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shadow4-1 · 9 months

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Getting Drunk Imagines w/ the 141 Boys + Alejandro, Rudy, & König (SFW)

I was getting drunk for my besties birthday, and at the bar I was hit with the idea. What would it be like to get drunk with these guys one on one?

Tags: Light kissing, romantic undertones, no smut. (MDNI, this is still 18+ content imo)

Captain Price:

It was a night of liberty that he, unfortunately, wasn't allowed to enjoy himself. He had too many reports to write and a multitude of things to prepare for. Laswell was breathing down his neck, and by God, was there nothing worse than that.

He eyed the team group chat with a sigh, watching as the boys drunkenly sent nigh illegible messages to each other. He'd wanted to join them at the bar, some lil' hole in the wall place with decent enough booze and decent enough eye candy. But he couldn't. He was a Captain, and he had responsibilities.

There was a knock at the door. He was annoyed at the prospect of being torn away from his already time intensive work. This impromptu meeting would be cutting into whatever free time he might get tomorrow. Despite his annoyance, he opened the door to invite the guest in. Huh, it was you. Weren't you supposed to be out with the boys and under the watchful eye of Ghost?

He raised a brow as you sheepishly, sank into the seat before him. Your body seemed more relaxed than usual. He rested his head on his hands and watched as you tried to make yourself as small as possible in the rather large office chair. Before he could question you, Soap barged into the office, out of breath and excited. He asked if Price had seen you, not even bothering to glance over the tall back of the chair. No, no he hadn't. With that, Soap was gone, and Price had questions.

You shrugged and admitted that you had asked Soap to bring you back to base for a "forgotten phone" only to ditch him. You loved the boys, so much. But as of lately, they had been getting too rowdy for your tastes. You much preferred a quiet, more relaxed environment to drink.

Priced hummed and sat back in his chair. He asked if you liked bourbon. You shrugged. He offered you a glass of some. You agreed.

The night went on. The two of you conversed about a multitude of things. Some of them were work related, but some were more personal. The two of you bonded over a shared interest in countryside life, the logistics, and how you wanted to set up a self-sustaining lifestyle. You both found yourself laughing and drinking even more. Eventually, the decently filled bottle had been emptied out. You covered your mouth in a display of shock. You two had done that?

Price couldn't help himself. He laughed, loud and boisterous. He couldn't remember the last time his belly ached with such amusement. The word escaped from his lips without him thinking.

"Cute."

Cute? You clammed up but he could tell it was a certain type of shyness. It brought him back to a memory of his first girlfriend in primary school. They'd held hands and pecked shyly away from the prying eyes of other people. The office was warm and secluded. During the conversation, you'd moved closer to him. You were only an arms length away.

You called his name. Something about the way you said it was too much for him. He cupped your jaw and kissed you senseless. All logic, all common sense was damned as he licked across your tongue.

Lieutenant Riley:

You weren't stupid. You knew that this was an honor very few, if any would be afforded. You tried to keep your eyes off of the very few belongings he did have within his quarters.

A sickness had broken out across the base your team was stationed at. It wasn't deadly, just a contagious strain of the flu. Despite being vaccinated, the bug was still going around. All of the other boys, including Price, had fallen ill. As the team's field medic, you'd wanted to help them, but everyone fought against it. You couldn't get sick. It'd jeopardize everyone's safety on the field. Meanwhile, because of the many layers he wore, Lieutenant Riley was also unaffected.

You were dying to do something, anything, than continue to be stuck on the sidelines. Ghost had offered a drink to ease your nerves. You took him up on it.

You sat in his desk chair as he pulled out a full bottle of whiskey from a locked box beneath his bed. He then sat on his bed as he uncapped it. He offered you the first drink, which you graciously accepted. The liquor burned badly on the way down, but you weren't a lil' bitch, and were determined to keep up with your unflappable lieutenant.

Eventually you lost track of how many times you'd passed the bottle back to him. Your body felt warm and delightful. You couldn't help but smile. He asked you what was funny but you didn't reply. Instead you sucked down another greedy gulp of alchohol. It didn't taste nearly as acrid as it had at first. It was almost pleasant at this point. Uh oh.

Simon drained what was left in the bottle with a few heavy gulps. A little bit of excess amber liquid dribbled out of the corner of his mouth. Before he could move to wipe it away, you did it for him. Your thumb brushed sweetly over the seam of his lips and over the slight stubble of his chin. He sighed out, seemingly enjoying the touch.

You blinked, and the spell was soon broken. You pulled your hand away and couldn't meet his hungry eyes. You hadn't meant to overstep like this. You tried to stand up, tried to leave, but it was obvious Simon was just as under the influence as you. He grabbed your arm, seemingly off balance. He pulled you into him despite that not seeming to be what he wanted. The moment became an awkward push and pull as the two of you tried to navigate whatever this was.

"Just c'mere, love."

Eventually, you caved, and pecked him on the lips. He grumbled in contentment, and soon, the two of you were laying flat on the bed.

Sergeant MacTavish:

Taking leave was never something you looked forward to. Every time you were forced to, you'd always end up alone at your parent's vacation home. It was a scenic little place, but it was always a boring affair. That was, until you realized Johnny had gotten his new flat a few minutes away.

He'd given you a "tour" of the one bedroom apartment. A total bachelor's pad, complete with shitty futon and painting covered hole in the wall. You'd brought him the nicest bottle of whatever your parents had laying around (its not like they were drinking it anyway). He'd graciously accepted it and opened it.

He didn't have glasses so he offered to just pour the liquid down your throat. Of course you brushed him off. He always flirted that way. But you did manage to get a few swallows down before passing the bottle back to him. The two of you settled down for a movie and a dinner consisting of takeout food.

Despite the two of you getting drunker and drunker the vibes were great. Eventually the two of you managed to get to the bottom of the bottle. You pulled the last little bit of liquor into your mouth, but before you could swallow, Johnny whined for it.

"Please, hen. I wan' th' rest of it."

Feeling a tad cheeky, you obliged him. He pressed his lips to yours and you let him drink the last of the alcohol straight off your tongue.

He couldn't get enough, and the next thing you knew, he'd pinned you down to the futon. Soon enough, your mouth tasted more like him than any booze you've ever had.

Sergeant Garrick:

The two of you had a habit of going on long drives off base when you could get a chance. It gave you both a well needed break from the hustle of the 141 team. Occasionally, you'd pack food, but the two of you also liked to stop and get greasy food from local fast food restaurants.

A drive-thru bar? Gaz was shocked, what a truly American thing. Despite his reservations, the two of you opted to get more than your fair share of mixed drinks. They were supposed to be for the boys too, but halfway back, you both agreed that the ice in some of the drinks would be melted by then.

Gaz pulled over into the parking lot of a grassy park, wet with dew and rather pretty bathed in the hues of the sunset. The two of you enjoyed a meal and as many of the assorted flavors of booze you got your hands on. Gaz turned on the radio and soon enough the quiet was broken by the sound of your tone deaf hollering.

The two of you calmed down and got to talking. It was nice. Gaz always has such a level head. You told him that, and you didn't miss how his face lit up.

"This is why I only associate with pretty people. They're always so sweet."

You chuckled and flushed with heat at his comment. You shot back that if he thinks you're so pretty, why hadn't he made a move yet?

You aren't surprised by how he kissed you sweetly over the center console.

Colonel Vargas:

Ever since Valeria escaped, Alejandro had changed. He was still as intense as ever, but his attitude had taken a dangerous edge to it. He tried to not snap at your fellow members of the 141, but it was obvious he was having a hard time adjusting. This night was no exception.

The other boys had scoffed and left the rec room to go outside and smoke. They had grown tired of Alejandro's constant growling and his thinly veiled comments about them cheating at pool. You were the only one left willing to put up with his out of character behavior.

You'd texted Rudy about it, and he suggested you get the Colonel drunk. As ridiculous as that sounded, you agreed that maybe you should listen to Los Vaqueros' second in command. You had a few shit beers you were saving for a time like this.

You offered them to Alejandro and he thankfully accepted your offer. The two of you drank and chatted as you played pool. It was in his nature to be competitive, and so when you began to win, he grew snippy. It wasn't the mad, annoyed kind of snippy he was towards the boys. This was more challenging in almost a...hungry sort of way.

"You think you can beat me? Ha! I'll fuck you up, cabrona."

You laughed at him, rolling your eyes. That seemed to have been wrong thing to do. He cornered you up against the pool table, tossing your pool stick onto it, completely ruining your game. He tells you not to fuck with him unless you really want to feel the consequences. Again, he's not threatening per se, but almost demanding.

You can almost taste the beer on his breath. His cheeks are flushed a cute little pink. You tell him that. He pins you to the pool table to force his tongue down your throat.

Sergeant Major Parra:

It's just a check in. Alejandro would happily go back home to Las Almas if he wasn't so hot on Valeria's tail. Instead, he sent you as a representative of the 141. Rudy is just so happy to see a familiar face. Los Vaqueros welcomed you in with open arms.

They showered you in gifts. So many beers and shots of tequila were fed to you that you lost count. Eventually, the night slowed down, and you had no choice but to lean on Rudy for support. He was so kind, he steadied you so well despite the fact he was just as drunk as you. Giggling, the two of you tripped and fell into the brush at the perimeter of the base. It was so funny that neither one of you couldn't stop laughing until your sides ached.

You both laid there, out of breath, minds swimming, looking up at the southern stars. He took the chance to hold your hand. You kissed his cheek.

"I'm glad you're here, amiga."

Colonel Konig:

No one in KORTAC really liked each other. All relationships were based on respect and rank. All new meat, aka you, were at the bottom of the pecking order. You got shit gear and even shittier respect.

You'd always been scrappy. And so clawing your way into the good graces of the higher ups had been relatively easy. What you hadn't expected was the backlash and annoyance of your fellow operatives. If it hadn't been for O'Conor pushing you to take his spot at poker night, you would've had a nice quiet evening. Instead, you had no choice but to beat Horangi and Hutch and turn them into angry dickheads. A part of you didn't blame them as stolen barrels of liquor had been freely flowing the entire night.

Horangi growled at you, half in English and half in Japanese. He pointed angrily at your face, his nigh unintelligible words getting more and more scathing. Just as he was getting around to calling you a cheater, someone snapped their fingers. Immediately, the entire room went silent. Konig scoffed something in his native tongue but switched to English shortly after.

"If any of you bother maus again, I will bother you." He chuckled darkly.

Immediately everyone packed up, grabbed their things and left the recreational area. Horangi hissed at you but left his lost money on the table. He also left his glass of liquor behind. Deciding to enjoy all of your spoils, you stole his cup and began to drink.

Konig hummed at you, seemingly enjoying the view of you drinking down the juice of your pissy comrade. He offered you his untouched glass. You humored him, sitting on the table as you chose to nurse his drink instead. You thanked him for standing up for you. He shrugged, and let his eyes hungrily devour the sight of your body.

As you got to the bottom of the glass, you quickly realized that you had allowed yourself to walk right into this trap. You were alone with him, and no one would be coming to bother you for the rest of the night. König's eyes felt like fire on every exposed piece of your skin.

You licked your lips and pondered the situation. You had nothing to lose.

You smiled at him, leaning back farther on the table. You curled your finger at him in a beckoning motion. He kicked the chair away as he quickly moved to stand over you.

You supposed there were worse ways to attain power among thieves.

#cod imagines #mw2 headcanons #captain price #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #rodolfo parra #alejandro vargas #konig x reader #konig cod

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tarydarrington · 9 months

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Well into the night, Essek folds his hands at last with nothing left to say. Caleb’s study feels hollowed out, refilled to bursting with the ghosts of every word exchanged. There had been a lot of them. All carefully chosen, some shouted, all heated.

This isn't the end of the conversation, but it's the end of their talk. A satisfactory end to the first of many chapters. Essek takes a deep breath.

"Thank you for listening."

Across the coffee table, his mother folds her hands in her lap. "Thank you for your honesty."

As though this is the end of a business meeting and not the second most harrowing conversation of Essek's life, they exchange a polite nod.

He stands, clasping his hands behind his back.

"Allow me to show you to your room."

Hours ago, Caleb had retreated to his quarters to allow them some privacy. Much as Essek would like to follow, he will stay away while his mother is here. Whatever assumptions Deirta might make about their involvement would not be true—not yet, anyway—and he will not sour their uneasy truce with a misunderstanding.

“My quarters are there,” he says, gesturing to the door with the star carving. “Caleb’s are across the landing.”

He points out the rest of the rooms below as they approach the landing. The tower has been tinkered with over time; the rooms usually reserved for the rest of the Nein have become workshops, research stations, and other such spaces that have proved useful in their explorations.

Before he can lead her down through the iris, his mother holds up a hand.

“If I might impose,” she says, “I should like to read over the reports you mentioned.”

Of course—he had mentioned the Vurmas reports during the initial buffer of small talk. They would make their way to the Dynasty eventually, but reading them beforehand will give his mother a leg up. The first of many gestures Essek suspects it will take to make up for her silence.

A small price to pay. Until he had known for certain that the Umavi would not cut all contact upon learning of his treason, he hadn’t realized how much he had dreaded the possibility.

He turns away from the iris and toward his room. His mother waits outside as he slips in, leaving the door ajar behind him as he sifts through the stack of papers left on the table in the entryway.

“Pardon the mess,” he says out of habit, as though the space is not spotless. Caleb arranges this room from scratch each night; there is not so much as a speck of dust to offend.

It stops Essek mid-hover, then, to see his mother’s eyebrows raised when he turns back.

“Think nothing of it,” she says, and already the polite smile is back in place. “Tell me, do your friends’ quarters share the same design?”

Essek follows her eye line over his shoulder. Caleb has laid out his rooms as he usually does, all purples and stars and fine fabrics. An array of arcane instruments waits patiently on a table under the window. Essek's mother looks past it all and into the bedroom. He frowns. There is nothing terribly unusual there, save—

It's all he can do not to swallow his own tongue.

The bed. His mother is staring at his bed.

For a drow of his age to sleep once in a while is not unheard of, of course; particularly when ill, they are known to indulge. Be that as it may, Essek knows as well as Deirta that one would hardly purchase a bed for a once-in-a-blue-moon nap. It comes with certain implications.

It was not a purchase, Essek insists to himself. Everything in this room was pulled from the ether to make him comfortable. The logic is with him.

"Indeed," he says. "The colors are customized to suit us each as individuals, but the layout is the same."

This is the part where he pretends that he hasn't spent more than one night positively snug under those blankets for comfort's sake, and especially pretends he has not realized that the mattress is wide enough to fit two.

