#i have so many thoughts please someone take them out of my brain and write them in a coherent way

[dimdiamond]

What are some of your favourite Tintin headcanons? Whether that be about Tintin himself, the albums, his relationships or just any other character :)

OH I HAVE MANY OF THEM!!! I am afraid this would be a looooong post so I will put headcanons about Tintin and his relationship with some characters under the cut!

Tintin

Many maybe won't agree with this but I headcanon him as not being fluent in languages. He tries really hard to learn them but he has difficulty and even after studying them he's more comfortable to listen than speak in this language. The reason he has managed to communicate with other foreigners is because they know French (as French was a worldwide language at least before WW2).

He LOVES comics and picture books but he's ashamed of buying them or asking them from the library so he always mixes them with more serious books and magazines to get them unnoticed. In the early stage of living in Marlinespike mansion he hid them (although the rest eventually found out, after Haddock having suspected that Tintin might have a secret investigation going on and Calculus and Nestor having suspected that he just hid porn magazines or something) but gradually he let himself enjoy his hobby freely, finally feeling comfortable and safe.

Tintin and Milou

They're both coquettish but Milou is more than Tintin and Tintin is reminded of this everytime Milou refuses to wear any other collar except the most fancy one.

The first period Tintin had Milou he tried to discipline him but gave up and let his puppy sleep with him on his bed. When eventually Milou wanted his space and started sleeping in his own basket (or other random places) the one who was sad wasn't the dog.

Tintin and the cat of Marlinespike

They're both cats, they needed time to get used to each other but now if you can't find the cat with Haddock, you'll find it with Tintin. Don't you dare separate them!

Tintin and Haddock

No matter what they will always say Good Morning and Goodnight. It's the only rule they have set between them and try to follow it every day. It happened gradually, having spent so many days together traveling and if not traveling talking on the phone, but after The Land of Black Gold, where it was the first time they separated since they met, it just felt like a necessity, to make sure the other is fine and well. Living together made it only easier for them to keep this up. And if one of them doesn't get to say one of the two it immediately means that something is wrong.

Their birthdays are one day apart (Tintin's on 10 January and Haddock's on 9 January) so they celebrate them together by blowing the candles on the birthday cake at midnight. They usually have a gathering with friends on 9 January and leave the 10th of January for something fun to do together. (I will stop here because I won't be able to shut up about them)

Tintin and Calculus

Tintin has mad respect for Calculus and always listens carefully to what he's saying and Calculus considers Tintin the only one who can actually keep up with his way of thinking but at the same time he can't keep up with Tintin's way of thinking so their interactions are mostly: Tintin absorbing all the infodump by Calculus/ Calculus worried but intrigued to see what Tintin will do (for example when he shows a new invention).

Calculus will never initiate a hug with Tintin (like he does with Haddock) because he knows Tintin has his boundaries and if he wants a hug or touching he will initiate it.

Tintin and Nestor

Nestor will never let Tintin alone in the kitchen no matter how much Tintin nags that he can manage well enough warming his milk. He doesn't. He put the kitchen in fire. (Note: not that Tintin can't handle a kitchen but Marlinespike mansion's kitchen is another story and till he got used to it he was careless and Nestor loves his kitchen alright).

Nestor kinda still feels bad for how their first meeting was (although when he gets pissed off with Tintin he remembers that time he hit his head longingly) but Tintin doesn't even count this time he got hit on his head by an old man as the list is long and frankly other bad guys deserve to be in the list than Nestor.

Tintin never asked things from Nestor during his visits and he kept this attitude the first period of his living in the mansion until Nestor had enough and started asking him what he wants (like "Do you want coffee or tea?", "Do you want me to add the towels in the laundry?"). Slowly Tintin got used to have someone doing the chores for him but never neglects saying "Thank you" to Nestor.

Tintin and Thompsons

They had a rough start but this was what made Tintin respect them and regard them as good policemen and detectives and now friends. The same goes for them as now they fully respect and admire Tintin. Tintin's secret is that he finds himself agreeing with them many times but he won't ever admit that as it would end up being embarrassing since their thoughts are proven false. But yes, this is why he is always open to hear their ideas and thoughts but won't comment on them until they are proven wrong or Haddock says his snarky comment. Tintin laughs but it's mostly of the thought "Oh, your comment made me see how this doesn't make sense, thank you". Nevertheless, Tintin likes to tease them too, as he likes to tease all his close friends.

Tintin and Chang

They exchange letters regularly and even more often after Tibet. When Chang starts traveling to the world and shares the news with Tintin, who has gradually lessened his trips, Tintin can't help but feel proud and happy for him (and a bit jealous but mostly because he misses his friend so every time after Chang's letter he starts planning with Haddock a visit to him).

After Tibet their friendship changes to one more sincere and equal, meaning that both are more open and honest with each other and see each other on the same level (because Chang always saw Tintin above him before that, idolizing him even). This leads to fighting but they always make up immediately. (I have a long post about my thoughts on them so I will stop here before it becomes too long)

Tintin and Castafiore

Of all the relationships, this might be the most "familial" that any other. Tintin likes opera but that's not the only reason he admires Castafiore. She is a strong woman with a loud personality but elegance and most of all a huge heart, even if she tends to love luxury way more than Tintin, and this heart was what made Tintin trust her and consider her a dear friend. Castafiore sees Tintin as most people won't dare to see Tintin, a young gentleman who needs to be protected and spoiled. Maybe she sees in him something of herself as she was young and proud and confident and she knows how desperately he needs to be reminded of his vulnerability. Whatever it is, Tintin lets her be, to the surprise of everyone, because he can't find himself being strict with her, in a way spoiling her in return.

They are both into messing up with Haddock and that's why Tintin not only lets her do it but mostly gets amused by this torment. Of course, it's because he knows there's no ill intention behind it. Tintin sees it as it really is, teasing between two much alike friends who otherwise would fight all day.

Tintin and Captain Chester

At first, Tintin didn't see Haddock's old friend with a good eye (mostly because he was afraid that Haddock would prefer the company of his old friend to his new friend) but he soon realised that in Chester he can see an ally and mostly a friend that he can catch up with his way of thinking. Without either of them realising, they share more common traits besides their mutual care for Haddock and they can read each other dangerously well.

The rare times they happen to meet and go to someplace where it's music, it's over, they will dance nonstop (they're both excellent dancers with a good sense of rhythm).

Tintin and Abdullah

I have mentioned before how much these two are alike but the thing is that neither of them sees it. They both refuse to back down and insist on the other to indulge them and their relationship only starts to get fixed with time, as Tintin changes his point of view regarding children and gets more sympathetic and more like "the adult who is here to understand the kid" and not "the adult whom the kid must listen to". Abdullah changes his opinion on Tintin too as he gets to learn him better. His pranks are aimed at Haddock, anyway.

I imagine when Abdullah is a teenager, he confides in Tintin and asks for advice on various matters and Tintin is more than eager to help him. (He wouldn't go to Haddock because it's embarrassing to go to your childhood crush for advice and such)

Tintin and Zorrino

Tintin gets really well with Zorrino but he doesn't realize it's mostly because Zorrino idolizes him and most probably is his first crush. As Zorrino gets older and gets over his childhood crush he can see Tintin as the older friend who can always count on. Tintin remains oblivious.

Zorrino keeps in touch with both Tintin and Haddock (the last one securing the boy's education and anything he needs for his life and he is ready to even host him in the mansion if he ever needs it) but mostly ends up exchanging letters with Haddock, something that makes Tintin evaluate again his relationship with kids and teenagers.

Tintin and Martine

After Martine getting rejected, they end up being besties who go to art exhibitions together, to shopping, to drinking cocktails, etc. Look, I just need Tintin to have a friend his age close to where he lives, especially a girl so they can do all the girly stuff he hesitated to do alone (like wearing dresses or talking about emotions- he's a repressed man, I am not making the rules). In return, Tintin helps her to stop basing her confidence on things like fortune-telling and boosts her confidence by teaching her how to demand what she deserves.

Tintin and Mrs. Flinch

He still stops from time to time at his old apartment building to check on his landlady and drink tea or coffee together while exchanging news. She always buys his newspaper and reads all his articles and writes down her thoughts to share them with him whenever he comes. Tintin will never say out loud how much he is grateful to her for all the help she had given him when he didn't even have a bed to sleep in because he can't find enough words to express that. Mrs. Flinch sees that through his visits.

Tintin and Jolyon Wagg

Tintin doesn't like him. Especially every time he comments on his bachelorhood.

[moondirti]

Hellloooo🖤 I’m the anon who asked about the Safehouse story!

My brain, unfortunately, is not nearly as wrinkly as yours so I cannot come up with creative ideas like you 😂 BUT! I have a few ideas? Maybe? If you can call them that lol.

Was the spanking the first physical interaction they had? What did the morning after that look like?

What happens if reader has a nasty mental health episode & tries to hide it from Ghost?

Does the pet thing progress? I think we all know that Ghost has a thing for the pet play. I don’t even care, that’s totally canon for me at this point.

Would you ever consider writing about the general dynamic they have? Like the “rules” Ghost might have for them?

Totally and completely a self indulgent ask from someone who just had to pull themselves out of a nasty mental health episode lmao I’m so sorry please ignore this if it’s annoying or dumb!

shh i love all of these. i have so many thoughts now / prev

cw: dubcon d/s lifestyle. petplay. controlling behaviour. possessiveness. panic attacks. toxicity. noncon collaring. financial manipulation. mention of self harm. brief fluff.

Your thing with Simon is hard to contextualise.

Or even understand, really.

Parts of it are welcome. He asserts himself in a way you haven't found in the nobodies you've hooked up with previous, happy to fuck you dumb if it means you'll surrender yourself completely. Which you do. You listen intently and follow every direction he gives in bed, and as a reward he wrings orgasm after orgasm from your squirming body. You cum more in one week than you have in the past month, never not naked and sore, wrists tender from where he anchors his hand to keep them pinned above your head. You hear puppy more than your own name, at this point. And it's a concerning because– Well...

You don't mind it.

But you still don't like him.

It isn't like you necessarily need to like your partners in order to have a good time, but it certainly helps if you can tolerate them beyond a dick-in-hole condition. Simon is an anomaly in that he is the worst person you know, whilst also serving as the best lay you've ever had.

That is to say, his habits haven't changed. He's a fucking terror to live with. Nightmare flatmate, the type you see strangers complain about on reddit forums or hear in a friends story from their sister's husband's cousin. Not something you would take seriously until you live the experience – now existing as a sore, precautionary tale you'll no doubt be pitching to anyone also considering subleasing their place as a safe house.

Perhaps it's made worse by the sexual element you share. Before, he had just been your average perverse man, stealing clothes and walking in on you in the bathroom. Now, it seems that sleeping with him has given him the go-ahead to push that behaviour to an extreme. He'll pat your ass while you go about your business, or tug your hair when you raise your voice. Treats you like a pet that has yet to be debarked; just a silly, sub-human way of entertainment.

You can't help but feel you enabled it. But no–

The pet play is cute when he's drilling your brains out – and perhaps only because you can't think straight enough to raise concern – but you're not a dog. Nor do you want to be treated like one throughout all hours of the day. The onus is on him for not catching the hint.

But of course, accountability isn't in his lexicon.

Things only get worse from there.

"An' where d'you think you're going?"

You're halfway out of the door when he catches you leaving.

If you had been more iron-willed, you would slip out and scurry away before he can continue whatever spiel he has stirring. Instead, it's instinct to shrivel in on yourself, clicking the door shut before turning to face the behemoth waiting in the foyer.

"Out." You huff, intent on cold-stoning him. But it's a fools game when your opponent in the broad-shouldered lieutenant – for he merely cocks his head, waiting your silence out with more silence, and it's all you can do to bite your tongue against the deluge of excuses that pile up. "My mates thought it would be a good idea to catch brunch. Y'know– to celebrate the start of summer break. It's a nice day out so..." You gesture to your attire, like you have any reason to justify a sundress to some man you are in no way committed to.

But you can read the possessive gleam of his eyes as they take stock of your appearance: from your expensive mules, up your moisturised legs, to the low cut of your décolletage. It's easy to connect it to that look he had when you came back home that fateful night, the look of warning before he'd taken you over his lap and slapped your ass raw.

And for some odd reason, you're compelled to dig yourself out of trouble.

"Hm. It is a nice day, innit?" You nod a bit too quick. He stalks closer. "Lots of people out." Your nod is a little less enthusiastic. He's centimetres away now. "Some bad, bad men too."

He lifts the ends of your dress, slowly. Your next words quiver on their way out your chest. It's alarming to find that they don't sound nearly as assertive as you intend for them to be, not like they do horny.

"Where are you going with this?"

Your skirt pools around your hips now, held up by one hand as the other smooths over with the gusset of your panties.

"You plan on lettin' them have at this puppycunt? Have I not been givin' it enough attention?" He mockingly coos, pressing harder against the mound between your legs. Your knees grow weak. Not of your own accord, but weak nonetheless, and you have to hold onto his wrist to keep yourself upright. "Is tha' it?"

"N-No–"

"No? But that's what they'll think seeing you walk around like this, silly thing. Poor, neglected mutt, they'll say. Don't have a firm hand to keep 'er in line." Simon tuts, releasing his grip on your dress to pull something out of his back pocket. With the way he crowds into you, you can't crane your head to see what it is. "Now we can't have tha'. I spoil my girl rotten, wouldn' you say?"

"Yes. Yes but–"

"No buts, pup. Have ta stake my claim on you somehow." Something clicks. All too suddenly, you're made aware of the new weight on your neck. It tightens against the column of your throat – not enough to constrict your airways, but enough so that it hinders the way you move. "There we go. So pretty like this."

Panic seizes you, the steel fist of paralysis capturing your muscles in a vice-like clutch. Even as Simon pulls away, you're almost scared to find yourself in the nearest mirror. Scared of what you'll find dangling between your collarbones. There's no mistaking the textured leather that presses against your skin, nor the soft clink of metal hanging from it. No fooling yourself that this is all some cruel joke, not with the sick leer of satisfaction that warps his face.

Stumbling, you navigate to the bathroom and blindly turn on a light.

That cruel fuck.

"Simon," Your voice is devoid of the anger you feel roaring through your veins, circuiting through the frenzied stutter of your heart to find new passion. Instead, you sound horrified. Near hysterical, choking on your own pleas as you run back to the foyer. Your hands tug at the collar clasped around your neck, desperately searching for a buckle that will aid you in ripping it off, despite seeing the lock latched right at the centre that tells of its permanence. What's more, he had it engraved with a crude variation of a dog collar tag. If lost, leave alone. Or else count your days. "S-Simon, Simon please. Fuck– take it off. Take it off, take it off! I don't want this, I don't want... This isn't funny. I'll change if that's what it takes. Please."

Snot bursts from your nose, cheeks wet with a hot mess of tears. You can't suppress the hiccups that interrupt your begging like pathetic shots to the chest, or the weak hits you beat across his pecs. If you could, then perhaps he would give your tantrum more weight.

As it stands, you're nothing but a feral creature resisting training.

"Shhh. Pets can' speak. Pets don't cry." His thumbs press to your under eyes, tamping the flow of brine that mark steady tracks from your lashes. "You'll ruin your makeup like this."

"Si–"

He stare hardens into something dangerous. Against your better judgment, you clamp your lips shut.

"That's it. You're s'good when you listen to me, pup." Once he's sure you've stopped crying, he removes his thumbs to instead push one into your mouth. You can taste the salty residue of your tears on his fingertips. "Now, this is the bes' of both worlds, see? You can go see your friends with this on. I know pets need their playtime, af'er all."

You arch your back in protest, but all that does is bring you closer to the lieutenant. He misinterprets that entirely, of course, and a small smile breaks his face like you've agreed to his terms. A heavy palm pats your ass.

"S'jus' so you don't forget who you belong to." He chuckles. "An' if your friends like the idea, then I have a few friends for them."

You make it one block before hightailing back home.

Nothing in you wanted to give that bastard the satisfaction, but he made it so that whatever you chose to do – stay home or leave wearing a symbol of his ownership – he'd end up triumphant. Naturally, then, you opted for the lesser of two evils: to leave his vicinity immediately. Besides, you'd promised your girls you'd see them after going AWOL the past fortnight, and you knew you'd get an earful if you decided to reschedule at the last moment.

You thought you would convince them it was a bet. That the collar is just some silly joke you have to bear for the day after a football match didn't go in your favour.

But you make it one block before a tradie on his lunch break catcalls you (you about that freaky ting, beautiful?) and decide to change course completely.

You arrive back at your flat without further incident. Ego stung from the various odd looks you received on your way, but nothing as egregious as being singled out as a freak in the midst of a crowd occurs again.

Still, your hands shake as you push your key into its slot.

Which progress to full body tremors as you turn it in place.

Thankfully, Simon isn't waiting on you on the other side of the door. He sits, manspreading on the couch instead, focus zeroed in on the telly that broadcasts Fulham v Man City. When he doesn't look away, you allow yourself to hope he hadn't heard you come in. But it's a naive pool to place your faith in. Nothing escapes the man, and soon enough, his tone of humoured indifference shatters the silence you've been precariously trying to keep.

"Miss me 'lready?"

A wretched sulk, pit of anger hollowing out anew. You swiftly snatch your laptop from the breakfast bar before storming to your room, making sure to lock the door firmly behind you.

The website is bookmarked. Taunting. Sublet your home as a safehouse for our armed forces. Serve your country and help soldiers find refuge. You would laugh if you weren't so single-minded, typing in your email and password upon being prompted to. You don't have to deal with this shit any longer, nor do you intend to. If you remember correctly, there had been a way to report any problems you face. If you phrase yours right, you might just get Simon pulled from your services.

Good dick be damned.

But when you hit enter to sign in, an error message blinks in red.

Account does not exist.

Which is fine. Shit like this happens all the time. There's no reason to work yourself into a panic, you probably just used the wrong email.

So you try your alternate. Account does not exist.

It feels unlikely, but maybe you'd created it under your school email to give yourself credibility. Only–

Account does not exist.

