The more that you have, the more that they take~”

The girls vigorously crunched down on snacks, their eyes glued to the screen as it opened on a foggy church as a bell rang. Then it cut to you inside the church, dressed in a black cloak with dark makeup. The boys swallowed thickly at just seeing your face in the dark makeup they had never seen you in before. It wasn’t carefully done, it wasn’t neat or elegant, no this was the type of makeup that could be called war paint.

“Well, I'm perfection when it comes to indiscretion~ Might fuck around and just succumb to my aggression~ I taste blood and it’s turned to an obsession~ Baby, I'm confessin', yeah~ You got me thinkin' that I was too mean~ Well, everything that I say, I believe~ Tuck a knife with my heart up my sleeve~ And change like a season, reason for nothin'~ I am disruptive, I've been corrupted~ And by now, I don't need a fuckin' introduction~ I've been gone 'cause I been on this road too long~”

And then you walked through a cloud of smoke, thick and black, and all the candles blew out around you, leaving you in darkness and the cloak around your shoulders fell.

The boys stiffened at the sight of you on screen. It was a battle outfit but not like the ones the girls wore when demon hunting—though there were elements that were similar. No, this was black leather that barely covered, thigh high heels that made your legs look like they went on for miles, golden plating in just some areas that accentuated the softness of your skin, and a sword in hand that looked ready for blood.

They held you tighter, their eyes locked on the screen, your voice filling their ears as wounds appeared on your body and you kept going despite it.

“You know I get too caught up in a moment~ I can't call it love if I show it~ I just fuck things up if you noticed~ Have you noticed? Tell me, have you noticed?~ I get too caught up in a moment~ I can't fall in love if I show it~ I just fuck things up if you noticed~ Have you noticed? Tell me, have you noticed?~”

You were mindlessly bobbing your head to the song, appreciating how well it had all turned out, all the time and work you had spent with Yoongi—though it didn’t much feel like work. You could feel that the boys were slowly tensing more and more, but it didn’t really register in your mind yet.

The lyrics reached into the five boys, like all your music did, like your voice did effortlessly. Drawing them to you. This side of you that the camera had captured was a side of you they hadn’t seen since the confrontation with Gwi Ma and they drank the sight in as if it were the last sip of water on the planet.

And then hints of him began peeking through a black fog.

“I got a problem doin' things I'm not supposed to~ But you did anything I told you~ 'Cause you'd let anybody with a body control you~ And you know it, too~ You got me feelin' like I been too mean~ And everything that I say, I believe~ Tuck a knife with my heart up my sleeve~ And fuck like a demon, do it like nothin'~ I am disgustin', I've been corrupted~ And by now, I don't need no help to be destructive~ I've been gone, yeah, I been on this road too long~”

The boys went completely stiff when out of the darkness, Yoongi came, wearing a black cloak as he circled around you, the water at your feet rippling as you turned your head to follow him.

“I know you get too caught up in a moment~ You can't call it love if you show it~ We just fuck things up, yeah, I noticed~ Yeah, I noticed, hear me? Yeah, I noticed~ Step out of the moment~ That's been trappin' you in all this negativity of hatred and insanity~ Don't dwell on the past, it's time to make a change~ Look around, believe in what you see, I have returned to Hell~”

The two of you sang, circling each other as invisible blows continued to rain down on the two of you. Yoongi’s hand rose, brushing your hair back, his fingers grazing your cheek. And then, together, you continued your journey to the heart of the church.

The boys couldn’t help how their teeth ground, their fingers twitching on your skin with the urge to grab you and leave their marks on your flesh—with their fingers or their lips. Their eyes were wide open but their pupils were shrunk as they watched the video with a manic intensity. Your demon side was exclusively for them or your rage. They were not selfless enough to share that side of you with anyone else.

“You know I get too caught up in a moment~ I can't call it love if I show it~ I just fuck things up if you noticed~ Have you noticed? Tell me, have you noticed?~ I get too caught up in a moment~ I can't fall in love 'cause I'm focused~ I just fuck things up if you noticed~ Have you noticed? Tell me, have you noticed?~”

Yoongi nodded at you and you nodded solemnly back at him. You had to finish your journey on your own. He faded back into the shadows, pulling the hood of his cloak up as he did.

You approached the dais of the church, covered in lit candles and rose petals. You knelt and offered your sword, your body bloodied and wounded but still strong. The camera flickered to the paintings on the wall and ceiling, a female demon looking back at you.

“The more that you give away~ The more that you have~ More that you give away~ More that you have~ The more that you give away~ The more that you have, the more that they take~”

Your demon form flickered on screen for the briefest moment and then went black.

“Holy… shit. That was awesome,” Mira spoke first after a long moment of silence. Rumi’s jaw was hanging open, looking between you and the blank screen.

Zoey clapped, reaching through the throng of boys to shake your shoulders, “It was! The music and the lyrics were so hot and the imagery were awesome!”

You smiled, a bit flustered at hearing your song praised so blatantly, but you were slowly getting used to it as you released more music. “Thanks… I’ve been sitting on some of those lyrics for a little while but Yoongi was the one who really pulled it all together. He’s so awesome…”

“(Y/n)?”

Oh no. Were you in trouble? You looked down at Jinu who hadn’t turned from the blank screen to look at you. “Yeah…?”

“Are you saying that you’ve had that song in the works and you didn’t bring it to us?” Jinu asked blankly.

You didn’t know where this was going. “Uh, yeah…? Well, just a few bits of the lyrics—Yoongi helped fill in the holes and really make it hit.”

“And,” Kwan added from behind you. You turned your head to try and see his expression but all you could see was the faint glow of his eyes. “He got to see you like that in person?”

You were slightly concerned now. For both them and yourself. “Yeah. We had to film together…”

“And you let him touch you?” Chungae asked darkly.

You were tempted to run but you knew you wouldn’t get far. “The director told us to…”

“You were gone for two days,” Jum noted, leaning closer to your face. His eyes were also glowing amber. “Did you let him treat you to dinner…? Spend time together after filming…?”

You stuttered, starting to get overwhelmed by the interrogation as you started feeling more and more like you were in trouble with your boyfriends for some reason. “U-uh, I, Yeah…? H-he’s my Oppa…?”

The boys were quiet. You fucked up, didn’t you.

“And we’re not?” Hyeon rumbled, his chest vibrating with the growl that came from the back of his throat.

Jinu finally turned his head, looking at you and you swallowed at the dark look in his glowing eyes. His gaze didn’t falter for a moment as he said, “We’re going now. Bye girls.”