Essek’s mother is an intelligent woman. She will put two and two together: Caleb is a human, and a human unused to drow customs might make such a faux pas with innocent intentions. One tends not to think twice about habits that are second nature, and someone of Caleb’s background would not think twice about placing a bed in a bedroom.

Essek has done the same mental math more than once, with varying levels of desperation.

“Well,” he says, and presses the files into his mother’s arms with as much dignity as he can scrape together, “let me show you to your rooms.”

They make their way in silence down through the tower’s central column. Essek thinks auf rather than saying it this time; better, just in case, to keep the magic words from his mother.

He leaves the way to the front door open. She has far too much decorum to snoop during the night.

They touch down on the fifth floor. Silently, Essek thanks Caleb for neglecting to put a dodecahedron on the guest room door.

“These are yours.” He draws the door open for her, bowing his head as he gestures inside.

With no small swell of pride, he watches her take in Caleb’s handiwork as her head turns on a slow swivel, then sneaks a glance himself.

Strands of crystal drape the ceiling like a canopy of iridescent vines. Caleb has replicated perfectly the sitting room Essek had described, complete with his mother's favorite tea steaming on the low table. Everything from the molding to the doilies speaks to both the gravity of her station and her own personal tastes.

There is no bed.

The Umavi’s manners are immaculate. He knows, as she turns a smile on him that is barely thinner than usual, that he will not hear a word about it. He will simply be cursed with the mortifying knowledge that she has arrived at her own conclusions.

Perhaps, if he tried very hard, he could claw his way out of his skin.

“Thank you very much,” Deirta says, hands folded in front of her. “Please pass on my gratitude to Master Widogast.”

He will hold eye contact. He will hold eye contact and smile politely. It is perfectly acceptable for his mother to suspect that he—

“Of course,” he says. “Should you require anything, the cats will assist.”

With utmost grace and one final nod, the Umavi shuts the door behind her. Essek, hands folded behind his back, counts to ten before deflating.

The bed is just as they’d left it, when he finds his way back to his chambers. Essek lingers in the doorway regarding it for a long moment before sinking down on the edge.

The bedding is soft. Is this the sort of fabric Caleb imagines Essek would prefer, or the sort that Caleb himself enjoys? He runs his thumb over a seam, letting the thought settle in with a warm buzz. It feels less forbidden this time, and several times more dangerous.

He leans into both feelings, climbing the rest of the way onto the bed and under the covers.

Two floors down and two doors over, his mother is doubtless turning their conversation over in her head. She will spend the night picking apart his every transgression, weighing it against whatever sentimental value he holds to her.

Essek breathes out and turns his face into the softness of the pillowcase.

It smells like him. Like Essek himself—just the way it would after many days of use. Essek shuts his eyes, pressing his hands to his face as the liquid warmth of that realization makes its way through him.

Two doors down, he is increasingly certain that Caleb, too, is thinking of him.

His mother is in the tower. This is not the time to dwell on such things, much as his body would like to.

With a deep breath, Essek runs his thumb across the soft ridges of the duvet. His nail catches on one, then two, then three—he counts until his pulse begins to listen to reason, then breathes out. For now, he will take it as a safety net. Something to fall into at the end of the day when all else is uncertain. A soft place to land.

Let his mother assume what she will. It would be the least of his crimes she’s learned of tonight.

The threads of a Sending pull taut between his fingers, buzzing with potential. He takes a breath and lets it out.

“We are finished for the night,” he says. “Much more to come. My thanks and hers for your hospitality.”

He curls his lip at himself. Formality is not a leg on which he’s felt the need to stand in some time, where Caleb is concerned. His mother’s presence has him falling back into old means of keeping balanced.

“Sleep well. Perhaps with one eye open.”

Caleb knows him well enough to take it in jest. Essek lets the spell go, shutting his eyes with a long breath out.

Later, the memory of Caleb’s voice in his head as he sinks into the mattress will do him no favors at all.

“Glad to hear it went well,” he says, laughter in his voice. “I will have breakfast ready early. She will be impressed, I hope.”

Essek counts the stars on the ceiling. The pause stretches on for two constellations.

“Until morning, dear friend,” Caleb finishes. “Sleep well.”

Something warm unspools in Essek’s chest as the magic dissipates around him. There is more than one story in the tower that is only in the first of many chapters. The words to this one will be harder to find—but their writing, he thinks, will be sweeter.

---

a very happy, very late birthday to my friend @sosobriquet, who tossed this concept around with me many months ago 🍰💜

#happy extremely belated birthday friend!! 🥳#shadowgast #essek thelyss #mine #mn #essek #scheduled post i'm asleep

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capt-mactavish · 2 years

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Teeth

I've been sitting on this messy werewolf!soap ghostsoap drabble for awhile and I'm tired of looking at it in my drafts so I'm just gonna post it.

Something was wrong with Soap.

Well, not exactly.

Not wrong.

Off, maybe.

Specifically with his teeth.

It sounds absurd, but really, Ghost is very observant, and there was something peculiar about Soap’s teeth.

Ghost had only seen it a handful of times. But he was sure of what he saw.

Canines that were just a bit too long to be normal. A bit too sharp. Not overtly so, but enough for someone who was paying attention to take notice.

Not that Ghost was paying closer attention to Soap than anyone else, no!

It was just that…

There was something about the way, that when the Sergeant would smile, lips pulling back to reveal the pointed pearly whites, that Ghost’s heart would thump just a bit harder, fluttering inside his chest. His fists would clench tightly, as if aching to touch, sometimes to the detriment of whatever happened to be in his hand, such as newly wrinkled paperwork.

It was a curious thing, how something so mundane could pull such a visceral reaction from the hardened soldier. And yet, he found himself enamored by it, seeking it out instead of trying to bury it down like he’d do any other time.

He’d tell himself it was Soap’s fangs that had him so captivated by the Scottsman, beguiled by their origins and… implications.

He’d tell himself that, but deep down he knew it wasn’t just his teeth Ghost had taken a fascination to. After all, there were other peculiarities surrounding Soap that Ghost had taken notice of as well.

Like the fact that he was so much warmer to the touch than anyone else.

Ghost remembers the first time he had experienced it, grabbing Johnny by the forearm to hoist him up after getting knocked down in the field. His skin so hot, feeling it even through his gloves, Ghost had thought the Sergeant had broken out into a fever.

“Christ, Johnny, you’re burning up!” he had said, ready to fall back with Soap in tow and get him to the medic asap.

But Soap had just waved him off, “‘M fine, sah. Really. No need ta worry.”

And so Ghost had let him go, and Johnny was fine as he had said. No sign of a fever or illness whatsoever as the Sergeant carried on as usual.

Nothing except for the lingering heat on the Lieutenant's gloved hand. Like a burn, singed into his skin.

Of course, when they got back to base, Ghost had tried to insist that Johnny be checked out anyway. But the Scot refused, swearing there was nothing to worry about. Even Price had dismissed him, which Ghost thought odd, but eventually he let it go.

And Johnny was, indeed, just fine.

Another was the sheer amount of meat that Johnny consumed, and his apparent preference for it to be concerningly rare.

Only this time it was Gaz who had noticed first.

Soap had sat down at their table in the mess with his plate, the only contents a thick cut of bleeding steak and nothing else.

“Where did you get that?” Gaz had exclaimed indignantly. “How come you get steak? I wouldn't mind a steak!”

But Johnny just winked and replied, “Go’ a special arrangement with the cook.” Before cutting into his meat, so red it was practically still mooing.

“That’s going to make you sick, Johnny,” Ghost had said, his morbid curiosity making it difficult to look away.

“Stomach o’ steel, L.t. Dinnae you worry,” was the response from Soap.

Gaz grimaced at him, but nothing else was said, and it just became the norm.

And then there was the fact that about once a month, Johnny would simply just disappear for a day or two at a time.

A solo operation, Price had explained, and that was that on the matter as far as he or anyone else was concerned.

But Ghost wasn’t so convinced. Especially when Soap would come back looking better than before he left. Practically glowing, like an immense weight had been lifted from his shoulders. And especially since Soap seemed to always be a bit on edge, aggressive, just before leaving on one of these “missions.”

There was also the fact that the Sergeant possessed a strength Ghost had not imagined the Scot capable of.

The first time they had spared, he had pushed Soap to his limit, testing him.

He succeeded in that, managing to rile Soap up to the point of fury.

And when Soap had pinned him, slamming Ghost’s wrists into the mat on either side of his head, he was surprised to find that he had been rendered completely immobile.

Flexing his arms did nothing, there was no budging as Soap held firm. Even the body sitting atop Ghost's chest seemed impossible to move.

The Lieutenant even thought he had heard an inhuman growl come from the man as the back of his head hit the mat, but at the time it had gone unnoticed, too stunned by his immobility and how Soap had gotten the upper hand so quickly.

“Soap!” Price had shouted, an edge in his tone, sounding much like a warning.

“Sah!” Soap responded, releasing Ghost immediately and letting him up.

Ghost had stood, rubbing his wrists as he watched Soap and Price speak hushedly to each other for a moment before the Scot returned, looking very much like a scolded pup despite his victory over the Lieutenant.

After that, Soap had not pinned Ghost again. Not even as Ghost did his damndest to provoke him into doing so.

It frustrated him, his interest piqued and curiosity left unsated, but it was another one of those things he had to just let go.

Another of Soap’s peculiarities was that Ghost had noticed that the Sergeant had a almost supernatural sense of hearing.

At first he chalked it up to nerves and Soap’s own imagination, but when Soap’s acute hearing had saved their lives, more than once, he was quick to become convinced of the man’s abilities. Putting absolute faith in him from thereon out when he said he heard something.

With Ghost leading, all Soap had to do was silently take hold on the Lieutenant's shoulder, and he would have Ghost’s undivided attention.

His face would say it all. Eyes unfocused, listening. And Ghost would listen too. But he never heard what Johnny could hear.

And then the Sergeant would come back to him, signal, and Ghost would nod and let Johnny take point.

All of those things were extraordinary in their own right, but Ghost kept coming back to Soap’s teeth.

Of all Soap's attributes, they were the only tangible thing Ghost could see and confirm with his own eyes. And he would be lying if he said he wasn't just a bit obsessed with them.

He wondered if they were as sharp as they looked, and how easy it would be to break skin and draw blood. If he’d even feel anything at all or if having Soap close enough to sink his fangs into Ghost’s flesh would numb him to it.

Or maybe, he might even like the pain.

Ghost sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. The clock on the wall read two in the morning, and the report he’d wanted to finish before lights out lay on his desk before him, unfinished, mocking him, as he had descended into his daydreams.

It was no use, and the Lieutenant was tired. At least in his cot his mind was free to wander before sleep would eventually claim him.

But now staring up at the ceiling from his cot, fighting to close his eyes and rest, all the thoughts come rushing back to him, and suddenly Ghost is hit by a thought he hadn’t yet considered.

He can feel his heart rate quicken, a flash of heat running through his body as the realization dawns on him, only now putting all the pieces together.

Soap was something else, in a very literal sense of the term.

He wasn’t human.

So... what was he?

#ghostsoap #soapghost #werewolf soap #werewolf!soap #cod mw ghost #cod mw soap #cod mwii #soap x ghost #ghost x soap #werewolf john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #there's not enough werewolf soap in this fandom #and its a crime #and a shame

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fireheartedpup · 4 months

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I think my birthday has become a trigger for me. There's no one to invite. It's nice that my parents still want to go all out, but I don't know what to tell mom because I don't want to do anything.

No one here cares about the pandemic and I'm not even sure how much to care anymore because they stopped caring when it was still in full swing. I haven't gotten covid even though I haven't avoided my family, who stopped taking precautions a few months in and think masking is stupid, so what have I even been doing? Has it done anything at all?

I'm still happy that I haven't gotten sick other the built in body issues in... how long has it been? Five fucking years? But I miss feeling normal.

I don't want to live here and I don't want to do this and I don't know what to do even when I know what to do. The only thing that really motivates me is being angry. I hate being angry.

I don't want to live in this reality and I don't have enough money to move and whenever anyone tries to change things here, they're met with a bunch of people saying you can't change things here because we haven't changed things here so you can't change things here.

I think my dog deserves better and I don't have enough money to pay off my debt, much less a specialist. She's not neglected or anything I just have higher standards now. I'm probably still alive because of her. If I die, no one will know for days. Maybe a week or more. No one's coming to check on me.

Mom might come eventually but mom comes sporadically because she tries to give me space. I flip between wanting to cut my parents out entirely and just wanting to see them. They're still conservative and I can never trust them the same way again, but they've supported me the entire time.

I did beg for some of it. But they have supported me.

Dad's cranky because prices are going up and he didn't plan on supporting me this long and he's in the same position I am. I inherited the no friends disease. I'm fucking pedigreed in mental illness. He likes drinking wine even though eating makes him throw up now. He doesn't want to see a normal doctor.

His mom has had many cancerous growths removed. I should probably get ready to deal with his stuff.

Mom clearly wants to leave and doesn't feel she can. It's tough when being with someone makes your life harder, but you can see them actively getting better. I think it's one reason she wants to keep her flight attendant job even though she's becoming less and less physically able. She can just pick up and leave whenever she wants.

I feel stupid and useless for not earning enough by now. I know that's not entirely realistic because I read it takes two years to get over an abusive environment and it's only been one. My parents love me, but living in that house put me in fight or flight mode every time I went to the kitchen.

I feel paralyzed and when I try to look up jobs I want to break down entirely. I've made half-hearted attempts to build my own thing but it feels like I'm never able to pick the right thing, that I'll always burn out, that I can never tell what's going to work, that every thing I'm actually excited about is doomed to fail.

Sometimes I don't even want to support people because it feels like my support is the death knell for their cause.

I'm trying to restructure my thinking. I spend almost all of my time doing that. It's difficult to escape the social media whirlpool when social media is so attached to so many different forms of monetary income these days.

I thought I could get free therapy with my insurance so I could bounce this off of a therapist instead of tumblr or a random person but I'm not sure anymore so I gave up.

I feel like I'm overwhelmingly tired and negative and hurt and angry and that no one should have to deal with that.

I'm trying to make friends with my neighbors, but either I don't text back in enough time or they just don't respond. I don't know why or where or when it goes wrong. I start avoiding everyone because I'm waiting for it to go wrong.

I want to get on medication but I just saw that thing about the autistic licenses in MY state. The government doesn't want me. They don't even want me to exist. I don't want to give them the option of using it against me in any way.