Your blood pressure is no doubt sky high by now. Other symptoms of stress already start to wrack through you – blurry vision, chest aches, difficulty breathing. Your hands sweat excessively as you dig for the customer care number you're sure exists somewhere, efforts impaired by the ever-present weight of the collar around your neck. You wonder if Simon can smell your anxiety like a predator does its prey. If he's in the other room, salivating, waiting for you to wobble out of your room to go for the kill. Some part of you – a needlessly paranoid part – rests on the conclusion that this is somehow his fault too.

Your phone already rings in an outgoing call once you blink back to the present. While you've been functioning on autopilot, you must have found a number to call that related close enough to your issue.

And your suspicion is confirmed when an automated voice picks up. You are currently... second... in line.

It takes five minutes. When a placating woman speaks up amidst the nauseating music they have queued, you can hardly contain yourself from word-vomiting onto her. Safehouse signup. Lost account. Need to report an issue. Please. It's urgent.

"Okay ma'am. If you could give me your name, I'll be happy to find the source of your problem today." You can't spell it out any faster. "Alright. One moment, please."

"O-okay." You sniffle miserably.

"I see. I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, but it seems that you've been pulled from the program after a complaint was lodged against you. Unfortunately I can't provide more detail than that, but if you need anything else, I would be happy to assi–"

You hang up. The poor thing doesn't need to hear the incensed scream that tears from the deepest parts of you, or the following crack as you chuck your cell at the wall. She'd done what she could. It isn't her fault. It was that self-serving bastard that had you blacklisted from the only thing keeping you financially afloat. It is that that self-serving bastard that continues to occupy space inside your home, despite having no real right to it now.

The tantrum isn't near cathartic enough to unfetter you from your prison of aggravation, and you continue to take it out on everything in your near radius. Your duvet and pillows. The lotion you keep by your beside table. Your own skin, nails piercing into the soft flesh of your palms.

And especially the collar constricting your throat, like vines that tighten at the first sign of struggle.

You have to get this collar off. Even if you fail at everything else, you have to get this collar off.

Scrambling off your bed, you turn your room upside down looking for a bobby pin or a knife. One is unquestionably the safer bet, but you know you'll sit for hours trying to pick the lock that keeps you shackled – so when you find the boxcutter sitting at the bottom of your junk drawer, you immediately take it to your neck.

Just as Simon barges into your room.

You're so far gone, you don't even question how this must look to him. In fact, it doesn't occur to you that you locked your door, and that the only way he could've gotten in is by having a replica of your key. No. You merely twist away from the all-encompassing hold he wraps around your arms, determined to keep the boxcutter away from his confiscation until you can slice through the leather.

But you're crying. Visibly, alarmingly unstable. And Simon's breaths are a little faster than normal, faltering in a way they only do when he's close to climax. He must be worried, which is a funny thought, seeing as he's the reason you're in this mess.

"Alright thas– that's enough of that." He grunts after managing to pry the blade from your hand. You hardly mourn the loss, rather crumbling in on yourself as your sobbing escalates. No longer frustrated, nor determined. Just primed into a suffocating panic attack.

Somewhere in your auditory periphery, you hear the clinking of glass. It doesn't register until he holds a vial of lavender extract you keep under your nose, forcing you to inhale the medicinal aroma. Soon enough, your mouth opens to swallow gulps of unscented air alongside it, and the imposed breathing exercise calms you to a point of blubbering calm.

(For someone so apathetic, you admit he handled that expertly.)

That isn't the end of it, though. Moments later, you're lifted off your feet. He cradles you in both arms as he makes his way to your bed, sitting up against the headboard and placing you on his lap. Safe. Undisturbed.

You say nothing, pressing your wet face into his shirt. For comfort, first and foremost, but the makeup that'll undoubtedly stain the white fabric is an added bonus.

"Know this is hard for y'to understand, pup." Simon begins. "Hard for you ta wrap your head around ownership after bein' alone for s'long. I won't punish you for tha'."

"Y-You don't own me." You accuse.

He shakes his head in response, like your mind is truly as little as he claims. Like you're a dog, complete with two ears and a tail, and he plucked you off the street on the condition that you heel.

If anything, he's the stray.

"Oh, but I do." A large hand rubs circles on your back. Never have you been so conflicted, so torn between leaning in and biting back. "Just don't see it yet, pet. Bu' you will, in time. And in the meanwhile, we'll establish some ground rules to help you adjust."

[haikyu-mp4]

Crooked bangs

word count; 1053 – f!reader

Not usually favouring sports, you’re in the journalism club to make use of your great eye for design and writing. After watching one of your school’s volleyball team’s official games last season, you took notice of the boring brochures they handed out with the players’ information. You hadn’t yet chosen what to do for your project this semester and decided to lend your talents to making a better representation of the team’s charms and talents. What you didn’t expect to get out of the project was a date.

You received permission from their coach and captain and set up some equipment to take your photos in a room adjacent to the gym during practice. Hopefully, you can encourage them all to pose confidently. In order to not disturb their whole practice, you ask one grade to join you at a time, starting with the first-years and ending with the third-years. Good luck!

You were nothing short of nervous as you got ready to photograph the tall volleyball players. The volleyball team was one of Shiratorizawa’s many great prides, and you had taken it upon yourself to create something that would represent them and their talents. However, you didn’t expect that some of the players would be even more nervous than you. While working with the first years, Goshiki was proving difficult as he kept turning away from the camera. The coach gave you limited time with his players so you started getting anxious, begging him to tell you what made him so camera shy.

“My bangs are a little crooked and I look stupid,” he mumbled. You hadn’t noticed before, but your eyes darted up to the hair on his forehead and you noticed it wasn’t quite as straight as usual.

“I can’t even see it! Don’t worry, Goshiki,” you tried to assure him, ignoring the other first-years giggling at their future ace acting like that. He didn’t seem convinced by your encouragement and the rest of the members you had at hand were no help, so you browsed your brain for an idea and left for where the rest of the team were training. Muttering encouragement for yourself this time under your breath, you walked over to the coach and asked him to borrow a specific player. He considered for a moment, but your respectful demeanour convinced him.

“Tendo! You’re excused. Follow her and make it quick,” the coach yelled, and the redhead was surprised, to say the least. Still, he strolled over to you and gestured for you to lead the way.

“I thought you were starting with the first-years?” he asked and you put a hand on his upper arm before leaning closer so you didn’t have to speak too loudly. Tendo took the hint and leaned down.

“Goshiki is refusing to take his pictures because of his hair. I’ve seen how you encourage him between games, please help me,” you explained, hoping he could hear how desperate you felt. Tendo stood back up to his full height and looked at your eyes for a second. It felt good to hear someone notice his efforts and talk to him so casually. Like he wasn’t scary. He hadn’t even talked to you before, but you seemed to have a good impression of him. He liked this feeling.

“I’ll try my best, boss,” he said simply with a wink. The two of you went back to the first-years and Tendo did his best to boost Goshiki’s confidence. Telling him how people would be looking at the awesome flyer after seeing his amazing line shots to find information about him, the next ace. His eyes found yours and you nodded.

“I can even write that on your profile if you want! The future ace sounds pretty impressive.”

And so the two of you got Goshiki to pose more confidently, cheering him on until Tendo had to go back and you could start with the second years.

When it was finally the third-years’ turn, you smiled a little brighter at the tall redhead. “Thank you for your help earlier, I appreciate it,” you said. The two of you seemed to be looking at each other like the others weren’t even there.

“No worries, are you happy with all the pictures so far?” he asked, not noticing the way Reon and Semi glanced at each other.

“Very, it’s fun showing off such a great team.” Your cheeks almost matched his hair with the way you felt when his eyes were on you.

“That’s good, saved the best for last of course. How do you want us?” he said as he finally broke out of the trance, rubbing his hands together.

“Give me a look that says undefeated champions, even though it’ll probably say it on the paper as well,” you giggled, trying not to be shy about your excitement.

The third-years had you laughing nonstop, energy high as you went from static Ushijima who really just had two poses to dynamic Tendo who made some funny faces for you. You got Reon to give you a handsome smirk and Semi had more than enough confidence and it showed. Overall, you couldn’t be happier.

“You guys better get back to practice, thank you so much,” you said, starting to pack up your stuff. As they were about to leave, Tendo doing so a bit hesitantly, you stopped them. “Wait! Ushijima, did you find someone?”

When explaining the concept to him and asking for his approval, you informed him that you would love it if someone spent some of their own time to make sure you had all the right information. The captain seemed to understand what you meant after a moment of thought. He pointed to Tendo, who looked like a deer caught in headlights. “Satori will meet you for lunch tomorrow,” he said before bowing and leaving. The others followed him, except for Tendo who gulped and stuck around. Is his best friend, the Ushiwaka, playing wingman?

“I’ll meet you by your classroom at lunch then,” you said cheerily. You could feel your little crush blossoming, charmed by how he made you laugh.

“TENDO SATORI!” the coach yelled, done with waiting for the lanky boy.

“I’ll see you then, Grandpa’s calling,” he joked and left you with a soft chuckle.

I can’t wait for tomorrow.

the Flyer Series ║ masterlist

/taglist: @cottonlemonade @dira333 @cosmiicdust @nagi-core

[daisykihannie]

[little hard thought]

one of my friends just put the idea of biting in my head, and it got me wondering if the leader’s (chan and hongjoong) are biters or if they like to leave other marks

chan- i feel like chan would bite, man’s is- quite feral, ngl. but not like painful bloody bite like possessive leave a hickey bite, y’know what i’m sayin? like he’d be sweet about it but then at the same time he’s absolutely rearranging your insides so it’s like-

hongjoong- joongie bites, but i feel like he’d also like- grab your hips and waist and leave little imprints when he’s finishing inside so then he’s like “triple claiming” you

you cannot tell me that these two would not be the most possessive men on earth with the idea of other people seeing you all ruined and blissed out

(but then i can also see both of them falling apart like little puppies and just listening to you and worshipping you without a real thought in their minds. just on their knees for you, whining and whimpering with tears in their eyes as they beg for your help when you’re working or busy)

((also i love your works!! you’re stuff is so amazing whether it’s fake texts or writing, omg. keep yourself hydrated and take a breath, take some breaks too 🫶🫶))

oh my god… i fucking love this. okay okay hear me out

Chan loves leaving hickeys Everywhere that can be hidden or mostly hidden like thighs, tummy, chest, collar bone, etc. He likes to leave them on the collarbone especially bc of the chance of someone seeing a tiny peak of it when the clothes move.

But he’s definitely gonna bite their partners shoulder when he cums, like he gets so overwhelmed by it that he grunts and tries to hold back any cries and whimpers by biting his partners shoulder hard. I feel like he doesn’t realize how hard he bites until he sees it bruising immediately and he’ll feel bad and apologize repeatedly.

Hongjoong is fucking FERAL for leavening visable bite marks. I don’t think he’d give many hickeys but his partner is definitely gonna have teeth imprints on their inner thighs, hips, neck, collarbones, etc. for 2-3 business days after. You could probably make a mold of his teeth from the marks in your skin.

If you try to cover them with makeup or something he will throw a tantrum and act like a kicked puppy bc why do you wanna cover up his love for you? why do you wanna hide the fact that you’re his and he’s yours?

Now if their partner is riding them? brain dead, babbling, babies istg. Just falling apart completely, begging for who knows what, praising you semi-coherently and when you lean forward and run your tongue across the skin on their throats or place feather light kisses? they are grabbing your thighs, your neck, anywhere they can reach to pull you closer.

The only thing coming from their mouth is “please please yes please” begging you to mark them, bite them, claim them, etc. make it hard for their makeup artists to cover their marks and they will in fact be upset about it the entire time bc more than anything, they belong to you. They wanna use the marks to brag that they are owned and no one else can have them.

Jeez, i kinda fucking ran away with this one… oopsie 🤷🏻‍♂️

[soobnny]

loving is terrifying — han jisung. best friends to lovers. accidental confessions (1.6k words)

in the midst of ranting, han jisung accidentally confesses he’s in love with you

“And if I burn the whole school down, would you bail me out of jail, Hanji?”

You’re still only a few sentences into the important speech you were asked to write, and you’re starting to feel agitated, chewed up pencil carving out your thoughts on paper before finding its way abandoned on your desk.

It’s been a few hours, and you’d chosen to put the pencil down lest you want to bring yourself to insanity.

Pretty lies usually come easy to you, but now they’re burning holes into your skull and flicking the ashes into your brain. In the reprieve, all you can think about is your anger for the authority.

“Bold of you to assume I won’t be your accomplice.” Jisung retorts from where he’s seated next to you on the floor, arms crossed behind his head as he leans against his couch.

“There’s just so much wrong in the system. Their code of rules deprive students of their creativity. Only the top students have a multitude of opportunities waiting for them. And don’t get me started on how the authorities put so little value into culture and societal issues. Everything is wrong, just wrong in all ways!”

There’s a word count in Jisung’s head on how many times you’ve said wrong in one sitting, but he’s looking at you with a hint of something in his eyes. Almost adoration.

“And we can change it by burning the school down?” A tone of amusement is laced in your best friend’s voice, though you fail to search for a trace of judgment.

“We can start there. Then the world.” You take the pencil back and fiddle with it between your fingers.

“The world? That’s very ambitious of you.”

You glare at him.

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t be by your side. I like ambitious.” Jisung smiles at you, making sure to lock his eyes with yours so you can see heavy genuineness where his pupils are. “What’s the next step then?”

“Climate change.”

Jisung throws his head back in quiet laughter, and the slight movement allows you a whip of his laundry detergent from the white shirt he’s wearing. “Okay, climate change.”

“You’re making fun of me.”

“I’m not!” His lips quirk up into a smile, eyes morphing from crescents to a full moon as he struggles to defend his name. There is still laughter even in the way he licks the inside of his cheek and takes your hands in his.

You fail to copy his laughter.

“Your eyes are upset. Are they directed at me?” Jisung softens his voice, only speaking one his laughter has boiled down. He pulls you closer than you already are, and you don’t notice the way he grabs the pencil between your fingers in the process to set it down.

“Of course not.” You mumble. “I’m mad at everything else, at everything wrong.”

A tally adds to his word count.

You sigh when you let go of his hands to take the paper in your own, eyes leaden as they scan across the sentences you had bullshited earlier. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to write this.”

“Just scream it out.”

“What?”

“Scream out what you actually want to say.” He grins.

You gape at him.

“I’m not screaming in your living room. Your neighbors are going to think someone’s being murdered.”

“Then just say it. Whatever you want to say. Everything wrong.”

“I don’t know where to start.”

“Okay, I’ll start then.” He smiles, and it’s heart-warmingly encouraging. “I wish it was easier to ground myself. I live in my head most of the time, and opening up is hard, and I wish forming any form of relationship wasn’t so scary.”

“Ji—“

“Okay, now your turn.”

“We are not going to ignore what you just said.”

“I said, your turn.”

“Jisung.”

“Please?” He places a hand over yours, and it’s enough for your brain to short circuit.

“Alright, fine. But we are going to talk about it later.”

“Now, what about those things that are wrong?” Jisung asks, giving your hand a gentle squeeze before letting go.

“Well, uh— our poor education system, that’s for one. And, the government. Blatant sexism too, how stupid the patriarchy is, how I still can’t parallel park for the life of me.”

You start with sporadic things, the ones that instantly pop in your head when you think about things that make you upset, and as you continue to talk, you dig a little deeper, and you don’t even realize you’ve stood up and your hands are flailing around like a salesman by the second.

“And, don’t even get me started on the transportation system. It’s so dumb how car-centered design came to be because how is it that the people who have access to private vehicles also have the easiest routes over the less fortunate who walk or commute? Like, why do we have to adjust to the roads?”

There’s a long list of things you want to say, finally letting loose and narrating all the things you’ve kept locked away in the back of your mind because you’re with the one person you can trust. When you meet Jisung’s gaze, he’s looking at you in awe.

“I hate how we’re branded as prodigies when we were younger. I hate the expectations that come with it, that we have to be great all the time, and, oh, this actually feels really good.”

Jisung chuckles at the way you come to a sudden realization, but he’s always known you were wiser beyond your years. “You’re brilliant.”

“Well, you have to say something too!”

Jisung fiddles with his fingers, trying to think of where to start. Though, the brilliance that is you and the opportunity of having this moment with you is enough motivation for him to follow suit.

“Uh, it’s so scary how superficial people are nowadays, and how so quickly they’re let down. It stresses me out how a single mistake could cost you so many relationships, but at the same time, who will stress out if not me? And it makes me realize how lucky I am to have the people in my life, and having an opportunity to talk like this really fuels my positivity in life, and it makes me realize even more how much I strongly feel like my life is for you guys, and there is nothing more important to me than being able to be a good person for you guys, like you. I wish I could be the bestest friend for you, maybe even more than that, but fuck, loving is so scary so I wish you’ll never find out how I’m so so in love with you— wait.”

The room falls silent and he’s thinking of a thousand different ways to die on the spot. He’s embarrassed. This is embarrassing, and he’s thinking it really wouldn’t be too late to jump off the bedroom window and hope for the best. A thousand different ways, maybe pretend he never said anything, stand still and maybe you’d think he wasn’t there in the first place. A thousand different ways.

“Han Jisung.”

“Soooo, haha, where were we in your speech again?”

Jisung doesn’t meet your eyes for the fear of rejection. He doesn’t think he has the heart to handle it right now, especially not after his accidental confession.

“Did you mean what you said?”

“About how superficial people are? Of course, it’s so scary. Hey, did I tell you about the tim—“

“Is being in love with me something wrong?”

He falls silent, and you can visibly see him start to panic, and his hands are pressed together as if in a prayer as he’s shaking his head profusely. “No, oh god no, it’s not. Honestly, it’s one of the only things I’m sure of, and that says a lot because I’m not sure of anything. I’m not even sure I’m in the right course or the right school or if I’m spending my money the right way, or if I’m even gonna live tomorrow, but fuck, loving you and everything about you is something I will never question.”

You can feel yourself start to smile, and Jisung finds himself copying you. It’s one of the first things he knew he loved about you—your smile, and the way you think, and the sound of your laughter. Despite his erratic heart beating and his fear of this exact moment, he still finds himself smiling when you do.