And then the six of you were gone in a puff of smoke.

~~~

The next time you saw Yoongi, he had invited you to play video games with him and his group members. The boys had decided to come with you so you had texted Yoongi ahead of time and he had said it was fine.

Yoongi opened the door and gave you his usual tired look, “Hey, (Y/n), come on in.” He was kind enough to ignore the marks on your shoulders and neck that were mostly covered with makeup.

“Hi Yoongi, thanks again for inviting me,” You bowed lightly, handing over the bag of snacks you had brought. “I didn’t know what everyone would like so I grabbed a lot. These are my boyfriends.”

Yoongi nodded, “Ah, right, nice to meet you guys,” Yoongi waved, shaking their hands. “She talks a lot about you guys.”

“Oppa…” You whined lowly.

He shrugged unapologetically, smirking, “It’s true. Come on in.” He wandered back into the depths of the house as you all took your shoes off.

The boys were kind of flabbergasted, looking at you with surprise. You shrugged, slipping your shoes off, “If you guys had talked to me, I would’ve told you that there wasn’t a reason to be jealous but you guys suck at communicating…” You tilted your head in thought. “Not that I’m really complaining much.”

You followed after Yoongi and your five idiots trailed after you sheepishly. They had been fully prepared to go full territorial cavemen while they were there if they had to. Now all those plans just slipped down the drain.

A/N: This is the first time I’ve written Yoongi’s personality so that’s why I didn’t have much interactions written. I also took some creative liberties with the MV because they’re both from Korea and can go to an international shoot together instead of filming in two different locations.

Yes there will be a part 2 where you guys get to see what the Saja Boys do when they take you to the apartment.

Outtakes:

*After the Poly Pride left*

Mira: “Welp, R.I.P. (Y/n)’s coochie, I guess.”

Zoey: *concerned* “Do you think she’ll be okay…?”

Rumi: *shrugs* “Eh, she’ll be here tomorrow for all our ice packs.”

…

*While you and Suga are working*

Saja Simps: “What do you think they’re doing?” “He’s probably sitting next to her, their legs touching so he can show her something on his computer…” “Or they’re at some cafe and he’s treating her to lunch…” “Maybe they’re in the sound booth, sharing the same microphone…” “What if he’s touching her shoulder?!” “AHHHHH!”

You and Yoongi: *playing the hand slap game* *giggling like children*

…

You: *in your demon form for a brief second of filming*

Bobby: “Oh. My. Gosh. You look awesome! Who did your makeup?! It looks so real!”

Yoongi: *nodding his head* “Nice.”

You: *Sweating* “Oh. I, uh, did it myself…?”

Yoongi: “You don’t seem too sure there.”

You: *nervous laughter*

…

You: *basically no self esteem with lots of insecurity* “There’s no way my demonic, selfish, greedy boyfriends could ever be jealous in anyway.”

Also You: *to another man* “Oppa.”

Saja Simps: *feral growling, salivating with rage, basically barking at the man*

…

Tag List: @brights-place @itmechaosartist @reni502 @chin-chii @cultish-corner @enerofairy @mama-m1na @akariis4snowball @gremlinartstudio @shynotded @shadowmoonlight0604 @omgsuperstarg @neigesprincess @sleep-7372 @hurts-my-brain @kiwibackie @gh0stied3ath @naysha140 @theferretkids @lelantyuu @sexyindependentdowntospendit @hornehlittleweeblet2 @moonymoo1 @moochiwoochi @cheolright @crescent-z @prorpy @mey-archive @cami1qx @nerdalicios @xxsadlovexx @latisthegenderfluidwannabealone @blackheart34 @anonymousewrites @scarletrosesposts @justanindiangirl12 @beexboo @tatsuri-zomushiki @call-me-nyxx @queenofviolenceandnerds @randomfan218-blog @jaybbygrl @unholycheesesnack @ocean-mochi @iviorienne @confusedparticle @otakusimp1 @nosbaby07 @fries11 @ri-eveowe @1950schick @libdarkheart @yourjustassaneasiamx @the-bookish-artist @anduinandwrathionlover @eternallyrosyfire @lysira340 @lansy-4 @strayharmony943 @maximumtrashchild @bleufu1 @minepugs @valeriele3 @arieslucy @nisarelle @suzieq1948374 @esposamultifandom

[maho6any]

Smudged Lines

tattoo artist!Kim Hongjoong x F!Reader

summary: right before the local tattoo shop closes for the night, you walk in as the last customer of the day with an on-the-whim decision to get a womb tattoo, but when your artist sees you walk in, he decides you won't be leaving tonight with just a new piece of art on your body.

warnings: strangers to lovers, tattoos, tension, latex gloves, praise, womb tattoo, dirty talk, pet names, (sweetness, hun, love, etc.) talking you through it, (please don't actually fuck your tattoo artists), HEAVY breeding kink, consent is sexy, fingering, oral(f!recieving), unprotected sex(wrap it up guys), overstimulation, aftercare, slight tummy bulge, multiple orgasms

wc: 8.1k

notes: this is kinda rushed but I got the idea and I needed to write it immediately, I might have gotten a little carried away. this was supposed to be like... 3k words.

tracklist: love drought, another night, cece’s interlude

Sitting in your car, you flipped through the cash in your hand, counting carefully. The city lights twinkled against the dark skyline, traffic rushed by, and the cold wind bit at your skin through your open window. When you were sure you had enough, you rolled up the window and stepped out of your car.

It was kind of out of nowhere. You were talking with some friends over dinner at your place when the topic somehow shifted to tattoos. You had a small moon on your wrist, and that was about it. Your other friends had more intricate pieces on their bodies, murals on their backs, full sleeves, and tree branches that crawled down their legs. They convinced you to get another tattoo, one a bit bolder. 

You always want more art on your body, but you either have no time or just simply put it to the side out of worry. You weren’t necessarily the best when it came to pain, and you also didn’t want to feel judged. You also weren’t one who liked to draw attention, but you always wanted to adorn your body with art, for your enjoyment.

But your friends assured you that if anyone had anything mean to say about what you decided to do with your body that they should get fucked.

So, here you were, a Thursday night in mid-November, 8:30 pm, walking in to get a tattoo. The shop closed at 11, so you were sure they could squeeze you in, and this particular shop’s busiest hours were on the weekend in the afternoon, so it shouldn’t be a bad wait.

Your friends gathered with you around the table to help you decide on a design and placement. When you suggested a womb tattoo, your friends went borderline ballistic with excitement, quickly looking up references and sketching out stencils.

When the design was chosen, they recommended a tattoo shop. And gave you the drawing, urging you to get it. Their excitement only spurred you further, feeling confident to go through with it.  You had set a day to get the piece done.

The shop was at the end of a line of other stores, with tinted windows and the outside walls painted with stunning murals of dragons and other fantasy-themed art. You walked up to the door and opened it, a small bell jingling as you walked inside. The floors were black, speckled with spots of white. There was a front desk, behind which nobody stood. You peeked around the desk and spotted a few chairs and stations set up in preparation for artists. Someone was bent over a table, seemingly organizing needles and ink, their back turned to you. 

“Be with you in a sec!” He called, not turning to you. You looked around the lobby, a few chairs here and there, and the walls were littered with art. Eccentric pieces of naked women, traditional Japanese paintings, and other drawings of tattoos. A couple of books sat on the reception desk, which you assumed were different artists' flash pieces. Fiddling with the belts and buckles on your purse, you admired the pieces on the wall, wondering if one day you might get any similar. 

You were a bit lost in all the art on the walls; you didn’t notice somebody standing in front of you.

“What can I do for you, sweetheart?” You snapped out of your trance and turned to look at who spoke. Words failed you for a second before you gathered your composure and smiled sheepishly.

“Hi, sorry I'm coming in so late, could you take a walk in right now?” The man behind the counter smiled, a very charming grin. His arms were covered in beautiful, intricate tattoos from his arms down to the knuckles of his fingers. Wearing a plain black button-up and matching black pants, his ears were decked with piercings, and his fingers were decorated with a wide array of silver rings. He was hot.

“Yeah, of course, don’t worry about it. What are you thinking about?” You fished into your purse and pulled out the drawing your friends compiled for you, handing it to him gently. His eyebrows raised slightly while he looked it over, the smile on his face only growing wider.

“This is a beautiful piece, did you draw this love?” He asked, eyes locked with yours. The look in his eyes was hard to place, but you felt your stomach flip and your heart skip a beat.

“N-no, my friends drew it for me, I just offered some ideas and they put pen to paper for me, but yeah, I was hoping for that on… well, in this area maybe.” You gestured to your lower abdomen, letting your hands drag along your stomach.

His eyes fell to follow your hands, nodding in confirmation. “We’re thinking about a womb tattoo? Sounds awesome, I don’t get to do those very often. The other artists went home for the night, and we’ve got no other customers, so I can get this started as soon as I get the stencil ready. Need me to make any tweaks to the piece?”

You thought for a moment. “Maybe make it a little daintier? Just a little less clunky, and I think it’ll be perfect.”

He clicked his tongue and winked, “Gotcha, I can do that for you. I’m Hongjoong by the way, nice to meet you, Ms…” He reached his hand out for you to shake. You took it, his grip was firm and warm as you told him your name.

“Nice to meet you. I’m gonna have you come back with me. I'll give you a couple of forms to fill out while I get this stencil printed, then we can figure out this placement and see how you like it. Sounds good?” He offered a warm smile.

You nod, feeling rather relaxed at how easygoing Hongjoong was. You followed him behind the counter to the back of the studio.

“You can go ahead and have a seat.” He gusted to the chair in his station, while he turned to rummage through his desk. He handed you a clipboard and a pen, and you took it, your hand just slightly brushing his.

“Go ahead and fill those out for me, it's just a consent form, y’know, the works. I’ll head back and get this stencil ready, and I’ll be right back.” You nod and smile, taking the clipboard.

“Thank you,” you reply, and he must have sensed the timidity in your voice, because his eyes softened and he fully turned to face you.

“No need to be nervous, I’ve been doing this for so long, I’ll get you right.” He grinned, his eyes playfully bouncing around the room as if he were checking to see if anyone was watching. He leaned down to your ear to whisper, “I promise I won't color out of the lines too badly.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension in your shoulders easing. “What, you don’t have an eraser?” you asked, biting your bottom lip to try and stifle the goofy smile on your face, failing miserably.

Hongjoong smiled at you while playing along, offering up a dumb shrug of his shoulders and a wink. “If I fuck up too badly, you have full permission to kill me.” You both laughed, and Hongjoong picked up the drawing of the tattoo.

“Thanks again, Hongjoong.” You said.

“No problem, love, be back in a minute.” He turned and walked away from his station into a back room you couldn’t quite see, and you looked down at the papers he gave and began filling them out.

All you could think about was how attractive he was, and you were no better than a man. When he talked, you could only pay attention to the sensual way his lips wrapped around the words he spoke, the way the veins in his hands flexed as he took the paper from you, the undercut that exposed his strong neck, his strong arms that the shirt he was wearing barely contained. His gentle voice and the playful lilt at the end of his sentences. And then you remembered that his hands would be all over your lower body, and your brain screeched to a halt.

You shook your head and lightly smacked your cheek. You were NOT going to be weird. He was going to give you your tat, and he's just doing his job. You will not make it weird. You will not-

“Alright, hun, got that all filled out for me?” You looked up to see him walking up to you. His sleeves were rolled up, and his hands were hidden beneath black latex gloves, holding the stencil in one hand. He smiled at you, and you stood nodding as you handed him the clipboard.

“Yeah, all done.” He took the clipboard from you and flipped through it, checking your work before setting it on the table.

“Looks good, now. Before I put that in the system, let's talk about this placement. Could you stand up for me?” You rose from the chair, standing straight in front of him. Hongjoong grabbed a bottle of disinfectant and sank to his knees. 

“Now, as long as you're comfortable, I’m gonna ask you to take off your shirt, love. I know it’s not ideal, but it's the best way we can get this piece on your stomach, okay?” He smiled, reassuring and kind. You were expecting this, but you weren’t expecting your artist to be so easy on the eyes. You hesitated for a short moment before reaching for your hem and pulling it over your head. Shyness crept up your shoulders as you folded your shirt and placed it in your bag, leaving you in just your black bra. 

“This’ll be a little cold, okay?” You nod as he pours some onto his gloved hand, before pressing the palm of his hand on your abdomen, softly massaging the disinfectant onto your stomach. You shivered at the coldness of it, and Hongjoong chucked below you. “Told ya.”

You laughed softly as he finished cleaning the area, before he grabbed the stencil off his desk, lifting it to hold it to your body.

“Please smack me if I’m doing too much, but is it okay if I unbutton your pants and lower them just a little? Womb tattoos are usually placed really low on the torso, so I might need a little more real estate to work with. Is that alright?”

You nod, albeit timidly.

“Can I get your words, please, love?” Hongjoong asks softly, his eyes searching your face for any semblance of discomfort.

You felt your face heat up a little. “Yes, it's okay, go ahead.”  Hongjoong smiles and nods.

“Good girl, thank you. This’ll make this a little easier on us both.” You swallowed a lump in your throat as his fingers found the button of your pants, unclipping them and dragging the zipper down. You held back a shiver as you felt his fingers brush over your skin as he undid your pants. He folded the top of your jeans over, further exposing your lower torso. Your black lace underwear was visible, and you cursed yourself for not wearing a simpler pair.

“So I’m thinking right here, just below your belly button, right where your hips meet your torso. We can always adjust if you would like a better placement, so please don’t be afraid to tell me. This is going on your body forever, and I want it to be perfect for you. I want you to love it, mkay?”

“Okay,” you reply, and watch as he ever so slowly presses the stencil against your lower abdomen. Once he had it in a secure position, he ran his hand over it to smooth it against your skin, before gently peeling the paper off your skin, leaving a perfect print of the piece on your skin. Hongjoong smiled before standing and taking a couple of steps back to get a good look to make sure it wasn’t crooked.

“Alright, looks good on my end. There's a mirror over in that corner, if you wanna go look and tell me if that's okay, or if you wanna make any adjustments. Remember, don’t be afraid to tell me if you want to change anything, that's what I’m here for.”  You nod and force your feet to unstick from the floor and walk over to the mirror.

The placement was perfect, just the right size, the way the sharp edges curled up your stomach, the cute little heart in the middle. You smiled and turned your body to get a better angle. Hongjoong watched as you checked yourself out in the mirror, and he couldn’t help but grin at the way you admired yourself. He loves it when beautiful women appreciate themselves in his work, and he was so excited to get this piece on you.

“It's perfect!” you said happily, turning to look at him. Hongjoong clapped his hands and gestured to the table.

“Great, exactly what I wanted to hear. I’m gonna have you lie on your back on this table here. Lie your head closer to the middle so your legs are hanging off the edge. I’m going to get the guns ready, and we can get started. Sounds good?”

“Sounds great,” you reply. Careful not to smudge the lines you laid on the table, legs hanging off the edge like he asked. Hongjoong got to work setting up the needles and filling cups of ink. When he was finished, he rolled his stool over to the edge of the table, where your legs were hanging off, pretty much between your legs. He sat on the stool, rolling it forward slightly to get a little closer to your body.

Holding the tattoo gun, Hongjoong leaned his head over, double-checking to make sure the stencil was still looking good. You felt his hand on your thigh, patting it gently. “Ready?” he asked, and you could almost feel his breath on your stomach.

“Yep.” You answer, trying not to focus on how close he was between your thighs. 

“Alright, let's get started. Let me know if you need a break; we can take as many as you need.” You shoot back an okay, and you hear the tattoo gun switch on, the mechanical whirring filling the quiet space.

The first puncture wasn't too bad; it stung a little, yes, but you got used to it in no time. Hongjoong’s hand rested above your belly button, pulling upward slightly to tighten the skin so he could have a better canvas to work with. Carefully, he followed the stencil, completely in his element as he worked his magic on you.

Your skin was warm, and he felt it even through the gloves. He noticed that your thighs would slightly twitch if he nicked a sensitive spot with the needles, and every time his thumb from the hand on your stomach rubbed soothingly against your skin, just to let you know he saw, and he was being as careful as he could with you.

“You’re doing so good.” He said softly, and your heart leaped in your chest. “Feeling alright?” He asked, raising his head to look at you.

“Doing great.” You respond quickly, in hopes he wouldn’t catch the nervous tint in your voice. He switched off the gun and went to switch needles. The gun switched back on after some shuffling, and it was back on your skin. By now, the pain had subsided to a soft vibration. You could feel Hongjoong’s hair tickling your thighs. His hand on your stomach moved away, and you almost missed the feeling. He lifted the gun from your skin, and you felt his hand on your inner thigh.

“Could you spread your legs a little more for me, hun?” Your brain nearly short circuited, but you obeyed, letting your legs fall open a little more, as Hongjoong gently pushed your thigh to urge them to move, squeezing the flesh when he decided they were open enough.

“Good job, thank you. We’re almost done with the outline, then you can take a little breather for me before we get to shading. You’re doing perfect.” The gun was back on your skin, and his free hand left your thigh, resting on your lower waist, pulling the skin taut again as he got back to work. You wished the tattoo hurt more, because at least you could focus on that rather than Hongjoong’s hands on your body. Your skin was on fire, and his being between your legs was not helping your poor heart.

After a little while, he traced a few more strokes, and he switched the gun off, setting it on his metal table. “Alright, break time, let me go get you some water.” Hongjoong stood and grabbed a water bottle from a mini fridge in the studio, handing it to you. You took a couple of sips and handed it back to him.

“Thanks.” You took a deep breath and let yourself calm down.

“It's coming out beautifully on your skin.” Hongjoong grinned, taking a better look at his work. “You’re gonna love it. You’re doing super well for me, very good at sitting still.”

You smiled sheepishly and rolled your eyes. “You flatter me; it doesn’t hurt too bad.” Hongjoong raised an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah? Rate the pain, scale of 1 to 10.” You think for a moment and raise your hands to form a number.

“4?” he asks, and you nod in response.

“That's a big girl number. I’m glad it doesn’t hurt too bad, but once we get to this shading, you might eat your words.” You narrowed your eyes and smiled, a challenge in your expression.

“Try me,” you respond teasingly. Hongjoong smirks and starts preparing his other needles. 

“Someone’s a sucker for pain, huh?” He laughs and sits back on the stool.

“Well, I wouldn’t say that now…” You pout playfully, getting comfortable again as he settles down to start working again. 

Hongjoong's hand gently massaged your thigh. “Alright, sweetness, we’re going to get back to it. Can I ask you something?”

You lifted yourself on your elbows to look down at him, and frankly, you weren't prepared to see him so handsome between your legs. Lord, have mercy on your soul. His eyes were half lidded, and the gloved hand on your thighs continued to massage absentmindedly. He found your eyes and smiled.

“The shading’s gonna be more on the lower side, and it looks like I might need your pants off and your underwear a little low, but I want to make sure you’re comfortable. This tattoo does fall pretty low on your tummy, so the best way to get this done is for the pants to go. Is that okay, love?”

 You wanted to scream Yes, please take off my pants. But you kept yourself together and nodded quietly.

“What’d I say earlier? Words, sweetheart.” Your eyelids fluttered so slightly that it would be easy to miss, but Hongjoong noticed it immediately. The hand on your thigh squeezed a little harder.

“Yes, Hongjoong. I’m okay with it. Do what you need to do.” 

His hands rested on the waistband of your pants, his fingers hooking through your belt loops. “Good girl,” he whispered as he gently pulled your pants down your legs and off your body. “Thank you for being so cooperative tonight. I’ve had a busy day, and you’re a wonderful change of pace.”

When your pants hit the floor, he folded them carefully and set them on the chair in the corner. Softly, like you were made of porcelain, he slipped your underwear down slightly, so the waistband stretched right below your hip line. You were still covered, but frankly, it left little to the imagination, and your shyness started to creep up your spine. Subconsciously, you squeezed your thighs together, and Hongjoong's hands gently massaged your waist, coaxing you to calm down.

“Relax for me, okay? It might be a little more painful, so like I said before, don’t be afraid to ask for breaks. I’ll be as gentle as I can, but don’t be shy. I’ve been doing this forever, and I’ve seen every part of the human body imaginable. You’re safe and cared for here.” The feeling of his hands soothing your waist let the muscles in your legs relax, and he smiled as he felt the tension in your body slowly release.

“There we go…” he murmured, turning to grab the tattoo gun again. “You’re alright.” He switched it on, and the hum filled the air again. You felt the needles against your skin again, and he wasn’t lying; the pain increased, not too badly, but enough to draw a surprised wince from you.

“I know, hun, I know.” Hongjoong purred, his free hand continuing to run up and down your waist. “Just breathe, we’re almost done. You’re doing so good…”

You needed to shut your brain off; his words floated around in your head, and you squeezed your eyes shut. You would not fuck your tattoo artist, you would not fuck your tattoo artist.

You tried so hard to focus on the feeling of the needle penetrating your skin instead of his hand on your skin, but ultimately, you were failing. You were so happy that the buzzing was so loud because you were 90% sure you might have whimpered. 

It felt like years, Hongjoong between your legs etching art into your skin, so close to your now-soaked cunt that you could shift your hips and he’d be able to bury his nose in it. 

If you knew what he was thinking right now, your heart would probably stop. He could smell you. You smelled so good, and it was driving him fucking crazy. He’d be a liar if he said that when he saw you walk in, he didn’t want to get his hands on you. You were gorgeous, and the fact that you were letting him etch a piece onto your beautiful skin was turning him on more than he’d like to admit. The way your body jerked when the pain was too much, and every little micro expression on your face every time he called you a sweet name, he could tell you liked to hear. Your skin was so soft, and he wanted to rip off the gloves so he could properly caress your body and feel you.

Such a slutty tattoo you asked for, for such a quiet girl. Something that symbolized fertility, sexuality, on the body of such a pretty, gentle girl.

Finally, Hongjong applied some finishing touches to the piece, switching off the gun and taking a few more glances at the tattoo.

“Alright, pretty, I think we’re done.” He smiled at you and patted your thigh. “You can sit up now.” You pushed yourself up so you were sitting on the edge of the table, looking down at your stomach to see the final piece. He turned around and grabbed a paper towel.

“Let me wipe this down, and then you can get a better look at it in the mirror.” He placed one hand right below your breasts, while the other gently wiped away the excess ink on your abdomen. 

Hongjoong whistled and tossed the paper towel in the trash can. “Looks so sexy on you, love.” He stared, admiring his work. “Go ahead and get a good look.” You stood on shaky legs, walking over to the mirror to look at it.

Sexy was right. The dark ink on your skin shaped into sharp curves and edges, the heart in the middle of two wings shaded perfectly. Your mouth hung open at how pretty you felt, and you caught Hoongjoong’s eyes shamelessly admiring you in the mirror. When your eyes met in the mirror, his lips drifted into a lazy grin, arms crossed.

“Like it?” He asked as you turned to face him.

“I love it.” You replied. Hongjoong nodded, but something was different in his eyes. There was an ignored tension in the air, and you knew you both sensed it.

“You did an amazing job. Come sit and let me get a few pictures.” You carried yourself back over to the table, sitting on it and letting your legs hang over the edge once again. Hongjoong grabbed his phone.

“The skin will be a bit sensitive for a bit, but it should subside soon enough. I’ll give you a little care bag to take home, keep the area clean, and try not to let it sit in the sun for too long. Other than that, it should be relatively easy to take care of.”

He slipped off his glove, his hand littered in tattoos now visible. “Straighten your back for me, sweetness?” You obeyed, straightening your spine. Hongjoong sank to his knees once again, eye level with the tattoo. He placed his degloved hand right above the tattoo, aiming the camera at your abdomen. With the tattoo and his hand in frame, he took a few pictures, the camera shuttering a few times before he set his phone down on the table.

His eyes drifted up to yours, still on his knees in front of you. Something in the air crackled, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Neither one of you dared to move. Who would break first?

“Tell me something,” Hongjoong murmured, his hands resting on the top of either of your thighs. “And be honest.” Your heart was slamming against your ribcage as you waited for him to speak again.

A beat of silence.

“I couldn’t help but notice your eyes all over me the entire time you’ve been here.” His hands on your thighs flattened, dragging upwards to massage your hips, sliding right down to your knees, where he traced little shapes. “Your focus faltering, your breath hitching, that oh so needy look in your eyes when I got on my knees for you.”

You swallowed, your mouth slightly falling open at his words. He smiled at your reaction, biting his bottom lip, tugging slowly until it popped from between his teeth, shiny and wet. Perfectly pink.

“How badly,” he whispered so quietly. “Did you want me deeper between these thighs while I was tattooing you?” 

Your eyes rolled.

“Hongjoong...” You groaned, that thin string of control inside of you so close to snapping. The hands on your thighs squeezed, like he was trying to keep himself in line. 

“Answer me, sweetness.” He whispered, his fingertips tracing the edge of your panties. Your stomach lurched, and your thighs clenched again. “How bad?”

“Really fucking badly.” You answered, breathless. Hongjoong’s tongue poked against the inside of his cheek, smiling as he pressed a ghost of a kiss against your inner thigh.

“Yeah? That bad?” he offered a faux pout, mocking your pitiful expression. “Still want me down here, baby? Tell me to stop, and this goes no further.” His gaze shifted into something serious. 

You lifted your hand and gently caressed his jaw. He leaned into your touch, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand. “Please, don’t stop,” you whined, spreading your legs slightly to emphasize your point.

“That’s my girl.” Hongjoong drawled, fingers hooking along the waistband of your panties, the only thing separating his tongue from your dripping cunt. He dragged the fabric down your legs and hooked his hands underneath your thighs, lifting them to rest on his shoulders. 

“Look at her…” he moaned, eyes glued to your pussy. Blowing a cold gust of air against you, he dragged his eyes back up to see your face. “Look at me.”

You forced your eyes to glance down at him, catching his gaze and letting out a quiet breath. “Are you absolutely sure, love?” He asked one last time, his eyes soft and searching. You ran a hand through the blonde mop of hair on his head, gripping at the scalp, and pulled him closer between your legs.

“I’m sure,” you replied, breathless. “Never been more-oh fuck…” Hongjoong seemed happy to hear that, because before you finished, he flattened his tongue against you and licked a wet, filthy line up your slit, burying his face into you.