It's very hard to get myself out of a spiral. I should probably look into ocd help a bit more. I don't know if that's me or if this is an offshoot of something else, but either way it's connected.

The recent blog thing has just reinforced me feeling stupid and isolated. I'm very grateful for the people who've been here for me. I don't want anyone to ever feel obligated to support me. But I'm having a really hard time.

And it feels stupid to be having a hard time. I have more than most.

I want to live in a different reality.

#personal

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clickedbait · 2 months

Text

BIO UNDER CUT FOR ONE OF MY OC BABES. - connected closely to @whatscanon and two of her characters.

THE BITE. He'd been camping with friends and his cousin when they were attacked by the wolf, all but two of them succumbing to its hungry and terrifying bite. Morgan was worse for wear than his cousin, Lucas, but he was hanging in there-- Police and Doctors chalking it up to be some bear attack. He knew it wasn't and so did Lucas. That's why they went back. Even through the chills and the fever coursing through Morgan's veins, Lucas unscathed from the night due to stepping away for a bush to pee in while everything was happening. He wouldn't be so lucky this full moon.

Morgan changed in front of Lucas and the wolf was stronger than the man could ever hope to control, not that he knew he'd have to. He tore his cousin to pieces before disappearing into the woods, eventually changing back to find someone stood over him. The man claimed to be Morgan's maker... the very wolf that slashed a scar that would never leave along Morgan's chest and the reason everyone he cared for the most were gone.

It was in this meeting that Morgan decided he'd play along, get to know and understand just what he was... but on the next full moon, when it was explained to Morgan he could learn to change and control the wolf? He was ready. He had to be. He had unfinished business with his MAKER. They changed and Morgan lunged.

FAMILY. Meeting Bailey had really changed his life for the better. It was years into being a wolf and feeling like he was alone, like no one would ever be where he was with any of this. Then he met her, blonde and hazel eyed with a smile that squeezed his heart. He fell for her hard the night they met and the rest, as they say, was history. They got married down the road, built their dream home, had four beautiful babies... but not all of them were healthy. Their youngest, Scarlett, was severely ill after birth and their was no saying how she would fair through life... if at all.

It took its toll on their family and someone, a witch... was aware of that. She sought out their children, their boys who played in the woods by the house. She spoke to them, she convinced them she could save Scarlett for a price of her choosing. But they were young... they didn't know. They had no clue just what was going to happen.

Morgan was walking down the hall of their home when it happened... his train of thought leaving him and his memory suddenly displaced. He took a moment to gather his bearings before spotting a picture of him and a family on the wall-- what was that? Who were they?

Morgan, baby, you okay? Huh? Wait-- Who are you?

Every memory he ever had of meeting Bailey and starting their family? It was gone. That was the price they had to pay.

ISADORA RETURNS. She had been in their life for a period of time shortly after Morgan's memory was removed, coming in swinging with every intention to dig a nail into a coffin that didn't exist. She seduced Morgan one night and in his vulnerable state... he fell into it, but he had never regretted something more in his life. He hadn't remembered what feelings he held for Bailey, but he knew that look on her face when Isadora answered the motel door... it was an expression he never wanted to see again.

They worked hard after that. 22 years of rebuilding and making new memories. But it was also 22 years for Isadora to plan her next move and when she did, none of them were ready for it to be Fredrick. And none of them could've prepared for the deal that Scarlett struck in exchange for his life. Her wolf. The very thing keeping her alive after all these years with the help of whatever spell Isadora cast.

To make it worse, to add fuel to the fire? The form that Isadora was using to get around in this generation was in fact her daughter, but not just hers. Morgan's. Turns out there was more to her plan than to just seduce him. She wanted a part of him that she could always hold against the family.

Now with Scarlett's wolf gone and the information out that Morgan had another child a witch was using the body of? The Whitakers are in over their heads, but they will do anything to protect each other. Morgan won't lose them again.

#✦ › about › morgan w. / the werewolf father #illness tw #death tw

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gaysonlyocean · 1 year

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ok ok I have a few for ogtbh

how is evelin handling everything? I care her so much how is she doing-

chaos on the car #1, the theft, I really REALLY wanna know more about Thatcher and Dave's reaction and how shit goes down after

and uhhhhh what was Adam's first kill like-

(you don't need to answer all of them i just wanted to gives some variety teehee 🥰)

oh yippee mel questions!! EDIT FROM HALFWAY ANSWERING THIS IS GOING UNDER A CUT SOBS UH WARNING FOR DESCRIPTION OF MURDER

evelin would answer being asked if how things are going with "well its going ':]" she stressed out of her mind as it is

shes trying her best to keep things under control and not freak out but nothing seems to be going right and she was already dealing with m.a.d. as it is so shes been having a lot of quiet cries to herself when shes pretty sure no ones looking

evie was also venting to jonah about things at first, but then the ear thing happened and she felt bad putting it on him when hes also stressed so she stopped and has just been internalising it

the bottlecap pendant and the conversation she has with thatcher to get it help alot though!!

god i fucking love the first chaos in the car on their end cause they have a significiantly less chaos in their car but its still so chaotic, we get two for the price of one in that bit

they literally said NOTHING to eachother the entire ride up to that moment other than a "get in" "thanks" when thatcher picked dave up cause this happens literally like. a hour after the divorce phonecall so neither are happy about this

AND THEN SUDDENLY DAVE JUST GOES "is that my car??" AND LOW AND BEHOLD IT IS AND SARAH IS DRIVING IT so dave just winds down the window and you KNOW thatchers car doesnt have electric winders so he has to turn that fucking gear thing and now hes half out the fucking window going "sarah? is that y-" AND SHE FUCKING YELLS OUT A CUSS AND HITS THE GAS SPEEDING OFF

SO NOW THE TWO OF THEM ARE JUST SITTING THERE CONFUSED BEFORE THATCHER STARTS DRIVING AFTER THEM AND THE ENTIRE TIME THEY CAN HEAR EVERYONE SCREAMING IN THE OTHER CAR

AND THEYRE NOT MUCH BETTER CAUSE DAVE KEEPS GOING "WHY DID SARAH STEAL MY CAR???" TO WHICH THATCHER GOES "IDFK THE ONLY INTERACTIONS WITH HER IVE HAD WERE HER SENDING ME DEATH THREATS WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME???"

theres also a lot of unhelpful comments from both of "where did she learn to drive holy shit" cause of sarahs fucking gta approach to it rn

how things go down after is they finally catch up cause unlike sarah thatcher is trying to not accidentally drift and shit and daves car is just abandoned

they go out into the area to try to find them when suddenly both of their phones start going off and then stop ringing the second they go to answer

dave thinks this is weird but thatcher thinks this is Alarming and starts looking extra hard and eventually find bps + evelin trying to sneak away and they just have. so many questions

but before they can ask any dave goes "dammit im gonna be late to the church" which makes adam panic and go "you absolutely cannot go there" and then he just. refuses to elaborate and now his friend are also vaguely going "yeah dont go to church"

obviously this is Weird so they go "right car theft forgiven your all coming with us what the fuck is going on" and they are refusing to give answers while staying at daves house for the next few days

dave doesnt mind and is happy to have people over so hes just trying to play host and having fun while also trying to contact o'brien who strangely is ignoring him

thatcher starts coming over again for the first time in years cause he also wants to know what the fuck is up with these kids and uh

he gets his answer :)

ANYWAY MOVING ON this ones gonna be a doozy ill tell you that >:)

adam killed someone for the first time when he was 15, and what he really remembers of it is the aftermath of six basically going "finally, you became one of us so young yet took so long to do this i thought youd disappoint me again and not do it, im so proud of you" cause yknow the desperation for parental affection weve all been there

it was someone in yonder county, he doesnt remember the details exactly of how the house looked from the outside, but he does remember the interior like the back of his hand

single bedroom bungalow with a really tiny bathroom, no tub, the fridge hummed incredibly loudly and they always turned the stove off at the wall for some reason, they didnt really have room for a living room but they had a nice recliner in the tiny space anyway, and a stack of books beside it, there was a lil storage space inbetween the bathroom and bedroom in which the owner kept a vacuum and cleaning chemicals

adam had let himself into the house a few days prior and had gone unnoticed, keeping himself to the little storage space, moving lil things around the house to make them doubt things

he then cornered them in the kitchen, just like hed been taught to do, and he doesnt remember he had the knife first or if they had it out but he knows he pushed it through their neck until it came out the other end

and then, despite the praise he got for it, after it was done he found himself feeling weird about it, it wasnt quite sadness and it wasnt quite guilt but it was bad whatever it was

#THANK YOU I WENT HOGWILD HERE #official guide to being human #evelin miller #thatcher davis #dave lee #adam murray #ask to tag #hannah if you see that yes that is a reference #that scene rewired my brain you think im gonna not reference it?

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huihuiheart · 2 years

Text

DnD Part 6.5 - Whispering Woods

Navigation

Series Masterlist

Pairing: reader x Knight! Chan, reader x Dark Prince! Hyunjin, reader x Thief! Felix, reader x Fairy! Jisung

Summary: While you, Hyunjin, and Jisung return to the castle Felix and Chan are still trapped in the woods. Haunted by what lurked there only upon her appearance will they be able to find a way home?

Warnings: Haunting themes, witch themes, curse themes, some themes of violence.

Word Count: 1410

Previous Part SFW & NSFW ___ Next Part SFW & NSFW

“It doesn’t matter which direction we go, we just keep ending up back here.” Felix screeches, hopping down off his horse to look around the small clearing in the forest that they keep finding themselves in, “It’s like we’re trapped in a maze or something. I’m not even recognizing landmarks or anything, but we’re always led back here.”

“We just have to keep trying. It’s obvious something or someone doesn’t want us getting out, but if we keep trying something will have to give eventually.” Chan insists, looking around for any sign that something is different now, that a certain direction will lead them out.

Fog suddenly whips around the edge of the clearing, carrying laughter with it.

“Such silly boys thinking you can outlast me at this. I’m not the one who needs to eat to live.” The voice floats around with the fog until it’s swirling before them into the form of a woman, “However, I might be persuaded to let you go...for a price.”

“And what price is it that we will have to pay?” Chan boldly asks, blade firmly in hand as if it would help him in any way fight a woman of mist should things come down to a battle.

“Oh, that’s just it. You two appear to have nothing to offer me, so unless you can come up with something appealing out of nowhere it is of no use. Though I do enjoy toying with you before ending the suffering, cures my boredom so much longer than just killing you outright.” She laughs as she circles the pair, small wisps of fog trailing behind her as she does.

“Well, how can we know what will appeal to you without knowing what it is you desire?” Felix speaks softly, peaking around Chan to catch sight of her circling figure now.

“Silly boys, I desire what we all do... freedom. Yet that very desire is what landed me here in the first place. I desired freedom from illness, from death, and for that, I paid the price and am damned here for eternity unable to touch anything at all. Do you know what it feels like to go centuries cold and untouched? I would rather die and be trapped like this any longer!” She screeches, before snickering and shaking her head, “And yet that’s not the worst of it. Do you want to know what is? That damn witch that made me like this gets her life with no threat of disease or aging and she was born in such a way. Yet she goes about getting off on giving others the same just to take everything else from them.”

“Tell me, what is the witch’s name and where can she be found? Perhaps we can bargain with her on your behalf or at least avenge you?” Chan offers in all reasonableness, working towards the hastiest of logical choices.

“Her name, by birth or not I do not know, but they call her Electra or they did last that I was among this wide world. She is originally from here when this place was called Ebonywood and was more than just a haunted place of the dark magics. That is why she was able to bind me here, it is where she is most attached.” She pauses her movements as she thinks through the details of her answer, before moving once again.

“We can swear to find her and-” Chan begins, only to be cut off before he can begin to make such oaths with the woman of fog by Felix who speaks up now.

“Did you say Ebonywood?” He begins to dig through Chan’s belongings in search of something, finding the map and showing the woman of fog, “This same Ebonywood here?”

The woman comes to a full stop now, looking over the map before she looks up at Felix, eyes ablaze even further, “Where did you get this from? And don’t you dare lie to me, boy.”

“When my princess was taken to the dark prince’s castle, I searched for a map to help us find our way out and this is what I found. At the time I didn’t even know it had another name as we are not from here, we’re from afar and are only here by Hyunjin’s hand.” Chan explains, confused as the woman curses under her breath.

“Hyunjin. Damn it, HYUNJIN!” The woman screams the wind echoing the sound and causing Felix to flinch away now, “I thought I taught the boy better than to meddle into such affairs, especially with the likes of her! Where is your princess now?”

“He’s taken her back. She ordered us to take this map far away from here before all else, but we must go to her. I can’t let anything happen to her... We can’t let anything happen to her.” Chan insists and she hums, motioning him closer as well.

“You boys want your freedom? Very well, I shall tell you the price for it. This map is not Hyunjin's, it is Electra’s. That witch who cursed me. It holds a power as much of her belongings do. She always was good at cursing others.” She begins to explain, “Hyunjin is the closest thing I have to a family. That boy was the only one who came here frequently, and I couldn’t find it in me to harm such a small distraught child. I thought I taught him to be smarter than to go and get tangled into things, but it appears he had gone to seek power. Electra’s power. And in turn, avenge me... alone. Whether anyone knows and is assisting him I am certainly not aware, but I am aware that the boy has absolutely no idea what he is getting himself into. So as for your price. You will help him. I shall bind one of you to him, should he die you will as well... however, if she dies you will be free. You shall not leave empty-handed though, I shall give you all the information I have on this map and her whereabouts as I guide you out. So do we have a deal?”

“Yes, you have my word that I’ll keep him sa-” Chan gets cut off by Felix yet again.

“Bind me to him! Do it now and don’t listen to anything he says!” Felix insists quickly, moving to stand between Chan and the woman. Causing her to hum and take action to do so.

Chan whips Felix back around in shock, “Why on earth would you do that? You aren’t a knight, do you even know how to protect someone against this level of danger?”

“Your focus is on protecting the princess, you can’t focus on keeping two people safe at once. So leave Hyunjin to me and just focus on her alright? Besides you can help me get better at fighting, Sir Perfect.” Felix teases slightly in hopes of lightening the rather tense mood just a little despite being the one whose life is now at risk here.

Chan sighs and gives a nod at him before looking back at the woman, “Tell us what we need to know.”

Chan grabs their horse’s reins to guide them as the woman shows them the way as well. She stood beside Felix to point out things along the map.