“I’m in love with you too.”

“What?”

You can visibly see the gears in his head turn, and he’s writing a story he doesn’t know the ending to just yet, but the beginning is so beautiful because it’s with you. Then, he laughs. It’s breathy, and you can almost hear the relief. “Did you just say you love me?”

“I did.”

“Oh my god. Oh my god.”

“I’m in love with you, Han Jisung.”

“I’m going to die.”

You laugh, and then he snaps back into reality.

“Can I kiss you?” His tone is so careful, but there’s a hint of something you can only recognize as a slight desperation—like he’s been thinking of it a while.

Jisung reaches out to wrap his arms around your waist, albeit a little shy. It’s a pattern that’s already so familiar. He isn’t a stranger to hugging you, in fact, he’s done it a million times, but the connotations to this one is a little different, and he can’t think straight at the possibility that you might actually consent to letting him kiss you.

“Okay.”

Words that haven’t left being translated into the motion of his lips moving against yours. Honestly, he doesn’t even know who went in for the kiss first. All he knows is his hands are gently rested on your waist and he’s actually kissing you right now, and you can feel the way he’s smiling into the kiss.

It takes a few minutes for you two to pull away, a little out of breath, and he leans in to try and kiss you again but your noses bump against each other’s, and the pair of you can’t help but laugh at how the events of the night had turned.

Jisung marvels at the way everything feels so simple, so right.

“I’m not dreaming, right? Like this is actually happening?”

You laugh even more.

Jisung’s always been afraid of venturing into the unknown, always kept his feelings hidden, and he’s always loathed his mouth for being so uncontrolled with the things he says. But now, with you in his arms, he couldn’t be any more happier about the slip of his tongue and how being with you feels like one of the rare rights among all the wrongs.

[vaspider]

Friend of mine from RL reached out like "hey I logged into Tumblr and went to try to find you so I searched vaspider and uhhh are you okay" and I'm just like, yeah, man, I have no idea what you're talking about.

So I'm gonna say this bc I have to say it every so often: Yeah, I know there are a bunch of people on here who have me living rent-free in the haterade brew of their brains.

No, I don't care.

It doesn't actually matter. Please understand that. It doesn't affect my actual life in any way. Every so often, people make me aware of someone who is stirring up a particularly noxious batch of haterade. And then?

I block them. I block their buddies who piled in on the post. I block the people who mindlessly reblog posts calling me whatever words are supposed to incite Tumblr's favorite current moral panic. I block all of them. This process takes maybe five minutes. At most. Usually, it takes a lot less.

And then - and this is the key part - I never think about any of those people ever again.

Nobody is required to like me, or to read what I write, or anything of the sort, and I'm not required to recognize that they exist. One of those two things happens, and it isn't me recognizing or remembering any of the people who spend so many thought cycles thinking about how I'm a [current scary word here].

I recommend this method for dealing with people who have nothing better going on in their lives than running around sending I SAW VASPIDER DANCING AT THE DEVIL'S MASS asks to anyone who reblogs a post with me in it or whatever. Try it. Genuinely. Just block anybody where the vibes are even slightly off - including me, sure. I assure you that if I ever notice - which is highly unlikely - I will not care. The only way I'd ever notice is if I try to like one of your posts and can't, in which case... I block you, bc if you don't want to talk to me, then cool, I'll respect that and make sure it's mutual.

And I move on with my life, and I never think about that person again.

So like, who wins in this situation? Some old dyke just minding his own business, or the people investing lots of time and energy and emotion in hating someone who doesn't remember that they exist?

[aerynwrites]

Cherished

Alpha!Halsin x Omega!afab!Reader

A/N: Had this horny thought in my brain. Wrote it. Here you go. Lol. First time writing for this universe (A/B/O) so i apologize if anything is off - I didn’t lean into it as heavily as I probably could have but I still think you all will enjoy! <3

Word Count: 7.5k

Warnings: NSFW 18+ ONLY. Smut, PiV Sex, vaginal fingering, making out, semi-rough sex, marking, creampie, unprotected sex, cock warming, implied past abuse (not detailed), reader has trauma, but Halsin is there to help. Love confessions, after care, fluff, emotional hurt/comfort.

The medicinal smell sets a knot of panic bundling in your chest as soon as you open your pack. 

With little grace, the contents are spilled onto the floor of your tent as you upend your bag hastily, shaking the fabric until every last item is before you, and the delicate tinkle of glass fills your ears. 

No, no, no! 

Your mind screams in panic and utter despair as you spot the broken vials peeking out from the green cloth they’re wrapped in, the fabric tinged a darker shade as the solution soaks it. 

You quickly unwrap the precious items, fear ballooning in your throat as tears well up behind your eyes.

It’s gone. All of it. You’re entire supply of suppressing elixirs, soaking into the fabric that was supposed to protect them, rendering the solutions useless. 

Fuck.  

You should have been more careful. But then again, how were you supposed to know a simple tumble on the road would be enough to damage the goods in your pack? They’ve been through far worse with them on your person and it’s been fine.  

Until now. 

A sob breaks out of your chest as you stare at the shattered glass, and you search desperately through the carnage for just one unscathed vial, uncaring of the nicks the sharp shards leave on your finger tips. 

You can make one vial stretch until you reach baldur's gate. It would be hard, it might not work but it would be something.  

You won’t make it to the city on nothing. Not undetected. And you refused to let anyone find out the truth.

With palms pressed against your eyes in an effort to push away the tears you try to take deep steadying breaths. Between those and the blood roaring in your ears, you don’t hear someone approaching your tent until a fanilair shock of black hair pops through the entrance flap. 

“There you are, we need help setting up-“ 

Shadowheart’s words die on her tongue just as her eyes fall onto you then the mess on the floor, her nose twitching almost imperceptibly. 

It seems like slow motion as her eyes widen slightly, and she steps fully into the tent, closing the flap behind her before coming to crouch before you. 

You hurriedly try to wrap the broken evidence and shove it in your bag despite knowing the action is futile. 

Shadowheart reaches out, grabbing your arm gently. “What are you doing with suppressant elixirs?” She asks, voice lacking the accusing quality you expect.

Avoiding her eyes you shrink into yourself, readying yourself for the inevitable. “Why do you think?” You whisper, clutching the balled up cloth to your chest. 

Shadowheart is silent as she thinks, and panic surges forward full force as you reach out to take her hand in yours in a vice grip. 

“Please, you can’t tell anyone,” you beg, shocking the former sharr worshiper. 

She shakes her head, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Was that all you had left? Do you have any more?” 

You swallow thickly and shake your head no. “That was it. I don’t…I won’t make it to the city without it. And I… no one can know. I’ll…I can leave and travel ahead or try and find a secluded place to wait it out before meeting you all outside the city.” 

The words fall from your lips before you really think about them but…it could work. You know the side effects of stopping suppressants, and despite wanting to keep this part of yourself hidden, you couldn’t risk being around this many alphas when the medicine left your system. No way. 

Sequestering yourself is the best way. 

Shadowheart looks at you, shock evident on her features. 

“Are you mad? Do you know what happens when you quit usuing supressants? The effects are brutal when weaned off of them the correct way. Stopping like that-“ she snaps her fingers. “No. It’s going to be excruciating.” 

You can’t help but bristle at her tone, that all to familiar alpha authority slipping through. The exact thing you knew would happen if they found out what you are. 

An omega.  

You pull away from the woman, frowning as you start to shove items into your pack once more.

“I don’t need you telling me what to do. I’m the one who has dealt with this my whole life, not you.”  

The woman reels back at the venom on your words, eyes softening. “I wasn’t trying to tell you what to do, I just…I’ve seen it before. You won’t last, you need-“ she bites her tongue, as if afraid her next words will scare you, but continues after a beat of silence. “You’ll need someone to help you through this. You have to know that.” 

“No, no!” You stand up abruptly, hands clenching at your sides. “I’ll be fine. I don’t need some - some alpha, to come and use me before casting me aside,” you spit, turning back to your pack again, desperate to busy yourself so you don’t lose yourself to panic. 

Shadowheart doesn’t let up, concern evident in her voice. “What about Halsin, you two seem cozy enough and I know he’d probably be more than eager to help-“ 

You straighten up at this, turning to face her once more pack clutch tightly in your hands. “No! Shadowheart, please!”  

Halsin… 

She’s right. You two have been closer that usual, this journey to the city doing nothing but bringing you closer than you already were. You’ve both flirted and touched and danced around your feelings for weeks now but this… 

No. The thought of him finding out, and it changing the way he looks at you. Changing his feelings or making him see you as this… thing - to be used and then tossed aside…

No, you can’t bear the thought. 

With fists clenched tight, you stand your ground, trying to assert the title of defacto leader you’ve taken on. 

“Just stay here. I’ll be…I’ll be fine, I promise,” you pause, thinking. “There’s an abandoned house we passed earlier today in our travels. It was back before the waterfall. I’ll be there. If you get to the city and more time has passed than normal then…you know where to find me.” 

The woman’s lips settle into a thin line, arms crossing across her chest. “You’re denser than I thought if you think we’re traveling on without you. Tadpoles be damned,” she reaches out and takes your hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. “I’ll make up some excuse for us to make camp here for a while. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll come find you myself.” 

Relief floods through your veins, and before you can think better of it, you step forward and wrap her in a tight hug. 

“Thank you. Truly I…I don’t deserve your kindness, not after keeping this from you.” 

Shadowheart shakes her head as you pull away, her hands resting lightly on your arms. “I understand a thing or two about not being forthcoming about certain aspects of your past, but…” she trails off, eyes flirting away before coming back to yours. “I do not think those around us will treat you the way you expect. I wish you would give them a chance. Give him a chance.” 

You sigh. “A chance to what? Take advantage?” 

The woman smiles sadly. 

“A chance to show you that they aren’t as terrible as you assume they will be.” 

———

Shadowheart has helped you pack the rest of supplies you’d need. Food enough to last a week, some fresh water, although the old house looked to be by a stream so if you run out you can get more. 

She was still reluctant to let you leave, but after one last assurance she eventually did. 

Which leads you to where you are now, exhausted and weary as you try to set up a makeship living situation in the abandoned house. It was early evening when you left camp, having seen the structure earlier in the day of traveling.

It took you hours to back track and the sun has long set, your only light being from the few candles you have lit and the moon streaming in through the crumbling roof in the corner of the dilapidated home. 

But you are making quick work of the space, having moved any broken furniture to the back corner of the room and pulling any spare blankets beneath your bedroll in an effort to make a more comfortable bed. 

You can do this. Hopefully the effects will be minimal and pass in a few days. Shadowheart said she would work on trying to get more suppressants for you, and then you could return like nothing ever happened. 

Right?  

You scoff slightly, trying to shove away the reality that settles in your mind. This is going to suck. And when you do make it through, the likelihood of having suppressants available is slim. 

The truth will come out one way or another. A thought you choose not to wrestle with tonight in favor of crawling into your bedroll. 

Consequences can wait. Right now you just want to sleep, to hide from the torment that is to come. 

———

Pain . 

It’s the first thing that registers in your sleep-addled mind, ripping away the last tendrils of slumber as a crushing ache pulses in your stomach. It radiates outwards, making your very bones groan in protest as you curl in on yourself, the discomfort nearly blinding as you try to orient yourself.  

The next thing you notice is the heat, like fire licking at your skin as you shove yourself out of the bedroll, moving to settle on top of it instead. The air, despite it being barely dawn, offers no cool reprieve against your sweat slick skin. Your clothes stick to you, plastered to your body as if you’d just jumped into the nearby river. 

Another cramp seizes you, but this time another feeling accompanies it. A feeling that has become a stranger to you since taking the suppressants. 

Need.  

Bone deep, soul crushing, need floods through you, your core throbbing with it and calling out to the one thing that’s not here. 

No. You don’t need him.  

You don’t need an alpha to help you, you refuse to need him. You’ve done this your whole life by yourself. You can do it now. 

But can you? That little voice in your head asks, that voice behind your baser instincts, the one you’ve kept hidden for so long. 

It’s been years since your last heat. The suppressants effectively wiping away anything and everything that made you an omega. And now…it’s as if all of the things you’ve held at bay have come crashing down. Showing you what you are, as if saying ‘ here I am. You can’t run from me.’ 

You shake your head. Mouth dry, tongue thick as your mouth parts on a broken sob. 

Gods, help me.  

———— 

Time passes in flirting bouts of consciousness. Night gives way to dawn before you succumb to unconsciousness - only to wake again worse than before, but this time with sunlight streaming through the broken windows. 

The fever never abates, and you manage to reach the meager few feet to wretch your water skin from your pack, downing the contents entirely in one go. But it does nothing to ease the ache or the heat beneath your skin. 

So you give in. Naively hoping your own touch will help the need subside, will satiate something within you. 

It take more effort than you expect to peel your pants from your legs, every touch to your feverish skin making arousal shoot through you, adding to the slick already coating your thighs. The fabric pulls way wetly from your damp skin until you finally toss them to the side, in favor of sliding desperate fingers beneath the waistband of your underwear. 

As finger slide through your wetness, the relief is there. But barely. No matter what you do, no matter how many fingers you use it barely touches the ache in your core. Like a quick summer rain on a forest fire…it offers no relief. 

But you keep trying, tears slipping down your cheeks as the first, the second, the third, orgasm rips through you, leaving you exhausted but no where near satiated. 

Sleep claims you then, when the sun is starting to set once more. 

You have no idea how much time has passed the next time you wake, the hours passing in a haze of lust and pain and tears. 

You come and go from consciousness, feeling as if your body is both shutting down and just starting up at the same time. 

Has it been hours? Minutes? Days? 

Time doesn’t seem to exist in this small house in the woods. Until finally some semblance of lucidity comes to you at the same time as an all too familiar scent floats in on the breeze though the windows. 

Halsin - no, you shake your head. 

Alpha. 

Fear shoots through you at the same time the primal instincts do. The baser part of you craves him - urges you to go to him. But the fear is stronger. The fear of the past - of those who used you. 

The fear wins out. 

You all but leap from your bedroll, your knees buckling beneath you as you do, your heat having taken most of your strength. 

You struggle agaisnt it as you stand, hearing a faint call of your name just as you manage to grasp the edge of a nearby table and push in in front of the door. 

He calls your name again, and you bite the inside of your cheek to keep the moan from falling from your lips. 

Go to him. He’s yours. He’ll help. Go to him. Go to him. GO- 

“No!” You shout, pressing yourself against the table, “Halisn go . Away ! Please…” 

The last word comes out on a sob, unable to contain everything roiling within you. Your need, your fear, your utter love for the man outside. It’s too much. 

You hear a gentle thud on the door, as if he’s pressed his forehead to the other side, his hand pressing to the wood. 

“I only wish to help. I promise, I did not come with any other intention.” 

His words are muffled by the door separating you, and you push yourself harder against the table at your back, the edge digging into your spine. 

“H-how did you find me?” You ask, fighting for every word agaisnt your foggy mind. 

It’s quiet for a moment until he finally speaks. “Shadowheart came to me this morning asking if I had any knowledge of healing herbs or elixirs for…for heat.” 

You let out a shaky breath. You want to be angry. Angry at your friend for betraying you. Angry at the situation. Angry at yourself for getting you here. 

But you’re just tired. You’re tired and exhausted and in pain and you don’t know what to do. 

“ Please,” Halsin begs, a sound you’ve never heard fall from his lips before. “I only wish to ease your pain. To help in any way I can. I will not touch you if you do not wish. I swear it on the life the Oak Father granted me.” 

Clutching the edge of the table is the only thing keeping you upright, your nails digging into the wood. 

“I don’t..you can’t control it. They never can. I know…I know what will happen.” 

The words are quiet, so quiet you don’t know if he can hear you. But he does, and his voice is gentle and kind, and everything you've ever wanted to hear in a situation like this. 

“You are wrong,” he says plainly. “I do not pretend to know what you have suffered at the hands of other alphas, but I know they can be cruel. I just…I hope you know me well enough - trust me enough to know I will not be the same.” 

Fuck.. fuck! 

You don’t give him a verbal answer, instead you just barely manage to move the table away from the door in order to open it. You watch with bated breath as the man on the other side visibly flinches, no doubt being assaulted with the scents and smells of your untamed heat. 

You watch, fingers clutching the edge of the door as he stills, shoulders rising with a deep breath as that all too familiar golden sheen rolls over his body. You almost move to slam the door closed again, but stop short when the magic fades away and his eyes flutter open, showing you hazel instead of that druidic gold you’ve seen before. 

He gives you a small smile, and the motion eases you somewhat, that fear slowly creeping away. You move aside to let him in, and he enters slowly, taking in the room before his eyes fall to you as you close the door. 

He takes a step closer then, but slowly, giving you time to  move away or ward him off if you so wish. 

You don’t. You can’t.  

That need inside you is still there and it’s stronger with him this close. Begging you to pull him closer, to have him touch you, to have him make it all go away. The effort required to refuse these needs is worse than the pain you’ve been feeling since you left camp, and you want nothing more than to give in. 

So you stay still as he approaches you, holding one hand up to press gently against your forhead, eyes widening as he feels the heat coming off you in waves. 

Gods… his touch is like a soothing balm against your skin, and you can’t stop the whimper that leaves your lips as you all but melt into him, gasping when he pulls away. 

“You’re burning with fever,” he says, concern lacing each syllable as he reaches for you again, this time not touching you but letting his magic free as his eyes fall closed. 

You wait with bated breath as the magic golden glow hovers in the air in front of you, lighting his palm as small yellow tendrils reach for you. 

It’s over in just a few moments, and the room is cast in the dim glow of the dusk once more as Halsin looks over you worriedly. 

“When was the last time you ate? Drank?” 

You shake your head, trying to remember, but the only memories that fill your mind are muddy and confused. 

“I don’t…I don’t know. When I left camp? I drank water not long ago..I think,” another cramp rocks you where you stand, and you would have crumpled to the ground if not for the two strong hands that catch you. “I don’t know, everything is hazy I can’t remember.” 

Halsin inhales sharply, brows furrowed as he shakes his head. “That was days ago,” he looks around, gently leading you to your bedroll when he spots it, urging you to lay down. “You must eat. I will fetch more water from the stream close by and then I will see what I can do to ease your pain.” 