His nose bumped your clit as he buried his tongue inside of you, lapping at you so sloppily.

“Yeah, you’ve been so good for me tonight.” He groaned into you, the vibrations of his voice traveling into you and throughout your whole body. “Moan for me, hun. I wanna hear you.”

Your back arched, his fingers dug into your thighs, kneading and squeezing the flesh as he devoured you, shameless and without mercy. Your slick dripped down his chin, the grip on his hair tightening as he shifted his lips upward to wrap around your clit. He sucked hard, swirling his tongue around it, nipping at it gently with his teeth.

Your body jolted, a sweet whimper bubbling from your chest. Hongjoong growled into your pussy, refusing to let up on your clit.

“Can you come for me, baby?” He whined, voice muffled. You felt one hand on your thigh pull away and press against your entrance. He gathered the slick on his fingers before slowly slipping them inside of you, mouth still relentless on your clit. The pads of his fingers pressed deep into you, and he curled them just right, pressing against your G-spot.

You gasped, yanking his hair in your grasp, further grinding yourself into his mouth. “Yes… fuck gonna come.. oh my god…” 

Hongjoong laughed, slowly dragging his thick fingers in and out of you, rubbing circles on that spot that made your vision tunnel. “Go ahead, sweetheart, cum all over my fucking face, give it to me.”

The coil in your belly snapped, your thighs shook as you unraveled on his tongue. You lay back on the chair trying to catch your breath, but Hongjoong wasn’t having it.

“Good girl,” he smiled against you, pressing gentle, featherlight kisses on your clit. The look in his eyes proved he was up to no good, as he slipped a third finger inside your warm cunt, keeping the pads of his fingers pressed against your G-spot, rubbing slow, deliberate circles against it. His tongue continued to swirl around your swollen clit, and overstimulation began to wrack your body, tears welling in your blown eyes. “But I know you have one more for me. I need you to come for me again, love. You can do it.”

Your eyes widened, your sensitivity increasing tenfold as he showed no mercy to your throbbing pussy, your wetness smeared all over his mouth as he slurped you up like water. “Fuck.. ‘s too much..” you cried, gently trying to push his head away.

“You’re doing amazing,” Hongjoong sighed against your skin. “Just take what I give you, baby. You can handle it.” He pulled off your clit with a wet pop, peppering gentle kisses along the inside of your thighs as his thick fingers dragged you to your second orgasm.

“Almost there, sweet girl, you’re so close, focus for me, please.” Hongjoong’s eyes were glued to your body, sweat dripped skin, loving every twitch and every jerk of your muscles as you tried to handle the pleasure.

 His cock was rock hard, and it was taking everything in his power not to bend you over the table and fuck you so hard you’d feel him in the morning. But he knew he couldn’t. For one, the fresh tattoo’d probably hurt your poor stomach, rubbing raw against the hard surface each time he slammed his hips into yours. And secondly, he wanted this to be all about you. Such a sweet girl coming in and letting him hurt you with his tattoo gun, being so kind and cooperative. He wanted tonight to be all about making you feel so good.

“Breathe, baby breathe, you’ll make it harder for yourself if you don’t.” He teased between your thighs, speaking to you so softly, like you were stupid, as if you weren’t fighting for your life with his fingers curling inside of you.

You sat up, pushing your hips into his face, grinding your clit on his nose. You pulled his hair, biting your bottom lip as you hurled towards the edge. “Hongjoong…” you gritted out, eyes rolling at the friction. “S-shut up.”

Hongjoong chuckled, moaning rather loudly and latching his mouth back onto your clit. “Mmf, yes ma’am...” He smiled at you, solely focusing on pushing you towards our orgasm.

Your eyebrows furrowed, and you trapped your bottom lip between your teeth, throwing your head back. Hongjoong’s free hand gently caressed the raw skin where your tattoo sat, gently pressing right above it, the pressure ripping a gasp from your lungs.

“Fuck..! Cumming Hongjoong...” you cried, the obscene slurping filling the room, his groans mingling with your desperate cries for mercy.

“That's it, baby,” he nipped at your clit one last time, his fingers slowing and focusing only on pressing on that spot deep inside of you. “Come for me, ride it out on my face, love.” Your chest rose and fell, drawing in deep breaths as your orgasm ripped through you, a long, drawn-out moan echoing around the space.

“Mmm fuck yes, just like that, you’re so perfect..” Hongjoong shook his head from side to side, slowing his fingers as his nose bumped your clit, goading you through your high, completely drunk off your taste.

With a few last wet kisses around your thighs, he lifted himself off his knees, looking down at your spent body, chest heaving and thighs shaking. Strands of your hair stuck to your face, your bottom lip swollen from biting it. And the fresh tattoo sitting so pretty on your abdomen, right where he planned on filling you up. You looked irresistible.

“Fuck, (Name.)” Hongjoong’s eyes rolled to the back of his skull as his hands found your waist, yanking your body closer to him. “Oh, I’m having so much fun slutting you out, pretty girl..” He leaned over your trembling body, nose brushing yours, his lips just a breath away. You leaned forward slightly to try to kiss him, but he pulled back slowly, letting you chase him.

“Please…” you whined, grabbing the collar of his shirt with your hand and tugging him back, your lips brushing, just barely. “Kiss me, Hongjoong,” you whispered against his lips.

He nudged against your soft lips, his teeth nipping at the corner of your mouth, your jaw, then your bottom lip. “Of course, baby, I just love teasing you, though.” Finally, he pressed his lips against yours. Your taste flooded your tongue, and you sighed into his mouth. He pulled back for half a second to pull his shirt over his head and tossed it somewhere before he was right back on you.

His hand cupped the back of your neck, pressing you so close to him while his other hand ghosted down your front, tracing to the back and effortlessly unhooking your bra. You slipped it off your shoulders, and immediately his free hand fell to cup your breast, pinching your nipple and massaging the mound gently.

Your hands rested against his lower stomach, running your hands along the dips and ridges, admiring the hidden tattoos now exposed.

He consumed your lips like he needed you to breathe, moaning and exhaling in bliss as he moved against you. Your wet cunt pressed against his clothed cock, as he gently rolled his hips against you, the rough fabric of his jeans catching your poor, beat up clit, your back arching.

His hands snaked between your bodies, hurriedly undoing his belt and pulling his pants down just enough to free his cock. His hand wrapped around the length of it, his thumb smearing the precum leaking from his pink, flushed tip.

He pulled from your lips, pressing his mouth against where your neck met your shoulder, kissing and biting your sweet spot. “Honey, nobody gets a womb tattoo without fantasizing about being fucked stupid and bred like a slut, right? Is that what you want? Want me to fuck you full of my cum? Put a baby in you?” He whispered against your skin, teasingly pressing his tip against your entrance.

You nodded frantically, your cunt clenching around nothing as you bucked your hips. “Yes, need you to breed me, Hongjoong, fuck, please fill me up.” Your hands wrapped around the back of his neck, legs circling around his waist to pull him closer to your aching body. “Want you inside me, please Joong…”

Hongjoong shuddered, his hands locked on your hips, holding you down against the table. “You’re gonna get what you want, baby.” He whispered. Slowly, he let his tip slip past your slick entrance, and oh so slowly slipped his heavy, thick cock inside of you.

You winced, the stretch of him deliciously painful as he sheathed himself inside of you snug cunt, his breath stuttering as the grip on your hips tightened almost vice-like

“Yeah, gonna fuck you full of me. Put that piece of art to good use, huh?” He slotted his lips with yours just as he buried himself inside you so deep that his hips pressed flush against yours. Your legs twitched, your breath caught in your chest, and you could feel him so deep inside of you.

Slowly, he dragged his hips backward, his eyes glued to your stomach. He let out a sick, low groan that came from deep in his chest when he spotted where he could see the slight outline of his cock pressing through your skin, right against the tattoo.

“Holy shit, beautiful…” He thrusted forward, and you let out a staccato cry, your hands on the back of his neck, gripping hard. His hands slid up your hips to your waist, his thumbs rubbing right above the tattoo as he watched himself slide inside of you so smoothly.

“You needed this dick, baby?” Hongjoong rocked his hips into you, gliding in and out of your warm pussy slowly, letting you feel and relish every vein, every inch of his thick cock. You nodded, closing your eyes, focusing on the feeling.

The wet slapping of skin on skin echoed around the empty studio, Hongjoong’s grunts and moans, your whimpers and gasps, music to his ears, spurring him further.

“Let me find that spot again, sweetheart, let me hit it.” He shifted the angle of his hips with every thrust, searching for the perfect one. When your breath caught and you squealed, he knew he had found it, your cunt clenching around him like a vice.

“There it is..” he leaned to lick at your collarbones, relentlessly pounding into you, his tip kissing your g-spot with every drag of his cock inside of you. Slipping out just so the tip sat inside before driving back inside of you, fucking you full of him.

“Could stay inside this pussy forever.” The muscles in his arms flexed as he held you tight against him, pistoning in and out of you, your cunt sucking him back in with each thrust.

You glanced down and saw the print of his tip through your stomach, the tattoo raising slightly at the intrusion. Hongjoong grabbed your wrist and pulled one of your hands away from his neck, pressing your palm over the tattoo, his hand gently holding your hand there. You could feel every thrust underneath your hand, and fuck if that didn’t make you wetter, nothing would.

Hongjoong hissed when he felt you clench around him, hips stuttering just a moment. “Feel me in there, baby? That's my cock fucking you so full…” He pressed your hand against your stomach harder, the added pressure making your vision blur and your ears ring. Your throat was raw from the moaning and the merciless rolls of hips inside of you, making it hard to fight off the impending third orgasm of the night.

“I'm gonna take care of you, I’m gonna breed you like the slut you are, it's what you deserve, honey.” He buries a hand in your hair, gripping at the root and pulling your head back. He leaned forward, littering your throat with bites and kisses, marking you up like a canvas.

“Fuck Hongjoong, cumming again..!” You cried, voice scratchy and pathetic as you clenched around him tighter than ever. You made no sound this time, just a quiet gasp, and then your whole body twitched as you came for the 3rd time that night.

Hongjoong moaned against your throat, dragging his lips over your skin, up to your mouth to swallow your lips in a bruising kiss. “So fuckin' sexy when you cum, baby, can never get tired of it.” His thrusts never slowed; in fact, he seemed to push himself deeper if that was even possible.

“Let's shoot for 4, yeah?” He breathed against your lips, his hand snaking down to rub close-knit circles on your puffy clit. “Need you to come one more time for me before I fill this pussy.”

You shook your head sluggishly, nearly brain-dead from the pleasure. “C-cant…” you whined pathetically, your head felt heavy, and your cunt felt used. But somehow with each of his thrusts, you felt that knot in your stomach tightening once again.

“I know you can, pretty baby, my good girl. You can give me one more.” Hongjoong pinched your clit, slowing his thrusts to fuck you deep, pinpointing your abused G-spot. Your head lolled backward, eyes closed, and your mouth hung open.

“I feel you, you’re almost there.” Your hands searched for his arms, grabbing his biceps and grounding yourself so you could prevent yourself from passing out. Your brain was pure fog, and your body was on fire. “Don’t run from it, baby, it’s almost over.”

Hongjoong kissed your shoulder, trailing the kisses down to take a nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, switching to the other and giving it the same treatment. Your back arched into his touch, and your pussy fluttered around his cock.

“No w-way..” you breathed out, so close to cumming you couldn’t believe it. Hongjoong’s moans and grunts began to crack, his composure slipping as his orgasm crept up the nape of his neck.

“F-fuck, you close love? Me too..  fuuuckk me too.”  With one hand still on your clit the other came up and pressed flat against the small of your back, arching your back ever further, shifting the angle of your body in a way that made him sink deeper, pressing his mouth to yours, swallowing your cries greedily.

“Right there, oh my god, right there.” You exclaimed, moaning when he slipped his tongue into your mouth.

Hongjoong nodded against you. “I got you, baby, just let go when you can, cum for me again.”

He stilled inside of you, grinding into you hard, and your shoulders pulled taut, you bit his bottom lip as you finally came for the last time that night. Not as strong as the rest, you were nearly numb from all the previous orgasms, but still enough to make you lightheaded.

Your cunt clenched around him, and Hongjoong’s hips began moving again. “Good fucking job, ride it out while I fuck this pussy full of my cum, breed you like a bitch in heat.”

Hongjoong chased his own end with your body, the table rocking underneath you with the sheer force of his thrusts. His groans slipped into broken whines and staggered breaths.

“Give it to me, Joongie.” You whispered onto his lips, burying your hands in his hair, tugging and gripping like it was your lifeline. “Need you to cum inside me.”

With a low growl into your mouth, his hips stilled inside of you, his hands holding your waist tight as he held you still, spilling his cum inside of you.

He breathed heavily into your mouth, hands caressing up and down your waist. A soreness began to settle in your bones, and when he slowly pulled his cock out of you, slick and wet, your cunt clenched like it didn’t want to let him go.

You both sighed as the tip popped out of you, a bit of his cum spilling out of your used hole. Hongjoong smiled at the sight, your neck marked up, your body shaking and limp, so perfect for him. 

When he finally caught his breath, he stood up straight, hands coming up to rub soothing circles into your shoulder blades. “Please know that I don’t usually fuck my clients; this was incredibly unprofessional of me.”

You both laughed, and you rolled your eyes.

“This is a health violation, I’m gonna have to report you.” You teased, rubbing your palm against his stomach.

“Oh no,” he replied, voice laced with playful concern. “If you change your mind and don’t report me, I would hate for this to be the last time I see you, love.” Your stomach did its biggest flip of the night, hope blooming in your chest at the assumption this wouldn’t simply be a fling.

“I would love to,” you replied, massaging the nape of his neck, Hongjoong letting his eyes flutter shut and sighing into your touch as you rubbed the tension out. His hands squeezed your waist before pulling away and beginning to buckle his pants back up, before bending down and gathering all your strewn-about clothes.

“Well, make sure you get adequate sleep, drink plenty of water, and pelvic rest is very important for the next two days-

“Are you giving me a sex aftercare treatment plan?” You snort, and Hongjoong bites the inside of his cheek to stifle a goofy smile.

“What? I already told you about tattoo after care, I can’t add on a little more?” He kneeled to slip your underwear back up your legs, handing you back your shirt so you could put it back on. “Need me to write a list?” he teased, grabbing your pants next.

You nudged the heel of your foot against his shoulder playfully, “I think I’ll be alright.” Once you were both clothed, he took your payment and led you back outside. The streets were quiet now, and the city light only slightly dimmed. He cleaned up and locked up the shop, switching off the lights. You both stood outside in the cold, Hongjoong listening to you talk about anything and nothing as he walked you to your car.

Standing by your car door, still rambling on, he smiled, admiring how pretty you looked under the streetlight, your skin glowing and your smile radiant. He cupped your jaw and kissed you mid-sentence. You were surprised, but you melted into him, your arms draped over his shoulders while his hands caressed your hips.

When he pulled away, the look in his eyes made your heart pound. “You interrupted me.” You grumbled, smiling.

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow, an innocent look on his face. “You talk a lot,” he defended. You were about to open your mouth to offer a smart retort, but his lips were back on yours, smiling into the kiss.

“But it's okay,” he whispered between pecks. “Your voice is so pretty, so I don’t mind. But I do hope to hear more of it. Maybe next Saturday? We could go out for dinner?”

Your face felt hot, and for the first time that night, you were nearly at a loss for words. “Uh. I-I need to give you my number.”

“Don’t worry about it. I already got it. You wrote it down on your consent form, remember?” Hongjoong opened your car door for you. He took your hand, guiding you into the driver's seat.

Oh yeah. “Well then, I guess that's all you need from me then.” You give him one last look before slipping into your car, his hand never leaving yours.”

“See you soon, love.” He whispered, before letting go. 

“Bye, Hongjoong, see you soon.” He smiled before, shutting your car door gently, waving at you cutely, before making his way to his own car.

He would never admit it to you, even when you both officially started dating, but he saw you sit in your car before pulling off to go home, on the phone with your friends, talking excitedly. The biggest and brightest smile on your face, your nervous hands fiddling with the peeling paint on your steering wheel as you told them about your night.

He watched you in his car for a moment before pulling off, feeling a tug in his chest, like it was pulling him to you. He didn’t want to leave you yet, but he knew he’d see you again soon.

So he backed out of the parking lot, drove off, and thought of you from the moment he pulled onto the street, to the moment he lay in bed.

You couldn’t wait to see each other again.

yeah, special thanks to the doubleshot energy that kept me awake to finish this

[velvetsserenity]

Can you do one of where Sevika is very dominant and very frustrated at s/o for talking shit to her all day!!(i neeeeed it please) love your stories 💕

Thank you for the ask! Sorry it took me a while to write it, but I hope you like it! I changed it a bit: instead of the reader talking about Sevika, it's just s/o teasing her. I hope that's OK? I had a hard time writing that part and felt like I didn't write it well.

Industrial Heat

mechanic!sevika x apprentice!reader

✎ word count: 2.7k

꩜ content warnings: rough scissoring , overstimulation, squirting, breast play, hair pulling, spanking, dirty talk, semi-public sex, power imbalance (consensual), manhandling, workshop sex, mild humiliation, reader gets what she asked for

You’d been a complete pain in Sevika’s ass all day at the shop. With it being the off-season, there weren’t many projects to jump in on— especially not with your limited expertise, as Sevika liked to put it. She stuck you with sorting bolts instead, a chaotic mess left over from the last big job. But you couldn’t just sit at that desk all shift doing busywork. You needed to actually do something. So, naturally, you ditched the bolt-sorting and went looking for a better option.

Sevika was still working on one of her bigger projects, some generator for Zaun. Said she was the only one who’d understand how to fix it. You rolled your eyes at her when she told you so last week. Yet she was still puffing and groaning each time she worked on it, and from your point of view there was little to no process. Also her attitude was getting worse, which was also a sign you learned years ago when you first started working for her. 

You twisted around on the high chair, looking over to Sevika with a bored expression. She was bent over the generator fixing god knows what inside of it. A white tank top stained with oil and sweat, baggy jeans where she held a dirty cloth in her pocket. Heavy boots you could hear from miles away approaching. 

Instead you had decided this morning when you heard of your boring task you could instead do something more useful, at least to your own entertainment. 

It started in the morning, where Sevika asked you to sort out the cabinets holding all the tools. Sevika loved her own routine and hated when anything went differently than planned. So it would be an absolute great idea to misplace every tool she needed for today's shift. 

‘’Where’s the welding torch?’’ She looked around a bit more before her gaze landed on you, not suspecting anything yet.

You looked up from cleaning out another cabinet. 

‘’Though I put it over there, somewhere.’’ You pointed to the other side of the shop. Sevika followed your gaze before looking back at you again, you already turned back to the cabinet again. 

‘’I’d rather you put the tools back immediately after cleaning, saves us both the trouble.’’ She sighs as she walks over to the other side of the shop. 

You grinned as Sevika walked over to grab the welding torch. The music was just hard enough to mask your footsteps as you sneaked up to her workbench. Grabbing some bolts and a screwdriver from her workstation. You quickly looked back up to where Sevika was to notice her back was still turned onto you, yes, didn't caught onto anything. 

You sat back down again, like nothing happened. You heard Sevika grunt behind you as she took her spot again. 

The next ten minutes were glorious.

You barely made it through organizing another drawer of nonsense before you heard it.

Clang. A muffled “What the fuck—”

You turned innocently on your stool, head tilted like a confused little puppy. “Everything okay, boss?”

Sevika shot you a narrow look from over her shoulder. The welding torch now sat neatly on the bench, but her hand was rummaging through a small compartment that was supposed to have a set of bolts. “Did you move my M6s?”

You blinked. “Your what?”

Her eyes rolled so hard you half-expected them to fall out of her head. “My bolts. Medium. Silver ones. Labeled.”

You swiveled lazily back to your “sorting,” drawing out the silence like a stretched rubber band. “Hmm… I might’ve put them in the top left drawer? Or maybe the bottom right. Kinda all blends together after a while.” You said it with just enough faux-innocence to sound like you meant well. But she knew better. She always knew better.

The sound of a metal drawer being yanked open had you biting back a grin.

It was by far the most satisfying. Not just because she’d clearly noticed— but because she hadn’t stopped you yet. That meant you could keep going.

So you did.

A few minutes later, Sevika turned away from the generator to grab a ratchet, only to find that particular tool mysteriously missing, too.

“Are you kidding me,” she muttered under her breath, arms bracing on the table, head dipped low like she needed a moment before she committed a felony.

You didn’t even look up from where you were “sorting” a group of mismatched washers. “You know, Sev, if you just labeled your workbench drawers like a normal person, maybe you wouldn’t lose everything.”

“I didn’t lose shit,” she grunted.

“No? Because from over here, it kinda looks like you’re doing more grumbling than fixing.”

That earned you a look. A long, slow one that had her full frame turning toward you, elbow perched on the bench, wiping sweat off her temple with the back of her hand. Her jaw ticked. “Maybe if someone wasn’t fucking around with my tools—”

“—Our tools,” you interjected sweetly.

Sevika’s glare could’ve melted steel. “You want a wrench to the head?”

You shrugged. “I’d rather the ratchet, honestly. It’s missing anyway, right?”

She exhaled sharply through her nose. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Unbelievably bored, yeah,” you sighed dramatically, stretching your arms overhead, making a show of arching your back and yawning wide. You peeked over at her mid-yawn just to see if she was looking. She was. “You could at least let me weld something. I’m not that bad.”

“You caught a rag on fire last time.”

“Yeah, well. Fire happens. Builds character.”

She was walking over before you could get another word in, boots loud and fast and full of attitude. You straightened just in time for her to lean down, one hand bracing the table beside you, the other gripping the back of your chair.

Her face was close. Not kiss-you close. But close enough to feel the heat of her frustration, and maybe a flicker of something else underneath it.

“You want something to do?” she asked lowly, voice like thunder about to crack.

You blinked up at her. “Obviously.”

Something in her jaw flexed. Her eyes dropped to your mouth, just for a split second and when they came back up, they were darker. Rougher. That tension she always carried between her shoulder blades rolled down her spine and snapped taut like wire. And before you could so much as flash a smug grin—

She grabbed you.

Fingers curled hard around the front of your shirt as she yanked you up from the stool, chair screeching back with a violent scrape. You barely got your footing before she spun you and slammed your chest against the edge of the worktable, the impact sending tools clattering across the surface.

“Fucking—Sevika—!”

You barely got the words out, breath caught somewhere between startled and thrilled. She was already on you, crowding in, one thigh pressing between yours, her hand shoving up under your shirt like it belonged there. Which, to be fair, it kind of did by now.

You tried to shift, to glance over your shoulder, but her palm flattened between your shoulder blades and shoved you down just a little more. Not painfully. Just enough to remind you where you were.

Her hand slipped under your shirt again. 

“Since you wanna be such a fucking distraction,” she muttered, dragging your top up past your ribs, “guess I should remind you what happens when you act out of order.’’

You gasped as the rough pad of her hand cupped your chest, fingers spreading wide, greedy. , She didn’t warm you up,  didn’t tease or coo or ease you into it. Sevika grabbed your breast like she owned it, fingers squeezing until your back arched up into her grip with a helpless sound.

“There she is,” she growled, lips curling as she pressed her chest against your back, hand tugging your shirt up fully to bunch at your shoulders. “Knew you’d melt the second I got my hands on you.”

Your breath hitched as she pinched your nipple tight, deliberate, twisting just enough to make you squirm with a half-whimper that cracked into a moan.

“You like that?” she rasped.

You nodded fast, cheek pressed to the cool table, fingers curling over the edge. “Yes—fuck, yes—”

Another twist, sharper this time. She tugged and rolled the sensitive bud between her fingers, pulling your body back into hers until your ass was flush against her hips.

“Then take it.”

Her voice was hoarse, raw. She palmed your other breast now, groping both like she couldn’t decide which one deserved her attention more. Each squeeze pulled a new whine out of your throat, every twist of your nipples sending heat crashing through you like wildfire. There was nothing slow about it, no gentle rhythm, just Sevika’s calloused fingers using you like she’d been holding back all day and finally let go.

Your thighs trembled. Your breath stuttered.

“Fuck, Sev—please—”

“Please what?” she purred against your ear, leaning over you fully now, hips grinding slow between your legs, dragging friction right over where you needed her most. “You wanted my attention so bad. All those little games. All that mouth. And now you’re whining like you don’t know what to do with it.”

“I—I need you—”

Her hand left your chest so suddenly it made you cry out. She grabbed your hips again, yanked you back an inch, and you heard the click of her zipper like a death knell.

“Good,” she muttered.

“Because I’ve got a lot of steam to blow off.”

You barely had time to breathe before Sevika spun you around again, her hands rough under your thighs as she hauled you up onto the worktable properly this time. Tools clattered to the floor. Something rolled off and hit the tile with a metallic clang. Neither of you gave a shit.

Your legs spread open instinctively, inviting, desperate and Sevika stepped in with a dangerous glint in her eye.

“Fucking brat,” she growled, yanking your shirt over your head and tossing it aside like it offended her. Her palms were back on your chest immediately, gripping, squeezing, pinching like she couldn’t decide whether to punish you or ruin you. “You don’t know when to quit, do you?”

You whined, hips lifting shamelessly toward her. “You’re the one who hasn’t touched me all day,” you gasped out. “Not my fault you’re all backed up and cranky.”

Her nostrils flared. Her hand cracked across your tit in a rough slap that made you yelp, then moan, your head falling back.

“You think I won’t shut that mouth for good?”

You bit your lip to keep from grinning, breath still ragged. “Bet you’re too worked up to last that long.”

That did it.

Sevika growled, low and animal, and stripped both you and her. Then let her thigh slot between yours. Then she grabbed you by the hips, dug her fingers in and dragged you down to the edge of the bench. You barely got a word out before she threw one leg up onto the table beside you, straddling your thigh, hips tilted and already slick.