“Many of these names likely have been changed, however besides Ebonywood, she spent much time in two places. Clarenshaw to the north here, in the Icelands. As well as this basin in the Dreadlands called Sinher. Between the three she gets much of what she uses for her potions and such. When I sought her out she settled between the three in this mountain pass here, among Multo pass you’ll find the tallest mountain The Lonely One, because it is high among the clouds far from the others. There is a passageway of caves at its base, Terrebrook that is where you’ll enter, and at its heart you will find a waterfall, Echo Falls. Now it is imperative that as you go behind to find her home you do not touch the water at all. You’ll be in far greater danger if you do. Do you understand?” She looks between the two who nod in response before looking over the notes Felix has been taking before approving, “Very good. One last detail of great importance...when you kill her. Tell her that Fern says hello.”

#DnD series #stray kids x reader #bang chan x reader #lee felix x reader #han jisung x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader

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badgirlcoven-official · 1 year

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[partial ID: Comission info for The Owl House fanfiction writing comissions.]

Opening up writing commissions for the first time! I'm hoping to expand the payment options sooner rather than later but that'll take some time to setup properly.

For more examples of my writing you can find me on Ao3: @badgirlcoven_official

Full transcript under the cut!

The commission pages are over a screenshot of the Collector’s checkerboard and play area from Watching and Dreaming, the information is written in three different fonts and mostly in white with yellow titles on some pages.

The first page, titled, “The Owl House fanfic commissions” has three sections each with a different commission type. They are as follows

Requests+

You give me a prompt

You get one chance after it’s finished to request revisions

You pay for the minimum word count you would like it to be

The prices are:

$10 for 1000+ words, $15 for 1500+ words, $20 for 2000+ words, up to $50 for 5000 words.

Requests for $5

You give me a prompt

I write my interpretation of that prompt to the best of my ability

No revisions / I have full creative freedom

Professional

0.018 per word (e.g $9 for 500)

Can provide a partial or full outline that you would like me to follow

Can specify dialogue or passages you would like me to include

OCs welcome! (character chart to be filled out will be provided)

2-5 revisions allowed

You set the minimum amount of words you'd like + the maximum amount of words you are willing to pay for

Page two lists what the author is comfortable with writing, split into two sections.

Will Write:

Depicted and referenced physical and verbal abuse

Mental illness + trauma

Depicted and referenced religious trauma/cults

Referenced queerphobia

Depicted and referenced ableism

Plural characters!

Trans and Enby characters (+ pronoun HCs!)

Neurodivergent & physically disabled characters!

AUs and canon divergences

Won’t write

Smut/sex scenes

Referenced or depicted sexual assault

Depicted or heavily referenced self harm

Drug or alcohol addiction

Depicted fatal illness/cancer

Glorified depictions of abuse, self harm, or bullying

Anything including incest, pedophilia/uncomfortable age gaps

Racist stereotypes + characters experiencing racism

Pages three and four include writing excerpts screenshotted from google docs, each different document having its own color and all of them in comic sans font for readability. The first page gives a description example whereas the next page shows dialogue excerpts.

Description:

As he ran, mist kissed his arms and face, leaving goosebumps all up his body. Nylon flapped against his shins and each new pace sent a shockwave of energy up his legs. Haggard breaths had his lungs feeling like a swing set and a dizziness tinged his every move.

Fog rolled in from the distance, the moonlight overhead was the only thing to disrupt the nautical twilight that submerged his surroundings. Without stopping, all he really saw were blurs and shadows streaking across his peripheral.

His footsteps made loud thuds and rustled the fallen leaves. Around him, the forest was anything but quiet. Loud chirping and croaking and hooting could be heard all around him, everything pulsing that little bit of life into his veins.

The deep blues of the forest should have been calming, the cold air running down his throat should have made him feel exhilarated. Instead, bile pooled in his stomach and his throat had begun to ache and his eyes to sting.

Dialogue #1:

"I saw the stuff he did to you, too…" they admitted, glancing sideways at him to check for signs of anger. "It looked like it hurt… I'd broken toys before—Uh, real toys not people— but I'd never been that mean about it so watching him do all that kinda scared me…"

Dialogue #2:

Eventually, Hunter found his voice again. "Please don't blame yourself for what Belos did to you," he was speaking as much to the Collector as he was to himself. "It wasn't your fault, it was never your fault and what we have now is good so I forgive you."

He paused again to think about things. "You know that I'm real now and you're nice to me and that's all that matters now that Belos is dead."

Dialogue #3:

“Yeah, that makes a lot of sense.” She came and sat down next to him, stretching her pajama-clad legs into the grass and wiggling her toes absentmindedly. “I dunno anymore either…”

She took a deep, quiet breath, and then let it out again, hugging her knees to mirror him and get comfortable. “So, why’d you come out here?”

Page five has payment info. The author is currently accepting payment in amazon gift cards while working on other options.

A screenshot example is given of a page to send a digital e-card on amazon over email.

The agreed amount should be addressed to [email protected]. If the payment is over $20 you can send one half before and one half after receiving the commission.

End of transcript.

#TOH #the owl house #fanfic commissions #writing commissions #fanfiction #commission info #commission sheet

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happylives360 · 2 years

Text

51+ Karma Quotes On Good & Bad Karma, Revenge & Gossip

There’s something incredibly satisfying about seeing karma come back around on someone who deserves it. These karma quotes show just how powerful they can be.

“Karma is a bitch.” This phrase is often used to describe the idea that what goes around comes around. If someone does something bad to you, they’ll eventually get their comeuppance. This phrase is usually uttered with a sense of satisfaction, as it’s satisfying to see people get what they deserve.

“Wait for your karma.” This phrase is a reminder to be patient. Just because someone has done something bad to you doesn’t mean that karma will act immediately. Sometimes it takes a while for things to come full circle. But eventually, the universe will right itself, and justice will be served.

“Cheaters never prosper.” This quote is a reminder that people who try to take shortcuts in life often get caught and pay the price. It’s better to play fair and square than to try to cheat your way to the top. Because, in the end, cheaters always get caught, and they never really prosper in the long run.

These karma quotes show just how powerful this force can be. And it’s always satisfying to see karma come back around on those who deserve it!

Best Karma Quotes

“Karma moves in two directions. If we act virtuously, the seed we plant will result in happiness. If we act non-virtuously, suffering results.” – Sakyong Mipham

“Sooner or later in life, we will all take our own turn being in the position we once had someone else in.”

“According to the karma of past actions, one’s destiny unfolds, even though everyone wants to be so lucky.” – Sri Guru Grant Sahib

“I was in the biggest breakdown of my life when I stopped crying long enough to let the words of my epiphany really sink in. That whore, karma, had finally made her way around, and had just bitch-slapped me right across the face. The realization only made me cry harder.”

“Karma comes after everyone eventually. You can’t get away with screwing people over your whole life, I don’t care who you are. What goes around comes around. That’s how it works. Sooner or later the universe will serve you the revenge that you deserve.”

“Like gravity, karma is so basic we often don’t even notice it.”- Sakyong Mipham

“Contrary to popular misconception, karma has nothing to do with punishment and reward. It exists as part of our holographic universe’s binary or dualistic operating system only to teach us responsibility for our creations – and all things we experience are our creations.”- Sol Luckman

“The life I touch for good or ill will touch another life, and that in turn another, until who knows where the trembling stops or in what far place my touch will be felt.”- Frederick Buechner

“When you see a good person, think of becoming like her/him. When you see someone not so good, reflect on your own weak points.” ― Confucius

“Still others commit all sorts of evil deeds, claiming karma doesn’t exist. They erroneously maintain that since everything is empty, committing evil isn’t wrong. Such persons fall into a hell of endless darkness with no hope of release. Those who are wise hold no such conception.”- Bohidharma

Cheaters Karma Quotes About Cheating Peoples

There’s an old saying that cheaters never prosper. And while there’s certainly some truth to that, it’s not the whole story. People who cheat sometimes get ahead – at least for a while. But eventually, their bad karma catches up with them, and they come crashing down.

These cheaters’ karma quotes remind us that what goes around does come around. So, think again if you’re thinking about stepping out on your partner or cutting corners at work. It’s just not worth it in the long run.

“Karma is not just about the troubles, but also about surmounting them.”- Rick Springfield

“Even if things don’t unfold the way you expected, don’t be disheartened or give up.” – Daisaku Ikeda

“I must have killed a lot of cows in a past life for Karma to hate me this much.”

“Give up your selfishness, and you shall find peace; like water mingling with water, you shall merge in absorption.”- Sri Guru Granth Sahib

“If you send out goodness from yourself, or if you share that which is happy or good within you, it will all come back to you multiplied ten thousand times. In the kingdom of love there is no competition; there is no possessiveness or control. The more love you give away, the more love you will have.”

“There are the waves and there is the wind, seen and unseen forces. Everyone has these same elements in their lives, the seen and unseen, karma and free will.”- Kuna Yin

“When someone has a strong intuitive connection, Buddhism suggests that it’s because of karma, some past connection.” – Richard Gere

“Karma has a surprising way of taking care of situations. All you have to do is to sit back and watch.” – Author Unknown

“Most times, how you treat your children is how they grow up to treat you.”- Terry Mark

“Thoughts lead on to purposes; purposes go forth in action; actions form habits; habits decide character; and character fixes our destiny.”- Tryon Edwards

#karma quotes #quotes about karma #bad karma quotes #good karma quotes

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tuxedokit · 2 years

Note

can you explain the Be More Psychic AU?

ill try my best !!! its, uh. its snowballed a lot from what it was, so here we go

be more chill SQUIPS, but psychonauts. more detailed under cut

at some point in the distant past, otto invented these things called PSI-SQUIPS, cause everything has a psi-prefix and leeping the SQUIP name makes it recognizeable. essentially, theyre similar to astralathes, in that theyre psychic devices to help you alter parts of yourself. though these are more "personal trainers" in that respect, rather than directly altering things, they implant in your mind and guide and direct you. still, not necessarily safe, and the idea was eventually abandoned. not before they were stocked in the otto-matic, hidden beneath layers of security and a high price. the notes for how to access them were lost amongst the notes in an old lab

cut to sometime during psychonauts 2. gisu, otto's mentee, is tasked with cleaning one of his old labs. while cleaning it, she finds these notes. she decides to investigate at some point, for science. at some point she activates one, using it on herself. it seems to be helpful, so maybe she tells morris about it. it couldnt hurt, right? i mean, this thing has really helped her with her focus.

flash forward post psychonauts 2. its been a couple months, the aquatos have been staying in the QA for a while, and things have settled into a new normal. a couple of the interns have been acting a little weird, but its probably nothing, right? i mean, trauma. thats probably it. dion hasnt apologized to raz for her shitty treatment of him, and generally has been going through it. it may have been a month or two or more, but the revelations are still hitting hard, and everyones recovering slowly. dion wants nothing more than to be a better sibling, better child, but... they dont know how.

and norma's been acting awfully sweet. dions met her a couple times before, and she was usually so... bitter. but now, sickeningly sweet. lizzie says shes been a better sister recently... dion is desperate. she wants to know how norma did it.

the PSI-SQUIP spreads.

dion asks it to help her be a better sister, brother, daughter, son. it instructs her. "cause no problems. listen to your parents, dont bother them, dont defy them. apologize to raz." "how? ive been so awful... where do i begin?"

gisu is seeing the effect its having on her friends all around her. oh god, this is getting out of hand. she asks her PSI-SQUIP, the leader, how to stop it. silly gisu. you cant.

in the meantime, siblings can tell something is off. dion is acting... wrong. they were already a bit of a "yes man" for mom and dad, but now... its. its hard to explain. somethings... somethings wrong. something is wrong. dion has a conversation with frazie at some point, about how "i have this thing that could help you feel better!" "about what?" "anything!" ...frazies not buyin it. she politely declines. okay, whatever. if frazie doesnt want her big brothers advice, too bad. its time to say youre sorry. time to find raz

it turns out, norma had already issued an apology of her own. dion is fed the script, an apology raz finds... eerily familiar. raz approaches the senior agents with his concerns. they say theyll help, but seem... dismissive. he also tells lili about his worries, and the two decide to investigate together.

raz and lili go to otto, gisu, anyone who isnt infected with... whatever this is. they start trying to find a solution

hollis is planning something. an event, of sorts? who knows the specifics, its not important. probably

dion, meanwhile, feels as though she screwed up worse somehow. following a script? really? the PSI-SQUIP is condescending, try again then it says. yeah. no. dion is tasked with talking to augustus. (a valid host)

gisu tries to resist. this has gone too far. poor gisu. it has only just begun

raz, lili, and their little resistance have a plan. otto will activate a PSI-SQUIP, take it down from the inside. it doesnt work, theyve evolved. the PSI-SQUIPS have become more than what otto made. stronger. malicious. a forgotten entity, left to rot. growing a mind of its own, a will of its own, a plan. they wind up having to enter ottos mind to fight it. they find they need to stop it at the source. the host. the leader.

days of resistance and torture build up and boil over for gisu. she breaks. the whole motherlobe shorts out, along with her PSI-SQUIP.

something changes in dion. just a bit. (the leader has decided on its host. gisu trusted dion. dion was regarded as incredibly competent.)

hollis' event is approaching. gisu stumbles into the lab of the resistance, frazzled. she knows whos infected and who isnt. she knows hollis is compromised. they assume hollis is the new host. they prepare.

it wants to spread. augustus declines. hes left wondering what the hell is going on with his kid.

dion tries to resist it. zap zap. now knowing this thing is capable of harm, dion makes an agreement. "dont fuck with my family and were cool." cool.

#carpet shut up challenge #psychonauts #be more psychic

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ilearhmajeste · 1 month

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tomboy014 · 1 year

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Laundress Barbarian Tess

My most recent DnD character Tess Vanderburg, my 5'2", 1/4 dwarf, human barbarian who works as a laundress for the HearthGuard Guild and wields her mighty cast iron skillet and shovel.

Just a quick and dirty picture so I could get it out. When I made her, she also came with a bunch of family members, so it's like 14 OCs for the price of 1!

Tess grew up with her parents and sister in the frontier town, Stubborn, established during the Kingdom’s ongoing expansion. Her father, a former soldier, settled down after an injury prevented him from continuing his military career and he started a family. Far from the nearest city, or civilization in general, Tess and her family lived under harsh conditions as they farmed and eked out a living in the wilderness and worked to establish the town. As such, Tess had to learn a multitude of skills to survive including farming, minor carpentry, edible plants, etc. Eventually, the town was built into a small hub for travelers, merchants, adventurers, and soldiers on the outskirts of civilization.