With those simple instructions he’s gone as fast as he appeared. And the arousal is back as strong as ever. But you try, you try to do what he said. Managing to pull the rations from your pack and nibble at an apple and some dried meat. You almost finish by the time he’s back, a bucket filled with fresh water in his hands. 

He approaches you once more, movements still slow and cautious until he’s kneeling at your side, refilling your waterskin before offering it to you. 

You sit up moving to drain the contents like last time, but he stops you, tugging at the skin gently. 

“Slow. You will make yourself sick if you take it all in one go. Take your time,” he says, tone gentle. 

You try to listen, but between everything buzzing around inside you and the desperate thirst you just now notice, it’s a herculean task. But you do it, not only to avoid making your situation worse but because some part of you, that tiny voice in the back of your head…it wants to please him. 

You push the skin away, arms curling around yourself as another wave of pleasure rolls through you at the thought. You double over, laying on your side as your knees come to your chest, desperate for the discomfort to stop. 

“Halsin, please…” you beg, unashamed to finally admit you need help. “Do something, I can’t take it anymore.” 

You can hear his breath hitch and are assaulted by a faintly sweet smell. A calmness washing over you, offering the only brief respite you’ve had in days. 

He’s trying to calm you.  

You can’t find it in you to care. Relishing in the only relief you’ve had since you’ve left camp. But you know it won’t last, and that thought alone is enough to make tears spill over once more. 

Halsin shushes you quietly, voice soothing as he hovers a hand over your shoulder. “Don’t cry, my heart. I will do everything in my power to help you, I swear it.” 

You nod, trying in vain to wipe away the tears. 

“Please, hurry.” 

As soon as the words leave your lips, you see the faint glow of magic once more, feel it reaching out for you as Halsin slowly moves his hand down over your body then up once more. 

It takes him longer this time, and the relief you felt just moments earlier is already starting to fade away. You nearly cry out when Halsin withdraws from you, frustration costing his features as muttered curses fall from his lips. 

“Those suppressants are a poison,” he finally says, his words venomous. “An affront to nature as it was designed.” 

Shame fills you as he speaks, joining your already muddled emotions. “I’m sorry,” you manage to whisper, voice broken.

Hazel eyes snap to yours, lips set in a fine line as he shakes his head. “This is not your fault,” he assures you, voice firm. “Society has spread the lies that you, omegas, are something to be claimed and taken rather than cherished and treasured as the oak father intended. They made you afraid, fearful of who you are. Pushed these things upon you so you could hide-“ a low growl slips past his lips, as he cuts himself off. 

He pauses, shoulders falling as he lets out a sigh before looking to you once more. 

“These elixirs are beyond my comprehension. The medicine runs deep in your veins I…I know of no natural remedy or spell to counter its effects.” 

Dread settles deep in your belly at the realization that you basically have two options at this point. You can either wait out the symptoms and hope the fever doesn’t harm you or…give in to the need. Something that doesn’t scare you as much as it did at first, but something you still don’t know if you can trust. 

But you want to. You want him to touch you, to hold you, to do all of the things you’ve imagined him doing. But you want him to want it too. Not because of some biological drive but…because he desires you. 

And maybe…maybe he does. Who else’s could come all the way out here? What other alpha would have resisted touching you this long? You can think of no one else. Anyone else would have given in by now, you know it’s as excruciating for him as it is for you. 

So why is he here if not out of care for you…out of love ? 

Another tremble runs through you as you sit up, eyes searching his own before you speak. 

“Can you just…hold me? I just need, something, anything and I -“ you pause as another cramp takes your breath away. “I understand if you don’t want too - or think it would be-“ 

Gentle hands on your cheeks stop you in your tracks, and once again you practically melt into his palms, his touch the only thing providing any relief. 

“It would be my pleasure, my heart.” 

You sigh in relief, hands immediately falling to the hem of your shirt, the still damp material uncomfortable against your skin. You watch as Halsin reaches for his own vest before hesitating, eyes flitting to you in a silent question. 

Once your shirt is discarded and you’re down to your small clothes you give him a small nod, reaching out to him instead this time, fingers tugging at the lacings of his clothing. You try to focus, try to push past the lust fogging your kind. But it’s harder the closer you are to him, noticing every minute detail of the man in front of you. 

The way his breath hitches as you untie the laces and he helps you tug the article off his body. His scent assaults you as he does so. The way his muscles ripple beneath his skin as he reaches for you. The heat rivaling your own wafting off his skin in waves as he pulls you close to him before bringing you both to lay on your makeshift bed. 

He completely surrounds you, the smell of pine and the earth and something so subtly sweet it could only ever remind you of him. His arms tighten around you as you press your cheek to his chest, the light dusting of hair tickling your skin in the best way as his chin rests atop your head. 

The longer he holds you to him, the more relief seeps into your bones, that tormenting ache dissipating ever so slightly. But it never leaves completely, still tugging at the edges of your mind and making your fingers twitch from where your hands rest against his back. 

You can’t take it anymore. The need too great, your desire finally winning out as you pull away just enough so you can look up at the druid. He gives you a pained smile, clearly holding back the same what you are, and that’s enough to finally make you take action. 

Before the alpha can process your intentions you have a leg thrown over him, rolling until you sit astride his hips. Your hands brace against his chest as he looks up at you, brows drawn together in confusion. 

“What are you-“ 

You cut him off with hands against his cheeks, thumbs brushing his lips as your eyes travel over his face. 

“I want this,” you finally say, voice barely a whisper in the night. “I want you, but I-“ you have to bite back the tears that clog your throat. “ Promise me. Promise me you’ll be here when we’re done. Promise me you won’t leave when you’ve gotten what you want. I can’t…my heart can’t bear it.” 

Shock crosses Halsins face, followed quickly by what you recognize as a firm resolve and finally…the softest look you've ever recieved. He reaches up, taking one of your hands in his own to press a gentle kiss to your palm, then to your wrist before finally tugging you down so you’re chest to chest, your nose brushing his. 

Before you can blink, strong arms wrap around you, holding you to him as he flips you both over, your back now against the blankets as he hovers over you. 

“You are not so easily cast aside, my heart.” He tells you, voice full of reverence. “You plague my thoughts both waking and sleeping. Your taste lingers on my tongue each time we kiss. You’ve captured my entire being, heart and soul,” he presses a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips as tears slip from your eyes. “I will be here when you wake this day, and every day to come. I will cherish you as you deserve, as all those in the past have failed to do. If you will have me.” 

Words fail you in light of the poetic ones he whispers to you. So you do the one thing you’ve been denying yourself for days. Leaning up your press your lips to his, nearling crying out at the utter relief that washes through your veins when he returns the action, lips meeting yours in frantic eagerness. 

You pull away but his lips never leave your skin, trailing down as you reach up to thread shaking fingers through his bronze locks. 

“ Please,” you beg, desperation hanging on the simple word. “Touch me, I can’t take another moment without it. Without you.”  

Halsin is quick to oblige, his hands moving over you in a hurried rush. He rids you of your underthings before divesting himself of his own clothing and sinking to press fully against you. You can feel the hard length of him pressing against your hip, and your back arches instinctively into him, desperate to feel more of him. 

Halsin groans, unable to stop the way his hips thrust against your own, one hand falling down to take your hip in a bruising grip. 

“You do not know what you ask of me,” he warns you, voice low. “I have craved you for a long time, my heart. Once I start…I do not know that I will be able to stop until I know you are mine.” 

You shake your head, reaching up to tangle your hands in his hair as your legs move to wrap around his waist. “I don’t want you to stop,” you beg, “make me yours, please.”  

The need inside you is burning at an all time high, reaching a crescendo you didn’t even know possible as you lay beneath the powerful alpha above you. You know he could do whatever he wanted to you, with or without your permission. But you know he won’t, which just adds fuel to the fire in your veins. 

You want him. You want him to claim you and make you his, a feeling you’ve never had before. You’ve been hiding your whole life, but now, laid bare before him…You're no longer afraid. 

As if sensing any residual fear seep from you, Halsins lips crash against yours once more, wasting no more time. You feel his hand trail between you both, fingers touching you where you want him most. 

You cry out against his lips as his fingers slip through your arousal, teasing your entrance before coming back up to rub rhythmic patterns against the sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“You’re so wet for me,” his voice is husky next to your ear, almost a growl as he senses your complete and utter need. “Are you…Do you think you are ready?” 

It’s a genuine question, born both from actual concern but also impatience. You can sense he’s already holding back, willing to do whatever you need in order to not hurt you, but also wanting desperately to sink himself into you fully. 

You nod your head, you’ve come so many times since you’ve been here, your legs are sticky with your slick. There’s no way you couldn’t take him. 

Your hands scrabble at his back, pulling him closer to you, your thighs squeezing his hips firmly. “ Please , Halsin,” you beg, voice a pathetic whimper.

He needs no more encouragement. You feel the head of him slide through your wetness before he’s sinking into you at a pace that is both soothing the ache within you and also stoking the flames. 

A keening sound rips itself form your chest as he settles against you, and you expect him to wait, to be ever the gentleman and hold still for much longer than you can take right now. 

But to your shock and utter relief, Halsin does no such thing. He starts a firm and fast pace, his hips retreating before thrusting back into your own, filling you completely each time and driving the breath from your lungs. 

Gods he feels so good. It feels right. There is no pain, no discomfort, just the feeling of being so full it somehow completes you, as if Halsin was made just for you. 

My alpha.  

Halsin growls, head dropping to the crook of your neck, nipping at the delicate skin as his fingers dig deeper into your thighs. 

“Yes, I’m yours, little omega, and you are mine.” 

His words nearly shock you from your pleasure, not realizing you had said your thoughts out loud. And he…He called you his omega. Usually being referred to by your biological designation would anger you, make your fists clench and that all too familiar black anger build in your chest - but now…

The way he said he is yours. Giving himself to you and simultaneously calling you his own…it made stars burst behind your eyes, your orgasm crashing over you so suddenly it steals your senses from you. 

Blood rushes in your ears, your eyes clench shut, and you can feel the faint rawness in your throat as you cry Halsin’s name. 

Halsin doesn’t still as you come, only slows his thrusts as he works you through your high, grunts of pleasure brushing against your skin as you clench around him, your nails dig into his skin so hard you’re sure there will be evidence of this encounter for days to come. 

Warm lips press beneath your jaw, and you turn your head up willingly, silently begging him for more. 

“Are you alright, my heart?” 

His voice is soft, but strained, and it’s only then that you realize he’s still hard, thrusting haphazardly against you in an effort to satiate his own needs but not overwhelm you. 

Warmth blooms in your chest at his words and actions. No one has ever asked you that in the past. They just took and took until they were stated and then left…

You give him a small nod, pushing back at the tears burning at the back of your eyes. “Yes I-“ your voice croaks weakly. “I’m fine, I - I’m more than fine.” 

Yet even as you speak, you can feel that all to familiar burn spread through you once more. Your release had soothed the ache momentarily, but it’s back, slowly seeping back into every limb, your core churning with desire once more. 

Another whimper escapes you, as you turn to nuzzles Halsin cheek. “ Gods, it’s still there,” you cry, frustration painting your words. 

Halsin hums low in his chest, turning to press a gentle kiss to your temple, uncaring of the sweat beading there. 

“It may take a while for your body to get rid of the suppressants,” he says softly. “It may be several days before it is completely out of your system.” 

He must see the way your eyes widen, feel the way your breath hitches, because he soothes your worries with a kiss, pressing his weight into you in an effort to comfort you. 

“Do not let that worry you,” he says, hands sliding up your thighs until they rest on your waist. “The need will lessen with each passing hour, especially if spent with someone else.” 

You hear his unsaid meaning. The need will pass with each release, like an overflowing bucket being emptied a spoonful at a time. Shakily, you nod, accepting his answer before letting out a whine when he pulls away from you. 

A momentary stab of panic shoots through you, as he separates himself from your sweat slick skin, leaving you achingly empty as he pulls from you with a hiss. 

You reach for him blindly, only just now realizing how dark it is. Halsin arrived as the sun was already dipping below the horizon but now it’s nowhere to be seen, the last rays of light slipping away sometime earlier, leaving the small room lit with nothing but weak candle light. 

Halsin is nothing but a large dark mass in the poorly lit room, but you reach for him all the same, practically melting into him when his hands meet your flesh once more. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he assures, lips pressing to your forehead as his hands settle on your hips.

He urges you into a new position slowly, lips never leaving your skin as you settle onto your hands and knees, fingers digging into the blanket below you as he kisses over your shoulder and down your spine. 

His hands move in the opposite direction, moving from the crook of your hips, up your sides before brushing over the swells of your breasts, gentle teasing stiff peaks between his fingers as he finally leans over you. 

Your head falls forward as his lips brush your ear, your need burning anew and more fiercely than before at this new position. 

“Is this alright?” he asks again, and for the first time tonight his careful consideration makes a tiny flicker of frustration burn in your chest. 

For the first time since you can remember you’ve never been more than alright. But now - needy and vulnerable and displayed for him… 

You groan, pressing back into him as his hands slide back up to your waist. 

“Yes, I’m fine just, please!” Desperate need and desire flair up in you so violently it nearly makes your hips buckle, the only thing keeping you upright being Halsin’s firm grip. 

“Please, alpha, take me.” 

Calling him alpha, you presented before him, the sent of sex and sweat and heat, in the air…It’s all too much for the both of you. 

The man behind you lets out a feral growl, and if this were any other man you’d be slightly afraid of what he’d do. But now…Utter excitement and arousal spread through your veins like liquid fire as he enters you in one swift thrust. 

He was deep before, touching you in places you’d never felt before, but like this… You nearly choke on the scream of pleasure that tears from your throat. You drop your face into the blankets beneath you, stifling your sounds as Halsin continues his brutal pace. 

A hand leaves your hips as calloused fingers slide beneath your jaw, pulling you up from the blankets just enough to turn your head to the side. His grip is firm but not ungentle as he leans down to capture your lips in a bruising kiss. 

“Do not hide from me,” he says, teeth tugging at your bottom lip before he pulls away to nose at your cheek. “I wish to hear every sound you make. I want to hear my name fall from your lips, I want the Oak Father himself to know who you cry out for.” 

A particularly hard thrust, the harsh grip on your hips, and his unusually filthy words make you come for a second time, obeying his demand to not hide your noises. 

Your fingers dig into the soft fabric beneath you, and as Halsin continues his movement within you, you’re afraid you might tear it to shreds. 

Gods… you can feel everything. Every vein, every ridge, every inch of him inside you. All of your nerve endings are on fire and you’re so sensitive you don’t know if it’s pleasure or pain pulsing in your core. 

And for a moment it seems like Halsin isn’t even close to reaching his end despite him already driving you to your third release. 

He presses down into you, one arm wrapping around your hips to keep your semi-limp form pressed to him as his other hand slides up to tangle into the hair at the base of your neck. He doesn’t pull harshly, instead he presses you further into the bedroll and covers beneath you, arching your back in a way that makes him hit impossibly deeper, reaching the end of you. 

“Oh, fuck, Halsin!” you cry his name in pure ecstasy, as he fucks down into you, taking you and claiming you just like you wanted. 

You feel it when his hips start to stutter, can hear his breathing grow even more ragged than it already was, his grip on your hips tightening as his thrusts turn more shallow. 

It’s like you can sense his hesitance, and before he can ask the question you know he wants to ask you find yourself answering.

“In me,” you practically sob, pressing your hips back into him. “Come in me, please…” 

He lets out a sound you can’t even identify, something close to a sigh and a cry of relief as he falls over you. His chest pressed flush against your back as he braces himself on one arm beside your head. 

His head falls next to your own, lips pressing against you as his teeth tease the skin at the crook of of your neck. 

You can feel him hesitate, pulling away until you reach up to tug him back down. 

“No I- do it,” you beg. “Please I…I love you - please, do it.” 

Part of you is panicked when he hesitates at your words, but it’s fleeting as Halsin’s teeth dig into your flesh. You cry out as he breaks skin and your third release washes over you, bringing Halsin over the edge with you. 

His breath is hot against your skin as he moans, hips snapping into yours as he spills into, stilling as he slowly brings both your bodies to the ground. 

His entire weight is settled on top of you, and you can't find it in you to care. In fact, you crave it. The feeling of him caging you in, his sweat slick skin against your own as he laps lazily at the new mark on your neck. 

Eventually he turns, nuzzling at your cheek until you manage to turn to let him capture your lips in a kiss. It’s a slow, sensual thing. His tongue reaches to slide against your own as his arms move to slide beneath your body. He rolls you both onto your side, keeping you connected as he curls himself slightly around you, holding you against his chest. 

He breaks the kiss only to trail his lips down, back to your neck hovering over the mark of his bite before placing one last kiss there. 

For the first time in days you don’t feel the creeping burn anywhere. The first true relief you’ve felt truly settling over you as you relax back into the body behind you. 

His arm sits snugly around your waist, his fingers tracing gentle patterns into your skin and up under your breasts before repeating. 

“Are you…” He trails off for a moment. “Did I hurt you?” 

You shake your head, turning to try and catch his eye over your shoulder, chest swelling with adoration when you see the concern flickering in his gaze. Your hand falls down to cover his own, giving it a firm squeeze. 

“I’m perfect,” you assure him, pressing a kiss to his lips before settling into him again, fingers tracing absently over his arm around you. 

“I…” Now it’s your turn to think about your words. “I’m sorry. If…what I said was - uncalled for.” Your words are stuttered and unsure. 

You don’t want to apologize for what you said, because it was the truth. But you also don’t want him to feel obligated to return your affections just because of what transpired. 

Sensing your inner turmoil, gentle fingers settle beneath your jaw, turning you to look at him once more. His brows are furrowed as he gazes down at you. 

“Does it hold truth?” he asks simply, no accusation or frustration present. 

You nod, reaching up to card a hand through his hair. “Yes I - they were true. I do…I think I’ve loved you for some time now but…” 

His eyes soften. “You were afraid.” 

You nod, eyes falling away from him in shame. But Halsin doesn’t let your feeling last long, he presses a gentle kiss to your cheek before resting his forehead against your own. 