And then she started grinding.

It wasn’t soft.

It wasn’t gentle.

It was fucking feral.

The second your soaked cunt made contact with hers, Sevika let out a sharp, guttural moan and her hands locked around your thighs, shoving them open wider, locking your legs around her waist. She fucked her hips forward without rhythm or mercy, dragging wet, messy friction between your folds, clit grinding against clit like she was trying to mark you with the heat of her body.

You cried out, legs spasming from the sudden intensity. “S-Sevika—fuck—”

“Shut up,” she hissed through her teeth, breathless and furious. “You wanted my attention? You’ve got it. Take it.”

Your back arched. The workbench creaked under you. She was relentless, every grind deep and punishing, her wet folds slapping hot and fast against yours, your slicks mixing into something obscene. Her muscles flexed with every thrust, arm braced next to your head, chest heaving as she watched you fall apart beneath her.

But you didn’t stop teasing, not even when your voice cracked.

“Y-you’re… fuck, you’re grinding like a bitch in heat—”

Sevika slammed her hips forward hard enough to knock the air out of your lungs.

“Oh, I’m the bitch?” she spat, eyes wild. “Look at you. Legs wide open, begging for it. Whining like a little toy and still running that mouth.”

You whimpered, gasping, fingers clawing at her back for purchase. “Y-you like it—fuck, your cunt’s dripping for me—”

“Because I earned it,” she growled. “All you did was piss me off all goddamn day and now you’re getting what you deserve.”

Your moan cracked on the last note as she ground down again, catching your clit just right. Your whole body jerked beneath her, overwhelmed and overstimulated, as she doubled down, thighs flexed, hips rolling tighter, harder, chasing both your peaks like she didn’t give a fuck whether you were ready or not.

“I’m gonna ride you,” Sevika panted, dragging her wet cunt harder against yours, “until that bratty little smirk’s fucked off your face.”

You were already close. Could feel it coiling in your gut like fire ready to snap and still, through your moans, you managed a breathless giggle.

“D-do your worst.”

Sevika snarled.

Then— fuck— her mouth dropped to your chest.

Without warning, her lips wrapped around your nipple, hot and wet, and she sucked. Hard.

Your back arched off the table like it was on fire.

“F-fuck, fuck, fuck—” you gasped, fingers flying to her hair, dragging her in, keeping her there as her tongue swirled rough circles over your nipple, then her teeth bit down, and your cry nearly echoed out into the street.

Sevika moaned right against your skin, deep and raw, grinding down even harder now, panting into your chest like a woman possessed.

“You feel that?” she growled, dragging her mouth to your other breast. “You fucking feel me dripping on you? This wet little cunt you made such a mess of—”

“Y-yeah—fuck—I c-can’t—!”

Your thighs started shaking, clenching tight around her waist, and you knew you were right there hanging off the edge, completely undone.

Then Sevika bit your nipple again, sucked it deep, and her hips rutted in one perfect grind.

Your orgasm slammed into you like a goddamn train.

You screamed her name ,choking on it, back arched, thighs locked, hands clawing at the bench and her shoulders and anything you could grab as pleasure exploded through your core

It gushed between your legs with no warning, wet and hot and everywhere, soaking the inside of Sevika’s thigh and the bench beneath you, a mess you couldn’t even be embarrassed about because your mind had gone completely blank.

Sevika felt it, and the snarl she let out was feral.

“Oh fuck— you dirty little thing—”

She ground her hips through it, her own body shuddering, and then she came. Her breath punching out of her, hips jerking wildly, clit grinding hard against yours as she collapsed forward into you with a guttural, unrestrained moan. Her body trembled against yours as she rode out every last pulse, forcing your still-clenching cunt to grind against hers through the aftershocks, drawing out another slick gush from between your thighs.

By the time her motions finally slowed, you were both drenched in sweat, slick, and something that definitely wasn’t sweat puddling under your ass on the bench.

She stayed on top of you for a minute, catching her breath, her mouth still lazily mouthing at your tits, softer now, messier. Not sucking, just… staying there. Maybe pretending this whole place wasn’t covered in your combined filth.

Your fingers were still tangled in her hair.

“…So,” you managed weakly, blinking up at the ceiling. “Still mad?”

Sevika exhaled a long, low breath against your chest.

Then she licked your nipple again slow and mean.

“Ask me again after you mop the fucking floor.”

plagarism not authorized

[blackpantherismyish]

Say That Then 🍃

Modern!au Elijah “Smoke” Moore x Annie Moore

Word Count: 4.8K

Authors Note: Soo while I was writing the Uncle Stack fic, the song came on and I immediately got an idea for a blurb. So this is what it’s gone be. This one is coming out first. Simply because I still have to finish editing the other one. 😂😅 and I’m pretty sure the filth won on my lil poll thingy, so I won’t be unfair. I need to update my taglist, so if you can drop a comment letting me know if I missed you or you’d like to be added. Ciao, ya freaky frogs. 😗🤭

The city looks good on her.

But then again, Annie looks good in everything—even the way she lounges in Smoke’s passenger seat like she owns it. Heels kicked off, one leg curled under her, the other stretched out long with her toes pointed like she’s dancing with the wind.

Her arm rests on the open window, fingers tapping against the edge, letting the breeze flirt with her curls. Streetlights streak gold across her cheekbones as the car glides through downtown, each one catching on the gloss of her lips, the smooth slope of her neck, the dip in her dress.

Smoke doesn’t say a word at first. He just watches her, jaw clenched, one hand loose on the wheel.

“You tryna distract me on purpose?” he asks finally, voice low, eyes cutting over to her.

Annie smiles but doesn’t look at him. “I think You drive better when you’re a little distracted.”

He scoffs, eyes narrowing just enough to show his amusement. “That right?”

“Mmhmm.”

She finally turns her head, and that’s all it takes, one look. Her eyes are warm, dark, glossy with post-cocktail haze. Not sloppy. Just loose. Just raw enough to say the things she usually keeps in her throat. Her lips still shine from the last sip of her old-fashioned, and her voice carries a challenge underneath the sweetness.

“You been starin’ since the restaurant,” she says. “Could’ve just said what you were thinkin’, babe.”

Smoke’s tongue slides across his front teeth, a slow grin spreading. “Nah. I wanted to let it simmer a little. Let you feel me watchin’.”

She bites her lip like she’s trying to hide a smirk. “You got somethin’ to say, Smoke, say it. You know I don’t play guessing games.”

“I know,” he says, giving her another slow once-over as they hit a red light. “But I like watchin’ you pretend you don’t know what I want.”

Annie leans in a little, reaching forward to turn the volume knob down just as Jazmine Sullivan’s voice slides into the chorus of the song playing on the radio. The bass fades low in the background, leaving just her voice between them.

“What is it you want then?” she asks. Still teasing. Still warm.

Smoke doesn’t blink. “I want you to sit on it soon as we walk in the door.”

Her brows lift. Not because she’s shocked but because he finally said it out loud. He usually keeps that kind of talk for behind closed doors, for when he’s already got his hands on her, or his mouth between her thighs. But tonight, it’s in the air. Been in the air since she walked into the bedroom earlier, pulled that dress off the hanger like she wanted him to choke on his own spit.

She doesn’t answer with words, not right away at least.

Instead, her hand slides across the console, fingertips slipping beneath the hem of his shirt. She drags her nails across his abs, light, slow, deliberate, until she feels his muscles jump.

“I think you should tell me why you deserve it..” she murmurs. “Or do you plan on not talkin’ tonight?”

Smoke chuckles, but it’s deep and quiet, more breath than sound. “I ain’t never been the talkin’ type, baby. At least talkin’ in the way you’re referring to.”

He eases the car forward as the light changes, his foot light on the gas. No rush. Not anymore. Whatever plans they had for a nightcap or a second round of drinks, gone. Replaced by the heavy weight of tension in the air and the low pulse between Annie’s thighs.

She leans back into her seat, satisfied. Turns her face to the window and lets her smile creep out slow.

The garage door rumbles open like it’s part of the mood, slow and heavy, the final note to the city’s song behind them. Smoke cuts the engine, but neither of them moves right away. The silence between them hums, low and thick, full of everything that hasn’t been said out loud yet.

Annie opens her door first. The soft pad of her bare feet on concrete echoes gently, delicate but intentional. She scoops her heels up by the straps, swinging them with two fingers as she walks ahead of him, hips rolling like temptation in motion.

Smoke watches every step.

The dress is short. Criminally short. The way it clings to her, the way it lifts in the back just enough with every sway of her hips to show the curve of her ass, the dip of her lower back, the skin he’s been imagining with every red light since they left the restaurant.

She doesn’t turn around.

Doesn’t have to.

She knows he’s watching her like he always does when she walks in front of him barefoot. Confident, sexy, unrushed. Like the house doesn’t even exist until she walks through it.

She punches in the code for the side door and lets it swing open slowly. The motion lights flicker to life inside the mudroom, casting soft shadows across the wood floors. She drops her shoes like they’ve offended her and leaves them by the door.

By the time Smoke’s in the doorway behind her, she’s halfway down the hall, bare feet whispering over the floor. He locks the door behind him, but his eyes never leave her silhouette.

She reaches the hallway wall and pauses like she senses something behind her.

She can feel him.

The heat of his gaze. The way his footsteps shift, heavier now. More sure.

She tilts her head slightly, curls tumbling over her shoulder.

That’s all he needs.

He closes the distance in three slow strides, the fourth one pinning her gently but firmly to the wall with his body. His hands land on either side of her head, caging her in. His breath hits her ear before his mouth does.

“You walk in this house like that on purpose?” he murmurs, lips grazing her earlobe.

“Mmhmm,” she hums, still not turning her head. “Wanted you to watch me.”

“I did.”

“You always do.”

That makes him smile. She knows him too well.

He turns her by the waist, slowly, until she’s facing him, back pressed to the wall, dress riding just slightly higher from the way he moved her.

And now he’s looking at her like she’s the only woman in the world. Like he doesn’t care that her lipstick’s a little smudged or that the humidity’s starting to puff up her curls. Like she’s his, plain and simple.

“You been talkin’ slick all night,” he says, voice like gravel wrapped in velvet. “Time to see if your mouth cash the check.”

Annie smirks. “You nervous?”

Smoke lets out a low laugh, eyes dropping to her lips. “Baby, I’m impatient. Not nervous.”

And then he kisses her.

Not soft. Not polite.

He kisses her like he’s starving. Like every second he waited was penance, and now he’s collecting. One hand stays planted on the wall beside her head while the other drags down her waist, gripping her hip tight enough to make her gasp. She slides her hands into the collar of his open shirt, grabbing at skin and muscle like she’s been waiting just as long.

She moans into his mouth, her body already pressing into his, and Smoke takes that sound like a command. Deepens the kiss. Bites her bottom lip. Tastes the liquor still lingering on her tongue. Sucks it from her like it belongs to him.

“Smoke…” she whispers between breaths, hands moving under his shirt now, nails scraping down his back.

He presses his forehead to hers, chest heaving. “Repeat what you said in the car...”

She’s breathless now. Still smirking. “You mean about riding it?”

“Yeah,” he growls, brushing his thumb across her jaw. “Say it again.”

She tilts her head, eyes narrowing in amusement, but her voice drops low—rich and sultry. “I said you should tell me why you deserve it..”

He kisses her again. This time slower, deeper, like he’s tasting the sentence off her lips.

Then he drops his hand from the wall and lifts her easily by the thighs. She wraps her legs around his waist without missing a beat, her dress riding up to her hips. He carries her down the hallway like it’s muscle memory, like she weighs nothing, like he already knows exactly where he’s taking her next.

They don’t even make it to the bedroom door.

The wall just beside it catches them. Smoke’s body pressing Annie gently but firmly against it, like he needs her right there before anything else happens. Like he can’t take another step until he’s had her lips again.

He kisses her slow this time. Not greedy like before. Slow and deep: like a secret, or a promise. His mouth brushes hers once, twice, then settles fully, his tongue dragging across hers with lazy precision. He kisses like he knows the rhythm of her heartbeat already, like he can match it with his breath if he gets close enough.

And Annie melts into it.

Her hands explore. Sliding over his chest, his shoulders, pulling him closer until there’s no space between them. Her fingers slip beneath his shirt again, palms grazing the smooth stretch of his back as her hips arch toward his.

Smoke’s mouth leaves hers only to trail kisses down the side of her face, his lips brushing her cheekbone, her jaw, then just under her ear. He lingers there, inhaling her skin, the soft warmth of her perfume now mixed with the scent of the night air, of desire, of her.

Then he starts kissing her neck. Slow. Wet. His lips drag over the curve of her shoulder before he pulls the thin strap of her dress down and off with his teeth.

“You know what I keep thinkin’ about?” he murmurs against her skin, his voice rough now, lower, heavier.

Annie breathes out a soft moan as he nibbles just under her collarbone. “What?”

He kisses that spot again. Then again. “How you think I’m tellin’ you verbally why I deserve it.”

“I meant it,” she whispers, nails raking gently down his back.

“I know you did.” His hand slides up her thigh, gripping the bare skin just beneath her dress. “But I don’t think you realize what you say does to me.”

He kisses her again, this time just above her breast, exposed now that the dress has fallen off one shoulder. His tongue dips briefly into the hollow there before he looks back up at her, eyes dark.

“You say somethin’ like that, baby,” he growls softly, “I’ma spend the next hour makin’ sure your knees don’t work right.”

Annie exhales sharply, her head falling back against the wall.

“Talk like that again,” she challenges, her voice breathy, barely held together.

Smoke grins. He likes her like this. Bold but undone, wanting and trying not to show it too fast.

“You gon’ ride this dick, alright,” he whispers, one hand still gripping her thigh while the other teases up under her dress. “But my tongue is going to do all the talkin’ fa me first..”

Annie moans as his fingers graze her panties, damp already.

He kisses her again, trailing his mouth across her shoulder, his stubble scratching just enough to make her shiver. “You think I ain’t noticed how wet you are every time I talk like this?”

She gasps when his thumb strokes slow against the center of her.

“Say it,” he murmurs, his lips brushing her earlobe. “Say what you want.”

Her eyes flutter open, wild with need. “I want your mouth on me,” she whispers. “I want your tongue right there, Smoke…”

He hums against her skin. “Mmm. That’s better.”

Then he grabs the back of her thigh and lifts again. One smooth practiced motion until her legs are around his waist. Her back hits the wall again, but gentler this time, his body pinning her, grounding her as his hands hold her up and his mouth continues its slow, possessive journey along her neck and chest.

Her fingers tangle in his short curls as he nibbles just above the edge of her dress, dragging his teeth across her skin, her nipple hard beneath the fabric.

“I need you, baby,” she whispers.

Smoke doesn’t say another word.

He just holds her there, pressed to the wall. His mouth on her shoulder, his breath at her throat until her fingers curl tighter in his hair and her hips roll against him without thought. Her body’s not waiting for permission anymore. It’s asking. Begging.

And Smoke?

He answers.

He readjusts her, arms strong and steady beneath her thighs, and turns from the wall with a quiet grunt of restraint. Her hands slide around his neck as he walks them down the final few steps of the hallway. Each step is deliberate. Slow. Like a man carrying something he doesn’t take lightly. Like the weight of her, her body, her pleasure, her trust is sacred.

The bedroom is dim, lit only by the amber glow from a single bedside lamp. The air inside is warmer than the rest of the house, cozier. Familiar. The room where every version of them has lived. Soft and slow, rough and wild, wordless and worshipful.

He steps to the edge of the bed and pauses, gazing down at her like she’s some goddamn masterpiece. Even now, with her lipstick faded, one strap of her dress falling, thighs gripping his waist. Smoke looks at her like she’s untouchable.

Like he’s lucky just to breathe her air.

Annie brushes her nose against his jaw. “What?”

Smoke swallows thickly, chest rising. “You just… look like everything I ever wanted.”

And then he lays her down.

Gentle. Like she’s breakable.

Her hair fans across the comforter, and her dress rides even higher now, bunched at her waist, her skin glowing in the soft light. She starts to sit up, but Smoke presses a firm hand to her stomach.

“Nah, baby,” he murmurs, kissing her knee. “Lay back. I got you.”

He kisses again, just above her kneecap, his breath hot on her skin. Then higher. And higher. His hands slide up the outsides of her thighs, parting them slowly, tenderly, like he’s opening a book he’s read a hundred times but still wants to savor every page.

Her breath hitches when his lips meet the inside of her thigh.

Smoke doesn’t rush. He’s not in a hurry—not with her. Not when he’s got her laid out like this, eyes heavy-lidded, chest rising, legs already trembling from anticipation.

“You know what I love?” he asks, voice low, kissing the crease where her thigh meets her hip.

She hums, eyelids fluttering. “What?”

“How you open up for me.” His mouth brushes her panties, barely a whisper. “How this pussy gets wet soon as I start talkin’.”

Annie moans softly, hands fisting the sheets.

Smoke kisses her through the fabric, just once, just enough to make her hips twitch. Then he sits back on his heels, hooks his fingers in the waistband of her panties, and slides them down slow. Following is his shirt. His eyes locked on hers the entire time.

He doesn’t speak again. Not with words.

Instead, he kisses the top of her mound, the very edge of her slick, and lets his tongue drag up the center of her like he’s tasting something rare. His hands rest gently against her thighs, thumbs rubbing slow circles to soothe the way she trembles under his mouth.

He takes his time. Licks soft at first, teasing. Light pressure, just enough to make her breath catch. Then deeper, longer strokes, his tongue flattening against her clit before he circles it with maddening precision. He moans into her, the sound vibrating against her most sensitive places, and she gasps, hips bucking.

He doesn’t stop.

He just grips her tighter and pushes his tongue deeper, slow and warm, dipping inside her, savoring every inch. Then he’s back at her clit, sucking gently, then harder, then slow again. He switches between flicking and stroking with maddening control—never the same twice, always enough to keep her chasing.

“F—fuck,” Annie pants, her thighs starting to close, overwhelmed.

But Smoke holds her open. “Uh uh,” he says between licks. “You wanted this, remember?”

His voice is thick now, muffled with her heat. “You said you wanted my mouth right here.”

“I did,” she whimpers. “I do… Fuck, Smoke, don’t stop—”

He dives in deeper, tongue working her over like a man possessed, like he’s trying to memorize every twitch of her hips, every whimper that spills from her lips. Her thighs shake against his shoulders, and he grins into her as he keeps going, one hand gripping her hip while the other slides up to press flat against her belly. Holding her there, keeping her grounded while he devours her completely.

And when she finally starts to fall apart. Her hips rolling, and voice cracking—he doesn’t stop to let her catch her breath.

He sucks harder.

Circles faster.

Pushes two fingers into her slowly, curling just right.

“Cum for me, baby,” he growls against her. “Let me taste all that shit you talk.”

Her hands fly to his hair, yanking, anchoring.

Then she shatters. Loud and breathless, her whole body tensing, then trembling as her orgasm crashes over her like a storm. He keeps his mouth on her through all of it, through the twitching, the shaking, the wild, broken moans of his name.

Only when her thighs twitch and she whines from sensitivity does he finally pull back, lips glossy, beard wet, and eyes dark with something primal.

He leans forward, kisses her inner thigh once more, then crawls up her body slowly. Hand bracing beside her head.

“You still want to ride?” he murmurs against her ear. “Or you need a minute, baby?”

Annie’s eyes flutter open. And even through the haze of her orgasm, she smiles.

“Oh, I’m ridin’,” she whispers. “Just gimme a second to remember what day it is.”

Annie’s still catching her breath when Smoke’s mouth brushes her jaw.

“Uh uh,” he murmurs, lips dragging over her cheek as he shifts them on the bed. “Ain’t no layin’ there like you innocent.”

She laughs, breathless, limp. “You just, fuck, almost snatched my soul…”

“Good,” he growls, kissing the edge of her smile. “I want it all.”

He pulls back, rising to his knees at the foot of the bed. Chest rising, his shaft hard and glistening at the tip. The kind of view that makes Annie bite her lip without realizing. He strokes himself once, just enough to make her thighs twitch, then settles back against the headboard.

He stares her down.

“C’mere,” he says, voice low.

She climbs over him, knees sinking into the mattress, her dress sliding up over her hips as she crawls into his space. She starts to straddle him, hand reaching for his length but Smoke grabs her wrist, halting her.

His voice drops lower.

“Make me tell you why I deserve it.”

Annie freezes. Her lips part. Her breath catches.

“Huh?” she asks softly, eyes narrowing like she’s trying to gauge just how serious he is.

“I said make me tell you,” he repeats, eyes dark, jaw tight. “You had my dick hard since the car. You walked barefoot in that house like the night owed you money. Now you gon’ sit on it? Make me work for it first.”

Her hips shift against him instinctively, teasing him. Her heat brushing just above his shaft.

Smoke’s head tips back slightly as he exhales a low groan.

“I deserve that pussy, Annie,” he says through gritted teeth. “But I need you to hear why.”

Her smile is slow. Wicked. She leans forward, mouth close to his ear, hand sliding to his throat. “Then start talkin’ papa.”

He wraps an arm around her lower back, pulling her against him so she feels every inch of him straining beneath her.

“‘Cause I make you feel safe enough to be this nasty,” he whispers. “Because every time I taste you, I don’t stop until your legs give out.”

Her breath hitches, her thighs tightening around his hips.

“‘Cause I talk to this pussy,” he growls, “like she answers back.”

Annie moans, her eyes fluttering.

“Tell me more,” she whispers.

Smoke slides his hand between them, rubbing the head of his length right against her entrance. Teasing. Pressing, but not pushing in.

“Because I know how to fill you up slow when you beg for it. And fuck the soul outta you when you need it rough.”

“Shit,” she breathes, hips twitching.

“Now,” he says, voice like thunder, “put me in. Show me why you came in here actin’ like you ready.”

Her hand wraps around him as she sinks down slow. Moaning deep when he slides inside her, inch by thick inch. Her thighs quake, breath breaking in her chest.

Smoke hisses. “Gahdamn.”

She’s tight. So wet. So warm around him it makes his eyes close for a second just to feel it all.

“Don’t stop,” he pants. “Take all of it.”

And once she’s fully seated on him, she rolls her hips. Slow, grinding, delicious. Her hands brace against his chest, her body working him just right, and Smoke lets her move, lets her ride…

But his hands stay in control.

Guiding her.

Gripping her.

Making sure she gives him everything he asked for.

She’s barely seated on him when Smoke grips her hips and tilts them just right. His fingers digging into her skin with firm, possessive control.

“Slow, baby,” he murmurs, voice thick and strained. “Just like that.”

Annie’s breath catches as she rocks her hips forward again, the drag of him inside her deep and perfect. She braces herself on his chest, palms splayed across the slick warmth of his skin. Every inch of her feels stretched, filled, claimed. And he’s not even moving yet—she is.

Smoke watches her with that hooded, devout stare. His hands slide to her waist, guiding her again. Up, down, a slow grind that has her gasping by the second stroke.

“Yeah,” he rasps, his voice right in her ear now as he leans up just enough to press his lips against her neck. “Just like that. Ride it, baby. Ride it like you mean it.”

Annie rolls her hips again, and again, finding that rhythm. Slow and steady, every movement deliberate. His hands never leave her, tightening each time she sinks onto him, loosening when she rises. His mouth stays at her neck, his breath hot and ragged.

“You feel how deep I am?” he murmurs, his lips brushing her jaw. “This dick sittin’ in your stomach, huh?”

She whimpers, fingers curling against his chest, her rhythm faltering.

“Keep movin’,” he growls, one hand sliding down to cup her ass, squeezing hard. “You wanted to sit on it, right? Show me how bad you need it.”

“I do,” she pants. “God, Smoke. Feels so good…”

“I know it do. This pussy was made for me.”

His hand moves up her back, pressing gently between her shoulder blades to make her lean forward. The shift drives him even deeper inside her. Annie moans loud, her hands flying to his shoulders to brace herself.

“There you go,” he says, lips dragging up to her ear again. “Take it all. That’s it, baby. Let me feel that shit.”

Annie’s body shudders, the pressure building fast, her thighs burning from how slow he’s making her go.

“You wanna cum?” he asks, voice low and dangerous. “Beg for it.”

She gasps, hips stuttering, her rhythm nearly breaking.

“Papa…”

“Nah,” he interrupts, teeth grazing her ear. “Tell me.”

“I—I wanna cum,” she breathes, voice cracking. “Please…”

He hums in approval, sliding one hand between them to rub her clit with slow, tight circles.

“Then cum for me, Annie. Right here. Just like this. While you ridin’ me nice and slow.”

Her body obeys before her mind can catch up—legs shaking, walls clenching tight around him, a cry tearing from her lips as she falls apart all over him.

Smoke watches her unravel, feels her pulse around him like a heartbeat, and doesn’t let go.

Her body convulses against him, thighs trembling as she crashes into her orgasm. loud and breathless. Her nails digging into Smoke’s shoulders like she’s trying to anchor herself to earth.

But Smoke doesn’t stop.

He keeps his hand between them, keeps rubbing soft, relentless circles over her clit with that same pressure that just sent her over the edge.

She jerks in his lap, gasping, overwhelmed.

“Smoke, baby.. Wait—”

“Nah,” he murmurs, voice rough and steady. “You can give me another one. Right here.”

She whines, head falling to his shoulder. Her body’s still shaking, but his grip on her hips stays solid. Firm. Unrelenting. His length still deep inside her, throbbing, dragging against her slick, sensitive walls as she tries to breathe through the aftershocks.

“I feel you,” he groans, his forehead pressing to hers. “You pulsin’ around me, baby. So wet… so fuckin’ tight.”

“Please,” she whimpers, the overstimulation pushing her higher instead of away. “I can’t—”

“You can,” he growls, rolling his hips up into her again, making her cry out. “One more. Give it to me.”

His fingers circle faster, tighter. His hips thrusting up now, meeting the rhythm of her slow, instinctual rocking. She can’t stop herself. Can’t think. Her mouth opens but no words come, just sound. Just pure feeling as the burn builds again, fast and dizzying.

Smoke kisses her hard swallowing the moan that escapes her throat.

“You feel me, baby? I’m right there with you.”

Annie nods helplessly, lips trembling, tears brimming from the intensity.

“I got you,” he whispers against her jaw. “Nut for me again. Right on this dick.”

And she does, her second orgasm crashing into her even harder than the first. It rips through her in sharp, high waves, her body tightening around him as her head falls back, a sob breaking free from her lips.

Smoke loses it right there.

His hands grip her ass tight, his jaw clenched as he pumps up into her, once, twice, then holds still, buried deep, moaning her name through gritted teeth as his release hits him in hot pulses.

They stay like that. Locked together, trembling, breathless.

Her arms wrap around his neck. His chest rises and falls against hers.

His hands soften against her skin, no longer gripping, just holding.

She’s still trembling when he leans in, kisses the curve of her neck, and whispers, “That’s my girl…”

The room is quiet now, except for the ragged, staggered rhythm of their breathing. The only light comes from the bedside lamp. Dim and gold, casting a soft glow over their skin.