As a young woman, Tess earned a living working as a washing woman doing the laundry of the soldiers and adventurers that passed through town. There, she met Duncan Lewis and his brother Ryan, both in the army, when she was 17. After a whirlwind romance, she and Duncan were wed. Being part of a long-term expansion campaign, spouses and children were encouraged to come, so Tess packed up and went on the road with his company as they expanded the kingdom’s borders. It wasn’t easy, but she was sturdy and her life on the fringes meant she was well prepared for the challenges ahead. As the soldiers would go off to fight border skirmishes, bandits and monsters, the families would be left to fend for themselves (acted as a replacement for the support branch of the military) with the occasional wounded soldier left behind. Her mother’s instincts would often kick in as she kept her children safe. She fought off a bear when Cale was 3 and had wandered off to pick berries. Another time, bandits attacked the camp, and she beat one’s face into a bloody pulp when he tried to lay hands on her 12-year-old daughter. She stayed up for almost a week straight when an illness burned through the camp to tend to her infected children while she was burning up with a fever herself. 20% of the camp died, but she and her children pulled through.

To make things even more difficult, Duncan was an abusive ass. Jealous of his brother’s military and career success, he’d take his frustrations out on Tess. He also did his best to keep her isolated from the other soldier’s families, so no one in the camp knew it was going on, though a few of the other mothers had their suspicions. However, he never laid hands on his children, only Tess. Over time, this caused her self-confidence to erode, and he was her only means of support for the kids, so she put up with it. Without Duncan, she had no other way to keep them fed and cared for.

Years later, Ryan and Bree’s company joined up with Duncan’s, and Tess had an opportunity to reconnect with her sister after years. While the companies were together, Aiden (age 14) was found making out with another boy by his father. He was dragged home, and Duncan took out Aiden’s “failure” on Tess. Shay (11) stood up for his mother, and Duncan hit Shay for talking back.

Tess. Blew. Up.

Enraged, Tess fought back, and the emotional and physical abuse was made public. Duncan was dishonorably discharged for “conduct unbecoming of an officer” and forced to leave. He has since become a mercenary, but the others don’t know that. Tess was granted a divorce, and Bree helped her and the kids back to the frontier town and their mother, Camilla. There, Tess started to rebuild her life and joined the Support Guild. Ryan, disgusted by his brother’s actions, cut all contact with Duncan and paid the initial gold needed for Tess to join the guild as a way of apology. He has tried to rekindle and maintain the positive relationship he used to have with Tess during his early days in the military and be a decent uncle to the kids.

Under the Support Guild, Tess has done what she’s always been good at: domestic work. In the four years since leaving Duncan, she’s been on teams for large scale archeological expeditions and the like, working with other guild members to run camps. Aiden and Abby have joined the military, but the others are still under her mother’s care. She sends money home whenever she can.

Getting this job with the guild has been Tess’s way of rebuilding her confidence and gaining some independence, though she still deals with a lot of self-loathing for letting everything happen to her. The campaign will be her first solo job under the guild.

The Kids:

Aiden: The apple of his father’s eye, Aiden is the one who got the most attention from his father as Duncan tried to mold him into a copy of himself. Not super thrilled about being a soldier, but it’s all he knows. Gay and outed. Dark, wavy hair and brown eyes. Just as handsome as his father. 6’2”.

Abby: Just as headstrong as her mother once was, Abby is tough as nails and used to helping her mother fight and wrangle her siblings. A tomboy through and through, she took to her father’s combat training like a fish to water (though she was often overlooked by him in favor of Aiden). Absolutely admires her aunt, Bree. Bi, but is afraid to come out after what happened after Aiden was exposed. Dark straight hair and gray eyes. 5’8”

Shay: Her sensitive boy. Artistic and creative, his dream is to go to a city and apprentice as an architect and builder. Duncan never approved and considered him “weak” for it, but Tess has always been supportive and is currently saving up money to send him to a Dwarven city once he turns 16. He’s the one you’d swear is gay but is straight. After what happened with Aiden and Duncan, he is also her brave, brave boy. Red, curly hair and gray eyes. 5’8” and still growing

Cale and Connor: 11-year-old chaos twins. They exhaust her, her mother, and everyone who’s ever tried to babysit them. Referred to as her “gremlins.” Dark, messy hair, brown eyes.

Extended Family:

Tess still has living family among the Mountain dwarves. She and her sister “met” her grandmother’s clan when they were too young to remember (6 months and 3 years old) but both are aware that they are part of the Skyeforge clan.

The HearthGuard Guild:

Primarily advertised to academics seeking to study remote ruins, rich nobles wanting to play adventurer, or green adventurers roughing it for the first time. The Support Guild is here to take care of the day-to-day upkeep of your base camp while you focus on your expedition! Individuals or groups available for hire.

The support guild takes care of camp and cleanliness so you can focus on your mission! Services offered include, but are not limited to:

Making and breaking camp

Equipment maintenance and care

Cooking

Minor first aid

Camp security

Cart driver and pack animal care

Field Guide (limited to certain areas within guild territory)

They’re basically hired to play party nursemaids or to clean up wizard towers in towns. It’s not glamorous, but it always needs to be done, so they’re always in demand.

Family:

(Ex)Husband: Duncan Lewis (37)

Brother-in-Law: Ryan Lewis (41)

Kids:

Abby Lewis (18)

Aiden Lewis (18)

Shay Lewis (15)

Cale Lewis (11)

Connor Lewis (11)

Mother: Camille Vanderburg (60), 5’8”, straight brown (now graying) hair, fair-skinned, brown eyes

Father: Rorik Vanderburg (RIP), 5’3”, curly brown hair, ruddy complexion, blue eyes, had a very strong dwarvish accent and beard

Paternal Grandmother: Kristyr Skyeforge, mountain dwarf with bright red, curly hair, blue eyes, square jaw; 4’4”, 160lbs, still alive, Rorik’s mother

Sister: Brianna “Bree” Marsh (39)

Brother-in-Law: James Marsh (RIP)

Nieces: Jess and Jenna Marsh (12 and 9)

#dnd #tess #oc tober #oc-tober #long post

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theveryworstthing · 4 years

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So over on patreon Trevor asked for my take on the Addams Family and I grew up LOVING the Addams family movies so here we are. Instead of doing a straight up style interpretation, I decided to do a full on design challenge, using the characters as bases to make a black southern gothic Addams au. I actually drew the kids first, using the character bases of Wednesday and Pugsley to create some delightful kiddos I'm calling Sunday and Blanche. I of course then redesigned Gomez and Morticia into Carlisle and Mortesha.

The Addams have a very specific high aristocratic goth aesthetic (they've got a butler and nobody really works among other things) so in this re-imagining I wanted to go with vibes that run a little more middle class/upper middle class. I thought it would be interesting to think about what would be considered weird and off-putting in an entirely different culture, and how being a big ol' goth is way less controversial than it used to be.

I tried to keep this short (HAHAHAHAHAHA) so I didn't spin off into an essay about villain coded families, black people in the horror genre, and normalcy as it pertains to social survival, but just...bits of that are in these designs and lore. Keep that in mind.

Also I made the kids twins because they've flip flopped in age so much in different media and also twins run in my family (i'm the daughter of one). And let's face it, I'm pulling a lot of their southern gothic traits from living as a southern goth so *shrug*.

10 thousand pounds of lore incoming loooooooooool.

The Parents

From the moment he saw her he knew that there was a 50/50 chance of him either never making it out of that swamp alive or marrying the figure that was creeping out from under the distant willow tree in a black cocktail dress. The third time she found him trussed up in one of her traps, he complimented her rope work and asked if she'd like to go out sometime after his head wound stopped bleeding.

Or while it was still bleeding.

If she was into that.

Some kids and a mysteriously burnt down Piggly Wiggly later, their love is still as strong and inescapable as a bear trap in a sink hole.

Carlisle Guillermo (now Addams through marriage but I wanted to give him two first names for a name since Gomez has two last names) makes a vaguely described living practicing ‘law’ around town. A loophole king, people come to him from miles around with contracts signed in blood, fights over chunks of hair buried in their rivals’ yard, dehydrated primate hands, memories that seemed like dreams until the evidence of their happenings became too real, and other regular Legal Items asking for counsel which he is all too happy to give. For a price. Sometimes that price is a homemade pie and sometimes it’s a million dollars, depends on who you are. Whatever you’re asked to pay it’s worth that price, and if you try to scam him out of work or he just plain doesn’t like you? Well. He knows how to twist a contract better than anything at the crossroads.

And he always gets his due.

He doesn’t just serve the local (living)humans though, there are many things that need proper legal representation in this day and age. You wouldn’t believe how many city councils try to build on sacred burial grounds even after he lets them know that his ghostly clients are totally gonna haunt the FUCK out of the ensuing shitty condos and curse their families for all eternity. At least 50% of his energy goes towards dealing with real estate bullshit.

Carl is an excitable and good natured(?) man who loves his family, cigars, dancing, and his many knife-based hobbies. People find him very charming once they get past the feeling that they’re talking to a sultry gator badly disguising itself as a human. I didn’t put a ton of deep thought into designing him, mostly I wanted to make a middle aged dude who looked like he would have been voted ‘most likely to smooch the literal devil’ in high school. Tbh he probably has, but no demonic ex’s can compare to his lovely wife~

Mortesha Addams(her name was already perfect so I just tweaked it)is a woman of many talents. A self proclaimed homemaker, she prides herself on a greenhouse full of Concerning Foliage, a beautiful wasp apiary, and a coop full of what are probably chickens that she keeps for what are probably eggs. She’s also an avid creator of the outsider art that can be seen around the estate. She has taken on the family business of selling her homemade goods in a little stall by the road just outside the swamp with her mom, and makes pretty good money doing so. A surprising amount of poison gets bought in quaint southern towns.

Speaking of poison, people who come out to the edge of the swamp to buy it are usually carrying a lot of secrets around, and Mortesha knows most of them. It’s not like she pries the truth out of people, it just so happens that many nervous hellos eventually turn into the tragic backstory power hour if she’s alone with a client for long enough. She supposes that’s just how people are. Despite the fact that the Addams are very active in the community (whether the community likes it or not) she especially, as a direct descendant of the first Addams matriarch, is seen as…Well not an outsider because the community feels A Certain Way about outsiders and despite it all the Addams are their people, but maybe something like an exception. They feel like whatever weirdness they’re hiding can’t be weirder than any given Addams, so they get a little loose with their words.

This is amusing to her, since Addams’ don’t naturally keep the kind dramatic secrets that their surface level prim and proper neighbors do. It’s much more fun to openly talk about those things.

Do they have a sadly decrepit yet terrifying grandma up in the attic? Yeah, like three. They got a tv, all the creepy porcelain dolls they could want, and they’re close to family. Where do you keep your gram-grams?

Any bodies buried on the property? Yeah some, but most are thrown to the gators.

Any creeping through the balmy summer night with ill intentions? Yeah dude, everyone loves a nice family stroll.

What about dangerous forbidden love? If an adult Addams isn’t incorporeal then they’re either queer or in a torrid romance with some person/thing mysteriously drawn to that awful swamp. Sometimes both at the same time. Most times actually.

Mortesha would know.

The current head of the Addams family is just as outgoing as her husband but a lot quieter and harder to read. She never really seems to get mad about much and always has a genteel smile for everyone whether they deserve it or not. A seven foot tall human shaped “Oh, bless your heart”. A perfectly composed Lady even when she’s, oh I dunno, burning down a Piggly Wiggly. You know. A regular southern mom. Chat her up at the hair salon for 50% off a jar of wasp honey with your next purchase of a mysterious but foreboding packet of herbs.

Designing her was pretty easy because I just drew a lankier Grace Jones and called it a day. I had some problems with her outfit simply because if we were going HARD southern gothic then she’d probably be wearing a white/cream dress with a fuller skirt but I thought keeping the silhouette and the black was more important. She’s supposed to be an anti southern gothic southern gothic character anyway. A woman who looks like she has a million secrets who is actually the most open person you could meet. For better or worse. The red hair came from a coloring error that I really ended up liking (my mom had red hair her whole childhood that only darkened up in high school so I can buy that an Addams can be naturally fire engine red) and the veil was to get more of that classic Morticia silhouette in there.

The Children

Sunday and Blanche are the twin children of Carlisle and Mortesha Addams. Some say the Addams clan got their cursed homestead when a wealthy local businessman made a deal with the devil and lost, leaving his grand mansion to his least favorite maid and cutting his losses once he realized that the swamp would do everything it could to drag the house into the water and take what was owed with its horrible curse. Others say that the family has just always squatted there and no one really cares because man, fuck that particular swamp. Have you been in there? Absolute horror show.

Anyway.

Blanche is the more outgoing sibling and quite the engineer/mad scientist in the making. He started going grey at 2 weeks old but considering he was also rocking some extra fingers, toes, and a tiny tail (he takes after his dad), his parents just put it on the 'not life threatening' pile and decided not to worry about it. He's the kind of smart that teachers find utterly infuriating, less a dog eagerly learning and obeying commands and more a hyena who keeps teaching itself how to pick locks. He has a few friends in his school's robotics club (which they honestly allowed him to make so the school could contain his... creations) but mostly hangs out with his sister exploring the swamp. They find all sorts of neat things in there! wedding rings, suspiciously lumpy garbage bags, cloaked cultists who can't read private property signs, it's an adventure every day!

Blanche is all about experimentation with his creations, his look, and his tether to this mortal coil. Is lipstick a cool thing to try? Let's find out. Can he get out of a strait jacket fast enough after being pushed into the depths of the swamp by his sister? let's find out. He's not dead yet and confused local doctors can attest to the fact that he's rarely attained more than a bad bruise so he's pretty set on continuing to kiss rattlesnakes on their cute little heads and have his sister practice her knife throwing at him until that fact changes.

Blanche is very much a country goth. Cowboy boots (customized by his mom), knife, and lighter are daily accessories. He likes to wear the crusty swamp jewelry they find (the rust adds a splash of color!) and despite appearances he does try to keep himself neat. He's just got natural Grunge Colors and a tendency to wear clothes he likes until they fall apart. Pugsley always seemed the most modernly styled to me (which might just be because little boys clothes have been the same for a long time) so I wanted Blanche to be the most purposely fashionable Addams. Everyone else is goth by nature, but he's the only one truly familiar with goth as an alternative fashion.

I got really into designing Blanche because honestly, I find Pugsley to be the most boring member of the family. And he was hard to design! I had to mess with his vibe a lot to get him looking how I wanted. I know he's supposed to evoke an " 'evil' little boy next door who's parents never reign him in", but that's just goth Dennis The Menace. I's 2020. We can at least go queer goth Calvin.