“I must admit that I feel the same,” he says, voice a mere whisper. “You have taken my heart in your hands and held it captive in a way I haven’t experienced in my long life. I do not wish to let you go easily.” 

You smile, lips brushing his own as you speak. “Then don’t,” you say, reaching down to tug his arm tighter around you, “I’m yours. I meant that too.” 

Halsin sighs in what you assume is relief, leaning down to press a kiss to your shoulder as he adjusts to hold you closer to him as you relax in his arms. 

“And I am yours,” he tells you. “Now, sleep. This is far from over, but I will be here when you wake.” 

Earlier, the thought of it taking days for the suppressant to work from your system made fear grip your heart. But now…

Now there’s just a warm syrupy feeling that settles deep in your belly as you take his advice and let your eyes fall closed. 

Because with Halsin…you know you have nothing to fear. 

[ashwhowrites]

Older! Dealer! Eddie x reader, she goes to his house every Friday to buy from him, Eddie likes her, but he doesn't know if she likes him, so when they are dealing, he acts more flirtatious than usual, and that ends up in smut

I combined these requests since they are similar. Then I realized not everyone is into older!Eddie so if the anon that requested is uncomfortable with older!Eddie, please reach out and I can rewrite it :)

I sat on this fic for three days because I could not get the creative energy for the smut so the smut is like building up smut and not full blown, I do apologize. I wanted to finally get it out because I had a feeling it's going to take me a while to get that right mood to write

Older dealer

Eddie opened the door as Y/N knocked. Her contagious smile and gentle voice made Eddie's head spin. Y/N has been coming to Eddie for months now for deals. Eddie never mixed his business with his personal life, but he couldn't get this girl out of his head. She was in her 20s and Eddie was in his 40s, the age difference was the only thing stopping Eddie from making a move.

Too many nights he thought of her, lying awake as he thought about her, if she was single, her type, and if she was somehow interested in him. Eddie knew he wasn't the perfect bachelor. He lived in a small trailer and sold drugs as a quick cash grab. She seemed put together, lived in a bright world, and was so young still. She had so much to learn and explore. But he wanted to sink his teeth in her before anyone else did.

"Hey Eddie" she greeted with a big smile, sitting down at the familiar kitchen table. Eddie looked down at his watch as he sat across from her.

"Like two hours early, sweets." He teased, grabbing his bags of weed as he passed them over to her.

"Yeah, I had a date and got stood up. Figured might as well come here while I was out." She shrugged, sliding over her cash as she put the weed in her purse.

Eddie felt himself clench at her words. She was dating, but of course she was. She was gorgeous, hot, and young.

"Who's stupid enough to stand you up? Is he blind or just stupid?" Eddie asked, crossing his arms as she laughed.

"Second one. I can't tell you how many horrible dates I've been on. These guys are so shallow and boyish. Never have respect or manners. Just trying to get laid and bounce out." She complained Eddie found a sense of excitement knowing she was failing miserably in the dating world.

"Sounds like you need a break from the young ones." Eddie winked, maybe this was his shot. He pushed his head on his hand, a little smirk on his face as she tried to read his face.

"And what are you suggesting?" She asked, her eyes looking from his eyes to his lips and back. Eddie smirked at the action, licking his lips as she looked at them again.

"That you need to try an actual man," he stated, looking into her eyes as he kept his voice low. "Someone that knows how to touch a girl like you, hit the right spots, make you whimper, and make pretty sounds. Someone who will be there when you wake up." Y/N felt herself shivering at his words. Her brain thought of his hands touching her, ruining her.

Y/N felt like her throat was dry as she tried to speak up.

"And do you have a man in mind?" She asked, not realizing she was leaning in.

"Depends, are you into older men? Maybe twenty years older than you?" His eyes looked down at her lips as she kept leaning closer.

"Not until I met you. Then I couldn't get you out of my head" She confessed, Eddie smiled at her words. He pulled back and stood up. She blinked confused as she watched him.

He grabbed her hand and yanked her up. She yelped in surprise as he picked her up and placed her on the table. He stood between her legs and wrapped a hand around her neck, tilting her head up.

"I was worried you'd be too young for me. But fuck, you never leave my head. Can't believe those boys don't realize the chance they got." He said, his lips ghosting over hers. Giving her time to stop it if it wasn't what she wanted.

"What about you? Dating around?" She whispered, she knew he was with others and she hated knowing his body was touched by someone else.

"Eyes just on you, baby." He admitted, his lips even closer to hers. He moaned when she smashed her lips on his, her arms around his neck as she tried to control the kiss. He let her have the control for a little while. He took his time to taste her and feel her body under his hands.

He pulled away, she whimpered as he did. Her hands are trying to yank him closer. He pecked her pout softly.

"Patience darling." He whispered, he stood between her legs as he stripped her clothes, admiring her as she laid bare underneath him. His hands moved to her chest, squeezing her breasts softly as he kissed down her neck. His mouth wrapped around her left nipple, sucking softly. His right hand moved down her body, rubbing her clit slowly.

Y/N never thought she'd find herself under her older drug dealer, gasping and cumming over and over. But she was grateful that every bad date led her to this.

Eddie figured people would have shit to say about their age difference, but he didn't care.

He wanted her and he got her. That's all he cared about.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergentreblogs @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93

[milkywaydrabbles]

omggg your kinktober’s have my feet in the air 😣!! can i please request a #8 with Rindou Haitani ?

A/N: EEEEE i'm so glad you're liking the drabbles coming out!! Sorry for the delay in getting yours done but I have a lot of fun writing it! I hope you enjoy it!! MWUAH

Virginity x Haitani Rindou

“You’re kidding.”

“...”

“No, this has to be a joke.”

“..Rindou.”

“There’s no way!”

“Okay, Jesus Rin. Don’t make me feel weird about it!” You grumbled, crossing your arms with a glare. 

He put his hands up in defense, “sorry, sorry. Just like...never?” With a roll of your eyes you huffed. “No, Rin. I wasn’t ready when I was younger. I wanted it to be this beautiful magical thing. And then I grew up and realized men are fucking gross and wanted none of them to be that close to being on or in me. I don’t care about it, not now anyways, but you’re the first guy I’ve really dated since like..I don’t know. A long time.”

You’ve been dating Haitani Rin for a few months, and honestly you’re still surprised about it. Meeting him was a frenzy, at some club (that you now learned he owned) and drinking the night away. The two of you made out, and you gave him a blowjob in the back of his car, and somehow he actually texted after you drunkenly gave him your number when you were safely back home. You figured he’d just want to try to hook up, but he actually took you out on a couple dates. And you realized, oh, Haitani Rindou is actually really sweet. And caring. And he wants to be your boyfriend. After that it’s been honestly smooth sailing (outside of the fact he’s part of the most notorious gang in the country--but you digress). Any intimacy from there has been mostly you going down on him (you asked!) and him returning the favor with something always getting in the middle of the next step. But now the time was here and you two were heavily making out, touching and humping each other over your clothes on the couch, when you realized you forgot to tell him one teensy tinsy little part: You’re a virgin

You shrugged, hoping Rindou didn’t look at you any different. You were telling the truth after all: You didn’t really care about losing your virginity. Being as old as you were now you thought it silly to care. You only really told him to make sure he didn’t plow into you recklessly, you didn’t want it to hurt either. “It’s not a big deal, Rin.” You mumbled, somehow feeling shy about it. But what you didn’t know was that Rindou was going through a flurry of emotions. Sure he never really thought about taking someone’s virginity, he never wanted to be the person to do it anyways. There were too many emotions attached to that, he couldn’t be assed to get tied down that way. But now? Now he’s looking at you, the one he cares most about (besides his brother) and the one he’ll (hopefully) spend the rest of his life with and realizes just how fucking lucky he is. And now he gets to be the one to take your virginity. His horny brain can only take so much when the small bit of his mind screaming because he gets to pop your cherry is taking over the rest of him. He’s realized he’s kept too quiet when you stop looking at him and start staring at the wall. 

“Baby~” He coos, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you back into his lap. “‘M gonna take real good care of you then, yeah?” The way he’s whispering in your ear, rubbing your waist with one hand and your thigh with the other, has your skin on fire. “Gonna be my baby girl’s first and last if I have a say.” Rindou starts kissing down your neck, taking small nibbles on your skin here and there: silently staking claim on you. Your shirt is off in an instant, hands flying to take the remainder of your clothes off and keep you bare underneath him. You gasp, feeling your head spin when you realize you’re now underneath him. “Rin!” You squeal, his mouth and hands all over your tits, squeezing and biting whatever he can get his hands on. His tongue is flicking over your nipple, suckling lightly before moving on to the other to give it the same attention, hands constantly on the other. “Fuck, baby, can’t believe you’re a virgin.” You were going to tell him that again, it’s not a big deal, but when he looks up at you with messy hair and wild eyes, you bite your tongue and let him have this one. He gets to claim you as his in every way. 

Rindou starts kissing down your chest, around your stomach and leaving love bites as he goes, kissing and biting each hip before kissing right above your clit. Your breathing is shaky, bucking your hips in hopes that he touches you exactly where you want it. But of course he has to tease first. “Tell me what you want, pretty girl.” He whispers, kisses planted around your mons. You whimper, a hand carding through his untamed hair. “Rin, please, touch me.” He clicks his tongue, two fingers sliding up and down your slit with ease--you’re already a mess. “You can do better than that can’t you, baby?” You’re feeling desperate, not even having any frictions and still feeling like you’re about to cum. “Rindou please! Please eat me out, please, I need your mouth--ah fuck!” His mouth is on you in an instant, two fingers spreading your lips and tongue slipping in and out of your pussy. He kisses at your clit, licking around in circles before closing his lips on you and sucking--feeling you convulse above him. You’re crying out in pleasure as he continues to make out with your cunt, tasting your delicious juices on his tongue. “Fuck, beautiful, you taste so good.” He moans, fucking his tongue back into you. It’s not the first time he’s gone down on you, but now you taste even sweeter than before. Like he’s really tasting you for the first time--and he can’t get enough. He slips in two fingers with ease, tongue back on your clit as he suckles and licks around, fingers curling and scissoring to stretch you out, hitting that wonderful spot deep inside you that makes you squelch and clench. “Fuck! Fuck, feels so good Rinnie, a-ah, right there right there right--!” You’re crying, making a mess on his face and hands before you can even finish your string of sentences. “There we go beautiful, drench my fucking face” He smirks, eyes wide, lapping up everything you have to give him. 

He finger fucks you through your wave of pleasure, slowing down with each pulse he feels on his tongue and fingers. As tired as you are, you still try to paw at him, trying to get him to come back up. He complies, happily kissing back up your body until he reaches your lips, tongues melding together and drooling in each other’s mouths. He felt you humping his leg, hands reaching down to get to the buttons of his pants. Rindou chuckled, lightly smacking your hands away and pulling back, “you don’t think i’m gonna fuck you on your couch do you?” he picked you up with ease, having you wrap your legs around his waist and hands on your ass. “Come on, baby, I’m not a monster. Gonna fuck my princess on the bed.” You kiss at his neck as he walks you to the room, you can’t help but rub your sloppy pussy on his pants, wetting the crotch before he can even put you down. 

He grins like a mad man, taking his time to get undressed--he loved seeing you desperate for him like this. “Rin, please, hurry up” You whined, spreading your legs for him. “So fucking impatient.” Rindou slid his cock between your folds, gathering your slick as lube. You held your breath, now realizing that his size might be a tight fit. You’ve seen his dick plenty of times before, but it never occurred to you that one day he’d actually be inside you like this. Rindou could sense your nerves, his hands soothing your thighs. “Hey, look at me...I’ll go slow, okay? Just relax baby.” Hearing his gentle voice grounded you, letting out a shaky breath and nodding, ready for him. 

Rindou pushed in, taking in a sharp breath when he felt how tight you were. “Fuck, baby” He groaned, stopping halfway to let you adjust to him. Your lips were slightly parted, looking down at his cock splitting you open, feeling so full already. “You can keep going, Rinnie..” You whimpered, relaxing more to his touch as he steadily pushed in to the hilt, hips joined with yours. You both moaned, like ecstasy flowing through your veins. Nothing could have prepared him for the feeling of your virgin cunt, swallowing him whole and drooling your juices down his shaft. And nothing could have prepared you for the pure bliss of his cock rubbing at your walls, hitting every spot that sent electricity coursing through your veins. 

Rindou pulled back, hearing a whine coming from you before blurring with a moan when he shoved himself back into your pussy, steadily finding his rhythm impaling you on his cock. “Gonna make this pussy mine baby, gonna mold it just to take my big dick.” He mumbled, looking down at the juncture of your hips, pussy leaking all on him. “Yours, Rinnie, all yours,” you chanted his name like a prayer, Rindou leaning down to lean on his forearms and be infinitely closer to you--clawing at his back as he peppered kisses on your face and neck. “Cum for me, pretty girl. Cum on my cock, let me feel you around me.” You whimpered, grabbing onto his hand and holding it as he leaned back and licked at his thumb (for the first and only time of you two fucking--it’ll be your job next) and flicked at your clit. His cock rubbing at your walls, and the way he was sending lava through your veins rubbing at your clit has you gushing around him in no time. Your wanton moans filled the air as your legs trembled around him, body twitching while you rode out your high. “Need you Rin, need your cum.” You babbled, cockdrunk and still clenching around him. “Fuck,” He thought he’d be able to last longer than this, but your (not so) virgin hole and the way you were talking to him had his shooting his load in you after a few more pumps. 

He pulled away, scooping you into his arms and laying there in silence, the two of you sharing tender kisses and smiles--before he opened his stupid mouth.“So, was that good for you?” He snickered as you shoved his face away. “Ew, shut up!”

[keimunnn]

I LOVE YOUR WORKS SO MUCHHH 💗💗

Please for the love of Raava, write Korra x f! firebender reader. But wait, here's the kicker: make it enemies to lovers <33

It will firstly start with banter like "If you'd like to learn how a real pro bends, I could give you some private lessons." "You wanna go toe-to-toe with me, pretty girl?" And after that she fucks the reader's brains out <33

Degradation and a mix of praise is necessary thank you 🙏

BYE BYE LOVE YAAA <3

how a real pro bends

KORRA + F!READER

warnings: nsfw (18+) — firebender!reader, you're absolutely down bad for korra lol, fingering (she iced them up hehe), degradation and praise, use of the names; pretty girl, slut.

•

•

•

it was the day where you and your teammates watched the fire ferrets have their win on the last game, your eyes observed every movement that was being used by their team in order to claim your victory once your own team would go against them somehow. there was a feeling both of your teams would collide at some point, anyway.

arms crossed against your chest, tilting your head to the side, your teammates roared and cheered in enthusiasm as you all watched the tournament by the audience. your eyes slimmed, scanning a certain woman with blue eyes on the ring. a chuckle flew past your lips, already feeling giddy at the sight of the woman. you never really had the chance to look at the avatar up close, even outside the stadium.

the fact that you might go against her felt thrilling. in a way.

the entire time of watching the avatar from the crowd, you were silent. your teammates noticed, but only shrugged it off—that was just how you were. you had the habit of observing your potential opponents, hence why your team had always won each and every tournament the three of you had been in. it was a beneficial trait, which was fortunate for you and your team overall.

after the fire ferret's win, you strided over the gym near their waiting room, having a feeling one of them might be there. you, of course, were expecting the one you had your eyes on—the avatar. she did indeed intrigue you in so many ways than one. she was confident and strong. she had so much potential and skill as a whole. an ideal woman in your opinion. plus, she had those muscles that could probably have you drool in place—

your train of thought was interrupted from bumping into someone, making you hiss and curse softly under your mouth. with furrowed eyebrows, you were ready to just scold them off with your usual sass. but that died down when you realized who was in front of you. a smirk etched its way into your lips naturally, a hand on your hip with a twirl of your hair.

"well, well. it's you..." your voice was a bit soft, yet deep. the words trailed off as soon as your eyes scanned down her figure. she was absolutely out of breath, a bit sweaty with her white tank top engulfing her body that you oh-so wanted to see. your orbs went back up, staring right back into hers with another tilt of your head to look up at her. "the avatar, herself."

"uh," the avatar begins, clueless with a slightly raised brow. "am i supposed to know you? or do you need something from me?" her hand pats down against the back of her neck with a towel, clearly from working out and practicing her moves. you only chuckled back at her, crossing your arms and leaned against the doorframe with a small grin on your face.

"no need. just wanted to come by and see what my future opponent looks from up close. and dare i say that i can absolutely take you down."

your voice didn't waver, silently challenging the avatar in your own way. your confidence was obvious, seeping through your gaze. korra only looked at you, squinting a bit from your words. whatever the hell you said was definitely pumping her up. rolling her shoulders back, she looked down at you with fire in her eyes.

"oh, i've heard of you. you're that chick bolin kept warning me about. firebender, huh?"

a laugh erupted from your lips, a soft pat onto your stomach to calm you down once she'd discovered who you were. one of your fingers swiped an imaginary tear from your eyes before lighting a fire up from the tip of the same finger with a cocky smile on your face. you've been figured out. but that didn't scare you one bit. it felt exciting. too exciting.

"heard you were new to this, too. if you'd like to learn how a real pro bends, i could give you some private lessons."

korra only shook her head, an amused grin on her face once she took a hint if your words, of course it didn't sound like a tournament-like offer. you intended for it to sound that way. the avatar's arm rested right beside the doorframe you were leaning on, her face leaning down towards you at the same time with her usual crooked smirk on her own face.

"you wanna go toe-to-toe with me, pretty girl?"

•

•

•

there you were; your front pressed up against the wall with the avatar fucking your cunt with her fingers pounding inside you. though, before she did so, she iced up her digits to create a more... interesting effect inside you.

at first, it was an actual practice with the avatar just so you could learn more about her techniques for even more advantages for future tournaments. but of course, you couldn't help yourself trying to be subtle with your looks and touches around her body. you couldn't keep your hands to yourself, and korra knew that. she didn't mind though. she thought it was pretty interesting to see someone as attractive as you wanted a feel of her muscles. at some point, she'd even let them flex in front of you a little, just to see your reaction.

and spirits, that little blush with that pretty face of yours... it felt surreal to even witness it despite your usually flirty demeanor the whole time you guys interacted. that pretty much ended up with you getting up close to her in the end and seducing the hell out of her.

now, you were completely getting messed up by her. your hair came off loose from its usual ponytail, already disheveled clothes from an intense makeout session. your cheek and chest were pressed up onto the wall, hands on either side to maintain yourself from falling over whilst she fucked you from behind with a hand on your hip that was slightly bent over, gripping tightly onto your skin.