Annie’s still wrapped around him, her body spent, her head tucked into the crook of his neck. Smoke’s arms are locked around her, strong and steady, holding her like he never plans to let go.

Neither of them speaks right away.

Her thighs are still shaking a little. Her heartbeat stutters against his chest. And Smoke? He just leans back into the headboard, legs stretched out beneath her, chest slick with sweat and rising slow as he breathes her in.

He rubs circles along her spine, the pads of his fingers gentle now, soothing.

“Didn’t know you had that in you,” she finally whispers, voice hoarse and breathy.

Smoke chuckles, deep and low. “You bring it outta me.”

She smiles against his neck, pressing a kiss to his collarbone.

“Still with me?” he asks, tilting her chin up with two fingers so he can look into her eyes.

Barely.

But she nods.

“I got you,” he says softly, kissing her forehead. “Ain’t lettin’ you go.”

He reaches for the throw blanket at the edge of the bed and drapes it over her shoulders, then slides his hand into her curls, anchoring her there, right against his chest.

They stay like that.

Skin on skin.

Heart to heart.

Wrapped up in heat, in quiet, in the kind of silence that only comes after someone touches your soul and your body at the same time.

Smoke rests his chin on the top of her head, his voice rumbling low into her hair.

“You said before we left the house you wanted to ride it…”

Annie groans a laugh, nudging him.

“And you made me.”

“Mmhmm. And you still shakin’. That mean I deserve it again later.”

She smirks, eyes already closing as she sinks deeper into his warmth.

“You talk a lot for somebody who can’t move his legs.”

Smoke grins.

And then?

Silence again. Sweet. Sated.

Her breath softens. His arms stay firm around her.

And just like that; They fall asleep, tangled in sweat, love, and quiet fire.

——-

Taglist: @gtf-o-m-d @spookysanta @michelley-rome @bigjh @anniensmoke3 @hdfen2474 @uzumaki-rebellion @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @killmongerdispussy @theogbadbitch @ccwpidsblog @princesskillmonger @blowmymbackout @theethighpriestess @blktinkerbell @steampunkprincess147 @diamondsinterlude @partylikemajima @theegoldenchild @mhhhhmmmmmmm @lilchubbs @thebumblebeesworld @mastertia221b @brownskincheyenne @belleofthefloor @c0tt0ncandi @irefusetobeacasualty @cocoxciv-blog @melodyofmbaku @lb-xci @christinabae @babygirl-4986 @honeytoffee @solarssins @lizbehave @itsbreebree

divider: @saradika-graphics

[seeingstarsinthedaycare]

*Trips on keyboard* You said fic?

Behold!

You can read a fic like this on Ao3 here:

(Sad note on Ao3: Due many AI Scapping allegations, only register users can see it)

Or just stay here on Tumblr :)

Less Than Three, On the Other Side

I want to give a big thanks @petrichormuse for the drawing and for inspiring this entire story! Moreover I also want to thank @kukopelli and @randoms-random-blog-of-random for motivating me to continue writing this chapter.

THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH I NEEDED THIS!

Word Count: 7,943

Warnings: Mentions of Downing, existentialism, gaslighting

Type this, sign that. There's a buzz coming from your phone. Scroll through this, take a picture of that. All so you don't forget to do this, that, and the other this and that. You take your arms and stretch them above your head for the third time in a minute. Then put two fingers below your ear to push yourself to unclench your jaw for the fifth time in two minutes. Another vibration from your phone. You look at the time on your laptop. 2:25.

2:25 AM.

Seventeen minutes of wasted time, and an inability to focus. Against the serial voices that scream at you to rest, there's an army of voices that scream at you to keep going with deadlines and expectations that make sense to you and you alone.

Enough. You have had enough. Holding your breath, you reach for your phone. There's two messages that show:

“Are we still good?”

…

“just keep ignoring me”

You check back on your phone and sigh. Whatever, what's done is done. They made their choice and you made yours. Besides, it's not like you can fix that anyhow. You save the tabs on your computer. Wasn't there a fact out there to not do anything important past nine? Yeah, that's the best excuse you can come up with, just to gain some peace of mind. Which it still leaves to be unconvinced. You sigh to yourself.

“So much for getting future work done.” A true hope to get some that nasty paperwork over with is gone. Too much has happened tonight. You take one extra stretch as you follow the computer glow to your ceiling.

You opt for the daily ritual. (Which usually happens much more at a prevalent, and sometimes, a more acceptable time than now). Going in your applications folder to open Security Breach. It takes its sweet time loading up, per usual. In fact every time you open the files, it feels like it takes longer and longer to actively start the game. You don't mind, because as it's loading; you open a different tab.

In this tab you put code that you learned from a chat form. You continue to stare at the loading screen til it finally states FAZBEAR ENTERTAINMENT PRESENTS…You press E to skip. No need to see the scene when you have already seen it hundreds of times. It is then when you head to the other tab to click on the code you entered. Immediately, the game glitches out, but takes you to the beginning of Gregory entering down the slide to get to what you have been looking for.

A familiar place of light denim blue walls under fluorescent lighting appears on screen. Your character walks among the dark gray carpet and around the opaque dark blue chairs contrasting to the pumpkin orange couches with bright yellow cushions. The hanging fences, covered in a plastic black seal your character away from completing this dinnertime ritual as you force them to continue to the sign. The sign past the blackened cubes and red gate which has Freddy's golden face plastered on it. Usually, you would wander about in the area longer. Considering how it's closer to morning, actually being the early dawn, you skip the formalities.

The sign has been approached. “SLIDE INTO FUN!” as red arrows paint to it, covered in a simplified rainbow with a cloud surrounding it. Your character passes through it. Sliding down the blue, green, yellow, orange, red, blue, green directly into the infamous ball pit. Your character waits, then you shuttle a little. Finally the cutscene plays.

There he is, in all of his glory. Sundrop does his signature little twirl as he takes a cartoonist swan dive into the pit where you stand. “Hoo! Hoo! Hoo!” You heard this so many times it barely escapes your ears. Your character scurries a few steps forward before–

“Helloooo! New friend! You're sure up late! Are you having a slumber party? Where are all your friends?”

“I wish I was having a slumber party right now. Rough day…night. Day?” You grumble as you check the time on your phone once more. Not like Sun could actually hear you. It did not help that a pre recorded script happened to be so accurate at the moment. A sense of joy overflows within you as your ritual is half complete. Even if it was fictional, it was nice to feel held by one of your favorite characters.

“We can finger paint, tell stories, drink fizzy faz til out heads ex-PLODE and stay up all night!”

“Pfft, already got that last part covered, my guy.”

“There is only one rule: keep the lights on. ON. on.” You have “broken” that one rule countless times already. How else were you going to see your other favorite character?

“I won't. Not today. But I wish to see Moon more too. I miss him.” You are met with a welcoming silence as Sundrop cradles your avatar through the screen. At least, you like to imagine that being the case. “Don't be rude, I missed you a lot too, I'm just lucky to see ya more often.” Sundrop doesn't respond. “I guess I'm being rude as well. I didn't even get to say hello back to you yet…. Hello Sundrop, I missed you a lot.” He moves side side with the same consistency as always. It could be the lack of sleep, yet you can't help but notice a purple after hue from a few of the moments he makes.

You decide with the little energy gained from the interaction, that there was little harm in changing clothes. For the only thing you took off was your shoes when you came back. You had an off day tomorrow, there's no reason to not get into something more comfortable.

“I'll be right back Sun.” Pushing out your chair, you take a minute or two to stand before you mosey on to your closet. Watching the greenish glow illuminate the rest of your room. When was the last time you gave the space a deep clean? Posters along the walls plastered with your favorite jesters, figurines all carefully placed within one of the corners. Shelves installed throughout the side opposite to your bed. As you look down to not trip on any loose laundry that didn't make it in for the next load. You shuffle to your closet, opening the door with enough space to walk inside. You walk in and gently close the door behind you. Yes, you were alone. But, it felt strange as Sundrop was too close within the laptop, you couldn't overcome a sense of bashfulness.

Taking off your pants, shirt, other accessories and putting on your favorite character themed pajamas. It was quite the lucky bargain when they were on sale a few months back. Now. They'll be the only pajamas you've worn for the past few weeks, besides a laundry day or two.

You don't know what happened but before you could even open the closet door again. There was a large bang and vibration that you felt from the floor. You peaked through the crack. The closet door flew to the slide.

“...Fuck….”

The shelf that was hanging the more expensive pieces of your stuff broke off. The shelf that took you hours to set up so your younger family members won't reach the more fragile stuff and break it, which has now been counteracted by gravity and badly built walls. Quickly, you pace your lights to switch to better assess the damage.

The plushies boarded were fine, still proud to have them in your hands. Most of the figurines were fine to your relief. You gently place them to the side of the wall. The disarmed shelf, you moved underneath your bed. In hindsight. a cheap shelf would break off anyhow. Yet, its failure is fair to disappointing at the moment. Some of the lego builds broke off in the places you expected, an easy fix.

Then there's…the gift. A ceramic mug that certainly did not make it. It was used to hold a few other trinkets that did. And it felt like everything that happened in the past few weeks decided to bubble over. Tears were running through your cheeks paired with the frustration of crying over something like this. That mug was made by a friend of yours, they made it in theme with your favorite characters. You could always fix it later. A small sentiment that is supposed to soothe you. But you find yourself with an uncontrollable sob.

It took longer than you expected, pulling yourself from off of the floor. More than a force of sheer will that came over you. You look at the glow from your laptop. Sundrop is still at the forefront of the camera. The realization hitting you: you're crying on the floor and that there were better things to do about it. Not that it's bad to cry, it was a decent cry, a cry for often for the better. You slink back to your computer.

Battery is at 5%. You take your beat up charger and your laptop to your bed. Plugging in your laptop then feeling out the nearest wall to figure where to plug the other end in. Success. Your battery goes down to 4%. Your laptop tends to do that. You scoff, then look at Sundrop's unrelenting face.

“Low battery. Typical. Sorry Sundrop, I think it's time for me to go to sleep.”

“Oh I won't worry about that! Why don't you spend a little more time with your good ol’ little ol’ me!” such words don't register in your mind.

“I'll see you tomorrow Sun.” You lazily attempt to close your laptop before your hear.

“Wait! Don't go! Don't GO! DON'T GO! YET-”

Suddenly a giant hand appears from the screen and grabs you by the waist. Immediately you don't know whether to scream or think you're just imagining things as the hand pulls you closer to the computer.

Circles of purple and white screens surround you as you claw into a white abyss of rearranging colors. A kaleidoscope of violet shades shift and shape followed by an intense shock among your waist.

01000011 01001111 01001101 01000101 00100000 01010100 01001111 00100000 01001101 01000101 00100000 01000011 01001111 01001101 01000101 00100000 01010100 01001111 00100000 01001101 01000101 00100000 01000011 01001111 01001101 01000101 00100000 01010100 01001111 00100000 01001101 01000101 00100000 01001110 01001111 01010111

A familiar scene of the animatronics dancing on stage starts up with the typical intro song to the game blades around your ear. Echoes of the Daycare theme ring around you and slowly merge into other familiar melodies within the game. Your falling. Your flying with a rushed dizziness.

01010000 01110010 01100101 01110011 01110011 00100000 01000101 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01001000 01101111 01101100 01100100

You land on your rump, a soreness from the back of your legs kicks in. Your hands clinging onto the foam mats that are covered in some sort of shiny plastic material. You open your eyes to find the sharp light intruding. In the background you hear a mechanic shout.

“Oh it worked? It worked! IT WORKED?! I never thought we would be able to meet like this but I guess it was meant to be!” Your eyes adjust to the light and see an array of primary colors on the ground…moreover Sundrop standing right above you.

“S-Sun?” Such a meekly groan was contrasted by an everlasting over-bearing squeal. Sundrop enormous hands all around to touch you once more. This time you have enough space to try and back away. It was too late. Once he touched you it was back to static.

01010010 01000101 01010011

01010100 01000001 01010010 01010100

FAZBEAR ENTERTAINMENT PRESENTS

01010010 01000101 01010011 01010100 01000001 01010010 01010100

01010000 01110010 01100101 01110011 01110011 00100000 01000101 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01001000 01101111 01101100 01100100

01010000 01110010 01100101 01110011 01110011 00100000 01000101 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01001000 01101111 01101100 01100100

01010000 01110010 01100101 01110011 01110011 00100000 01000101 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01001000 01101111 01101100 01100100

On the ground you lay. A ceiling full of sunset colors all mixed together, divided by a black metal binding. The tiniest reflection of light shines near the edges. Your head throbbing as you continue to lay alongside some sort of carpet. You can feel your gear beating out of your chest. Breathe, deep breaths. You take the time to stand as you notice a familiar carpet pattern of silver traced lines on spackled blue. Then, a large patch of polished grey floors followed by a checkered look of blue and white. It couldn't be…right?

This had to be a dream. There's no way that you're actually in the Mega Pizza Plex in the game. You take your shot to immediately run to the exit before those doors shut down for good. It certainly feels like running in a dream as you pass by the bright night lights on the walls. The graphics that advertise the characters circle around the big pillars as you pass by. You don't even bother to look behind you. Charging forward to the white borders of the glass doors. Luckily nothing closes on you so you don’t struggle out to the parking lot.

Darkness greets you as you make it out with no other buildings insight. You walk along one of the sidewalks until you have half a mind to just run. This takes to further into the darkness and you receive some sort of falling sensation.

01000100 01101111 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01110010 01100101 01100001 01101100 01101100 01111001 00100000 01110100 01101000 01101001 01101110 01101011 00100000 01101001 01110100 00100000 01110111 01101111 01110101 01101100 01100100 00100000 01100010 01100101 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100001 01110100 00100000 01100101 01100001 01110011 01111001 00111111 00100000

You're lying on your back once again, on a carpet you now know. This has to be a dream right? Well, there can be two options that you can check for sure. The first being that usually in dreams once you realize that it is, in fact, a dream. This gets blurry as you start to wake up. You look around you. There's a holographic Glamrock Freddy waving around the pillar that you passed by earlier. The only thing blurry was the light around it, yet it doesn't get blurrier.

The second will be a little harder to achieve. If you are in a body of water surely something might happen to make you wake up. However, as you browse around the open area that resembles A theater remembering the concepts of the game. A security level needs to be reached to gain access. It might be a very difficult thing to achieve. You pace back to see the opened doors of the entrance. Since the game hasn't technically “started” yet, you might have a chance at escaping the dream.

To Monty’s Mini golf you go. Darting through the halls, weaving around the many places. Maybe you played too much of this game for a dream to be this detailed. However, as you continue to wander among the mixed lights, flashy colors, and various printed grounds. The voices in the back of your mind tempt you with a conclusion of: what if you're really stuck in a game?

The voices are interrupted by a distant echo of giggling. Not just any giggling, the raspy unhinged villain giggling that you have resisted multiple times. You immediately stop and check around you. Then you look up to the ceiling to find no irregularities compared to when you first entered. A violent clicking matched with a chuckle probed you to turn to the walls as you found your favorite friend reaching over and around a large circular wall. Your legs lock into place but you urge yourself to move before Moondrop tries to reattach himself to his wire. You must make a break for it. Yet, you still can't move. You see as Moondrop twists his around as he makes an effort to turn to you.

You pull off one of your legs hard, urging yourself that now it is the time to go. Moondrop is slinking his way towards you. You bolt, any direction is fine as long as you are able to get away from him. Truthfully, the idea that this was a dream was starting to come back in full flow. As you run you feel your legs are starting to give out yet your heart does not burn. Blood pulsing through your veins yet everything feels slower. A pit grows and wraps around your waist and you feel the adrenaline leak out of you. Slowly you realize something has a grip on your waist, and the patterns on the floor are quickly getting smaller. The running spins through into kicking as you notice your captor was silent.

You feel a wind coming from behind you and now know that Moondrop is talking you backwards. You start screeching at him with nonsense. Flailing your arms, unintentionally you look down and see your slipper. (You silently thank the effort you took into stretching to take your slipper successfully.) There you try to pry his hands off you by beating them with the comfy shoe. You hear a small snarl as you scream,

“You were not supposed to show up at this point!” There's a noticeable shift in direction as you struggle to get him off and away from you. A lucky strike for tipping away his cap, to which he drops you to retrieve it. You have no idea as to why that didn't even hurt. Mystery aside, you are free from his grasp; regardless of your desires. At the cost of hurting your dear favorite character. A price surely world ending if you are sure this isn't a dream. Nonetheless, they probably should have seen it coming. The idea that if you do come across him again, you'll apologize.

In the corner of your eye a large speckled ball comes to view, leaving you to turn and dash towards it. Many more giant golf ball seats leap into vision. The marbled purple and green signature colors for the area you are looking for are in fruition. A giant purple lighting bolt striking through the words “Monty’s Gator Golf” glistens in a neon ivory. The S.T.A.F.F bot at the entrance still, you charge yourself for a run in as you go around it and under the violet shaded tunnels that you need.

For a mini golf game imitation, finding a smidgen of water seemed to be almost impossible. Any semblance of a pool being replaced with neon lavender and grass colored plastic balls. Beyond the pipe lined fences had only to be filled with a resin like fake water with plastic plants. Which is probably for the best, considering that many robots and other electric devices are wandering about.

Alas, you have found the exact thing you need. Even as you'd search you are becoming more and more certain that this is not a dream, what else could explain this predicament? You chuck one of the plastic balls while you stand on a mini bridge of water. The ripples reflected from the light that do conform that true water is indeed underneath you.

No hesitation. You take one step on the metal railing. Lifting your other leg over, leaving you sitting. Then a slide. All the way into the pond. The water itself was shallow for a pond, yet deep for a fountain. The water coming up to your knees. This will do. You slowly crouch down until you cover your face with water. Chlorine, salty, it nearly burns your eyes, steeping through your nose.

You cough, but the water cholesterol you as you try to push yourself further. Yet your body ultimately rejects it. Your arms flail and you end up bumping your end. Yet you persist.

Surely you will wake up soon.

Surely, you will be free from this child's horror game.

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The burning stops. You feel lighter. Despite the shallow water you feel like you're floating. Then you realize that you were rising.

“Are you alright, Player?” Glamrock Freddy's voice being soft, yet a voice unforeign.

“Freddy?” You rasp. Coughing out the extra water. Glamrock Freddy releases the cusp of your shirt. Taking care to set you down gently. Once you are putting down your notice that there's no wet feeling sticking to you, like it should be in the real world.

“What?! How?! How am I still dry?” You look around. It is indeed Freddy from the game. “Freddy? Glamrock Freddy? What..how? Why?”

“Woah, so you really are stuck here.” Gregory continues to get closer to you. Circling around you, like a specimen to be observed.

“Player, it seems like you are experiencing a lot of distress. Do you think an explanation will help?” A pause, what kind of question is that? Obviously yes. However, seeing that both characters have found you nearly drowning… the lack of judgment is better off.

“Yes. Actually. That might help. How did I get here?”

“That I am not sure of. One of the S.T.A.F.F members noticed you running among the halls. Then, I was sent a warning notification with your location. Soon Gregory and I saw you jump off a bridge. That's very dangerous of you, Player. Even though you are less affected by the restrictions of the real world. You could have been hurt!”

“Yeah. Sorry. I was attempting to find a way out of here.”

“Well, so am I.” Gregory crossed his arms and furrowed his brows. Freddy looks back at Gregory.

“Sure. Anyway, do you know how I can get out of here?”

“Huh? Why do you want to leave so soon?”

“I have life stuff I need to take care of.”

“I am going to be honest, Player. I do not have the resources available to help with this scenario. But looking into various storylines with this type of predicament. It seems like you will have to get to the end of the game to get back home.” Dread kicks in. This is a children's horror game, with no good ending, does Freddy know this?

“Are you sure? I don’t think we should just take such drastic measures.”

“Drastic measures? Really? Just say you were never really good enough to completely run through the game!”

“Gregory, I am sure the Player has a good reason for this. Can you tell us why?”

“Well, not many of the choices made are good to get there. I guess we'll need time to explore options.” Gregory scoffs. Yet Freddy seems more inquisitive.

“Not good? Can you explain further?” How could you phrase that all his friends will be destroyed? That everyone is under some deadly virus.

“... A lot of the options require Gregory to be put in dangerous positions as well as a lot of property damage happens. I want to prevent that from happening.”

“Oh I see! We don't want anything bad to happen.”

“If that's really necessary, we need to find a way to trigger the event and get what we need without hurting anyone.”

“Of course. Nothing bad should happen.”

“Freddy, are you in safe mode right now?”

“Yes. I am in safe mode. Yet, I doubt I will be providing much use due to that.” Gregory is silent, his face tells you everything you need to know about how he feels. Suspicion.

“Do you often talk to your band members?”

“Indeed. But I do not understand how this might help.”

“Since this game hasn't really officially closed the Pizza Plex. You can gather your friends. The more people we have, the better chance we get of more helpful information.” Freddy doesn't move for a few minutes. Everyone is silent. Then Freddy beams.

“What a great idea! I'm sure the others should know much more since they're connected to the network.”

“What!? Freddy, no! That's a terrible idea. That weird security lady could be out to be me soon!”

“Do not worry Gregory. You now have the Player to keep you company. And they also have outside influence to keep you safe.” Gregory glares at you.

“Yeah right. They never even completed the game.” The words mumble out of Gregory’s breath.

“Gregory, it has to be Freddy. The other robots are more likely to cooperate and listen to him than both of us.”

“Indeed! They are our friends. I doubt they want to hurt us. I'll be back.” Both you and Gregory looked at each other for a moment. Soon Freddy started mechanically moving out of view. You forget that his walking seems like stomping. As you flick out of the way as he excitedly goes to the exit.

The quiet sleeps into the air, pulling both Gregory and you either away. Yet, none of you moved from where you're currently standing. Tension. Awkwardness. A crucial component of a bond missing, replaced with an uneasy knowing.

“So…”

“Don't bother. I don't want to talk to you.” Gregory puffed out.

“Oh…ok.” You decide to sit against the end of the pool. Taking the time to look along the purple sky, checkered ground, and the neon green platters that paint Gator Golf. Gregory paces around for a moment, with nothing to do and no Freddy around to give him instructions.

“You don't know how you even got here, don't you?” Gregory breaks the silence and looks at you. His brown eyes are sharp, his brow furrowed.

“I mean, I kind of do. In the game I went into the Daycare.-” Gregory rolls his eyes.

“I talked with Sun and suddenly was grabbed in here.”

“So it's his fault! I knew it. There's no way you could have gotten here on your own.”

“What?”

“And you just make me stay there for HOURS! What do you do anyway, when you're not controlling the screen? It's so annoying!” Gregory puts his hands in the air as he continues to march around. Completely avoiding the poor worker bots that continue on their cycles.

“Hold on, you actually know what I do in here?”

“Well, uh, clearly not. You don't tend to put me in third person. Do you know how weird it is to have a body that's not really yours? Cuddling up with a stupid weirdo who kicks me out of stuff. Do you forget that you even play when he's on screen? That weirdo with the cap too. You keep on killing me to even see that thing's face!”

“No, not really, I just eat dinner.” Gregory stops his pacing to look at you.

“You what?”

“I eat dinner.”

“But you only see Sun's close up face?!” You shrug.

“Kinda the point. It makes me less lonely. And it forces me to have dinner.” Gregory continues to stare at you, his eyes furrowed and frown distinctive. Close to a wince.

“That's..really pathetic. Don't you have better things to do? Like… you're an adult. Eat with other friends if you're so lonely.” You look at him back, not judgemental thoughts following through you, for now.

“I do. Occasionally, but it reminds me to eat more often.”

“Why? What? Why do you have to be reminded to EAT?”

“Well excuse me! Stuff happens!”

“You're AN ADULT! How are you not responsible enough to eat!” Before you say something in defense, you pause.

“Gregory, when was the last time you had a meal?”

“Don't flip it back on me! I'm a character! I'm not even real!”

“Almost through the entire night of running around, you don't eat even once! And this is at a pizzeria!...Wait. practically the only one that canonically eats in the storyline is Chica and it should be impossible for her to eat.”

You pose a faux expression as you lift on your eyebrows and purse your lips. “Very unrealistic if you ask me.” Gregory pouts and crosses his arms.

“Well excuse me I'm not real and I'm a child. What's your deal?” He looks back into your eyes.

The both of you stare at one another for an almost comical amount of time until you realize that you should probably be the bigger person and initiate something else to get back home. However, luck was on your side (for once) and you hurt a subtle growl. Gregory flushes as he tugs in his shirt with an anger painted in his face. You offer him your hand.

“Yeah. Let's find something to eat.”

The two of you about the Plex. Gregory doesn't seem to care about the robots that are supposed to be chasing (and potentially?) killing him. So, neither do you. It's strange. How casual it is when Gregory leads you to the elevator so that you both can go into the kitchen. How much do these characters know about this world being a game? Do they do something different once you tap out? The most important question right now might be: How does one get food, not kill Chica, and get the pass necessary to unlock the other areas? Two questions into one. Both are vital.

You and Gregory stand in front of the kitchen door. The both of you stare at its label. But you continue to look long enough for Gregory to stare at you.

“Do you often just stare into space?” Ignoring him, you knock gently on the door.