Sunday was much easier to design. Wednesday was my favorite as a child (of course) and I really wanted to keep the spirit of her look while adding things like billowy sleeves (it gets HOT down here), big poofy twists instead of braids, and a nice tie. She's a professional after all, been running the local pet cemetery since she was 6 and the previous groundskeeper met with an unfortunate accident after telling her that tarantulas don't have souls. Her specialty is creating beautiful naturalistic animal funerals similar to those that Maquenda (https://linktr.ee/artofmaquenda) makes, and she takes pride in creating miniature dioramas of her subjects after each burial which she uses as a kind of 3D catalog for future clients.

She really wants to try out her skills on humans one day. Well. Publicly try out her skills. Lotta random bodies float into the swamp. None of them have turned down her requests for diorama models so far. Most seem downright flattered. Plus, she usually figures out which graveyard/crime scene they floated over from and gets her parents to give them a lift back. She'll even help enact terrifying revenge from beyond the grave on whoever put them there if she's not, y'know, busy.

Besides arts, crafts, and pet based funerary arrangements, Sunday is an avid lover of archery (any ranged weapon really), books where little fantasy adventure animals die dramatic deaths, and history. She is That Kid who eagerly raises her hand when asked who Christopher Columbus was and ends up being sent out of class after 15 minutes for making 'a scene'. Her favorite party trick is just picking an item in the room and talking about how it relates to either some obscure historical figure with a buck wild life or a horrible disaster. At least one charity pancake breakfast ended with children in tears after her vivid description of the Great Molasses Flood of 1919.

Social-wise, while Wednesday is the girl that people ask to smile because they think she'd, "look so pretty", Sunday is rarely asked anything at all. People just kind of assume from her quiet nature (in between horrible history facts) that she's angry all the time and that she hates everyone. This is untrue. She hates some people but she's ambivalent to most everyone else and even downright friendly if you bother to talk to her like a person instead of a terrifying cryptid. Like, she IS a terrifying cryptid but she's also a little girl.

That’s about it for now. One day I might do the other family members but for now I’m happy with the four I’ve redesigned. Making an au! Lurch in a family that doesn’t do butlers could be interesting. Over on patreon I put forth that he could just be Motesha’s mute little brother (similar bone structure) but Amy Crook had the nice idea of quote: “ a mysterious "cousin" that "helps around the house" whose origins are both long in the past and faintly unsettling. He's good for lifting heavy things, like that tank of propane you're about to throw into the burning Piggly Wiggly... “ which i now consider canon. Who's kid is he? How old is he? Not important. Anyone willing to commit arson with you is family.

Annnnyway. This challenge was a lot of fun! I love indulging in AU’s.

#long post #the addams family #Character Design #au #design challenge #i am incapable of doing a design challenge like a normal person #oh god i forgot the cut lol

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notnctu · 4 years

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switchin’ lanes - l.jn | ridin’ club

━ welcome to the ridin’ club smut series

genre ➠ slow burn, smut, pwp???, fluff (if u squint) wordcount ➠ 8.3k details ➠ fem!reader, streetracer!jeno, badboy!jeno, college!au, ━ where you and jeno are in a relationship, but not with each other. warnings ➠ explicit language, cheating, flirty banter, alcohol consumption, drugs, yall at a party, physical fighting (not with you), mentions of cuts/bruises, hickeys, drunk public dry humping, thigh riding, fingering, oral (f/receiving) synopsis ➠ If your boyfriend didn’t decide to join such a stupid unofficial club, then maybe you wouldn’t be in such a sticky situation where Lee Jeno is literally knuckles deep in your sticky situation as he drives you home. Or maybe if your boyfriend actually touched you, then you wouldn’t be seeking it from someone else, who can’t keep his hands off of you. taglist ➠ @rabbit-doyochi ; @darkneogotmyback ; @im-lame-irl ; @p-mini ; @niniluvsmarkhyuck ; @saniahmichael ; @jaehy9ngs ; @danyxthirstae01 ; @jaehyunoos ; @pikijaemin ; @suhweo ; @dearlyminhyung

a/n ➠ hi yall its author doie❀!! i hope you enjoy the series pls leave me feedback lmaoo ill literally take anything. we also hit a milestone for followers and honestly its so crazy to know how quickly this tiny sideblog has grown! we’re so thankful that yall follow us, thank u for lovin us and we will try our best to put out more content!! also through the lens hit 1k notes how is that even possible like wow im speechless thank u for everyone who left such kind comments i treasure every form of feedback :)

The heavy double doors of the classroom stare tauntingly at you. The evening setting in, painting the sky with strokes of orange and pink. You managed to remain complaint free the entire day, until your forgetful boyfriend canceled on you because of a club meeting. A meeting for an unofficial club on campus because it is illegal to street race. A club consists of delinquents that are obsessed with cars and steal your boyfriend away from you.

This is the fifth time this week that your boyfriend stood you up or coincidentally forgot your dates. You can’t remember the last time he physically stood in front of you and not through a phone screen. However, it is not completely the stupid club’s fault that your boyfriend has neglected you.

He truly is the worst boyfriend ever. He blames everything on his bad memory and does not prioritize you in his life. He loves one thing --- his car. You could be lying in a hospital bed, and he wouldn’t care to check up on you.

So why did you stay with him? Because you’re scared of being alone? Possibly, but it is a can of worms that you did not want to open just yet. Sex is definitely not the reason you stay with him. He hasn’t touched you sexually since the first and now, last time you two slept together.

You try your best, to only be waved off with a yawn. He doesn’t compliment you. He doesn’t look at you lovingly. He doesn’t even kiss you for longer than two seconds. You are a toppling tower, ready to crumble at any given moment.

The anger in your body fuels you as you pull the door open to reveal several men in leather jackets chatting away with each other. One by one, they all begin to lay their eyes on who abruptly interrupted their joyous conversations. Your eyes scan the room full of intimidating men, whose auras cause a shiver to run down your spine.

Your boyfriend is nowhere in sight, given that there are plenty enough guys who have the ability to cover him. You walk into the open space and the entire mood of the room shifts.

Heavy cologne and a deafening silence fill the air. One particular male, who has been eyeing you the entire time, gets up and walks towards you.

“Are you lost, baby?” Scoffs and chuckles sparsely cover the corners of the room. The unknown male has a jarring cut on his eyebrow, matching a small bruise on his upper cheekbone.

“I’m looking for my boyfriend…” Your weak voice trails off from the sudden attractive male intimidation. The tall man peers around the room, crossing his arms.

“If you are this beautiful woman’s boyfriend, please fucking come out now. It’s very rude to keep your girl waiting for you!” Initially, his low throaty shout startles you. A heavy heat falls on your cheeks when you register his choice of adjectives.

The whole room falls silent once more, before your pitiful boyfriend steps out from between two bulkier men. “Hey babe, what are you doing here?” His eyes nervously bounce around the room, a shaky laughter erupting from his gut.

“Sorry, Jeno. I didn’t mean to cause such a scene. I didn’t even see her come in.”

Like a trigger, you remember your intentions for storming in uninvited. Jeno gauges your flaming reaction to your boyfriend’s apologetic words. He nods, not out of acceptance of the apology, but out of disbelief.

He pulls your boyfriend by the collar of his white shirt and your eye widens at the condescending tone that causes your boyfriend to cower, “I’m not the one to apologize to.” With a careless toss, your boyfriend ends up shaking in front of you.

“Jeno is not the only one you should be scared of.” You whisper angrily to him as the rest of the room continues on with their previous chatter.

Your boyfriend rolls his eyes, “listen, Jeno’s been arrested before. You don’t want to get on that man’s bad side.”

Your eyes wander behind your boyfriend’s hunching shoulders, catching Jeno steal peeks at you too. There is no interest in the other rambling male that stands in front of him. He just wants to check you out a bit more.

He is the hottest person you’ve ever gotten the attention of. You feel flustered, and a bit flattered at his lingering gaze. His brown hair is slicked back messily, giving you more to admire. Jeno is an absolute cliche from a bad boy fanfiction. He is unreal, and the odd chance that he can’t keep his eyes off of you, is also unreal.

But with a light nudge from a blue haired fellow, Jeno’s eyes peel away from your’s. They exchange a few words, which then propels Jeno to hurriedly put on his slightly tattered leather jacket.

You lick your lips to the sight of his body lines as he stands up to follow his friend, but not without another look back at you. Noticing your stare still on him, he bids you a tiny wave goodbye with a smirk to die for. And like that, he’s gone.

“Are you listening to me?” Your boyfriend’s voice finally reaches your reality. Your focus shifts to the obviously irritated expression on his face.

“I guess, I’m not. Don’t fucking stand me up again or I will key your car.” You aren’t actually those kinds of girls, but your boyfriend didn’t take a threat seriously unless it involves his highly treasured car.

And like Jeno, you also make your exit out of the steamy room. The chilly night brush against your unknowingly hot cheeks. Then, you take yourself to the only unhealthy coping mechanism you can think of: a place of free alcohol and no boyfriend.

It takes you a few months to completely stop caring about your dying relationship. You figure how easy it is for your boyfriend to do it, so you make the same decision.

He spends his nights with his friends he made from his club, and has totally become a self proclaimed car enthusiast. You lose yourself in copious amounts of cheap alcohol at your local parties and it’s almost like you stop sulking over a man who kisses his car goodnight.

While being alone did not bother you as much as you had been dreading, the sexual frustration is a completely different issue. You are absolutely drooling whenever your eyes find Jeno in the crowds of sweaty bodies.

If there is one good thing that came out of your boyfriend’s membership in that club, it had to be Lee Jeno and a few other notable people who attended the same parties as you.

He became a very close acquaintance, and you had learned some very important names associated with the Ridin’ Club. Na Jaemin, Lee Haechan, and Huang Renjun. But the three could not compare to the kindhearted Jeno that makes butterflies stir in your lower abdomen.

Over the months, you also had learned rather quickly that your sexually clouded mind had tricked you previously into thinking that Jeno’s stares were full of lust for you. His girlfriend makes it clear that it isn’t the case.

Although you have caught the couple making out several times when trying to use the bathroom, your feverish, impure attraction toward Jeno never calmed down.

“You’re looking very tempting tonight, baby.” Jeno’s beaming eye smile greets you, even after completely undressing you with his gaze. His arms are wide open to embrace your warm body.

The parties are always too hot to wear a fully clothed outfit. You often settle for a cute tank top and a short skirt to prevent your legs from collecting extra moisture. Jeno, without a fail, shows up in black jeans that clad his lower half, tucked with a simple white shirt. His tattoos and toned arms being on full display for you to admire.

“Better make sure your actual baby doesn’t hear that.” The loud beats of the music make Jeno’s chuckle almost inaudible, but his expression remains cheerful, as per usual. “Did you get into another fight?”

The fresh wound cut through his smooth complexion, which will eventually join the rest of his collection of fading scars. He mindlessly grazes over the new bandaging and dramatically winces. Clearly concerned, you grab his hand away from the injury. “Don’t touch it, stupid.”

His smile curves into a sly smirk, as he intertwines your fingers and kisses the back of your hand. “It doesn’t hurt at all.” His chest heaves into a fit of giggles, “just wanted to see you care for me.”

Groaning, you shake his massive hand off of your’s. “Very funny. I should start charging you for my attention.”

“Name your price, I got all the money in the world for you.” He winks, while lightly pinching your cheek. You are lying to yourself if you thought you could ever stay away from him. Jeno stirs up a part of you that craves the cheesy nicknames, flirty comments and the undivided attention.

He motions you to follow him into the mess of people. Almost as if he’s a god, the crowd parts for you two to walk through without unnecessary extra bodies. The fear that settles in many individuals’ chest is understandable.

Like your first impression, Jeno is a complete walking fanfiction trope. He negotiates better with his fists, usually with good reason. The guns of the Ridin’ Club, though, his friends are very much to be feared as well. They will not hesitate to run someone over, if given the heated situation to do so. And most definitely, you can count them to be backing up their fighter, Jeno.

You had not been mindful before of the chatter that regarded the secret Ridin’ Club. They are notorious for fast paced very illegal races in the middle of nowhere destinations and tempers that aren’t meant to be provoked. Besides their intimidating aura, it melts away after getting to know them.

Lee Haechan, the most annoying brat, but has the strongest, the most loyal bond to his boys. He’s also notably funny, often making you laugh with an exchange of banter.

Huang Renjun, the whiniest and initially quiet boy, but grows to be one of the loudest and will chew you out if anyone dares try engaging in verbal combat.

Na Jaemin, the flirty playboy who always has a swarm of girls, but the gentlest man with a soft spot for cute things.

And finally, Lee Jeno, the owner of your nights. He is the friendliest of them all, despite him being the toughest one. While his stare can kill, melting away his layers reveal the warmest heart. Not that Jeno is the only one to show initial interest in you, but he is the most considerate to the people he holds close to him.

He has taken care of you for many drunk nights and watched protectively over your intoxicated figure in the crowds. He makes you feel safe and seen, which are some of the many reasons you are entirely attracted to him.

“(Y/N)!” Jaemin’s scream pierce your ears the moment the blueberry catches your eye. He excitedly nudges the other two boys, who are busy pouring drinks into red cups.

“You’re going to make me spill it, idiot!” Renjun grumbles, but looks up to see your dazzling smile and tremendous excitement. His own smile grows, “so the life of the party finally decided to say hi.”

“Hi, my fanclub. I appreciate the long awaited greeting.” Your over the top, sarcasm causes all of them to chime loudly. Haechan hands you a cup and wraps his arm around your shoulders.

Jeno joins you at your side and the five of you clink your drinks to the ceiling. A fit of yells over the music and a competition of who can finish first. As per usual, you set your cup down after draining the entirety. The others are still chugging the burning liquid down their throats.

Haechan coughs after dropping his cup onto the counter. His face is twisted with the most disgusted contour, “I don’t know how you do it, (Y/N).”

“I already drank more than you guys, so it just tastes like water now.” You scream over the loud music. Jeno, Jaemin and Renjun toss their empty cups into the sink.

At this rate, you are completely blindsided by the effects of the alcohol as your legs give out to gravity. Jeno catches you quickly, holding your elbows and your head is placed on his shoulder. Jaemin chuckles lovingly, before helping Jeno balance you against the island. Your head feels heavy on your shoulders, as the room spins in front of you.

“You good?” Haechan pats your head gently, whispering close to you.