"thought you said you could take me down? seems that was just all-talk."

korra teased up, keeping her pace whilst your hole let out squelching noises in return. you were panting, lips parted slightly with soft moans from the plunging. you would absolutely roll your eyes at her words, but it might roll a different way if you're in this type of scenario. your breath was shaky and sharp, feeling the need to cum on her fingers from how fast and deep she was. not to mention, her fingers were thick and muscular—and that only added to the pleasure you were feeling right now.

"you close?"

she whispered against your ear, feeling your walls clench around her fingers with a slight smirk on her face once she curled them up inside you. a moan escapes your lips, biting down harshly on your bottom one to try and quiet down. back arching from the curl, you moved your hips with her rhythm, slamming back to her. the avatar only chuckled at your silent plea to get you to release around her fingers. before you could even had the chance to, she pulled out abruptly, cutting you off from exploding entirely. you whipped your head around, looking at her with slight confusion.

"why...?"

"turn around. wanna see how this pretty girl looks when she cums on my fingers."

she commands, but was also the one who turned you around and plopped you down onto the floor, your back leaning against the wall behind you. your body squirmed once her fingers started playing with your clit once more—cold and nice, just how you liked it. your body heated up at that. korra notices this before plunging back inside once more, her mouth around one of those perky nipples, curling her fingers inside your cunt. she was leaning over you, slightly smirking to herself once she saw your face up close with those expressions.

"look at you getting fucked by the avatar like the slut you are. do you just go around and flirt with any opponent you come across?"

she whispers, peppering kisses along your torso to the point where she reaches your sensitive nub between your legs, still working her fingers out with one hand and the other hand underneath a leg of yours, lifting it over her shoulder. without a warning, she lifts your hips up to her face, using her tongue against your clit while her fingers did their job penetrating you to the brim. it was like heaven to have the avatar have you like this—under her mercy.

her mouth engulfed your little bud in between her lips, lightly sucking on it with her eyes all on you. she was watching your reactions, your expressions, and the way you move against her. it was intriguing, really. having you all fucked out in front of her with just her fingers and tongue. her arm wrapped around your waist to set you in place, continuing her ministrations once she realized you were getting closer to your release.

"about to cum, pretty girl?"

there was cockiness in that tone, which you only mewled at in response, nodding eagerly. you liked women like this. it got you even closer to the edge, your hand gripped itself to the floor below you as your chest heaved from how close you were. your body arched in the air, wrapping the leg over her shoulder around her neck to pull her closer to your entrance, shamelessly having the avatar dig her face into your throbbing cunt with the need to explode.

"please..." you begged at last, your legs twitching from rubbing into the avatar's face, cumming hard around her digits. her fingers still continued its pace, plunging in and out of you to milk you up and pulled out, rubbing her digits covered in your slick along your clit to soothe you out. korra places you down once you've finished, giving you a rest as she looked down at you in a watchful gaze.

"still gonna teach me how a real pro bends?"

"not now, avatar."

•

•

•

as you all could tell, i like getting straight to the point sometimes :> LOL this ask was fun

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

Okay, let's talk about NC/Ra*e Kink

disclaimer: Thoughts are under a cut due to the sensitive nature of the topic.

disclaimer: This is not a post endorsing or condemning the kinks. It is simply a discussion about them.

Some kinks are more niche than others. Some kinks aren't widely accepted. Some kinks are very nuanced and will elicit contradictory or confusing feelings.

When I first came across non-consensual (NC) and rape kink fics, I was a little bit jarred. I couldn't understand why someone would want to write it or how someone could enjoy reading it. To me it was very triggering and upsetting, so I didn't interact with "dark fic" like that.

Still, I had a genuine curiosity as to why people were attracted to the kink even if I didn't enjoy it myself. Sexuality is a very broad spectrum, and I try to be open minded if not for just gaining the understanding of a different point of view.

I wanted to ask questions to readers and writers of the kink, but it's such an inflammatory subject in fandom that I couldn't figure out how to do it without it coming across like I was being rude or condemning. Eventually I was able to talk directly to people about it who knew I wasn't coming from a place of judgment. This was on top of looking into things on my own (like reading articles, think pieces, historical/social takes on it, etc.).

Here's a quick list of what I learned:

SURVIVORS: WRITERS — Many of the writers of the kink had been subjected to sexual violence. When you're writing, you can dictate the characters, the dialogue, the plot points, etc. You are in control of what happens. For some survivors, it is a therapeutic exercise in "rewriting" an experience where they had zero control into an experience where they control every facet of what happens.

SURVIVORS: READERS — Readers of the kink have the buffer of a fictional exploration of it and can choose to exit out of a story if they no longer enjoy it or it becomes too much for them, which was not an option in their actual lived trauma. There is also the distance between themselves and the story, which creates a safety buffer where they can engage with the sensitive topic in an indirect way if they so choose.

SEXUAL AUTONOMY — If you pick up any given romance novel, there's a decent chance the kidnapping trope is in there. This roughly entails some physically bigger/stronger man whisking a woman away against her will and then forcing her into a sexual situation where she ends up enjoying it despite it not being consensual. There might even be bits of "this isn't supposed to feel good" and "why do I feel like I'm enjoying this?" sprinkled into it. This trope is in large part due to the limited sexual freedom of women in the past (and present, but notably in the past). Because the woman wasn't initiating or even agreeing to the sexual act, she is relieved of the responsibility of said act. She didn't ask or choose for it to happen, so she does not have ownership of the sexual act. (I know this isn't reality because unfortunately many women are burdened with the "responsibility" for their assault, but please keep in mind I'm speaking on the fantasy/fantasizing aspect of this.) Because of historical and social expectations of chastity in women, one of the few ways that it was even "acceptable" to explore sexual acts was through means of coercion. The fantasy that you don't have to endure the societal repercussions of your sexual act because you didn't initiate it or execute it is sometimes the only way that women knew or felt comfortable in accepting a sexual experience.

SEXUAL DOMINATION — For some people, the idea of being completely sexually dominated and controlled is their biggest fantasy. There's a thrill to not knowing what will happen or when it will happen or how it will happen. Having zero control is akin to being able to turn their brain off and just exist and feel. This bleeds into consensual non-consent (CNC) kink and domination/submission kink as well with NC kink being the more "extreme end" of the spectrum imo.

These points do not exist in a vacuum, and it is not a comprehensive list of factors. Again, this is not an endorsement or a rejection of the kink. I am simply sharing my thoughts on what I have learned over time in the hopes that it can clarify things for others who maybe were curious like me but weren't sure how to learn or where to start.

[withleeknow]

HAII! i’m so happy to hear you’re opening requests, your writing is incredible !!

if you remember my idea with the dancing, as you said a short thing, could you write something similar to that maybe?

if not, lee know and yn play truth or dare together one night, “do it, i dare” what happens is free for you to decide 😊

-🍓

devastate me.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: brother's best friend au, mutual pining, kinda fluffy?, kinda angsty?; tbh idek if this makes sense bc my apologies, i finished it at almost 3 in the morning in a delirious state of mind lol, unedited @.@ word count: 0.7k note: hi strawberry!! i chose to do the second one bc i wasn't sure if i could do your original justice with just a quick drabble, but i hope you like this one regardless!! merry christmas heheheh <;33

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation › masterlist › ko-fi

what is lee minho?

to many, he's wonderfully charming, handsome, insanely smart and funny to the point that it's almost annoying, because how on earth can someone have it all just like that? he's kind and sweet. honest and gentle. the perfect man.

to you, he's all of those things and more. much more.

he's the person that you've been in love with for as long as you can remember. the person whose name you will forever associate with the longing of first love. it's beautiful, but it's pain nonetheless.

he's forbidden fruit, the one you want the most but can't possibly have.

your brother's best friend.

but...

if that's the case, if he's off limits to you and you're off limits to him, then why does he have a hand on the wall next to your head, looming over your body with the intensity of a predator? why is he caging you between his arms in the middle of a hallway, at a party in a stranger's house, where anybody could walk by and see you? why are his hips pressed against yours, blurring a line that could be never uncrossed if you take that step? why is he leaning in until you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, until your lips are brushing, so close and yet... so far away?

you know why, and it's possibly the worst thing that you could ever be aware of.

that as much as you're in love with him, he's in love with you too.

you feel it every time his eyes fall on you from across the room. every time his touch lingers on your skin from the simplest of interactions. every time he softens when you’re around. every time you’re alone together and he bites his tongue, swallowing down the words you wish he would say - the words you wish you could tell him yourself.

your voice comes out as a mere whisper. "what are you doing?"

maybe it's because you both have had something to drink. maybe it's just simply liquid courage.

“when are we going to stop pretending that there’s nothing going on between us?” he asks, voice dropping low, husky. it sounds a little vulnerable, just like you.

there’s no point in denying it. the truth is clear as day.

“we can’t,” you say.

“why not?”

“you know why.”

minho sighs, then clenches his jaw before he speaks next, frustration laced into every syllable. “i don’t care what anyone else thinks. i just want you.”

“min-”

“fuck,” he interrupts, leaning his forehead to rest against yours, his fingers holding onto your waist more tightly. “i love you.”

you place a hand on his chest, meaning to push him away but then you find his heartbeat under your palm instead, hammering against his chest like it wants to escape from his body.

in a split second of weakness, a split second where the logical part of your brain falters, your eyes flicker to his lips.

and minho, ever the sharp observer even in a state of mild inebriation, notices.

“do it,” he mutters, his words a stark contrast to the helpless tone that he says them with. “i dare you.”

a shaky inhale from you, an almost pleading look from him. even when he's practically begging you, he's handing you all control. to say no if that's what you really want. to leave and dismiss everything as just some stupid joke later on, and go back to revolving around each other in secret, like a couple of powerless fools.

your fingers grip his shirt, because goddamn, of course you want it. you've never wanted anything in your entire life more than you want him. you already have one foot in already, half a mind to blow it all the way to hell and deal with the fallout when the time comes.

you catch his eyes once more, and the sincerity in his galaxy shakes you to the core.

fuck it.

you pull him in, obliterating the gap.

i love you, but you’re telling him in a different way.

so, if someone were to ask you again: what is lee minho?

he’s a lot of things. charming, handsome, smart, funny. the person you love, the very one that you can’t have. the answer is pretty much the same.

but most of all, lee minho is devastating.

permanent taglist: @onlyycb97wife @starsandrqindrops @borahae-reads @abbiestearsricochet @cutiespaghetti @anthropologykpopmultistan @moonlinos

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 24.12.2023]

[spaceblu]

busted | benedict bridgerton

summary: benedict is sure he knows you, he only doesn’t know from where. and he probably shouldn’t know.

warnings: none actually!

It’s the curve on your lips when you drink from your cup, Benedict has solved the case. Or the wrinkles around your eyes when you start to laugh, it might be it too. But there’s something in you that seems to hold his attention longer than he imagined and it has been like this the whole night.

Now he knows every and each small thing you do when you react to something, he caught you blinking to a couple of men, making it look way more innocent than it was to them. Benedict saw your eyes twinkle under the lights while dancing and couldn’t stop thinking about how soft your hands might be under your gloves.

He couldn’t help himself. There was something about you that seemed so known to him that it itched a certain part of his brain trying to remember why he was so mesmerized by you. Why were you so intriguing to him when he’s absolutely sure he never saw you before.

“Here, let me help you.” Eloise says, holding Benedict’s chin with both her hands “I think your chin will fall anytime soon.”

Benedict’s eyes go from you to his sister, surprised by her sudden appearance next to him. Eloise lets out a laugh, taking her hands away from her brother and crossing her arms in front of her chest, glancing in your direction too.

“Who is she and why are you so endearing looking at her?” Eloise squints, trying to analyze you “I don’t think I know her…”

“Me neither.” The sound falls from Benedict’s mouth more like a whisper and he sighs afterwards “And I’m not endearing looking at her.”

“Brother,” Eloise almost rolls her eyes at Benedict, but controls herself from doing so in front of so many people. If the circumstances were different, she would do it one hundred percent “your eyes are on her the whole night. I have no clue how I managed to get your attention, actually.”

Eloise continues to talk and talk and talk, but you start to dance again. Benedict watches you spin in your ankles while smiling to your dance partner, your hands smoothly moving while you dance. Your hair flows around your face, framing it with curls. You probably smell good, floral and sweet with a spicy hint to it. Your skin glows and looks soft to the touch.

“Jesus Christ,” Eloise almost shouts, catching her brother’s attention again “ask her to dance, or you will start drooling any time soon and someone might slip on it.”

For once, Eloise is right. Benedict should ask to dance with you. There’s nothing telling him he shouldn’t, and a dance won’t hurt no one.

He makes the path between you two, taking his time to gather his thoughts correctly and think about what he should say to you. What kind of subjects are you interested in? You could be into arts, writing or even singing. You have beautiful lips, and even if Benedict couldn’t listen to your voice from where he was standing, he's sure your voice is soothing as it seems from afar.

Benedict bows in front of you and notices the corners of your lips going up in a small smile “Would you conceive me a dance with you, my lady?”

You bow in his direction too, but gracefully looking at him with your chin up “Of course, sir.” You place your hand on his, waiting for him to hold it “Lead me, please.”

Benedict holds your hand, almost squeezing it with too much strength, but he desperately wants to feel the skin underneath your glove. Your thumb rubs the back of his hand smoothly and the gentle touch makes Benedict want more caresses from you. Perhaps you didn’t even notice you were doing that little thing with your thumb, but Benedict feels feverish with just this small thing.

He takes you in his arms and starts dancing.

“May I ask you if you’re new here?” Benedict starts, really wanting to say something to you and make some conversation.

“Probably.” You smile, not giving away if you’re telling the truth or not.

Benedict scrunchies his nose “I’m curious, because I’ve never seen you before, but I feel as if I already know you.”

You let out a giggle and Benedict is completely lost, has he said anything funny?

“Is this your way of courting me?” Your expression has an amused smile and Benedict can’t help but find it funny too. It indeed sounded different than he wanted it too “Perhaps you’ve seen me in your dreams, right?”

“N-No… That’s not what I was trying to say.” He stutters trying to hold a laugh and not sound as dumb as he probably does at the moment “I mean it, you look familiar but I can’t tell from where exactly.”

“Mr. Bridgerton, I’m sure I’ve never crossed paths with you before.” You give up and say it seriously “I’ve been in town for a couple of days visiting my aunt for the season.”

“And may I ask who your aunt is?” Benedict is fast with his words, not leaving any time for you to end your conversation.

Benedict tries to notice something in you that might give it away who your aunt is, but it doesn’t work. Your accent is a bit different than what he’s used to, but he can’t tell exactly from where you are. Your eyes are beautiful, as are your skin, lips, nose, body… Benedict can’t think of anyone anyway as attractive to him as you.

“It seems that you’re having fun trying to solve my mystery. I think we should keep it for longer.”

“My mom knows everyone, every family, and she probably has her eyes on you, anyways. You seem like a good match for one of her sons.” Benedict spins you while speaking.

It’s already the end of the dance, the final move and Benedict wonders if he could ask you for another dance, or maybe he could walk with you to get something to drink. He wanted to speak more with you, to look deep inside your eyes, to listen to your voice and watch your lips move gracefully.

When you finish your spin, you look right back at Benedict “So let’s see if you can discover who I am, Mr. Bridgerton.”

You grin in his direction, so close he can see every line in your face. And it hits him – your grin. He indeed saw it before, not in his dreams, but in a place where a lady shouldn’t be, somewhere he’s not even sure women are allowed to enter when they’re not in the company of a man. But you were there, he’s sure of it now.

Benedict’s memory is foggy, probably because he was way drunker than normal that night, but there’s no doubt it was you.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” Benedict asks when you touch his arm calling for his attention “In the bar?”

There’s a frown that grows in your forehead and you almost open your mouth, surprised, but keep control of your expression. Benedict continues to stare in your direction and catches your arm before you could run away from him. You felt like running away, but instead you gave him a sweet smile.

“Sir, I don’t know what you mean.”

Your voice shakes a bit and Benedict can notice that you’re not telling the truth, because even if you don’t sound nervous, you obviously look like you’re about to have a nervous wreck right there. Your hands are moving, making Benedict hold your arm and start to lead him out of the middle of the room. Your fingers are restless around his arm and he could feel you tapping his forearm with them.

“I know it was you, now I’m sure of it.” Benedict can say, trying to grab other memories inside his mind from that night “I could recognize this grin of yours within millions of smiles.”

It happened the week before. Benedict decided to go to the bar alone, after a long day of boring things and a couple of drinks with his gentleman friends, he didn’t want to go home yet. It was breezy, but not cold, so the perfect night to spend in the bar with unknown people he will never exchange a word with again.

When he’s near the bar, he can hear people singing inside and instruments are being played. He enters the room and everyone is singing together, some at their own tables, others hugged next to the musicians. But there’s two young adults, probably a few years younger than Benedict, singing on top of the balcony leading the rest.

One of them is wearing a white shirt, trousers and really shining and beautiful boots. The other is wearing the same thing, but with a dark blue cape on top, covering most part of their face. Benedict sits at a table in one corner of the bar, he pretends to go unnoticed and enjoys the joyful singing from the others. He orders a beer and continues to drink, even if he already feels drunk enough after drinking with his friends.

The light inside the bar isn’t good, but when the person wearing the cape spins while singing, Benedict can see a grin on their lips, the curves softly matching the rest of the person’s expression, and when Benedict watches more carefully, the grinning person is a girl. He can see the soft hair under the hood, the pretty features in her face and the beautiful silhouette.