“How is that going to work? I doubt that they'll just let you in and let us-” A clear creaking sound effect played in overlap as the door opened slightly with a S.T.A.F.F bot behind. It is adoring a tiny chef hat. It's lifeless beady black eyes staring directly into your soul.

“Um. Hi.” You do a small wave as you hold your other arm.

“Is it ok if we use your kitchen to make something?” The bot doesn't reply back. It continues to stare at you.

“Geez, are you too communicating through telekinesis? The game doesn't work like this were gonna get-”

“FREDDY FAZBEAR'S PIZZA IS 37.99 TOPPINGS INCLUDE MEAT, NON MEAT, CHEESE, AND SPECIAL INGREDIENTS ALL FOR AN EXTRA 6.99 A PIECE.” It turned around, leaving the door open. Gregory watched as the bot slowly rotated away from the door, his mouth completely open in shock.

Carefully, you threaded into the kitchen. You always looked around, not trying to leave a single space unscanned. Just in case Chica decided to arrive as the script intended. Gregory kept an eye on the bots who were now half hazardly moving about. You had to be the abrasive one and went to the freezer to see what they had. If you had to be honest with yourself, you weren't expecting much. After all, a developer wouldn't put too much effort into stocking a freezer. Would they? You were shocked enough to find that the door could be opened.

Surprisingly, there was stuff there: Frozen meat, tubs of ice cream, cheese, precut pepperoni, and something exactly what you have been looking for. Frozen peas. The packaging on it even had one of the mascots on it. Mr. Hippos Preposterous Peas. Granted, the branding could use a little work; but it was at least there. And there were frozen string beans, it was also a very convenient stroke of luck as there was no way vegetables might even be found in a pizzeria of all places. Maybe it was a joke between developers to add something more accommodating to parents? You also got a frozen bag of pre-cut fries. A less shocking thing to have in a fast food resort. Whether if it's a pizza place or not, you like to think it would have to accommodate to some non-loving pizza customers. This place canonically has nachos for the sake of it.

You hold two of the bags in your arms, and brace your hand to the icy cold bag that you bring to the counter. Gregory has not stopped watching you or the others bots in the kitchen. A feeling of being watched ensues as you get a pot from one of the cabinets from above the metal counter, and go to the sink to fill it with water. You turn on the stove. As you wait for the water to heat up, you get another pan to break the frozen bags so it can get out of the bag faster. Gregory watches intensely as you go through the motions.

“...What are you making?”

“Shepards pie”

“What?! Why are you making a stupud casserole? This is a pizzeria!” Gregory whispers. You don't even bother to look at his face of shock and disappointment.

“Ironic ain't it? Besides, it's a hot dish. I bet you hadn't had something like this for a while.”

“Well- I-”

“Well, we got to eat. Don't we? And it's probably healthier this way.”

“Oh since when do you care about health? I seen you chug over 5 of those weird energy drinks in one day and-”

“Ok! Ok! Point made! I just was craving something like this right now. Alright?”

Gregory looked around one final time before you pause and say.

“Wait do you actually know what I do behind the computer or was that a lucky-”

Gregory shushes you with a flushing face.

“Well, sometimes you tried to cheat code to make the game third person. That's when I can see you. But we should leave!” He whispers.

“Let's just get something to eat first.”

“What if Chica comes?!” His whispers warps into a yell.

“She can have some too. After all, she can technically eat.”

You use one of the knives to open the bag of pre-cut fries and put them in the pot. You head to the MEAT station and put some of it into a pan. You returned to the stove with the meat filled pan and started cooking it. As you passed by, you pre heated the oven. It took a little extra attention to find the salt and other spices to use. However, it wasn’t particularly as bad to find compared to your apartment kitchen. Gregory continues to watch you as he thinks of what to say.

“...You're weird.”

“Is that better than pathetic?”

“You're weird and pathetic.”

“I'll take it.” You say, as you are putting a ton of garlic into the meat(?). The pan sizzles and you finally smell something other and wet chlorine sodden clothes from the pool (which shouldn't be the case yet it persists even in a reset) . You also find the bag of peas melted enough to be placed in another pot to cook.

“By the way. What do you know of me? You clearly know that I've been spending time here. Yet you ask what I do outside of the screen?”

“That's none of your business!”

“Well if I want to get out. Then it might play a part.”

“Well I'm not telling you! It's not like I want to be here either.” You test out the peas, and turn off that section of the stove. Dumping out most of the water in the pot.

“How about a trade?” You focus on mixing the meat, it was browning out a lot faster than it usually was.

“A trade?”

“I think I can wager that you don't know jack shit about your own story.”

“Watch it.” Gregory stares at you with an angry glare. His arms tighten as he crosses them.

“Just as I know nothing about what this world knows about itself.”

“Yeah right. How can you be so sure that I don't know what will happen?”

“Because if you did, I doubt you would want the end to happen.” Gregory’s eyes soften.

“What?” Curiously, you turn back to him.

“Gregory, did you know that there are five endings to this game?”

“Um, duh. Of course I do, it's my game!”

“Four out of the five endings end up with this burning and crashing down.”

“So? We can just get the Good Ending!”

“Gregory you don't understand, all the endings are so ambiguous on purpose. That even in the DLC, you end up missing. Freddy gets the rest of his body torn up in all endings. It's a part of a franchise known for its plot holes and horror.” Gregory looks at you with tears in his eyes. Instead regret fills your bones, as the words stepped out of your mouth.

“R-Really?”

“Yeah.”

You turn back to check on the potatoes. When they are soft enough to mold, you turn off the stove and use one of the dish cloths as a makeshift potholder. As you pour out the remaining water, you heat a few quiet sobs. You turn back to see Gregory crouched against the lower cabinets. He's crying into his knees.

“Oh, Gregory.”

“Shut up, I'm not crying!” His speech was muffled by a few sniffles.

“I'm…I'm sorry that I have to tell you that.”

“It's not fair! Why do I have to be the one that suffers forever! Why do I have to go through this if I don't get out to see my friends!” Hesitantly, you approach him.

“May I hug you?” Gregory gives a less noticeable nod. You reach your arms around him for a second until he pushes you off.

“I hate this trade.”

“I'm sorry man.” You kept your position for a few moments. The pan on the stove was starting to smoke. However, you continued to hold onto him until he pushed you away. You turned the one section of the stove off and started checking the other ingredients. Layer each of the cooked items into the pan with cheese. The pan is then placed in the oven, reheating aside.

“It took me a while to realize that I wasn't in control of my body. Wandering into places, then noticing that's wasn’t where I wanted to go. Freddy thought I was lost. Yet I thought I just forgot where I was supposed to go. Like, going into a room and forgetting what you planned to do in there. It wasn't until I was killed by that Moon bot; to notice that I had reset time. There was static, then a [Game over]. I found myself pressing [Restart] yet I couldn't even move. Then I was in the spot where I first encountered Freddy. Sometimes I had the freedom to wander, other times I'd be in the Daycare, only watching through my body. It took me forever to convince Freddy. Yet it felt like the others understood.”

“You were able to talk to the others?”

“Sometimes. If you weren't logged in it felt like a pause in time, a pause that many could notice. Freddy and I seemed like the last characters to realize this. But, it made things easier, like we weren't alone anymore. It was weird at first, yet nice to have them understand me.”

“What would you guys talk about?”

“Not much. If you were stuck with the same people for who knows how long. You'll end up talking about everything. But I'm guessing you want something specific…like related to a certain someone?” Gregory raised his brow.

“Not really. I'm just curious how everyone is doing. Being stuck in an area for months. It's been closer to three years since this game has been released.”

“Are you sure you don't want to know what Sundrop was saying about you?” You freeze. How did Gregory know of your favorite characters?!

“Uh! How?!” You look down at Gregory, then at your slippers. Your Daycare themed slippers. You're still in your merch pajamas. Flustered, Gregory smirks as he urges.

“You know, the place you go to the most?”

“Yeah, yeah. I probably annoy the hell out of him.” Gregory scoffs and laughs.

“Nah I don't think you do.”

There's a stomping that echoes throughout the kitchen. Both you and Gregory pray that Freddy has returned with good news. However with the kitchen that you are in, and the mini game that is played in the kitchen makes you worry. Alas, no Feddy is seen. But a silhouette of a walking bird surrounds the shadows of the kitchen.

“Gregory, you need to stand up, get ready.” You grab the pan closeted to you. Of course, you cannot take one giant overarching metal machine. However you are not going to die without at least getting a good bite of your hot dish. The stomping gets louder, you stay silent to hear Chica’s scripted lines. Yet, you hear nothing.

“Uh, Gregory. Did the game happen to reset once I entered?” You whisper.

“Not that I know of. Everyone was acting nice until you- ”

“Your family is looking for you.” Gregory covers his mouth. You then mouth to him.

“I'm going to try something.” You gesture your plan: using your arms to display calling Chica over, and having Gregory jump on the counter if things get too rough.

“Hold on! Don't go!” Before Gregory could chastise you. The beep from the preheat blared from the oven. Giving you the go to do your plan.

“We're over here!” You shout. The thunder that erupted stopped, then gained traction to be louder and faster. You watch the dishes shake and the pans sway as you watch the door burst open. Chica twists her head. Her eyes meet with yourself.

The time is up.

Chica charges toward you. Yet the time for your shepherd's pie is nearly done. She is really close as you take it out of the oven with a few cloths wrapped around your hands.

“Want a slice?” You turn to her as she nearly lunges at you and stops midway. Just like in the mini game. You make a pizza that gets taken away by Chica. She eats it near a garbage disposal and Gregory pushes her in and destroys her. Her beak is used for Freddy's upgrades. Since Freddy isn't in service, you might have a chance of saving her too.

“Pizza?”

“Pie. Shepherd's pie.” Gregory is on the counter, his mouth wide open.

Each of you got a plate of shepherd's pie. You were waiting for it to cool down. Chia had her slice slide down in her beak. Gregory eats his on the counter tops. Per your instructions. In a speed run video of the game it was said that if you jump on a slightly elevated surface, the animatronics would stop persisting after you and reset their cycle. Now a trick needed as all of you share a meal heavily needed.

“Omg it's so good! It hasn't had something like this in a loooong time!” She looked at you expectantly. You decide to give her another slice. Sliding down the mess of a pie slice on her plate looked to be the correct answer, as she gobbled it up in a instant.

“Did Freddy send you?” Gregory asked as he put a spoonful in his mouth.

“Freddy? I didn't think he left you. But I must admit that I was pretty out of it for a good chunk of time. Oh wait, the Player!” She points to you. “You're actually here! I didn't think you had it in you!”

“What?”

“Well we were betting to see which of us would meet you first. Never would've guessed you would have met Freddy first. But I can see how that might have worked out!” She beams. You turn to Gregory and he shrugs.

“What can I say, you're also a popular topic.”

“Topic? Were you too gossiping without me?! How could you! And right after our performance!"

“You have done the same song for weeks!” Gregory deadpanned.

“Same difference.” She shrugs back.

“So, what were you doing? Before you zoned out I mean?”

“Oh! I got hungry. It was the last performance of the day and stuff usually gives me a sweet treat after such a long day. But they weren't there this shift.” She groaned, grieving her beloved treat. “No child wanted to share today too. I was so hungry. Even a workout would make the most strongest craving a little snack! I went back to my room and practically dipped out.”

“Like, game script wise or just day to day festivities?”

“Oh goodness no! You'll be surprised how much we can get away with when you're not looking. I can't even remember what happened in the beginning. It's strange, like a mantra repeated over and over until it's in a broken code to activate. Gone. Unless you start the process all over again!”

“Then do you know if there's a way I can get out?” Chica tilts her head to you.

“Huh? What do you mean by that?”

“This may come as a surprise too,” (you glance at Gregory for a moment.) “Some people. But I have a job to keep up with, bills to pay. As much as I want to learn more about this world, I need to find a way to get home first.” Both Gregory and Chica say nothing. “Look, the only option so far is to have Gregory go though the game's storyline. And I don't want to do that. Not only will it be bad for everyone involved, but also there's a chance that option won't even work.”

“Ok. So what's the plan?” Chica squawks.

“Luckily! It seems that we have passed through a “boss fight” so far. Since we are in the kitchen mini game and made…something. And Glamrock Chica isn't destroyed!” Chica brings her hands together to mimic a golf clap in celebration.

“What we can do is attempt to trigger an event, and hope that we can change the fate of the others. There’s a lot of interpretations out online that this canonically hasn't happened. (Ignoring the DLC that is.) (Poor Ruin)). So that's kinda the best I can come up with. How about you guys?” Chica raises her hand as you find her sitting next to Gregory.

“Chica?”

“If we have to do that, can you talk to the Daycare Attendant before we do all this? I really want to see you two together. And! And, he might even have a better plan to get you home!” You cover your face on instinct as you stutter out.

“What?! No!” Chica seemed to take delight in your new composer and she boldly asks with a native tone.

“Why not?”

“I can't!”

“Why not?” Chica repeats.

Embarrassed, you have no words to rebuttal. Instead you gesture to your entire outfit.

“I look like a clown!” Gregory doesn't even hesitate to say:

“You're already a clown. At least all of you have something in common.” You gape. It took a little time to process what he just said.

“But you're a cute clown!” Chica chirped out. You almost didn't hear her from your shock.

“You're not wrong, but that was just so mean.” It was Gregory’s turn to pause for a few moments. He hid his hands behind his back, not daring to look you in the eye. He murmurs.

“Consider it reparations for all the stuff you put me through.”

“…Whatever. But I'm not going to the Daycare just yet.”

“Then, what's the plan?”

“Something extremely risky and stupid, which I intend to do alone to put you out of harm's way.

can someone make more content of yn being a person in real life that is a huge dca fan as a comfort from their boring and stressful adult life and somehow the glitchtrap virus is so powerful that it inserts itself into reality and takes over your puny gaming laptop, so much so that sun and moon become aware to the fact that they are in a game and have a super fan who is very cute and only plays their section over and over again, which they appreciate, and eventually they want you with them so much that they try to pull you in one night to comfort you when it seemed that you were sad...

no one?

ok. guess ill do it myself.

[dragongirlie56]

Masked Insecurities 🎭(Abby x Girlfriend!Reader)

Word Count: 2k

Summary: Reader notices her boyfriend, Abby, looking down. When she asks him about it he tries to hide it behind a smile, though that doesn’t work for long.

Notes:

almost finished editing a romance x reader request that will be out maybe tomorrow or monday! I’m going to try to get 2-3 fics out each week! that’s my goal!

this idea came to me when i was taking a break from writing ur guy’s requests and i couldn’t move forward without getting this out of my brain so here’s some Abby hurt/comfort!

I’m sorry if I accidentally switch perspectives like second pov to first or third. I write in all three types of POV all the time so my brain likes to mix them together LOL I caught myself doing that a couple of times and I had to fix it.

special shout out to 🦑anon for checking up on me! 🫶

Warnings:

Not beta read (Edited as much as i can but i miss stuff)

Hurt/Comfort

Insecurities *cough* title mention *cough*

Bullies/Haters

Self Doubt

Fluff

———————————————————————

The light from your computer screen cast across your face, straining your eyes. Your typing echoed through the apartment, most of it consisting of writing a sentence then deleting it immediately after. You were working on your mandatory report for your job that was due in a week.

The white page glared up at you. You barely had a few paragraphs—it was basically still an outline.

You rested your head in your palm and tore your gaze from the screen.

I can’t do this anymore, you thought.

You closed your laptop with a click and leaned back in your chair to stretch, a series of pops down your spine filled the silence.

Your eyes flicked to the flickering light in the living room. The volume on the tv was on but quiet enough that you were unable to make out the words.

Abby was laying on the couch with his phone in hand, scrolling through what you assumed was his socials.

He seemed fine for the most part. However, the longer you stared, something stirred in your gut. His thumb stopped and a sudden frown tugged down at his lips as his brows pinched together.

“Hey.”

His eyes shifted to meet yours, widening slightly. With a swift hand he pocketed his phone. A quick smile replaced his frown as he sat up.

“Hi. You done with work?” He tilted his head.

“Yeah.”

”Good.”

Your gaze caught on his lips. His smile was forced, rehearsed. It was the smile you saw when he was answering interview questions or signing exclusive merch for fans.

You narrowed your eyes as you made your way over, careful not to trip over the cord running from the tv to the outlet on the far wall. The cushions dipped under your weight as you crossed a leg under you and you turned toward him.

His eyes flicked from the wall to you—another sign that something was up.

“Abby.”

“Yes?”

“That doesn’t work with me.”

“What?”

“Your idol mask.”

His smile twitched slightly, threatening to fall. He rested his elbow on the back of the couch and laid his cheek against his fist. “I don’t have a mask.”

“Yeah, you do.” You leaned closer. “What’s wrong?”

He shook his head. “Nothing, I swear… How was your day?”

You sighed at the obvious subject change, debating whether or not you should push him. “Fine. I’ve just been working on my report all day. Haven’t gotten past the beginning.”

”That sucks. I’m sorry… I know how hard you work.“

”It’s alright.”

“Did you eat today?”

“Yes.”

”Not just coffee.”

”Double yes.”

”Good.” His eyes flicked to the television—you forgot it was even on.

He was being distant and you hated that. It took you so long to get him to open up about his past, to get past his armored smiles and clever subject changes. He was definitely bothered—that much was clear in his mannerisms. You wondered what it could possibly be. You knew his idol duties were a lot for him to manage, maybe something happened at work? Or someone said something to him? Did it have to do with something he saw on his phone?

Your eyes softened. “Abby… you don’t have to talk about it right now but,” you paused, biting your cheek. ”Please don’t feel like you have to hide what you’re actually feeling, okay? You do that enough with the world… so…” You trailed off.

He didn’t respond for a while, long enough for your foot to succumb to the invisible needles. You flexed your toes hoping the action would somehow rid yourself of the prickly feeling faster.

Your nickname left his lips and you looked up.

“Yes?” you responded easily.

His next question was far from what you were expecting him to ask.

“Why… why are you with me?” His voice was small, lacking the confidence he usually had. His eyes refused to meet yours as his fingers tapped against his thigh—a habit you picked up on when he was nervous.

You took a breath, gently taking his hand.

“For many reasons…“ You smiled, tracing the lines in his palm. “For one, you’re sweet. You’re kind. And you’re silly… your jokes are my favorite, especially when I’m feeling down.” You poked his cheek—making him smile faintly—before interlacing your fingers. “You push me to be better and… and you lead with your heart… which is something I really admire about you.” You squeezed his fingers. “I love you and I love being around you.”

He dropped his elbow from the back cushions and ducked his head.

“Abs, you know I’ll always give you reassurance but… is there a reason why you asked me this?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he replied, his voice quiet.

You tilted his chin up. Your heart ached when you found tears in his brown eyes. “Everything matters when it comes to you. Especially when something makes you feel like this.” Your thumb brushed away a tear that fell. “Abby. Did someone say something to you?”

“Not directly.”

Your brows furrowed as you tilted your head. He grabbed his phone and pushed it in your direction.

His screen displayed a post on the official Saja Boys page. The content being about the collab Huntrix and the Saja boys are planning. One of the photos was of you sitting next to Abby, helping him with lyrics.

You looked up at him, unsure at what he was implying.

“The comments,” he clarified.

You clicked on the button and scrolled through them.

iamtheGOAT - Abby has a girlfriend??? 🤨HOW?

mycatATEmychair53 - because he’s nice????

gymmaster54 - nah it’s the abs fs fs

iamtheGOAT - nice?? i’m nice and i don’t have a gf. it’s def the abs that’s all he has going for him 🤷‍♀️

gymmaster54 - HA 😂

mycatATEmychair53 - you don’t seem very nice tbh

iamtheGOAT - well haters gonna hate ;)

mycatATEmychair53 - 0-o

misterboieatsfrogs - All muscle, no brain 🧠❌

sweetiepie78 - Abby has a nice voice!

queenlidia90 - I agree! I think all the saja boys have nice voices!

sweetiepie78 -yesss!! so do Rumi, Zoey, and Mira! lots of talent in these pictures!

iamtheGOAT - def autotune fs 😒

queenlidia90 - no it isn’t! they’ve literally recorded raw footage of rehearsals??? why do you have to hate???

iamtheGOAT - no they haven’t…. i’m just speaking facts 🤷‍♀️don’t need to be so triggered 😝

queenlidia90- … the jealousy goes crazy

iamtheGOAT - i ain’t jealous of no saja boys

mycatATEmychair53 - 💀

faunadoesart - SAJA BOYS SO FINE ISTG 😫✋

mycatATEmychair53 - eye candy fr fr 💕😝🫶

kittengirlie - don’t forget about my girls! They're hot too!!

faunadoesart -mb mb they’re gorgeous!!

iamtheGOAT - that’s all they’re good for

faunadoesart - if you think that then why are you here????

iamtheGOAT - i’m here to humble them☺️

mycatATEmychair53 - wtf dude????

iamtheGOAT - wTf dUDe ✨

glitterwandera56 - All Abby does is flex, it's so annoying UGH! Like not everything is about that!

huckleberrypie7676 - SOOOOO HOT OMGGG

narwals4lifeeee - soda pop is my fav!!!!! 💕love you saja boys!!

flowersandwands33 - ahh can’t wait for the new Sajatrix collab album!!

beauty-and-the-fi$h - You know together we’re glowing ✨

narwals4lifeeee - gonna be gonna be golden ✨

faunadoesart - OH OH OOOOOOH

narwals4lifeeee - UP UP UP WITH OUR VOICES!!!

kind-princess678 - i just dun’t get the hype for them. jinu isn’t that great, rumi deserves better let’s be so fr. mystery is def hiding a forehead under that hair FS idc wut zoey says and bro legit barked he is not escaping the allegations. romance is a troll with a wig on who wishes he had rizz ugh! no wonder mira was glaring at him last fan sign. also, baby is a manchild!!! acts lik a little kid the nerve… and don’t even get me strted on abby!!! he gives suuuuuch playboy energy, not a thought behind those muscles 😀it wild to me he has a girlfriend i hope she sees him for who he really is… or she’s just here for the looks which is shallow af. Or even the money. Classic gold digger who can’t provide for herself-

With a shake of your head, you shut off his phone and placed it on the coffee table—tapping your fingers against it a few times. Abby was staring at the ceiling; his frown unwavering. You noticed another tear run down his face and your fingers were quick to brush it away.

“They don’t know you.”

“I know.” His words came out in a whisper, almost as if he feared he’d break if he spoke any louder.

“Hey,” you said, softer than your prior tone. “Please look at me.” You scooted closer to him so your side was pressed against his.

He rubbed his eyes with a hand before glancing over at you. His skin was puffy around his eyes, his nose slightly red.

“They don’t know you,” you repeated, your fingers brushing his bangs. “Not like your friends. Not like me.”

His eyes searched yours. “I know… I know I’m not like what they’re saying but… it’s hard not to believe it… when… when there are thousands of them saying this stuff about me.” He laid his head on your shoulder, closing his eyes. “Reading it just makes me feel… I don’t even know.”

You stared at him for a few seconds. ”Insecure?” you offered.

”Yeah. That...”

You traced circles on his forearm.

“Are you not bothered with what they’re saying about you?”

You took a deep breath. “No.”

“How?”

“Because they don’t matter to me. They’re just… people behind a screen who feel the need to comment on other people’s lives like it’s their own. They’ve probably been hurt by the people around them so they feel the need to bring others down.”

“That doesn’t give them the right to say the things they say.”

“You’re right, it isn’t okay. But people still do it and I’m not going to give them that power against me.”

He nodded slowly with a whisp of a smile on his lips. “I admire that about you.”

“Thank you.”

His brows furrowed suddenly. “But… It makes me upset that they see you in that light. You aren’t who they claim you to be.”

You poked his nose, making him blink in surprise. “Bingo.”

“What?”

“That’s how I feel about you.”

He glanced down as you followed the pale lines on his arm—his past demon markings. Silence stretched on until he broke it once more. “I… want to believe I’m the things you say I am but it’s hard to especially since… I have those to remind me of what I am.” He shook his head. “A demon.”

“Was a demon.”

He lifted his head from your shoulder and he stared at you with an expression you couldn’t quite read. When he didn’t respond you continued.

”You were a demon. Not now. You had Gwi-ma talking in your ear for a long time, tearing you down and twisting things around to control you. It will take time for you to see yourself the way I see you… but I’ll be here every step of the way if you’ll let me.”

His breath hitched and he let out a watery laugh. “Yeah.” He wiped a fresh set of tears with the back of his hand before he wrapped his arms around you and pushed you backwards, making you both fall into the cushions.

You let out an ‘oof’, earning a soft laugh from him.

”Thanks for making me feel like a person. I love you so much.” His words were muffled into your neck.

You ran a hand through his hair. ”I love you too, Abs.”

The both of you settled into a comfortable silence, content to be in the warmth of each other's arms. You traced small circles between his shoulder blades.

”I’m going to report those accounts,” you said as you ran a hand through his hair. “iamtheGOAT can go eat sand. Same goes with the kind princess account. Neither of them are safe from my wrath.”

He snorted, his shoulders shaking with mirth. He lifted his head to look into your eyes. “My beautiful protector.”

”You know it.”

———————————————————-

I live for these hurt/comfort/fluff fics.

also… I know I write the chin head tilts, hugs, and cuddles a lot. but i love it so much it’s so sweet. so they will remain in my fics forever

…

i think i might be touched starved

…

ANYWAYS 😂

romance x gothic!fem!reader tomorrow or monday for ☕️ anon 🫶

🩵🩵🩵

Thanks for reading! Likes, reposts, and comments are always welcome and appreciated!

If you’d like to request a x reader or a ship you can use the ask/request box!

Read this first —-> Rules —> then KPDH Requesting Guidelines :)

KPDH Masterlist <—- all my fics will be here

[chrizzmaster]

As an alternative, imagine getting pushed a bit too far (for plot purposes, Rebel crossing a really personal line, possibly bringing up the homeowner’s death against you- but it can be anything) and instead of crying like the new homeowner would usually do, you take off the dateviators. Not completely unusual, but what is unusual is the dead look in your eye.

Bc I absolutely hate Rebel and apart of me finds this particular version funny, imagine leaving for a few hours (to which none of them think much of it) before coming back, bag in hand, and grabbing Rebel to make sure they absolutely have to see what’s inside. And just- Dumping out a bunch of rubber duckies that are torn, burned, etc. and leaving them there.

THAT or harming the objects directly with the dateviators off. Whether that’s throwing Rebel at celia repeatedly, taking a bat to Washford (there’s a laundromat around the corner anyways), bending Tina’s beloved triangle out of shape. Maybe going into the attic and just… Kicking the crap out of Hector’s beloved hiding hole, digging through the board games and ripping up the paper money or taking away some of the tokens (just enough to make the game unplayable). Basically turning this entire house into a personal rage room, essentially.