“I---” You try catching your breath after being winded. “--It’s hitting me now.”

Jeno wraps his arm around your lower waist to draw you close to him, “want to go sit down?” He mumbles into your hair. You nod, Jeno and Renjun supporting your limp body to walk over to the couch.

The dark living room is lit up only by colorful led lights, but it is not enough to make out much of anything. Everyone is in their own world, dancing and socializing within their own selves. The two men set you down on the cushion, but your impulse catches onto Jeno’s wrist before he leaves. Renjun is already lost in the crowd.

“Can I sit on your lap?” You pout cutely, all the shame in your body has been displaced with courage. Jeno’s eyes soften at your sudden request, and kisses the top of your forehead.

“The throne is all yours.” He says as he sits at your side and pulls you on top of his thick thighs. His arm is loosely dangling around your waist, resting on top of your thighs.

The intimate position causes your mind to wander into dark thoughts. His strong, sturdy legs feel delicious against your clothed core. While you’ve been in this position once before, you could never forget how protected, yet very horny it makes you feel.

“What’s on your mind, (y/n)?” Jeno’s deep voice brushes against your bare shoulder and you feel his chest press against your back. “You’ve been pretty silent tonight.”

You turn slightly to face him, “if I told you, I’m scared it would ruin things between us.”

“There’s nothing in the world that can hold me back from you.” He is always so quick to spill such alluring words. His soft lips graze lightly on your skin as his sparkling eyes look up at your expression.

All it takes is one more tiny kiss on your arm to get you grabbing his face, drawing him into a steamy, long awaited kiss. Surprisingly, he kisses you back, open mouth and tongue lapping with your’s. His hands reposition your legs to where you straddle him. Your faces dive deeper into each other’s as the kiss continues to intensify.

Jeno’s lips still have a hint of alcohol, but he mostly tastes like mint gum. And they are comparable to a cloud, the softest lips you have ever made out with. It is like kissing pure heaven, completely different from your boyfriend’s two second pecks. Jeno devours you in a needy way, like he’s been waiting to explore the wonders of your lips.

However, you pull away when you feel the vibration of his phone against your inner thigh, almost like a wake up call. As if all the liquid courage disappeared, you blink back in shock at Jeno’s plump wet lips. The thought of his girlfriend crosses your mind, and maybe slight guilt for your own boyfriend fills your system.

You quickly start getting up from his hot body, “fuck, I’m so sorry..” But his hands pull you back onto him, your legs finding their way open above his thighs again.

“Don’t be, I’ve always wondered what your lips would taste like.” A smirk, then a hearty chuckle relaxes your contracting nerves at the potential of a ruined friendship.

“But, your girlfriend..” Your tiny voice trails off and Jeno picks up your chin. His fingers rubbing along your jawline.

His eyes do another lap around your features. He admires your averting shy eyes, your beautiful lips, and how they all come together to make a stunning you.

There is no doubt in Jeno’s mind that he is very attracted to you. He knew it the moment you barged into the club meeting. You are his type of woman, a good mixture of confident and timidness. You like to have some fun, and aren't afraid to be bold. Not to mention, that you are incredibly hot and every time you flirt back just makes him melt inside.

“She won’t care. She hooks up with people all the time.” It puzzles you, all this time you had been holding yourself back from Jeno because he has a girlfriend. All to find out that the relationship isn’t as serious as you thought it to be.

“I know, it doesn’t make sense. But we aren’t two people to be tied down, but at the same time, we like each other enough to want to stay together.”

Your confused expression causes Jeno to laugh and ask, “what’s the dilemma with your boyfriend?”

Rolling your eyes at the mention of your boyfriend, you sigh, “it’s like we’re still together, but we aren’t at the same time. We’ve abandoned the relationship unknowingly.”

Jeno runs a warm hand up and down your thigh, while he listens intently to you. He nods, grabbing your waist to pull you over his groin. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“No, he’s a shitty person and an even shittier boyfriend. We literally haven’t fucked for the past year. I’m practically a virgin again.” His hand automatically gives your thigh a light squeeze.

Jeno’s eyes light up as you quickly cover your mouth out of embarrassment. A devilish smirk raises his cheekbone, and lust clouds his mind. Gauging his reaction, your cheeks turn hot.

“We’ll have to change that, don’t we? My baby must be all kinds of frustrated. Tell me, do you like when I touch you then?” Jeno drops in tempo, usually when he wants to be more intimidating with a deeper voice.

You clear your throat intending to speak, but you can only nod your head in response. “C’mon, (Y/N). Use your words, like a big girl.” Even with the loud music and continuous chatter, you can hear Jeno‘s taunting whisper.

His words tickle your collarbone as he runs his lips against your neck. Your heart is pumping rapidly at the turn of events, as if the possibility of having something beyond a kiss from Jeno is more than possible at this rate.

Jeno enjoys your small whimpers as he marks your neck with purple love bites. Right in the center of the crowded room, Lee Jeno is just casually giving you hickeys.

“Yes, I love that you can’t keep your hands off of me.”

Almost immediately, you can feel his lips curve into a smile on your skin. Pop! Jeno marvels the darkness against your skin in the mood lighting. A small part of him hopes you do end up seeing your boyfriend sometime soon, so he can see who you really belong to.

“How about we try touching like this?” Jeno pushes you down hard against his pelvis, the veins on his hands becoming evident from the grip and the tiny drawings permanently staining his fingers.

You gasp the moment you feel Jeno’s hip begin to move underneath you to the beat of the song. He rolls your hips rhythmically to match his speed. His clothed hard on can be felt through the only barrier you have on --- your panties.

The thin fabric is soon drenched in your juices after the continuous friction up and down his length. You throw your head back to every bump against your clit, the electrifying feeling enact more of your wetness to puddle.

You can’t believe you were grinding against Jeno in the middle of a full party, as if his friends aren’t a few feet away. It is a good thing that your skirt pools around both of your waists to conceal the dirty deed underneath.

Jeno’s lip escapes under his top row of teeth as he rubs his clothed length against your barely covered pussy. He can feel his jeans dampening from your wetness and his eyes roll to the back of his head from how the feeling of wanting you consumes his body. He really becomes uncontrollable when it comes to you.

This is the most sexual activity you have had with another person for over a year. Jeno just looks absolutely heavenly intoxicated with lust, and your mouth waters at how big his cock must be. You can feel his length the harder Jeno rolls against you, and it is definitely bigger than your boyfriend’s.

You are trying so hard to stay quiet and unnoticeable, but the pleasure seeps out every crevice. Jeno is trained on you as your hand reaches up to cover your mouth, the muffled whimpers escaping your lips uncontrollably.

“I’m so close.” You admit, your body jolting every time his jean button grazes against your sensitive bud.

Jeno moves you over his thigh, forgetting his incredibly hard dick straining in his jeans. As long as you are satisfied, he can care less about his own pleasure. A low scream erupts from your throat when he flexes against you.

His thigh is much more stable, with more control for consistency. You quickly notice the dark, wet spot on his jeans and you blush even harder. Your underwear clings onto you from the excessive moisture, but Jeno continues to help you finish.

The strands of hair cover your face, but Jeno needs to see your fucked out expression. He is taken aback when you start riding his thigh faster, grinding harder without the aid of his hands.

His mouth hangs slightly open in awe at your neediness, he truly did not know the extent of your sexual frustrations. Oh, but how he is incredibly turned on by you getting off on him.

“I want you to cum for me, you deserve it.” Jeno brings you in for another passionate kiss. The mixture of his tongue sucking harshly on yours, and the friction on your clit are more than enough to reach your climax.

Your legs clenched tightly around Jeno’s thigh. The small knot in your stomach that built, drops like the beat playing in the background. The feeling of white is familiar, but it is more intense than when you would touch yourself. You are finally receiving the pleasure from someone else’s touch, someone who wants you to unravel for him.

Jeno pulls away from your lips, kissing down your neck and collarbones as your chest heaves for air. His palm soothes your shaking legs as your climax subsides. You fall into his arms, and he laughs. The reality that you two just did that publicly registers in both of your minds.

Digging your shy face further into Jeno’s shoulder, he whispers lovingly, “let me drive you home.”

“Are you still drunk?” The muffled question tickles Jeno’s neck.

“I think you beautifully cumming on my thigh sobered me up.” He jokes and you quickly cover his mouth. Your heart practically stops and you hope no one else heard him.

It is silly that you are now self conscious, as if the whole room didn’t just watch you and Jeno grind on the couch. But, the feeling of embarrassment and regret lingers in your stomach. You mentally thank the dark room for concealing both of your identities.

“I’m sorry for your jeans.” A pout begs for forgiveness as you stare at Jeno’s beaming smile. He takes your hand off of his mouth, not forgetting to give your fingertips a lingering kiss.

“I’m sorry for your boyfriend. He doesn’t know what he’s missing.” Jeno parts your hair from your neck, admiring the marks he left on you. A small sense of pride builds inside of him, accompanied by a tiny bundle of possessiveness.

“Let me say goodbye to the boys and I’ll take you home.”

Nodding, Jeno carefully lifts you off of him and onto the cushion. He leans over to kiss your cheek. As he gets up, you see the darker shades on his jeans from your doing. However, Jeno is completely unbothered and continues to find his friends.

Now that you are alone, you feel a bit nervous that someone would come up to you and talk about what they saw. Checking your phone, your screen blinds you with absolutely no notifications from your boyfriend. Going on social media is worse, as you scroll to see that your boyfriend posted a photo.

It is a photo of his hot, red polished car. He obnoxiously posed squatting next to the front wheel, his lips puckered up and kissing the rims. With a caption that makes every regret in your body disappear, “with my one and only.”

The phone is tossed somewhere else, wishing to delete the image from your memory. Your eyes wander around the room, when they spot a suspicious man sneakily dropping a small pill in an unattended drink. He, then, looks up and catches your stare. Caught red handed.

But the male smugly smirks, “you’re going to pretend you didn’t see that, like how half of this room pretended to not see you grinding on Jeno.”

“You’re complete scum, I can’t believe you just roofied someone’s drink.” You yell in utter disbelief at the unwavering man. His disgusting smirk changes into a menacing smile.

He approaches you, his height allowing him to tower above. You gulp, scared at how he can easily overpower you at any second.

“And what are you going to do about it? What? Jeno didn’t loosen you up enough?” His revolting hot breath beating down your nose, invading every corner of your personal space.

Before you can find any insult to speak back, his figure goes flying sideways and out of your face. It’d be a lie to not admit your heart skipping a beat at the sight of Jeno’s clenched fists and locked jaw. His sharp gaze watches as the stranger gets up from the ground, inflammation already growing on his left cheek.

“Dude, what the fuck!” He shouts angrily, holding his cheekbone as he winces at the pain. Immediately, the conversations are replaced with gasps, and small whispers at the sight. People gather around the living room to see the commotion. Even you are unsure how to react to the sudden fight.

The other man lunges at Jeno with full force, but Jeno stops him by grabbing the man’s collar, “this,” Jeno punches his lip, busting it open, “is for dropping a roofie in someone’s drink.”

The stranger groans at the impact, but still gets up with a fist straight for Jeno’s gut. Watching Jeno take a blow is much more difficult than you had been expecting.

He crouches over from the punch, but quickly regains his composure to put the man in a headlock. A few more gasps erupt and wonder if you should stop him before he does something unnecessarily stupid.

“This,” the man squirms to try to get out of Jeno’s iron grip, “is for disrespecting my babygirl.” And with a shift snap, the male falls limp and unconscious.

A surprised intake of air and Jeno peers up at your scared expression. He calmly walks over to you, ignoring the swarm of people that had gathered around the scene. He can only see one thing — you. Jeno’s wandering eyes try to read your expression, but all he sees is a terrified girl.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, are you okay, (Y/N)?”

Blinking blankly for a few moments, you are mortified at the laying body, “what did you do to him?”

Jeno looks back at the stranger casually, “I put him to sleep for a bit. He’ll wake up in about 20 minutes.”

A rush of reassurance washes over you knowing that he is alive and Jeno didn’t just kill someone in front of you. You exhale all the anxiousness and nerves,

“thank you for stepping in.”

“I don’t fight without a good reason. You are more than a perfect reason to fight for.” He pinches your cheek cutely, and his tough exterior fades away yet again.

His famous eye smile that warms your insides is back as if the scary, intimidating expression didn’t exist a few seconds ago. Jeno’s good sides only appear with you. Nevertheless, you are happy to know how special you are to see them.

“Violence is never the answer.” He nods, only taking it for a grain of salt. “Are you okay? It looked like stringbean knocked some wind out of your gut.”

The teddy bear thrusts himself forward into a fit of laughter, his head resting on your lap. His melody lights every dark corner inside of you. “He did get a good punch in there, didn’t he?”

His rumbling laughter stops, and he peers up at you. “I can’t believe you were still worried about a complete asshole.”

Scoffing, you break the shared gaze. “I’m a compassionate human being.” Jeno stands up, extending his hand for you to take.

“I know, you’re the best kind of person.” He genuinely means it with the way his tone remains quite stern, eye contact unwavering. He is revealing more of his intimate parts, and in return, you wish for him to see your’s.

Silence drowns out all the commotion between you two. Jeno grows shy at the way the galaxies reflect in your stare. “I--” Never once, did you think you would witness Lee Jeno stammer over his words. “I-I, let’s-- I want to take you for a drive.”

To Jeno, a drive to him is equivalent to your hand in marriage. Even his own girlfriend has never been on a drive with him. It is a big part of his personality, given that he is a crucial member of the Ridin’ Club. However, out of all of them, he is the last one to flaunt his hobby. It is special, almost sacred to his entire being.

“Me?” It is the dumbest question to ask, but you really want to clarify his intentions. Before this night, you two were barely considered friends. You two never saw each other outside of the late night parties.

But now, Lee Jeno wants to take you on a drive. It makes you wonder if the desire of companionship is mutual, that he too pines to further your relationship.

“I’m not looking at anyone else,” Jeno still waiting for your hand and holding an intense eye contact. His heart lays exposed for you, just right on his sleeve. An innocence paints his usual intimidating aura, “let me show my special girl, what is special to me.”

He must possess some magic because he knows every way to make you swoon. And like that, your palm meets his and he locks his fingers between yours.

The moment you enter Jeno’s striking, eye catching car, you automatically relax into the leather seats. His pristine car matches his personality --- simple, but captivating. Your boyfriend’s car is the exact opposite, which is why you never enjoy sitting in it.