Benedict can’t take his eyes from her, the way she sings is mesmerizing, the way she drinks the beer from the mug and continues to move around the balcony with her partner. Benedict tries not to focus on the questions that are surfacing his mind, about why there is a girl there and who is the man singing with her. Benedict wants to enjoy the view, his members already feeling numb from drinking but he can’t help having fun.

“Sir, please, stop talking about this.” You ask, now almost running with Benedict hooked with your arm “At least not in the middle of everyone.”

You search for someone in the middle of the people, your eyes wandering through every corner of the room. Benedict wanted to ask you again who you are in the end. Why were in a bar being a lady? Who was the guy with you that night? Why hasn't he seen you before?

One of the questions was answered before Benedict could even say them out loud.

“Mr. Bridgerton, this is my brother.” You almost fly to the man standing in front of you two and hold his arm instead of Benedict’s. It’s the guy you were with in the bar “Brother, this is Benedict Bridgerton, he just danced with me.”

Your brother looks at you, noticing your breathless voice as you introduce Benedict to him. He looks back at Benedict and smiles, greeting him. As soon as Benedict said nice to meet you, you both disappeared in the middle of the other guests. How was it possible for two grown people to just vanish in front of his eyes? But you two were nowhere to be seen.

Benedict felt empty for the first time that night. He spent most of the night watching you, trying to guess where he saw you before and now he knows where, but you’re gone and he has nothing else to do there. He wanted to speak to you more, maybe the bar issue wasn’t the only conversation he wanted to have with you, his curiosity about you being bigger than he imagined.

He wanted to know things about you.

Well, now he knows you can sing. And drink.

And there’s nothing he can’t try to discover in the next ball of the season.

[dollydaisies]

Can I pls request a BTS reaction? They have a crush on their friend who is not a celebrity, so they can't confess to her because of their reputation/job, but they are really close. One day someone from their company revealed a sensitive information about them. So, the members and the company accused her of it because they thought that she was only with them to become famous. They didn't believe her and also told her many hurtful things. But later it was revealed that it was not her but someone else and she was telling the truth. Later they try to reconcile with her and asks her to forgive them but it was too late. Can you please write it as angst?

If it's too specific for you, you don't have to write it. Thank you anyways ☺️☺️

my first ask! thank you so much for sending this! my bts skills may be a tad bit rusty, so i'm sorry if this isn't up to par with your expectations. im doing allll the research i can! some things may be changed up a bit, but i'm trying to stick to your prompt the best that i can!

summary: forbidden love hurts, and it sometimes builds up frustration inside you, which then turns into flipping out on the person you love nonsensically solely because you're overwhelmed. they had to learn to think before they act, and, now, they're suffering from the consequences of their actions.

characters: just to test the waters and see if you like what i'm doing, i am only doing kim namjoon. if you like this, i will continue with the other members i’m comfortable writing! please tell me if i did well or was a lil' off. i'll always take constructive criticism:)

kim namjoon never meant to hurt anyone, but he especially made sure that he would not hurt you. he cares about you so much, to the point where seeing you even slightly sad could mess up his whole day.

you're bts's songwriter and producer, but also their friend. when they make plans, they want to include you, always. even if they go to the beach for a run bts episode, they want YOU to be there after the cameras are off. of course, every single member of the group wants you to be around, but namjoon insists on it. you're his safe place, the person he confides in when times get hard--why wouldn't he want you there?

"are you sure you don't want to come with us on this tour?" namjoon looks at you with full passion in his eyes. he wants you to come with them, even if he won't directly say it. "you know that we will always want you to come with, right?"

that little "we" always gets you every time. sure, you know that it's true, and so does he, but that's not what you want to hear and that's not what he wants to say. you want to hear him say "i want you to come with," but it feels like he refuses to say it. he's only not saying it because it'll make his feelings too real, and he can't deal with the reality that you can never be his.

"ah, i know, joonie... but i need to work on the ideas you all gave me for this next album. it's the final one before you all go on hiatus, so i can't take a break," you respond, playing with your bowl of ramen without eating it. you're the only two in the kitchen, and it's quiet. "i'd love to go, but i just can't afford to right now. you know i'm short on money."

namjoon sighs, but nods. "i understand. it's just gonna be hard to be on tour without you."

you send him a sweet smile, then giggle softly. "you're such a baby, did you know that?"

"it's our little secret, keep it hush."

that wasn't the secret that destroyed everything you've built with him over the past decade, but it was more of a foreshadow. you felt excited at the idea of having a secret with him, but also dread--this is silly, though. you guys have thousands of secrets. you're best friends, and you always have been, so why is your gut telling you to fight or fly?

around a week later, dispatch reports on news that namjoon has never told a soul about--except for you. the moment his brain processes the information told to him by the higher-ups, he immediately gets up from his seat and marches to your usual spot that you linger in.

"get out."

"huh?"

your face is full of pure confusion, a bit like a deer in headlights. sure, you've had your arguments and fights before, but he has never been this harsh off the bat--hell, he was rarely ever truly harsh.

the way his eyes look at you with pure disgust, and the sarcastic laugh he lets out... it feels like you don't know who's standing in front of you. yeah, it's namjoon, but... it's also not.

"i knew you were desperate for money, y/n, but i didn't think you'd be this desperate. if i knew you were like this, i would've fired you sooner."

"namjoon, what the hell are you talking about?" you stand up from your seat, yelling at him a bit. it's obvious you aren't even mad, you're just a mix of confused, scared, and worried.

"you know what i'm talking about, y/n. hell, the rest of the world does as well, since you decided to go to dispatch about it."

he holds up his phone so you can look at the site he pulled up. you scrolled and scrolled in pure shock, confusion, and disgust. "i... namjoon, i did not rat you out to anyone. why would i?"

"people like you only care about money. figure it out, and get out of this dorm."

absolutely stunned, you walk to the door in complete silence, then turn around. he looks a bit lost in thought, then he finally sees you. you, whose eyes are full of tears; you, whose cheeks are red due to how panicked you got from him yelling; and you, who refused to yell at him back even when he disrespected you.

while he was so sure he was right, a pit in his stomach grew larger. he feels like he’s doing something bad, something wrong, and he doesn’t know why.

"i just want to say," you pause for a second, then continued. "if this is the real you, kim namjoon, maybe i should've been the one to expose you after all."

you slam the door.

months have passed, and you work at a local music store. sure, you write songs still, but they're not for anyone else except you. you refused to talk to all of them, talk about all of them, or even think about any of them. in your mind, bts disbanded the second he broke your heart, and your trust. truthfully, it’s unfair, as all the other members have texted you so many times and begged for a response, but you can’t think of them without thinking of him.

the store is completely empty, so you're scrolling through every single social media app you have downloaded brainlessly. the words you're reading are not completely processing in your head at all, they kinda just look like funky shapes.

one title, though, caught your attention.

"kim namjoon talks about trust, compassion, and friendship in recent SEVENTEEN interview."

your jaw clenches, and you slam your phone down. your tears are threatening to come out, but you refuse to let yourself still be hurt by him. he doesn't deserve your time, your tears, your anything. that's, at least, what you keep trying to convince yourself of, anyways.

the bell at the door rings, and you try to regain your composure. you

"welcome to good vibes, home to all of the--"

you freeze. you don't know what to do, what to say, or how to even move. are you supposed to say anything? it's not like he’s saying anything—hell, he has a mask over his face and a hood on his head, but you KNOW it’s him. now, he’s just staring at you blankly. you’re wearing a mask, so maybe there’s a chance—

“y/n,” namjoon softly says your name, and your heart pangs against your chest. it’s a mix of heartbreak, anxiety, and all the leftover love you have for him. “i was looking for you.”

you’re so nervous, you could burst into tears. you want to hop over your desk and run into his arms and tell him how much you miss him, but also how much you hate him for hurting you so much. why do you still love a man that said such unforgivable words?

“why?” your words were a bit breathy, and you began to chuckle a bit while shaking your head. “there’s nothing left to say—unless, y’know, you’re gonna tell me all i care about is money again because i have a job.”

“i’m sorry,” namjoon sighs, then walks to you. the desk separates you, but you wish you could fall into his arms. you keep your composure all the same, though.

“that day, i was so stressed. it felt as if so many things were happening at once, and to know that a secret that i only told you got out… i felt so much betrayal all at once, i didn’t want to hear you out. if i’m being completely vulnerable, i wanted to go cry,” he let out a small chuckle.

looking at you, your face was completely unreadable. it’s like you were thinking of so many things, but also of nothing at the same time. was he doing well? he doesn’t know. he’s just going with what he feels in his heart.

“in my heart, i knew i should’ve ran back to you and apologized; in my heart, i knew i should’ve heard every single word you said, because you would never lie to me,” namjoon balls his hands into a fists, then looks at you in the eyes, “so i’m sorry it took so long for me to realize that i was wrong.”

the store was tense, and all you could hear is the music playing so softly in the background as you stare at him. he’s trying to read your expression, to see if there’s any bit of leftover love in your eyes, but it just feels cold.

after a minute, you begin to laugh. it’s a full laughing attack, actually, and namjoon just stares. his heart dropped to the bottom of his stomach, because he’s not stupid—he knows this means he’s fucked up.

“what, did you think was a kdrama, namjoon? did you think i was going to hear that apology, jump into your arms, and say, ‘oppa, never hurt me ever again!’ or something?” you say these words while still laughing, and namjoon is still stunned. “what happened for you to come up here and say this to me? based on your new change in personality with… hating poor people and all, i can’t imagine you just woke up one day and did it.”

“we found who actually did it. it was our stylist, sooyoung.”

“so that’s what it took for you to finally realize i was innocent? instead of thinking back ro everything you said to me and how hurt i was, it took them finding out the real person behind the crime for you to realize i was telling the truth?”

you slam your hand on the desk, and your body is trembling. you’re on an adrenaline rush, but you’re also sad, scared, and angry. namjoon notices this and places his hand on yours, like he always used to.

“y/n, you’re shaking, please ca—“

“i don’t give a fuck, namjoon,” you yell, and namjoon is completely frozen. “i’ve known you since you were a trainee, and, yet, you still thought that i was some… freaky gold digger that would sell her friends out for money. do you know how much that hurts? to know that you think i have the potential to be like that?”

namjoon’s eyes begin to tear up, while your eyes have already overflown. your cheeks are entirely red, and you let out a choked sob. your head drops, and you let out a dry chuckle.

“for over a decade, i have been nothing but loyal and true to you; yet, it takes a full-blown investigation for you to realize how you did me wrong,” you then look up at him with no sympathy in your body. “it’s my turn to tell you to get out, namjoon. and, for your sake, never come back. i never want to see you again.”

he hesitates to walk away, and you’re staring at him, emotionless.

“what, are you deaf? get out.”

namjoon finally leaves, walking quickly towards his car, and you fall to your knees. you’re on the cold floor, shaking and crying, as you realize your life will never be the same ever again.

[deepcreekvulture]

Spencer Reid's College Timeline

So, I was chilling at my local Library and decided to use my very extensive free time to write out Spencer Reid’s College timeline (or at least how it makes the most sense to me).

There’s probably going to be a lot of inconsistencies and possible contradictions in this, but please give me a little grace. I don’t go to college, and I'm just silly. 

I did try to be as accurate as I could, but there’s only so much I can do with my little brain and 10 mgs of Adderall. 

I also tried to be as realistic as I could, especially with considering how Diana’s condition would affect his education. But, again, it's not going to be perfect. Feel free to share your thoughts.

What we know:

-Spencer Reid graduated from a Las Vegas public high school at the age of 12 (01.18 “Somebody’s Watching”)

-He went to Caltech. I personally like to think that he also went to MIT (Breen Frazier has admitted that Spencer saying he want to MIT in 07.04 “Painless” was a continuity error, but I think it is possible that he went to both, just not at the same time.)

-He has 3 PhDs in Mathematics, Chemistry, and Engineering (04.08 “Masterpiece”)

-He had 3 Bachelors degrees in Psychology, Sociology, and Philosophy  (04.08 “Masterpiece”)

-Joined the BAU around July of 2004 at the age of 22 (05.16 “Mosley Lane”)

Spencer is talking to Sarah Hillridge and mentions that he’s been with the BAU for “5 years, 7 months, and 19 days...” doing the math puts it around July of 2004.

-Spencer was born in October of 1981

There is some confusion about whether his birthday is October 12th or October 28th. I believe that his birthday is October 28th 1981, Emily Prentiss’s birthday is October 12th 1970 (04.14 “Cold Comfort” & her headstone)- and it is very unlikely that the two of them would share a birthday and it not be mentioned. (It also gives some more insight to why Spencer loves Halloween so much- it’s right after his birthday!)

So, assuming he started kindergarten at 5 years old, Spencer was in grade school from around 1986-1994. It is likely that he could have finished grade school faster, but a lot of the time public school systems want to keep students from jumping too many grades in order to not stunt their social development. 

I am taking the liberty of assuming that Spencer received all 3 PhDs before joining the FBI- so from age 12-22 (Over 30 years of schooling for three PhDs in the span of around 10 years, wowza).

Someone as smart as Spencer would’ve definitely gotten a 36 on the ACTs, so prestigious universities would be banging down his door to get their hands on his geniusness. BUT, Spencer loves his mom, and he wouldn’t want to stray too far from her. He also says he was drawn to Caltech because of certain professors in an article written about him.

We know that Spencer went to Caltech and would bike to classes and such. He was most likely able to stay at the dorms for free and given financial support from his scholarships. It is unclear how Spencer could’ve balanced having his mom in Nevada while he was in California, but there are buses and public transit to and from Las Vegas to Pasadena (ranging from 4-7 hours for a one way ride, so 8-14 hours round trip). William Reid, despite leaving Spencer and Diana, most likely maintained providing money to them due to paternal obligation and guilt.

There are, of course, ways for Spencer to care for his mom even all the way in Pasadena: Neighbors could’ve checked on Diana regularly/daily, Spencer could’ve called daily to remind her to take her medicine, etc.

To make Spencer going to both Caltech and MIT make sense, I figure Spencer would get his PhDs in Mathematics and Chemistry from Caltech then after Diana is institutionalized Spencer enrolls in MIT for engineering. 

The University term dates are loosely based on the academic calendar they provide on their websites.

(Rough) Caltech term dates:

Spring term: April to June

Summer term: June to August

Fall term: September to December

Winter term: January to March

(Rough) MIT term dates:

Spring term: February to May

Summer term:June to August

Fall term: September to December

I know that in the U.S. you don’t have to have a Masters degree to get into the PhD program, but Spencer likes to learn and I figured he might want to get the most out of his time in college- or it might be a little contingency from the University so he’s still pacing himself and they can still see his growth and all that good stuff.

NOW ONTO THE TIMELINE.

At Caltech, Spencer would most likely have more freedom to complete his schooling faster and they would’ve worked with him to create a good plan for him to complete things at his own pace while also following whatever school protocols they have. 

Spencer stays in Pasadena from the Fall term (Begins around mid September), through the winter term, and until the end of the Spring term (Ends around end of June), he goes home to Las Vegas during the summer term and winter/spring breaks.

Beginning of Fall 1994- Starts college @ Caltech studying Mathematics– Age: 12 turning 13

End of Spring 1995- Finishes his Bachelors in Mathematics– Age: 13

Summer 1995- Home

Beginning of Fall 1995- Starts Masters in Mathematics– Age: 13 turning 14

End of Spring 1996- Finishes Masters in Mathematics– Age: 14

Summer 1996- Home

Beginning of Fall 1996- Starts PhD in Mathematics & starts Bachelors in Chemistry– Age:14 turning 15

End of Spring 1997- Finishes Bachelors in Chemistry– Age: 15

Summer 1997- Home

Beginning of Fall 1997- Starts Masters in Chemistry– Age: 15 turning 16

End of Spring 1998- Finishes PhD in Mathematics & finishes Masters in Chemistry– Age: 16

Summer 1998- Home, Diana suffers a bout of bad psychosis and Spencer cannot return full time at Caltech during the Fall term. Due to his mother’s condition, Spencer contacts the school board and they work out a plan where Spencer can work on his Chemistry PhD in Las Vegas with the use of public Library computers and occasional trips to the campus for exams if possible. 

Beginning of Fall 1998- Works on his PhD in Chemistry, living in Las Vegas– Age: 16 turning 17

Spring 1999- Works on his PhD in Chemistry, living in Las Vegas– Age: 17

End of Summer 1999- Finishes PhD in Chemistry, living in Las Vegas– Age: 17

Spencer starts making arrangements to move Diana into a facility when he turns 18. He also applies to MIT to start their engineering program, manages to work out a plan to enroll in their Fall term but only move to a dorm at MIT after he gets his mom institutionalized (around October/November 1999)

Beginning of Fall 1999- Enrolls in MIT’s fall term on scholarship, starts Bachelors in Engineering– Age: 18

End of Spring 2000- Finishes Bachelors in Engineering– Age: 18

Beginning of Summer 2000- Starts Masters in Engineering– Age: 18

End of Fall 2000- Finishes Masters in Engineering– Age: 18 turning 19

Beginning of Spring 2001- Starts PhD in Engineering– Age: 19

Summer 2001- Works on PhD in Engineering– Age: 19

Fall 2001- Works on PhD in Engineering– Age: 19 turning 20

Feeling immense guilt for having his mother institutionalized, Spencer splits his attention between his Engineering studies and studying Schizophrenia independently. At the end of the Fall term at MIT, Spencer starts corresponding with a professor at Harvard University and is invited to help with a study on understanding Schizophrenia and the effects of different medications. He takes off both the Spring and Summer terms of 2002 in order to do said study.

Beginning of Spring 2002- Independent study– Age: 20

End of Summer 2002- Independent study– Age: 20

Beginning of Fall 2002- Resumes working on PhD in Engineering– Age: 20 turning 21

End of Spring 2003- Finishes PhD in Engineering– Age: 21

Beginning of Fall 2003- Starts Bachelors in Psychology at MIT– Age: 21 turning 22

Spencer goes to a seminar hosted by the BAU (Most likely with Gideon and Hotch), he’s very engaged and vocal during the seminar and catches Gideon’s attention.

Spring 2004- Spencer starts at the FBI academy– Age: 22

FBI academy is 4 months.