You wouldn’t quite know how this’d translate for them, but you know they can’t be pleased about it. If asked, I imagine just shrugging “you may not like me but you will treat me like I own you.”

i NEED this new homeowner to go through major development and lose their shit, remind the objects know that they are yk… Objects, and truthfully nothing more. I need homeowner to be a sadistic bad bitch about it😭😭

GUYS I SWEAR I HAVE AN IDEA FOR COMBINING THE THREE!!! i acc thought of writing a version of you turning the house into a rage room so im looking forward to writing this! hope its not too cringy ahh and since i wrote one of burning the house- im gna make the objects essentially murder our cat and then go full on rage at them.

TW: animal death, torture(???)

You took the bullying like a champ- you were patient and calm. There must be a reason why they took such a liking towards these objects and since they're still dealing with their own grief- they needed someone to blame. Once they calmed down, you wouldn't forgive them per-se but decided to form an agreement of civility and slowly mend the bridge.

If only these objects had a little human in them which they clearly didn't. What did they ever see in these objects?

It's one thing to take out their anger and grief on you- it was another to murdering the only source of happiness you felt in this godforsaken house. During dark cold nights, Gizmo, your cat would be right next to you and trying his best to comfort you. He was the reason you weren't completely miserable in this house.

And... they took him away from you. Stripped you with nothing but a cold cruel house and crueler 'housemates'.

Gizmo was quite old thus he lazed around upstairs in your bed often when you went to your classes- you thought that you could trust these monsters but you're wrong. He lost a leg recently and you've been training him to walk down the stairs but he still couldn't so he wouldn't dare walk down himself. Not if there wasn't anyone scaring him and chased him away from the upstairs floor.

Here Gizmo's lifeless body was- right in front of you at the end of the staircase. How could they do this-? What was their goal? To chase you away? You couldn't even process your grief when they died because you immediately moved in here just to be harassed by these objects that supposedly loved your late relative. You wondered if any of these objects can even feel simple respect- let alone love.

The sight of Gizmo didn't make you cry- unshed tears gathered in your falls but didn't fall and it was if a hand reached inside you to squeeze your heart. Choking on air, you collapsed onto the ground, crawling to where Gizmo was and held his lifeless body. When you saw his shut eyes and the calm look in his face, you could almost think he was simply just taking a nap. With one final weak attempt on checking if he was still alive- trembling hands checked for a pulse only to be met with none.

Those few days you wallow in agony as you mourn for Gizmo; Gizmo, who still had time yet was taken away coldly by unfeeling objects.

Anger followed your sadness as you place those damned glasses on and questioned the upstairs, starting from the bathroom.

Rebel immediately snorted seeing your face, "Coming here for comfort after your cat died?"

What followed was a collective gasp sounding inside the bathroom- the others sending a warning glare to Rebel who scoffed, "What?" As they were going to provoke you even more- they turned quiet at the sight of your blank face. This wasn't the reaction they wanted- did you not care that your cat just died? What's going on...? Something was different about you that they didn't like. The rubber duck rolled their eyes, "What? Trying to act cool or what?"

With your uncharacteristic unhurried movements, you calmly took off the glasses and left the bathroom. The vibe was tensed inside the bathroom, none spoke nor looked at each other. Rebel broke the silence with a baffled laugh, "Don't tell me you guys bought that intimidation tactic or whatever the duck-"

Barry clicked his tongue, shaking his head and ignored Rebel who flipped him off, spouting a bunch of insults towards you and the others in the bathroom. Why was everyone acting as if they were so innocent?!

You came back after what felt like years with a black trash bag filled with what they're unsure of. The dateviators were on you when you stood straight in front of Rebel as you dumped out a bunch of rubber ducks- ducks that were torn, burned, ran over, stabbed and the list goes on... the look in that fucking duck's eyes didn't make you feel better but you would be lying if you said you didn't feel the slightest of joy when you saw the color drain from their face, their eyes widening at the sight in horror and anger as they spluttered insults until you grabbed their rubber duck that was resting on the bathtub and gave it a squeeze which had them fall to the ground and wheezed, clawing on their throat.

Now, that- that made you feel alive. You chuckled with no humor as you dropped the rubber duck down to the cold pavement, a squeak emitting from it. Rebel seemed to have something to say- why, you couldn't have that now, could you? You stepped on the rubber duck on the floor and could hear the other objects gasped and winced but those were background noises- what delighted you was Rebel groaning in pain, screaming for you to stop- begging and pleading with fat droplets of tears escaping their eyes. With that, you took off the dateviators and picked the ruined rubber duck up and waltzed down the stairs and out of the house.

Giving one final squeeze to the rubber duck, you threw it in the middle of the road and the timing was just perfect as a car immediately drove passed with incredible speed and ran over them- it. Faintly, you could hear a faint pathetic squeak behind you as you practically skipped back to your house.

One down- more to go! If these objects wanted them so bad they could go meet them on the other side- oh, right. They weren't alive. You thought, not like they would ever like to see any of these objects again anyways.

Of course, their mayor came forward when you entered the house, placing the dateviators on. The look in her eyes was priceless- fear evident in them as they looked at you like you were a different person. Well, you were. Who thought they could kill your cat and get away with it? You were going to slowly torture them until they wished they were never made and to regret for ever treating you like utter shit- that wasn't even the reason why you've snapped. Gizmo did nothing wrong.

"Leave me alone if you know what's good for you," you sneered at Celia, "Don't think just because you're the ceiling I can't hurt you. What about Florence, hm? Do you wish to see her getting carved by a knife? Oh- or maybe I could purchase a jackhammer and drill her, huh?" Celia had nothing to say after but her expression told you everything- a mix of anger and fear- just like Rebel. That face- you wanted across every object in this house as they watched you ruin their object or when you hurt the ones they love.

Just like how they had hurt you and killed Gizmo.

The list goes on as you bought a sledgehammer the next day and decided to ruin the house by turning it into your personal rage room. Washford was brutally beaten as Drysdale watched and weep if the constant beeping of the dryer was anything to go by. Plates were thrown to the wall, your bedroom mirror was smashed as you threw the digital cat clock at it. Every single one of them will pay.

In the end, they were broken pieces- alive but in severe pain, some kind of living corpse as you grinned maniacally at the objects, the glasses perched on top of your nose bridge- taking in the flashes of fear in the objects.

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

Just read ur post about batfam with a streamer reader and got an idea. What about a reader who makes music? How do you think that would play out?

I LOVE THIS IDEA CAN WAIT TO WRITE IT

"LIKE MUSIC TO MY EARS"

Bio: wb!reader who has a talent for music and does alot of gigs in Gotham hope the bats don't find out. (Wb!reader music style is a mix between Rico Nasty and Doechii)

Your band is full of losers. Well, that's being nice, of course; babe, they are losers—worst of the worst, the ruffians, the delinquents, the trailer trash, if you will. It's hard to believe that these guys are in a band with the richest girl in Gotham. Well, how did you meet them? It all started when you snuck out of the manor in the middle of the night to go to an underground show in Gotham, where you met your new bandmates: Leo at center stage playing bass, Beck on his left with the electric guitar, and Parker in the back with his drums. They immediately blew you away. There was no need for lyrics; the music spoke for itself—absolutely amazing! Each hit of those drums was like hearing your very own heartbeat; each riff of that guitar made your hair stand on end, and each bass solo left you drooling for more. Without knowing any better, you decided to go backstage after the show, hearing the boys complain about how they didn't have a lead singer and how annoying it was. Leo had all these lyrics, but it wasn't like he could sing them out loud. He crumpled up a piece of paper from his notebook into a ball and threw it to the side, just for it to hit your boot. Opening up the paper, you sang his lyrics in front of them. After that, it's all history, and that's how the band TNT was born. You guys didn't come up with the name TNT; it came from your fans. In their words, your music sounded like an explosion, which is where TNT came from—a small indie band known for the mixture of punk rock and rap music. Now, being center stage, you swung your body to the melody, singing Leo's lyrics to him. It was like you made his songs come to life. To Beck, it was like you gave his riffs purpose. Parker had to stop focusing on you and actually started concentrating on drumming. They were like the brothers you always wanted, the family you craved. Leo was your Tim, Beck was your Jason, and Parker was sometimes your Richard. Late at night, you would sneak out of the manor, jumping down onto the wet grass, running to Beck's old, broken-down car to play another gig. It was exhilarating.

Then your TNT started gaining a fanbase. It wasn't long until people started making TikTok edits of you and the boys or making small TNT merch. Soon people were asking you guys for shows instead of the other way around. TNT was getting popular. It was perfect, absolutely perfect, until it wasn't. So you were getting sloppy when it came to sneaking out of the house. That was your fault, but I mean, what psycho would stay this late to check some damn security cameras. Tim is that psycho who would stay up watching them. He caught you red-handed slipping out of your window, landing on the grass, and running toward a beat-up car parked on the other side of Wayne Manor. Now he's curious, now he's intrigued. Who knew someone so quiet, so calm and collected, unbeknownst to others, would have a secret nightlife? He has a nightlife being a vigilante and whatnot, but not his innocent and unsuspecting sister. Not you, of course—hacking the city cameras, tracking you down, a cup of coffee by his side. To a bar, and got them—aren't you a bit too young for that? Pulling up music equipment? "It's for a show." He hacks into the bar's cameras inside, and that's how he figures out that you are part of TNT. He does a little bit of stalking on the internet, finding TNT fan pages and your band’s Instagram account. He does a lot of stalking in just one night, and he really does like your music. He finds it almost calming, bobbing his head to the sound of your voice. Who knew his little bird could sing? It makes him laugh, but how dare you try to hide this secret from him, from everyone else? How dare you sing for everyone at this dirty bar but wouldn't even talk to him? It's just not fair; it's just not right. And he comes to Bruce with this exact information, and now they're all asking, "Sing for them. Why didn’t you tell us you could sing, baby bird?" Dick says in that sickeningly sweet tone, but you know better—it's laced with a bit of annoyance, maybe anger, at the fact that you would rather sing to complete strangers than to him. "We should come to your next show," Bruce says it like a threat, but in his eyes, he thinks he means well. "You wouldn't mind, would you, sister?" Damian started calling you sister, and why does the word sound so cold on his tongue? "It's just to hear you play. We'll sit in the front row, yeah, see you better." When did Jason care so much about music? You thought he hated rap. "Maybe you can sing us some requests too," Duke adds. God, this is horrible, and here you thought music was your sanctuary.

[getindumdums]

@sweeneydino

Meet my rottmnt Mondo Gecko! The idea he is the cousin/nephew of Repo Mantis. And together they’re running deals with Big Mama, delivering parts/something kind of illegal— probably nothing— probably.

Voice Headcannon: Something like Greg Cipes?? (2012 Mikey)

Taking place immediately after the planned episode "Mikey Toys Around" I hope to write. There, Mikey desperately wants a friend. With April being Donnies, Cassandra Raph’s and Jr being Leo’s, he wants a best friend of his own. And he befriends a Mouser disguised as a toy dinosaur. However, built by Baxter, the toy wrecks havoc, and Mikey actually has to fight a toy robot army with his own sorta (inspired by 87’s “Michelangelo Toys Around” ending).

With the crazed mousers defeated, while Mikey is on a deserted street/alley way—

“That was some sweee Razzmatazz you did there.” Mikey turns around. There’s Mondo, perched onto a roof, arms over squatted legs.

He drops down all cool like. And immediately invites him somewhere in the Hidden City. And to his ‘friends’.

“The name’s Mondo! Mondo Gecko! But my pals call me Mondo-Zilla yo!”

And Mikey, is instantly enamored with the gecko and his lil ‘club’ and thinks, “He’s so COOL!” Jumping up and down on his feet. Mikey does a cool stunt to impress them, and that impresses everyone.

“Hey~ you’re pretty cool.” Mondo drawls. Wrapping his arm around Mikey.

“Really?” He grins. “You think so?”

“Maybe I can show you some cool digs.”

“Gasp! You’d do that?”

“It would be my pleasure~.”

Mikey admires him. Mondo seems to likes his style. And he tags along with Mondo and his antics. He seems edgy, but like a really friendly guy.

Mondo knows the Hidden City like the back of his hand, and it’s all fun and games until Mondo crosses a line.

And he tries pressuring Mikey into doing something with those ‘sweet moves of his’ where it’s revealed he has made an arrangement with Big Mama. — Infact Mondo ACTUALLY knew of the turtles before hand and actively had sought Mikey out.

“I thought you were hunky-dory my duude!” Laughing with his friends.

Except Mikey isn’t having ANY of it. He JUST had this episode.

Mikey glares hard, calm, at him. “This isn’t you.”

“You don’t know anything about me.” He says back.

“No. But I know what it looks like when someone’s lying to themselves.” Mikey calls him out, then marches right off.

The thing is. Mondo DID think he was cool, and his words strike a chord with him. So the next time he meets with Repo to move some illegal cargo. He hesitates, rubbing his arm. And brings up his concerns. Except Repo dismisses him, and pressures him into continuing crime.

The thing is, Repo took him in, saved his life, so Mondo actually feels indebted to him. Mondo goes to apologize, and ‘befriend’ the turtles for Repo. So Repo can make them ‘pay their debts’.

————

Now, I just wanted them to be friends— but now I kind of want them the others to mistake them as dating (and maybe actually date.)

“This is my friend Mondo!” Mikey, who’s pan, introding Mondo to his bros AT THE LAIR.

His bros see this punk next to their ‘sweetest baby brother’. Mondo gives a lil wave.

“Ohhh hell no!”

“Nuh ugh!”

“ABSOLUTELY not!”

Just really hank up the ‘But I love him! Innocent-punk’ trope but in a comedic way.

“He’s a good guy, trust me!” He pleads with big eyes, arms near his face. It backfires and they double down on the NO.

—-

“So… What do you like to do?” Raph asks.

Mondo, without missing a beat. “Setting things on fire.” Smiling.

Looks at Mikey. Realizes what he just said.

“I mean— NOT THAT! Not that!”

—

Anyways. Shenanigans transpire, and Mondo comes to apologize. For real. “Mikey. Would you do me the honor, of showing me…” his brothers hold dreaded breaths. “…how to be real punk rock?” Breaths of relief.

Mikey grins, closing his eyes, “It would be my pleasure~.”

And that’s all I got so far! No really. I have nothing else posted for him. Sorry.

Initial Sketch

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 The Princess and The Pea.

Boyfriend!Reid x Dramatic!reader

main masterlist

Summary: During what was supposed to be a perfect, movie-worthy romantic weekend, your body suddenly betrays you, falling ill and leaving your boyfriend to step up as your devoted caretaker.

Words: 967 (omg very short).

Warnings & Tags: mentions of motion sickness and suggestive themes. the reader gets sick. established relationship. reader is very inspired by my dear charlotte york and spencer fell REALLY hard for her. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: As someone who used to struggle a lot with motion sickness, this one feels really personal and genuine😭

It should’ve been perfect.

The kind of romantic escape they write sonnets about, meant for whispered declarations, tangled limbs under candlelight, and memories preserved in sepia tones. Spencer had curated every moment with the kind of meticulous devotion most people reserved for academic research or priceless artifacts. Only this time, the subject of his reverence was you. A vintage train that wound through rolling fields and sleepy towns, with a sleeper car pulled from a dream and velvet seats the color of antique roses. Two nights together. No crime scenes, no emergencies. Just candlelit dinners, soft jazz humming in the dining car, and the faint perfume of nostalgia trailing behind every footstep.

He’d sent you the itinerary with a picture of your cabin attached: rich amber tones, golden lamplight, and polished wood glowing like honey. Underneath, he’d written: “You should wear that floral dress. The one with the sleeves. It’ll look beautiful in the light.”

Oh, you thought you might die of joy.

Instead, you are dying of nausea.

“I’m not being dramatic,” you whisper from your curled-up position on the velvet seat, eyes glassy, lips pale. “I think this is it. I think I’m dying.”

Your boyfriend blinks, adjusting his glasses as he leans a little closer. “We’ve been on the train for fourteen minutes.”

You recoil an inch, clutching a linen napkin like it’s your last will and testament. “Don’t touch me. You’ll catch it.”

His brows furrow deeply. “You can’t catch motion sickness.”

“Well,” you rasp, barely lifting your head, “don’t even think about it.”

Your mascara has migrated halfway down your cheeks, carving twin tracks of noir tragedy. Your perfectly curled hair, which had bounced cheerfully against your shoulders only thirty minutes ago, has now inflated into something resembling a cloud during a thunderstorm, or, depending on the angle, the aftermath of a small explosion. The pretty scarf you tied around your neck in a nod to Old Hollywood glamor is now a sad, wilted sweat rag. The vintage velvet of the cabin seat clings uncomfortably to your clammy skin as the train glides along the track with a soft, hellish rhythm.

The train clicks forward on its tracks. You groan like a dying opera singer.

“I think my body is rejecting romance,” you mumble. “This is divine punishment. My ancestors are cursing me for happiness.”

Spencer kneels beside you, as if you’re some wounded creature in a forest clearing. He presents an offering: a bottle of ginger ale in one hand and two ginger chews in the other, like they are ancient talismans that might ward off death itself. His concern is so achingly sincere, so quietly him, that it makes you want to cry all over again.

“You’re not allergic to love,” he says, gently petting your thigh in slow, careful strokes. “You’re just experiencing acute vestibular disorientation due to prolonged exposure to low-frequency vibrations.”

You squint at him, half-delirious. “You’re so sexy when you talk nerdy,” you rasp, then immediately gag. “Never mind. Bad idea. No thinking. No speaking.”

Spencer, incredibly, smiles.

He smiles.

At you, his girlfriend, who currently resembles a soggy paper towel and has spent the better part of this luxury experience feeling sick. He reaches out with those impossibly gentle hands and tucks a strand of frizzy hair behind your ear. Then presses a soft, reverent kiss to your forehead.

“I think you’re beautiful,” he murmurs.

You gape at him like he’s been possessed. “Are you kidding me right now?”

His glasses slide slightly down his nose. “No.”

“You have issues.”

“I love you,” he replies with a shrug, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life. And kind of hilarious when you’re sick.”

You let out a long, guttural moan. “Please kill me.”

He kisses your temple. “Can’t. Too in love.”

“I wanted to be hot,” you whisper with a whimper. “I brought the silk pajamas. The matching lace ones.”

Spencer’s ears turn pink. “You are.”

“You don’t have to lie.”

“I’m not,” he says, eyes wide and blinking fast, voice thick like he’s trying not to sound too breathless. “I swear. You’re…you’re still that. Even now. Especially now.”

You curl into him, weak and vaguely suspicious. “You should break up with me.”

He tilts his head, utterly sincere. “I’ll do no such thing.”

“I’m a ghost of the woman you met.”

“You’re the love of my life.”

That stops you cold. Your heart stutters, then trips. You peer up at him through bleary eyes. “Did you just say—?”

“I meant that hypothetically!” he blurts, going bright red. “But also…not hypothetically. Just, um, I—yeah. I love you. Like, a lot.”

You’re silent for a long beat. Then: “You’re crazy.”

He doesn’t deny it. Just holds your hand, tucking your scarf gently into place. There’s a quiet, endless tenderness in the way he looks at you. Like he’s memorizing every expression. Like he’s falling in love all over again, right there in the velvet booth of a gently swaying train, while your mascara stains your face and your breath still smells like ginger ale.

Outside, the hills roll past in waves of gold and green. Inside, the music hums soft and old and lovely.

“I was going to seduce you tonight,” you say, voice thick with regret. “I brought perfume. Silk. A whole plan.”

He presses a kiss to your temple, his blush returning with force. “You still can.”

You stare at him. “Spencer. I threw up.”

“I know. I held your hair back.”

“And you still want to?”

He smiles shyly, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Always.”

And for the first time since the train left the station, you think maybe, just maybe, this won’t be the end of you after all.

[laura1633]

oh for the prompt ideas: would love to see something about omega max getting yet ANOTHER counting gift and having no idea he is being flirted with

Thank you so much for the prompt anon, this was the first one that came through so I've had a go at writing this first. Sorry about any errors but this was a bit of a speed write and it is very silly. I have perhaps gone in a slightly different direction with it but here is oblivious omega Max.

Post Press Conference Gifts 

Charles sneaks into Max’s drivers room unseen but then immediately trips over a huge stuffed teddy bear and goes crashing down on to the floor. Well it's not actually the floor rather a pile of assorted gifts. The alpha is millimetres away from having impaled himself on some rose thorns. 

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Max pops his head around another huge bouquet of flowers that are sat on the table. 

“What the hell is all this?” Charles tries to get to his feet but there are things scattered all over the floor - boxes of chocolate, jewellery boxes, new nesting materials, flowers and even an artwork of Max made out of small glittered sequins. 

“The post press conference gifts,” Max shrugs, “The room they usually put them in is being used right now so I had to put them in here.” 

“Room? Usually? Post press conference what?” 

Max cocks his head to the side and gives Charles a curious look, “The post press conference gifts. The team normally deals with them for me.” 

“Gifts from who?” Charles’ growls. The alpha tries his best not to get too angry but if he is not mistaken then these are very much courting gifts. In fact when he flicks open the gift tag that is attached to the corner of the artwork he sees a phone number scrawled on to it. The alpha rips the tag off and scrunches it into a ball before tossing it towards the bin in the corner of the room. 

“The journalists Charles,” Max giggles as he comes over and presses a small kiss to Charles’ lips, “I think they overdid it this time though, probably because they’ve been giving me such a hard time lately. Did you see how many of them turned up today? There are more and more every time.”

“Yes,” Charles mumbles through gritted teeth. It’s no surprise that Max was surrounded by journalists again but Charles suspects its less to do with wanting to ask about Christian’s dismal and more a case of a group of infatuated alphas trying to get a beautiful omega’s attention, “But why are they bringing you courting gifts?”

“Courting gifts?” Max’s lips form into a delicate pout, the lines on his forehead deepening as if he is deep in thought but then he bursts into laughter, his hands immediately flying up to cover his mouth when he does so. When he finishes giggling he looks back at Charles, his eyes all crinkled around the sides, “Charles they are just gifts for doing the press conference. It is the same every time of course.” 

“They bring you gifts all the time?” 

“Well yeah,” Max takes hold of Charles’ hand and tries to help the alpha navigate around all the gifts, something that is easier said than done. Charles accidentally steps on a cat squishy that immediately starts making a purring sound. The unexpected noise makes the alpha jump backwards and he somehow gets tangled in the ribbon from a bunch of balloons and is left having to awkwardly fight them off. 

 “What do you normally do with your gifts?”

“My what?” Charles mutters as he eventually manages to make his way on to the couch. The alpha immediately gets a lap full of Max as the omega clambers right on to him, his thighs straddled either side of Charles’ as he sits to face him. 

“Your post press conference gifts? I started handing them out to the team mostly, I would never have room for them all. Its a silly idea really but I guess not the worst idea the Fia have had.” 

“Sweetheart,” Charles sighs because he is rapidly coming to the conclusion that he is going to have to have another talk with Max, “I have never once been given post press conference gifts, its not a thing.” 

Max rolls his eyes and wiggles about making himself comfortable on Charles’ lap. 

“Max have you noticed how many of those things are shaped liked hearts?” Charles stares around at the huge pile of gifts, “… In fact that pillow there says be mine on it! And wait that candle, its called the scent of seduction.…” 

“Max grips his hands on Charles’ shoulders so he can keep himself steady as he wips his head around to inspect the stash of what are blatantly courting gifts. When he turns back around he just looks confused. 

“How long have you been getting these?” Charles frowns and his nose twitches as he inhales some unfamiliar alpha scents that are most likely seeped into the gifts. 

“I don’t know,” Max’s is still pouting, “A few years.” 

“Years?!” Charles grips his hands tightly on Max’s hips, a sudden feeling of jealousy stabbing him in the gut and an overwhelming desire to keep hold of Max. 

“Post press conference gifts,” Max mumbles again as if saying it out loud again will somehow make it true, “Charles there are gifts from about fifty different alphas here, you are not suggesting that…” 

“I am suggesting,” Charles rubs his thumbs in circles on Max’s hip bones to try and keep the omega nice and calm, “Sweetie, they are trying to court you.” 

Max freezes, “But - ”

“Max,” Charles brushes his lips against Max’s, “Do you remember what happened with the contract negotiation gifts you were receiving?”

“The were actually courting gifts,” Max mumbles reluctantly. It took an extra long time for Charles to be able to convince Max that not everyone gets gifted speedboats and lavish holidays and enough flowers to fill a florists when negotiating with teams. And yes Max is a generational talent and yes all the team principles wanted him but they didn’t just want him in their car, they were also offering up their beds. 

“Do you think there is a chance that these may also be courting gifts?” Charles coos softly as he tries to give Max a little time to come to his own realisation. 

Max twists his mouth about and makes a humming sound, clearly reluctant to answer but starting to perhaps realise that it looks like valentines day has exploded in his drivers room. Everything looks like it was designed and purchased with love in mind.

“If they are courting gifts then I believe you would be within your rights to ask for your press duties to be suspended for a little while,” Charles noses up and over Max’s jaw line. “Its only fair, you shouldn’t have to do press in front of a crowd of alphas trying to court you.”

“No press duties,” Max’s lips start to twitch upwards and the blues of his eyes start to flicker. The omega looks back at the gifts, “Well I suppose maybe they could be courting gifts…” 

As Max turns back to face Charles the alpha crashes their lips together. Max starts purring heavily as he grinds lightly in Charles' lap and there is the unmistakable scent of slick starting to come through. Charles rumbles happily even though he isn't entirely sure if Max is aroused by him or by the thought of not having to do press for the foreseeable future. Either way it should hopefully be the last of Max’s ‘post press conference gifts’ and Charles is going to count that as a victory. 

He will undoubtedly have to have another talk with Max about another set of alphas at some point though.

[thebirdandthebee]

Date Night | Dr. Robby ft. Jack Abbot(t)