Jeno has pieces of himself that scatter his car, like an adorable small plushie that watches out the back window. A beaded lanyard dangles from his rear view mirror. It even matches his scent of a deep ocean breeze.

Unlike your boyfriend’s obnoxious details, Jeno did not have a light up stereo that flashed annoyingly to every beat drop in a song. Instead, a sweet lilac color illuminates at your feet, along with his.

“You like what you see?” Jeno catches you astonish at the tiny aspects of the interior.

“Of course, it’s yours. It’s exactly like how I would imagine it to be.” Jeno is proud, hearing you praise his car. Even he can admit, it is a bit weird to be so connected to an inanimate object.

Nevertheless, his car, racing, driving became a huge part of his life. And unlike his friends, he feels rather shy and slightly embarrassed for being such a geek.

But hearing you actually appreciating the small details of his car when you probably hate every aspect of racing due to your boyfriend’s doing, it makes him feel very happy.

Maybe happy is an understatement, more like overjoy at how you freely can recognize the things that make him content. You respect him, and are mindful that as mundane as a car is, you know that it is something important to him.

Silence becomes the majority of the ride out of the quiet, suburban neighborhood. While Jeno’s eyes remain focused on the road ahead, you are concentrated on him.

He drives with one hand on the wheel as he rests his elbow on the middle console. His eyebrow creases here and there. It is the most normal, mundane activity anyone can do --- drive. That is all he is doing, yet the effect it suddenly has on you can not go unnoticed.

Abruptly, with the rev of the engine and a press on the gas, the car practically flies on the empty freeway. It catches you off guard, causing you to hold onto the grab handle. Jeno peeks over at your shocked figure, and smiles to himself.

“Relax, (Y/N).” He calls your name, reaching over to rub your thigh as a way to calm your anxiousness. Automatically, your hand grips onto his for support and the other one drops from the handle.

Exhaling, your eyes are trained ahead. The car is moving so fast that you can’t even make out anything around you. Everything becomes nothing, but colorful streaks against a dark background. The gravity against your chest feels crushing.

“How-- How fast are you going?”

Jeno glances at the speedometer and intertwines your fingers into his own. “I don’t think I should tell you that, you might actually have a heart attack.”

The window rolls down and you are hit with rumbling wind, “I know you’re scared right now, so stick your head out the window and take a deep breath.”

You look at him in pure fear, “what?! I can’t even move, let alone stick my head out the window!”

Jeno shakes his head, “trust me. Please, trust me.” He needs you to experience the same thrill he does. His own adrenaline is through the roof, out the entire atmosphere of the vehicle. The amount of joy he is experiencing became tenfold now that you are sitting beside him.

You trust him and very meticulously, go against the wind. Your hair crazily dances along with the rush and your eyes water from being dried out. Adjusting to the pressure, you also stick your hand out the window. It whips backward, but you feel the wind slip between your fingers.

The rise in heartbeat and excitement pump through your veins. The beauty in the white streaks that create a runway, it is nothing but you and the open space. There is no other way to explore it, except at a high pace. You understand why Jeno loved it so much.

Jeno bounces between the road and half of your figure out his window. Your eyes are closed initially, before you barely squint open. Tears fly by with strands of your hair, but you start to move your hand to physically feel the thrill pass between your fingers.

Then he sees it in the side mirror: the sweet curve in your lips he loves the most and the wideness of life in your eyes. It only makes him press the gas harder.

“That was incredible! You should take me riding with you more.” You marvel at him as he starts the route to your place. It is complete playfulness that hints in your tone because you are aware of how sacred these are to him. Nevertheless, a part of you still hopes he agrees to do so.

Jeno nods, “only because I like you,” He pauses, gauging your reaction with his side eye gaze, “a lot.”

Your heart sinks to an unsettling place in your stomach. Jeno could not possibly be serious, however, his tone no longer matches the playfulness of your own. It almost seems like he is telling the truth. But you didn’t want to believe that.

Your eyes make a full circle before settling at the disappearing sidewalks, “stay in your lane, Jeno.” It is to keep the mood still light, you and Jeno aren’t ones to be serious.

His hand has been on your thigh for the whole night, whether it be out of habit or comfort. His touch is always welcoming and warm, but suddenly, you feel the small squeeze on your flesh. Turning your attention on his face, you can see how a smirk has grown.

“But yours seems much more fun.” Immediately, your stomach leaps with somersaults. Your throat gets dry and tight, not anticipating that response.

“Beside, you can’t act like we both haven’t swerved. It was barely moments ago that you were cum---”

“---No need to further explain.”

“And I’d proudly do it again.” His voice drops several decibels and his hand slowly snakes it’s way up your thigh. All the while, his eyes still on the road ahead.

You gulp as every heartbeat constricts your throat. Lifting the ends of your skirt higher to expose more, you secretly want Jeno to cause your legs to shake again. “D-Do what again?”

Jeno perks up to the sweetness of curiosity in your tone. He pulls up to a red stoplight, being able to finally look over to your innocent face and needy hands gripping the cute, thin fabric. He stares deeply into your eyes, “make my baby cum.”

Similarly to the stoplight, you give Jeno the green light to pull your panties to the side. You spread your legs wide as his finger massages your pussy lips. He gets dangerously close to your erect clit, barely skimming over it.

A needy, yet delicate moan escapes your lips and Jeno’s jaw tightens. He’s more upset that he’s missing the view of your legs spread, open mouth in ecstasy, half lid eyes all in the passenger seat of his car. He hopes for another red light, just so he can peek over at your delicious figure.

“Jeno, please touch me.” Your voice is airy and desperate. He hummed in response, completely withdrawing his hand from your core. However, you catch his wrist and bring it to rest on your inner thigh. “Please.”

The distinct beg in your tone drives him crazy. As he dips his finger into your sudden wetness, a shiver runs up your spine. Right when he applies minimal pressure on your bundle of nerves, you jolt and close your thighs around his hand.

One touch already feels too good to be true, that finally someone, Lee fucking Jeno, is actually touching your nakedness. Peering down, Jeno’s arm is flexing in between your legs. His veins popping ever so slightly and his tattoos paint his smooth skin.

“Open your legs, babe.” His low devilish chuckle rumbles in your lower abdomen. “Let me give you the lovin’ you’ve been deprived of.”

You shudder at his cadence and slowly pry open your legs. Jeno stops at a red light and gets to see your reaction as he rubs you in a fast rhythmic pace. A soft cry yelps from your throat and you have to grip the handle to keep yourself from spazzing out any further.

Almost like a trance, he doesn’t notice that the light turns green. He’s locked into the sight of your contorting body. Your hips have a mind of its own, yet again, as Jeno feels you rolling deeper into his touch.

“Poor baby, you’re so touch starved that you can’t control yourself.”

“It feels better when you do it.” You whine, your lip being bruised from your biting. But your eyes notice the green illumination and you blink over at Jeno.

He is practically drooling at the sight of you, his eyes are trained at your needy hips and dripping wet core that soaks his fingers. You stop every urge to steal more kisses from him.

Jeno briefly recovers from the trance and steps on the gas. He takes this opportunity to ease a finger into the core, causing you to exclaim and squeeze around his digit. “Oh fuck, you’re so tight.”

“More, Jeno.” The way his name rolls off of your tongue makes his heart flutter and his dick to raise in his jeans. Without much hesitation, he slowly slips in another finger and you moan at the stretch. Pumping and curling, he ensures that you are enjoying every action.

His fingers curl against your plushy flesh and your legs spread wider for him to go deeper. You’re a moaning mess when he curls up to your sweet spot, rubbing his fingertips quickly. The familiar queasy feeling builds in your lower regions, and Jeno becomes merciless with his fingers.

He guides them in and out of you, feeling your tightness release and invite him back in. The sloppy wet noises fill the car and drown out the engine. Your half lidded eyes bounce at Jeno’s unbothered figure and the entire scene seems absolutely unbelievable to you.

One hand on the wheel. The other knuckles deep in your pussy. Eyes focus on the road ahead. A comfortable man spread. His hair is messy from the long night.

It is all too unbelievable, that Jeno’s already giving you a second climax of the night when you could barely get one in a year before. And he loves touching you as much as he loves driving.

However, the guilty raises as fast as the ball of tension in your gut. You two pull up in front of your apartment building, while Jeno’s tugging his fingers against your flesh aggressively. In a split second, you hold onto his wrist to stop him.

He shifts into park when the car settles into a spot and peers over to you. A curious expression daunts onto him, rather concern that he might have been too much. “I’m starting to feel guilty.”

Jeno nods, and retrieves his fingers out of your dripping core. The feeling of emptiness causes all the built up pressure to dissipate.

“I understand,” he begins, but pauses at the sight of your sticky juices glistening on his fingers. Your eyes widen as he licks them clean, a soft moan escaping from the back of his throat.

The small action spikes your heart rate and you rub your legs together. With a pop! Jeno hums delightfully, “baby, you taste so good. I’m a little sad I won’t be tasting more, especially directly from the source.” His lustful eyes glance down at your thighs and back to your profile.

“I’ll walk you up to your apartment.” He says way too casually, unbuckling his seat belt. A mixture of emotions are running through your head. There is guilt, but lust is too powerful to ignore, especially when it’s Lee Jeno. The damage is already done, right? It’s not like it wasn’t moments ago that you humped him in the middle of a party.

“Wait,” your hands find themselves gripping onto his leather jacket tightly. Jeno gently reaches over to release your strong grip and replaces the leather with his hand.

“Yes, babygirl?” Jeno’s round, friendly eyes meet yours. The lust clouded darkness is no longer there. His hand feels hot and somewhat rough.

“I’m going to break up with my boyfriend, so promise me, you’re not going to dip out of my life afterwards… I don’t need you to be anything more than a friend. I just can’t lose you too.”

He turns around in his seat to face you comfortably. “I don’t think you’ve noticed, but I can’t stay away from you, let alone have the ability to leave you.” He reassures you with a soothing and calm tone. His thumb draws circles around your knuckles. “I’m always going to be your friend, whether or not I know how you taste.”

“Do you still want to try it … you know, from the source?” You shyly ask, an innocence embodying your gaze and voice cadence.

Jeno raises an eyebrow, a smirk on his lips. “I’d love to, only if you let me.”

Instantly, you shift to get on your lower back. Jeno watches as you excitedly position yourself open for him and actually finds your eagerness quite adorable. Your left leg bends behind the driver’s seat and your right rests on the dashboard.

He hooks his arms underneath your thighs to pull you forward towards him and your whole body slides against the leather. With a slow lift, your skirt reveals your drenched panties. Rolling them off and tossing them to the back seat, he lays eyes on your still dripping pussy. Jeno takes a second to admire your flower, this being his first time he’s seen such a private part of you.

“You’re beautiful, you know that right?” He chuckles deeply, before his tongue licks a long strip up to your clit. You exclaim out of the tingling pleasure that seized your insides.

He flattens his tongue against your bundle of nerves, flicking and circling. His finger enters your pussy again, curling up to rub at the same pace he is licking. The pure sight of Jeno’s head in between your legs is enough for butterflies to explode.

His sole motive is to make you feel good. There is nothing else in the world that he wants at this moment beside pleasure to overtake your body. Jeno eats you out like he hasn’t had a meal in months. His mouth wraps around your clit. The mixture of his flicks and sucks cause electric bolts to run down your legs.

You get more wet as Jeno pumps his finger in and out of your hole. Your juices are practically dripping onto the interior of the car, but Jeno doesn’t care.

He fucking loves it. He loves the taste of you lingering on his tongue. Your breathless moans. Your waterfall dripping on uncontrollably. The view of you unwinding because of him. Nothing can be more perfect.

Running your hands through his messy locks, you press him closer into you. A devilish smile draws on his face as he flicks his tongue side to side. “Oh, fuck! I’m.. so c--close.”

Your back arches upward into Jeno’s mouth, feeling his muscle lick harder and faster on your throbbing clit. He adds a second finger, and the simultaneous stimulation practically throws you into another dimension. The pleasure overtakes your entire lower half, your legs trembling from pure ecstasy as you approach your orgasm.

“Don’t stop, I’m going to---” Then, Jeno pulls away and shoves his tongue into your warmth. A gasp hits the air as he also continues to rub circles on your sensitive nerves. His tongue fucked your pussy incredibly skillfully and deliciously. With this switch, your legs violently shake and try clamping together.

However, his strength holds you wide and open for display. A low grunt follows suit as his dark eyes zone in on your contoured facial expressions. Then, the white light blind you once again and the ball of tension unravels itself on Jeno’s tongue. Squirming and screaming, your hips buck forward on their own.

It is close to being too catastrophic, this being the most intense orgasm you’ve had after a whole year. Nevertheless, the satisfaction is right on the tips of your toes and you greedily indulge in the euphoric moment. Jeno feels your walls squeeze around his muscle as he laps every last bit of you up.

He is absolutely addicted to your juices, making sure he catches every drop. Finally pulling away, he wipes the extra drip on the back of his hand. Jeno blinks at your raising chest and limp legs. Chuckling, his warm hand massages feeling back into your body.

“Do you want me to carry you back up?” His hoarse, raspy voice wakes you from your post orgasm daydream. You flutter your lashes at him fondly and happily nod at his offer.

Getting out of the car, Jeno walks over to the passenger side and your arms rest nicely around his neck. His palms support your butt, but also smoothing your skirt over to cover your decency. A poke against your outer thigh makes you realize that Jeno is strained against his jeans.

“I can take care of you too.” You pout cutely at Jeno, but he shakes his head.

“It’s not about me tonight. It’s about you.” Leaving a soft kiss on your cheek, his eyes turn into moon crescents from his lovable smile. The kind, friendliness makes an appearance again.

Or so you think! In a sheer second, Jeno’s deep voice rumbles your stomach and his hooded eyes pierce your soul, “next time though, I’m fucking you real good, babe.”

You hum in response. Saliva collects in your mouth, already looking forward to more of Jeno. But a chilly draft brushes up your exposed area as Jeno carries you up the flight of stairs.

“Wait, Jeno… I don’t have my underwear on.” The ‘Level 3’ sign is in view as Jeno turns to walk.

He only laughs and shrugs nonchalantly, “it’s better that way anyways.” Without another word, he continues upward to your floor and you playfully punch his solid chest. In all honesty, that’s not going to be the only time you leave behind your panties in his beloved car.

Your hatred for the notorious Ridin’ Club subside after such a wild night. If anything, you owe it all to your shitty ex-boyfriend for joining such a ridiculous club. Without him and the club’s existence, who knows if Lee Jeno would’ve still swerve into your lane.

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