Author's Note | Got this fun ask and immediately got to writing. Requests are open! I love this dynamic!

Rating: PG

You didn’t often pick Robby up from work, but he was finishing up around six and you’d managed to snag a dinner reservation at a hot new restaurant you’d been dying to try that wasn’t too far from the hospital.

With a promise to shower off before leaving, you’d agreed you’d meet your husband at work and you’d take a leisurely stroll over to the restaurant together.

It had been a while since you’d had a date night – Robby working overtime a few nights the past few weeks and you helping some interior design clients on the side – and you were glad for a romantic night with your man. 

You took the tags off a short, silky little number that showed off your legs, curled your hair into what DryBar would call Bombshell Waves and spritzed Robby’s favorite perfume on all the right places.

Grabbing the cute little Chanel clutch he’d gifted you for your one-year dating anniversary, you tucked in your lipstick and a little pocket mirror – as if you’d need anything else.

The strappy heels you stepped into would click down the hall in just the way that would send the hairs on the back of your husband’s neck on edge. 

In other words, you were dressed to kill and you knew your next target… well, targets.

The Uber driver checked twice to make sure you wanted to be dropped off in the ambulance bay of PTMC before following your directions. You’d also caught him checking out your cleavage in the rearview mirror more than once.

“Oooh, Mrs. Robby, you’re gonna kill that old man,” Antoine chirped as you stepped out of the car.

“That’s the idea, ‘Toine,” you grinned, blowing him a kiss before sashaying your way into the ED. You turned more than a few heads a you clicked your way across the tile floor, but your target remained the same. Robby stood near the charge desk, looking up at the boards and scanning each case to make sure he felt good about handing everything over to Abbott, who’d already clocked in for the night shift.

“Robby, you need to warn us when the Mrs. is going to swing by, I think our security crew is going to faint,” Dana said, grinning uncontrollably. Robby turned, arms still crossed over his chest to glimpse you approaching and his shoulders dropped three inches. “Careful not to drool on the floor, don’t need a slipping hazard,” Dana added.

“Hello there,” he greeted as you stepped up to him, your head just clearing his chest with your heels on.

“Hi handsome,” you smiled with a tilt of your head as one of his hands slid around to the small of your back. He craned down to give you a peck, but you gave him your cheek. “I see you’re not showered or dressed,” you said pointedly. “You have ten minutes before we have to leave.”

You’d drawn a small audience, aware of those watching, but still focusing on your husband. 

“Get to it,” you swatted at his backside before sending him off, the tips of his ears bright red as he strode past his coworkers. Just as Robby had disappeared through the doors that lead to the lockers, Jack Abbott strolled out of a treatment bay, a maniacal smirk across his face.

“Mrs. Robby, you are a smokin’ hot vision,” he called loudly, gathering the attention of the peanut gallery. You’d seen Mel whisper to Javadi and Whitaker look at Langdon with confusion on his face as Jack reached for your hand, raising it above your head and twirling you around.

You giggled and threw your head back as he all but dipped you.

“What’s the occasion, gorgeous?” He asked, slipping an arm around your back to keep you nice and close, leaning down, he took in the scent of your perfume, eyes closed with a smile.

“Just a little date night,” you simpered comically, batting your lashes at the night shift lead attending. “Nothing too special,” you shrugged, a hand on Jack’s chest.

“Nothing special?” He scoffed, “please, poor Robby’s going to drop of a cardiac episode before the end of the night, sweetheart.”

“You look really beautiful, Mrs. Robby,” Langdon approached the charge desk with some forms in his hand.

“Thanks, Frankie,” you smiled, giggling as Jack squeezed your waist.

“Where you headed?” He asked, leaning on one elbow against the desktop.

“Over to Somber, that new Michelin star spot that opened up down the block – I got us a reservation last minute,” you replied, resting your head on Jack’s shoulder. There was a distinct sense of confusion coming from the med students and some of the nurses as they watched the full interaction unfold.

“You’ll have to tell me how it is!” He smiled, that little dimple in his chin popping out in an endearing way.

It was then that you saw your husband emerge from the double doors at the end of the hall, dressed in nice slacks and a button-down, he was still wearing his sneakers – not that you minded – a hazard of the job.

“Good?” He asked, still buckling his belt.

“Perfect,” you smiled, dancing out of Jack’s grip to straighten your husband’s collar.

“Say good night to Dr. Abbott,” Robby murmured in your ear, to which you smirked, looking over at your friend who was watching smugly. You turned again, leaning into Jack and pressing a long kiss – long enough to leave a pink smudge of lipstick -  on the corner of his mouth.

“See you in the morning, Dr. Abbott,” you said, just loud enough for some of those nearest by to hear.

“Don’t have too much fun without me,” he sent you off with another squeeze of your waist before you slipped back into Robby’s arms.

“See you all tomorrow,” Robby waved off before sliding a hand down your side once more, going a bit further to rest his hand on the curve of your ass.

“What the fuck,” Santos murmured, looking around at her teammates.

“Whatever’s going on there, I want in,” Lena replied.

[reiderwriter]

◇ The Fake Relationship ◇

Part two of The Romantic Comedy

Prev Chapter || Next Chapter

Summary: Realizing you've put your foot in your mouth, you desperately try to backtrack as Spencer desperately tries to help.

Warnings: fluff, future chapters will be 18+ though, reader is an erotica romance author, and is already thinking somewhat impurely about hands

A/N: This one was very trope-y and a bit cliché but we're finally through the set-up so now onto the more fun chapters next week! Let me know what you think in the comments!

Masterlist

Stepping back for a moment, you realized you’d finally reached peak exhaustion.

Neither your writing job nor your role on the BAU was a particularly restful career. You’d balanced week-long cases with midnight writing time, burning the candle at both ends.

Now whatever was left of your wits after expending your last half an hour writing was desperately clutching Spencer’s shirt, haunting the man with your desperation.

The emergency lights flicked on as you came back down to reality.

“Sorry!” You squeaked out, putting as much space between you as possible. Which admittedly wasn’t a whole lot.

“No…no. Not at all. What-”

“I should go,” you shouted again, fully aware you were at least thirty seconds from passing out from sheer embarrassment. You grabbed your bag quickly, hard shut down your computer, quickly saving your first chapter, and tried to run away.

Tried being the operative word.

“What do you need me for?” Spencer stepped in front of you again, steadying you with a hand by your elbow to make sure you couldn’t fully dodge him.

“It’s nothing. It’s a stupid idea really. Not appropriate.”

Not appropriate was exactly how you would describe the thoughts that popped into your head when he was straddling you earlier, too.

“In this scenario, I think I can define what is and isn’t inappropriate. Sit down and talk me through it,” he said gently, walking you back to your seat.

“Okay,” you nodded quickly, trying to avoid the many different scenes from books popping into your head as he pulled your chair out for you and sat you down.

“Your writing was good, Y/N. It’s for your book, right?”

“Yes,” you said, almost embarrassed to respond in more than one syllable. But Spencer let the silence rest and waited for you to do or say anything else, so you had to pull your big girl pants back up and communicate. Effectively.

“Yes. I have a book due to my editor in a couple of weeks - I signed a four book deal after my first one was modestly popular online. Social media really blew it up so they wanted to lock me in for a few books,” you started, sinking back into the chair as you explained the fluke that was your writing career.

“Anyway, I’ve been here for a while now so romance isn’t exactly on the brain. I haven’t written in months and so my editor… So I need to start writing.”

Spencer sat so silently, you’d be so sure he was asleep if his eyes weren’t locked directly on yours.

You were so used to Spencer fidgeting - moving, reading, playing with a pencil between his fingers, drinking coffee - that this sudden rush of attention wasn’t immediately comfortable. “Spencer, you’re staring.”

“Sorry, sorry. Um, so you just needed to find something to write?”

You nodded and continued again.

“Yeah, I needed to find something to write about. And I don’t really want to lean into the whole serial killer romance thing.”

Spencer nodded along with you, finally nodding and moving again, and you let out a sigh as you watched him think.

“Okay. Okay, I’ll help you.”

Surprised, you looked up, once again making almost uncomfortable eye contact with Spencer Reid. You wished, too, that you had a notebook at that very moment to help you remember the exact feeling of your heart beating out of your chest.

A scene where you jumped straight into his lap and started twirling your fingers through his hair came to mind. Focusing again, you pushed it away.

“Help me with what?”

“I’ll help you write your book.”

“Oh! Oh no…” you stood and grabbed your bag again. “You really don’t have to do that.”

“I know.”

“Okay, great, glad we are in agreement. Now let’s never talk about this ever again.”

You stood and grabbed your bag, but a firm grip on your wrist tugged you right back down. Instead of your own chair though you found yourself in Spencer’s chair.

Or more realistically speaking, in Spencer’s lap.

“You have got to be kidding me,” you mumbled under your breath.

“I know I don’t have to help you, but I want to. It sounds interesting.”

“Interesting?”

“Yes.”

“You have three PhDs, and a number of other accolades, an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory. Helping me write a romance novel that will be, at best, a good beach read, is interesting to you?”

Spencer seemed to consider for a moment, and then leaning in slightly, whispered his answer. “Yes.”

You would have shivered had your body had the energy for that.

“Sure, Spencer. Okay. And how exactly are you going to help me?”

He took another moment to think about his answer. You took that as your opportunity to leave, quickly jumping up again after a too comfortable moment in his arms, and quickly left the office.

For two days after you avoided even thinking about Spencer, or your book, or writing about Spencer in your book.

Two whole days. A wonderful weekend away from what was becoming a real puppy crush. You found yourself inexplicably looking up Spencer on any platform you thought he’d have a presence on (not a single social media but a number of child prodigy articles from newspapers in Nevada from a handful of years ago.)

Then you found yourself back at work, facing a stack of books and the most confrontational version of Spencer Reid you’d ever been acquainted with.

“The Love Hypothesis, The Spanish Love Deception, The Unhoneymooners, The Deal, The Kiss Quotient - did you know that fake relationships are often ranked as readers second favorite romance trope?”

“Spencer what are you- Spencer our coworkers will be here soon, put those away,” you gasped, quickly rushing to push each and every book into some nook or cranny of your desk.

“This is the FBI, Spencer, what has gotten into you?”

As you moved each book, you realised that, though they appeared to be new, there were cracks in each book's spine. There were some tabs sticking out randomly, the type you’d seen in Spencer’s paperwork before, and you found yourself almost more exasperated.

“You read them? All of them?”

“ I wanted to help,” he shrugged, taking a few out of your hands and stuffing them back in his satchel. “Besides, some of them were pretty good.”

“Okay. Okay, Spencer, since we’re both acting a little bit out of character today, I have to ask: why do you want to help me?”

Finally, the man fidgeted uncomfortably. He tugged at the collar of his shirt once, then twice and finally looked back at you.

“I want… I want to practice,” his voice was barely a whisper as the tips of his ears reddened. “There’s… there is a girl I like, and… I’m not exactly the most experienced at romance.”

You tried to stop yourself from feeling disappointed at his admission. Your sudden burst of interest in Spencer was only due to his helpfulness. It had been three days, it wasn’t enough for you to feel truly disappointed that nothing could start with him.

And he was your coworker, too, and that would be a nightmare. And you realized quickly that he was still talking, and you’d accidentally tuned him out for half a minute at the least.

“I read your books, too. The first two. They’re not exactly instructional guides I can follow, but it would be fun to get some ideas about y- about what girls like on dates. You know?”

Letting out a sigh, you sat down at your desk.

“So you want to do this?” you asked, holding up the nearest book to you.

“I want to do this.”

You nodded and thought it out for a second. You needed the help. You needed to write, and though apparently clueless about women, he was courteous and handsome, and most importantly consenting.

“Fine.”

“Fine? Really?”

“Don’t make me regret this, but yes. Let’s try it out.”

Spencer’s smile warmed your heart. It genuinely warmed your heart. Handsome men really needed to be stopped, you thought, nearly regretting your decision. But, as you had been before agreeing to many relationships with men before in the past, you were desperate.

“So we need to do the contract thing and the ground rules thing, and then-” Spencer started, flicking through one of the books for quotes and places to start.

“Vetoed and vetoed. We’re just doing research for a book, right Spencer? Why should we put rules down? We’re profilers. We know what is too far, and more importantly, we know how to communicate.”

Spencer nodded along with your points.

“Then, we should just shake on it?”

You hesitated for a second, thinking about where your mind would evidently go and thus had already gone if you got even a glimpse of his hands. You knew they were veiny.

“We can shake on it, sure.”

With that, his hand - yes, veiny - grabbed yours and you found yourself in an agreement of mutual destruction.

Spencer was going to help you write your book, and you were going to stop yourself from thinking about wrapping your legs around him until you were satisfied.

And with that you found yourself a fake boyfriend.

[mahalkitamully]

awkward hellos across the room 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚

: nerd ! Ellie Williams x popular ! reader PT. 2

hi guys!! i did NOT expect all the love for my first chapter, but thank y'all so sosmsosomuch!!! i really hope y'all like this one, i have a really rough outline for how i want this story to play out.. ALSO THIS IS SUPER LONG LIKE ALMOST 2000 WORDS??? dude i didn't even write that much for my ap class. i hope y'all like this!!!

Includes !! a more stereotypical way of school like imagine 2000s movies iykwim, awkward nerd ellie hehe, popular reader, yayayay

CHAPTERS (please read the disclaimer!)

ー

“What the hell did I just do?!” Ellie was a mess in her room, lying face flat on her bed as she let out a scream of exasperation. She had your number now — which is super shocking knowing she couldn’t speak straight the entire time — but now she actually had to talk to you. Studying was ok, she had an idea of what to say since they were all science related. Hanging out as friends? Actually socializing with you? She was dying at all the different possibilities of it going bad.

“Ellie cmon, it’s not that bad.” Dina was on the other end of the phone, her frustration growing slightly. Not because Ellie was complaining, but because she had such low self confidence. “Me and Dina will be there, it’ll be fine!” Jesse’s voice chimed in, him and Dina giggling. “It could be like a double date!” Dina suggested and Ellie groaned again. “Guys- I can’t do this dude, this is gonna go so bad-! I can’t even talk to her without stuttering. When we were leaving that library, I was so awkward that even the librarians were eyeing me.”

“Look El, we’ll be there. You’ll be fine. Just- be yourself-” Dina cut Jesse off. “But less nervous and awkward! Ok Ellie, me and Jesse are gonna go back to what we were doing.” Ellie scrunched her nose up, her brows furrowed. “Ew gross! Fine, ok- bye.” She laughed a bit, before her mind went right back to you. She really wanted to do this right- shit, what if your freak of a boyfriend found out?? She’d get run over by his IROC. Her overthinking was interrupted by the notification on her phone going off. She glanced over and it was you. She opened her phone immediately, a smile already creeping onto her face. God, she was such a loser.

ellie!! wheres that burger place at btw!

 It’s near the new mall that just opened up If you want I can drive you?

 She was typing before she even realized what she said. She froze, her eyes widening at her own words. She’d pick you up?? It’d be the two of y’all in a car, alone, just you two?? She couldn’t even think straight. She was about to take it back before you responded;

OK! thx a lot! <3

She was done for. There was no way she could put you in her car. That’d be too nerve wracking for her. What if you hated the way the smell of weed lingered in the back? The amount of stains on her seats from spilling her takeout, or the sticky notes with drawings of you and her hidden in her glove compartment?? ‘It’ll be ok it’ll be ok..’ Was all she could repeat in her head as she went to go get her keys.

. . .

“Get in-.” Her voice came out harsher than expected, her brows furrowing at her mistake as she looked away. She didn’t mean to seem mean, but she didn’t know how to express herself. “..Sorry for the mess.” You looked around the car as you buckled up and that shit sparkled. It shined in the sun and you swore you could see your reflection on the glove compartment. Despite that, the car was a little old and run down, but it had its own charm to it. Ellie bought a new air freshener and even sprayed some of her cologne to hide the scent of weed. She really hoped it worked.

She eyed you, her hands gripping the steering wheel a little tighter before starting the car. Geez you were so damn pretty. Everything about you was so enticing to her. “Oh uh- you can play uhm.. Music on my speaker.” As you scrolled through her CD’s, you gasped, pointing at a certain one. 

“You listen to Iron Maiden too-??”

“You know Iron Maiden??”

“Why’d you say it like that-?”

“I dunno.. Just thought you’d be into pop songs or some shit..” She glanced at you, noticing your expression. You looked confused — or at least she thought you did (she couldn’t really read it)  —  and she cleared her throat. The last thing she wanted to do was turn you off, if you were even enjoying her company in the first place.

The two of you sat in the car as the heavy metal blasted, the bass making the windows vibrate. She took occasional glances towards you. She didn’t mean to, but she couldn’t help it. No matter what she was doing, she always ended up going back to you. Despite the screaming from the speaker, it seemed silent. She seemed obligated to talk, to entertain you, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. The more she thought of it the tighter she gripped the wheel, her knuckles turning white and her palms sweating.

“..Your boyfriend won’t like- shoot me in the head right?”

“What-?”

“Cause I’m taking you out to eat with me ‘n my friends.?”

“Oh- No he’s- uhm, not like that. Promise-!” You hesitate, “...Hopefully.” Was all you could mumble under your breath, making Ellie all the more antsy. She hated your boyfriend. Loathed him even. She wished he was gone every time you crossed her mind. If he was gone she could just take you right now and-

“Is that it?” Your voice broke her thoughts, pointing at a retro themed burger place. It looked like a place where people would call you a slur if you even breathed in near it, but it was charming in its own little way. “Yup, in all its oily glory..” She went to park, before glancing around. “That’s weird.. Dina and Jesse aren’t here yet-.”

“It’s ok, we can wait-!” You smiled, your optimism making her chuckle. “Yeah, we can.” She rubbed the back of her neck, looking down at her phone every now and then.

. . .

It’d been half an hour now. No sign of Jesse and Dina. The two of you were growing a little worried, Ellie more frustrated. She didn’t know why they had dipped or just left y’all there. She was just hoping it wasn’t one of their little pranks again. Suddenly a ding from Ellie’s phone;

 SRRY!! We’ll b a lil late,,, be there in a sec! ETA is 30 minutes, stuck in traficc **traffic Go in n get a seat alrdy! Dont get 2 handsy ;))

 Ellie bit her lip, rolling her eyes before shoving her phone in her pocket and looking back at you. “They said they’re gonna be a little late, but we can go in and get our seats.”

“Oh uh- ok!” You smiled, following her into the diner. Inside was your colorful reds and blues, the waitresses even on rollerskates as they glided past y’all. The two of you took your seats and began to order.

Ellie knew she should say something, her hands sweating. Unknowing to her, you were thinking the same. “I really like your tattoo.” You spoke, still looking at the menu. She glanced down at her arm, smiling shyly. “Uh thanks- I uhm.. Like your hair.” She was awkward but she meant well and you knew that. But God on her it was so attractive.

The waiter came and went and then it was awkward silence again. You fiddled with the straw of your drink, biting it silently and Ellie glanced up at you every now and then. “..I’m sorry dude, I dunno where they are..” 

“It’s ok-!” You reassured her, smiling softly. Sure it was awkward, but you were with her. So it was always gonna be ok. “..How’s science going?” She tilted her head, not knowing what else to talk about before you sighed. “Do you really wanna talk ‘bout school r’now?” 

“You’re right- uh- Sorry-. Uhm… You like comics.?” 

“Girl, yes!” 

You noticed a few things about Ellie as you two started to talk a little more. The way she looked down and sucked in a breath whenever she grew a little awkward, the way she licked her lips as she waited for you to finish talking, her fingers tapping the table every now and then. She noticed things about you too. The way you smile when you talk about something you like, your hands speaking with you — almost exaggerating your words. The way you tuck the same strand behind your ear because it keeps coming back. It was cute. You’re cute. And she couldn’t get enough of you.

Suddenly, the ring of a phone. At first Ellie thought it was hers, but you picked up your phone and saw your boyfriend calling. Ellie rolled her eyes, you sucked in a breath. Neither of you really liked him. You were gonna break up with him sooner or later. You picked it up, sighing.

“Yea-”

“Where the hell are you?!”

“Hanging out with a frie-”

“What?? I’ve been texting you! Who’s this friend?! Are you hanging out with a guy? Did you tell him about me?”

“Yeah, I’ve told her about you.”

Then silence. He was quiet before speaking again. “Call me when you get home.” And he hung up. Both you and Ellie locked eyes, before the two of you laughed. “Yikes, he sounds like my dad.”  Her smile was so pretty. Her eyes seemed to sparkle. The longer you looked at her, the more your palms seemed to sweat. Why did she make you so nervous? Why did you want to hear her voice say your name, compliment you, or feel her knees near yours under the table, or her hands-

“It’s getting late..” Ellie mumbled as she went to pay the bill. You quickly grabbed it, pulling out your wallet and she just snatched it back.

“Fine, I’ll just pay next time.” 

Ellie’s heart stammered a bit. “Next time??” 

“Yeah, next time!”

“..Fine.”

. . .

The drive back home was fun. Iron Maiden turned down as you two laughed and shared stories. You two were really warming up to each other now. “Dude I turned around, and his glittery pink thong was in my face. Are you kidding me!!”

“What?? Maybe he just wanted to feel the sparkle.” She said as she turned the corner.

“It was my glittery thong he was wearing!”

“Ewww what the fuck!” 

As she pulled into your neighborhood, you glanced at Ellie and smiled. “Y’know Ellie, if you were a guy I’d date you.”

She paused, caught off guard. She felt flattered, but also disappointed and almost sad. “You wouldn’t date me if I was just- me? A woman, I mean.” Did you not swing that way? Would you ever? Or would you just hate her if you knew?

“..I dunno.”

The car was silent. You shouldn’t have opened your mouth. You didn’t know where you were going with that. Why’d you even say that? You broke the silence by getting your bag onto your shoulder, smiling awkwardly. “Uh- anyways uhm-.. G’night Ellie. Thanks again.”

“Goodnight.”

As you closed the door, she watched you go inside your house before driving off. Her mind was flooding, her heart pounding. She felt excited, yet scared and even a little discouraged. You didn’t know if you’d date her as a woman. Did you even ever think about it? Why’d you even bring it up?

That night, the both of you were in bed with the covers pulled over your heads with a groan. 

. . .

BONUS !!

Jesse and Dina were giggling with each other in Jesse’s car, high fiving. “They looked real happy in the diner.” Jesse started, taking a sip of his soda. The two had been in the parking lot of the place the entire time, just watching you two laugh and joke. “I know right!! I really do hope they get together.” Dina giggled, taking a fry and dipping it in Jesse’s ketchup.

“Me too.”

꩜ : tags !! || @cocomilaaa , @lovewitchss , @vahnilla , @iadorefineshyt , @angelaut0matec , @elliespookie , @pinkhoney5 , @princesscherryblossom15 , @moony143 , @savagestarlight28 , @abbyandersonswifey , @motelgloss , @rbnvrnxoxo , @ellieslosttwofingers

thank y'all so much again, i'm sorry if this is bad </3

[heldbybarnes]

i have had this idea for days now. if it isn’t too much trouble, could you please write a bucky x reader where they’re like abt to do it but then the reader’s like “actually i’m not in the mood” and bucky complies and he’s a gentleman abt it and they should do whatever she’s comfortable with and the reader did not expect him to actually be like that and the thought that he’s willing to put the reader’s comfort despite his raging hard on got her so turned on that she’s like “actually no, that was so hot let’s do it”

I'm so honored you sent it to me....lets be real, bucky is the perfect man in this type of scenario. argue with the wall :)

----------

It starts slow. Easy.

Kisses like warmth and familiar gravity, his body pressed over yours, fingers skating beneath the hem of your shirt as you sigh into his mouth.

“Mm,” Bucky hums, lips dragging down your neck, “you feel so good, sweetheart.”

You smile, cheeks warm, letting him slip your shirt up, letting your hands pull at his belt. It’s not urgent, not wild—just lazy Sunday tension you’ve been flirting with all day. The kind of tension that builds through shared glances over coffee and fingers grazing thighs on the couch.

But as he hovers above you now—belt half undone, body flush to yours—something shifts.

Not because of him. Because of you.

You’re still kissing. Still touching. But something inside you deflates—just a little. Your mind drifts. You realize you’re not all the way there.

And it hits you: you’re just not in the mood.

Not like you thought you were.

You freeze under him slightly, just a shift of posture, but Bucky notices immediately. He pulls back.

“Hey,” he says gently, brushing a knuckle down your cheek. “You okay?”

You hesitate.

Then you nod. “Yeah, I just... I think I’m not feeling it after all.”

His brow furrows—but only for a second. Not out of frustration. Just checking.

Then he kisses your forehead and immediately rolls off you.

“Okay,” he says, easy as anything. “That’s totally fine.”

You blink at him, stunned.

“No, I mean… I know I started it. I didn’t mean to—”

“Sweetheart.” He turns on his side to face you, propping his head up on one hand. “You’re allowed to change your mind. Even mid-kiss. Even mid-anything. You never have to keep going just because we started.”

You gape at him, feeling equal parts grateful and… kind of shocked?

He reaches for the blanket, tugs it over both of you, then drapes an arm around your waist like you didn’t just leave him with a raging hard-on and a half-open belt.

“You wanna cuddle instead?” he asks, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “Or watch something? I can find that dumb baking show you like.”

You stare at him. “You’re serious.”

“Of course I’m serious.”

“You’re not even… frustrated?”

He laughs softly. “Oh, I’m very frustrated,” he admits, voice thick and amused. “But I’m also not an asshole. I’d rather have you comfortable than anything else. I want all of you, not just your body.”

And oh.

Your heart does something.

So does your stomach.

And, very suddenly, so does everything else.

Because that? That respectful, gentle, genuinely decent thing? That’s the sexiest fucking thing in the world.

You roll toward him slowly. “Okay but now… that was really hot.”

His brows lift. “What was?”

“You. Being so—good. Like, stopping without question. Just…” You exhale, cheeks warm. “It kind of flipped a switch.”

He watches you for a second. “Wait. Are you saying—”

“Yeah,” you nod, eyes dropping to his belt, still askew. “I think I’m in the mood now.”

A slow, crooked smile spreads across his face. “You sure?”

You reach for him, fingers sliding into his hair, tugging him down for a kiss. “So sure.”

This time, when he kisses you, it’s slower. Deeper. Even more reverent than before.

Because now it’s not just about desire. It’s about trust.

And the fact that he earned it, completely clothed, just by being the kind of man who listens.