Summer 2004- Spencer joins the BAU after graduating from the academy– Age: 22

After joining the BAU, Spencer transfers his credit hours from MIT to a University in Washington D.C. to continue going to school part time.

End of Fall 2004- Finishes Bachelors in Psychology– Age: 22 turning 23

Most of Spencer’s attention is on his work in the BAU, so he slows way down on getting his degrees, and gets a degree in sociology both because it interests him and also because it’ll help with work.

Beginning of Spring 2005- Starts Bachelors in Sociology– Age: 23

End of Fall 2005- Finishes Bachelors in Sociology– Age: 23 turning 24

Beginning of Spring 2008- Starts Bachelors in Philosophy– Age: 26

End of Fall 2008- FInishes Bachelors in Philosophy– Age: 26 turning 27

Again: Breen Frazier has said that the line in 07.04 “Painless” about Spencer going to MIT was an error. I actually think it might be another way to show Spencer’s guilt over putting his mom in the psychiatric hospital- being so close without visiting might’ve made him feel even worse so he wanted to run away to a school across the country. 

Also I feel like Spencer having all these degrees shows that he didn’t really know what he was supposed to do with his intellect so he was just doing whatever interested him at the time until he met Gideon.

We are shown two articles (that I can remember) about Spencer college time frame:

There's one from 1997/1998, we are shown an article written about Spencer getting a Bachelor's degree, this would make him ~16. I’m not sure if it lists that it’s his first Bachelor’s degree- but I’m going to say that it’s just about the one he got for Chemistry which was his second Bachelors based on my timeline.

I don’t think it makes sense for Spencer to have done ~3/4 years of college before getting his first bachelors and then the other 6 or so years cramming the rest of his schooling? Eh, I don’t like it.

And there’s one in 04.08 “Memoriam” we are shown an article about Spencer receiving his first PhD at the age of 17. In my timeline he finishes his first PhD at the age of 16- which isn’t too far off so I’m choosing to believe that it’s a typo in the article (I know it’s kinda cheating but whatever).  

I had his PhD programs take around 2 years to complete because research and dissertations take time, no matter how speedy Spencer is.

If Spencer wanted to make any extra cash on the side, he could help with tutoring, work at the campus library, help coach any collegiate sports teams at the college, etc.

A lot of the things I added in this are just things that I thought of and don’t have any sources from the show (ex: Spencer doing school from home to help his mom, and the independent study thing from Spring 2002 to Summer 2002).

Again: a lot of this may be inaccurate, if there is anything you want to add or correct, feel free to do so. I spent only around 5 or so hours on this, it’s not perfect.

I love Spencer Reid. Thank you for coming to my TED talk. 

(if anyone is curious about how I write Spencer, my writing blog is @deepcreekvultures-writing )

[obsolescent]

bad idea right?

Pairing: Fuckboy!Leon S. Kennedy x Reader

Author’s Note: This wouldn’t leave my head until I got it out!! Giggling, kicking my feet writing this up. I don’t know if I made him fuckboy-ish enough but, lol. This got really nasty then really sappy. Enjoy!

Song: bad idea right? By Olivia Rodrigo

Content Warnings: Explicit sexual content, oral sex, squirting, Leon’s cocky ass mouth, trans Leon, no gendered language for reader, edging, orgasm denial, confessed feelings.

Words: 3,258

“Haven't heard from you in a couple of months But I'm out right now, and I'm all fucked up And you're callin' my phone, you're all alone And I'm sensin' some undertone”

Getting trashed with your friends has become a weekly occurrence, going out bar hopping and dancing the night away. It’s the usual Friday night, taking shots in between your horribly inaccurate throws at the dartboard with your darts, sending you and your friends into a laughing fit. After finishing your turn, you ungracefully plop down onto a bar stool, pulling out your phone.

The screen lights up and you’re met with a missed call from your ex, Leon. ‘What does he want?’ Seeing a voicemail was left, you stand up and let your friends know you’re stepping outside for some air. Opening the back door into an alley, the brisk autumn air sending a chill through your body. Clicking on the voicemail, you let it play.

There’s some rustling on his end of the line, “Hey,” He starts, slurring his greeting, “What’re you up to tonight? Settled into my new place…Not too far from those bars you and your friends go to,” He knows? Like he can hear your thoughts, he lets out an airy chuckle, “Come over…Been thinkin’ ‘bout you...Missin’ you. Sent the address.” The recording ends there. Obviously drunk himself, yet that huskiness of his voice that always sent tingles through your being is present. He knows what it does to you, even after everything.

“And I'm right here with all my friends But you're sendin' me your new address And I know we're done, I know we're through But, God, when I look at you”

You bite your lip, contemplating. The way things ended between you two wasn’t that bad…He’s just an asshole! His antics drove you up the wall. The shit he would get into with his friends, that damn mouth on him. But, oh, he was so sweet when he wasn’t being a little shit. Crinkling his beautiful blues, cocking his head, that grin. Whispering the sweetest words in your ear, syrup dripping from his lips. Coating your senses and setting your body aflame.

The way he could work your body…Fuck. You don’t think you’ll ever find someone as good as him. The past couple months have been achingly empty for you, in so many ways. Your body yearning for his touch, it begging, one more time, please just one more. Your teeth bite into your fist, trying to rein in your hormones and your thoughts. You know it’s a losing battle, especially with your inebriated mind. 

“My brain goes, "Ah" Can't hear my thoughts (I cannot hear my thoughts) Like blah-blah-blah (blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah) Should probably not I should probably, probably not I should probably, probably not”

Feeling fuzzy, your body warming up at the thought of his hands on you again. ‘He invited you! He wanted to show you his new place, you can’t be rude and turn that down. It’ll be okay, come on! You can just be friends now, there’s no harm in that.’ Your brain jumps through hoops trying to sway your answer. 

“Seein' you tonight, it's a bad idea, right? Seein' you tonight, it's a bad idea, right? Seein' you tonight, it's a bad idea, right? Seein' you tonight, fuck it, it's fine”

You take a deep breath and walk back inside. Your friends are sitting at a table now, munching on appetizers and sipping away. You tell them you aren’t feeling good, that you’re going to go home and go to bed. Wishing you well and to be safe, their sentences blending together. You take your leave and head to the front, pulling out your phone to get a ride to Leon’s new place. It doesn’t take long for the car to show up, and once inside the car pulls away from the sidewalk, heading to your undoing. 

“Now I'm gettin' in the car, wreckin' all my plans I know I should stop–but I can't And I told my friends I was asleep But I never said where or in whose sheets”

You don’t let him know you’re coming, in case you change your mind. ‘You won’t,’ Your mind hisses, ‘You need this too bad. It’ll be this one time and you can get it, and him, out of your system,’ Your mind is still persuading you, even as the buildings fly past and the streetlights blur across the window, ever getting closer to him.

The car reaches its destination, you thank the driver and step out to an apartment complex. Taking the stairs instead of the elevator, you give yourself a once over while you make your trek to the second floor. Taking the smallest steps, you finally make it to his door. Deep breath in, exhale, you knock.

“And I pull up to your place, on the second floor And you're standin', smiling at the door And I'm sure I've seen much hotter men But I really can't remember when”

Faint shuffling is heard before the door is opened, and there he is. Propped against the frame, taking up the majority of the space with his broadness. Shirtless, with gray sweats that hang dangerously low on his hips, that crooked smirk is plastered on his face. It soon turns into a grin as his eyes make his way up your body, flushing your entire system with want.

He sighs, cocking his head. His blond fringe falls away from his face. “Knew you’d come.” He steps aside and ushers you in, locking the door behind you while you remove your shoes and put down your belongings. The new place is quite nice, Leon having already unpacked everything, the kitchen and living room looking immaculate. The thing about Leon, is that he may seem like a douche on the outside, acting like he doesn’t care about anything, but he’s quite the perfectionist. What you lo–liked about him, how meticulous he was about things, small stuff that you didn’t think he’d notice.

Which makes it all the more frustrating for you. His outwardly behavior doesn’t make–You snap back from your thoughts when you feel him brush against you from behind, his body’s warmth seeping into your system. “Like it so far?” He whispers, bending down to your ear, his breath disturbing pieces of your hair. This close, he smells faintly of vodka and his signature scent, the fragrance washing over your senses. God, you missed him. 

“My brain goes, "Ah" Can't hear my thoughts (I cannot hear my thoughts) Like blah-blah-blah (blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah) Should probably not I should probably, probably not I should probably, probably not”

“Yeah, i-it looks great. You’ve always had an eye for decor,” You get out, tongue feeling heavy in your mouth. He hums, placing his hands on either of your upper arms. His fingers gripping softly, skin tingling around his palms. “Thanks. Let me give you a tour, yeah? You haven’t seen the best part yet,” He chuckles and steers you into the living room, seeming like he’s actually going to take you throughout the place.

He directs you to stand in front of the couch.

It’s the same one he had at his old apartment. A black leather sofa with solid wood legs, the contrasting colors make it pop. It had always been pretty comfortable, you could see why he wouldn’t get rid of it. “Remember this couch?” He asks, lightly squeezing your arms. You hum and nod, not sure where he’s going with this. He leans down, grazing his lips against the shell of your ear. You can hear the grin in his words  as he says, “Remember when I made you squirt so much that it was dripping off the sides?” 

The fire that erupts in your body scorches throughout. Like he flipped a switch with his words, your nipples harden, feeling wetness run out of you. You make a noise in the back of your throat while he moves his hands from your arms. One lowering to grip your waist, the other moving higher, to your throat. A firm hold, he adds no pressure. It sits there, possessively. 

He guides your head back, tilting it so you can meet his eyes. Cerulean half-lidded, grin still spread across his face with satisfaction at your body’s response. Tipping his head forward, lips brushing. “You’ve needed me so bad, huh? Must’ve been so hard these past couple months without me fucking you.” You whimper, eyes fluttering closed. He tightens his grip on your throat. 

“Seein' you tonight, it's a bad idea, right? Seein' you tonight, it's a bad idea, right? Seein' you tonight, it's a bad idea, right? Seein' you tonight, fuck it, it's fine”

“Look at me,” He commands, your eyes once again trained on his face. “So good, you could always follow directions so well.” “Please,” You plead, beginning to tremble. “Oh? Something you want? You know how to ask, or is that brain of yours already turned to mush?” He’s taunting you, you don’t even fucking care. “N-need you to touch me, so bad,” You whisper, lips parted. You lean up on your tiptoes to try to close the distance between your lips, but he pulls away.

He tuts, “Why don’t we start with you getting on your knees for me, then I’ll think about touching you, hm?” He pats your cheek with his hand. You turn towards him and immediately sink to the floor, knees hitting the rug a bit too fast, causing a bit of burn. Ignoring it to grab at his sweats, you begin pulling them down. “Goddamn, baby. If I knew you would get on your knees this quick, I would’ve called sooner.” Ignoring him, you work on his briefs next, joining the pants around his ankles.

Fully exposed to you, your eyes rake up his sculpted physique. Having looked like he was carved out of marble, freckles and moles scattered about his body, his chest scars faintly contrasting with his skin. “Admiring the view? Me too,” He props his hands on his hips, smirking down at you. You think if you rolled your eyes any harder they’d pop out of their sockets.

You look up at him, a smirk pulling at your features. He narrows his eyes. “What’s that look ab–oh fuck!” He yells out, hands shooting from his hips to entangle in your hair, having latched your mouth to his T-cock without warning. It jumps in your mouth and you quickly set to work on sucking, moving your head back and forth, hands gripping his thighs.

You set a ruinous pace, giving him a taste of his own medicine. You glance up to see his head thrown back and eyes closed, biting his lip to unsuccessfully stifle his whines. Your hand trails up closer to his cunt, fingers dipping into the wetness that’s accumulated. You slide one inside easily, immediately curling it and setting its pace to match your mouth.

He gasps out, body hunched over yours now, the grip he has on your hair tightens, a slight sting to it. “Ugh, God, baby don’t stop it feels so good, uh, yeah, you make me feel so fucking good,” That mouth of his never knows when to shut up, especially during sex. His babbles continue, his hips now meeting your mouth, thrusting into your warmth. You glide your tongue over his hardened clit, nose bumping into it while dipping down into his hole, tasting more of him. You love the way he tastes, eyes falling shut, savoring.

Leon’s body begins to tremble, a sign that he’s close. You latch your mouth back into place over his growth while you slide another finger inside, ramping up the pace. “FUCK, God! Don’t stop, I’m so goddamn close, baby. Feels so good, make me feel so good, love that fucking mouth,” continuous stream of words pouring from his mouth now, making you dizzy from the praise.

Feeling his beginning release splashing against you, you move your hand up to his lower abdomen and press down. Cock pulsing in your mouth while he squirts, soaking you and your clothes. They’ll surely be a noise complaint from the scream he produced as he hit his peak. You remove your mouth from him with a pop and lean back, loving the fucked out expression his face. 

“God. I needed that,” He murmurs, his hands now soothingly running through your hair. You hum, reaching to peel off your ruined clothing. “That’s a good look for you, babe.” It never stops with him. Shooting him a glare, you stand up and pull your bottoms down, stepping out of them. You pull your shirt off next, throwing it against his chest. It meets skin with a satisfying splat. “Ugh, why’d you do that for?” He grumbles, tossing it to the ground. 

“You and that goddamn mouth,” You spat, shoving your underwear down to your feet. “Whatever, you fucking love it.” He says, watching your movements with a starved look. Now fully naked, you turn toward him and catch his stare. You grin, “Admiring the view?” You repeat his own words to him, his eyes darting up to catch your amused look. Without answering, he stalks forward and you’re suddenly lifted into the air, a squeal leaving your throat.

Wrapping your legs around his waist to anchor yourself, latching your arms around his neck, he carries you into his bedroom. Tossing you onto the bed with an ‘oof’ leaving you, he opens his night stand and sets a few items to the side. “I’ve been thinking,” He starts, coming back to you and grabbing the back of your knees, pulling your legs apart. “About this since you walked out of my door two months ago. Been craving your pussy like a fucking drug.” He sinks to his knees. 

“Yes, I know that he's my ex, but can't two people reconnect? "I only see him as a friend," the biggest lie I ever said Oh, yes, I know that he's my ex, but can't two people reconnect? I only see him as a friend, I just tripped and fell into his bed”

“Now, you’re going to keep those legs spread for me while I eat you out, and you ain’t cumming until I tell you to.” He spits on your cunt. He watches it drip down your clit, jumping at the contact, swollen from arousal. “Fuck, no, come on Leon,” You beg, propping yourself up on your elbows to look down at him. You open your mouth to plead some more when he lunges forward and licks a trail up from your hole to then suck your clit into his mouth. 

You gasp, falling back against the sheets and he takes his fill, the noises of your wet pussy filling the empty space. You whimper, holding yourself back, but his fucking mouth. On a particular hard suck, your body spasms and you squirt, wetting Leon’s chin. He pulls away, narrowing his eyes. “What did I tell you?” He asks, pushing two fingers into your trembling hole. “I-I didn’t–fuck–cum!” You gasp out, his finger unrelenting. “No squirting either, or can you not follow directions, huh?” He goads. You huff, letting your head fall back to the bed once more. “Can’t help that it f-feels so good–ah–” Your back arches when he hits a particular spot inside you. 

This isn’t what you were expecting from Leon’s call, thinking it would be a quickie, it soon evolving into what seems like an all night fuck session. You would have those every once in a while, his stamina seemingly lasting for hours. You were not prepared for it, but you’re not complaining, either.

His mouth returns to you, lapping up your juices, slurping as he goes. You groan at the sensation, gripping the sheets. “Favorite fucking meal,” His babbling coming back, pussy drunk. You tense up, fighting off the waves of pleasure and bite your lip, taking deep breaths. He must notice, as he pulls up for a breath he asks, “Aw, poor thing. Bet you’re wanting to just gush on my face, huh?” You whimper, “Leon, please. I’ve been so good, let me cum,” You’re close to tears, willing to tell him anything if he allows you to finish.

He hums, contemplating, rubbing his thumb against your clit, it throbbing against his finger. “Tell me how much you missed me, how badly you needed me these past couple months.” You tense, your brain in a frenzy trying to form a sentence. You did miss him. Missed his cocky smile, his corny jokes and his softer side he showed only to you. Your brain conjured up something you didn’t proofread before it left your mouth, saying, “I love you.”

Leon stills. His movements paused over your overly sensitive area, watching your face. “You…What?” Unbeknownst to you, his widened eyes shimmering with emotion, you hastily try to backtrack. “I-I didn’t mean to say that, not what I meant to say,” You get out, pulling yourself up on your elbows. “I didn’t mean to make this awkward, I’m sorry, Le–AH” You yell out, your lower body getting grabbed and dragged even further off the edge of the bed, Leon starting again with renewed vigor.

“F-fuck, Leon! Oh God, I c-can’t hold back anymore, gonna cum,” You wail out, hands reaching down to pull at his silky strands. He groans against you, “Cum for me, baby, come on. Make a mess all over my fucking face,” He growls out, unrelenting. Your hips buck up to meet his suckling, fingers squelching in and out of you. Keening, you reach your orgasm. Chanting his name as you quiver against his head, your release running down his face and chest. He groans, letting you ride it out. Rutting into his mouth, his jumbled words indecipherable to your blissed out mind. 

Laying limp against the sheets, Leon finally pulls away, eyes raking over your body, taking in every detail he can. He maneuvers your body to lay your head against the pillows, climbing into bed himself. He engulfs your frame, burying his face into your neck.

“Did you mean it?” His ask is muffled by his face’s position against you. You bring your hands up, running one up and down his back while the other cards through his hair. You take a breath before responding. “Yeah, I did,” Turning your face, your confirmation whispered against his head. His grip tightens, a noise bubbling up from his throat. 

“Do you…Love me too?” You ask, the air around you two seemingly waiting with anticipation. He moves his head against you, nodding. A smile adorns your face. You kiss the top of his head, letting him continue to latch onto you. He shifts, clearing his throat and pulling the blankets over your bodies. You’re now turned away from him, with him spooning you. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he pulls you closer. He buries his face into your hair, “Do you, you know. Want to try again?” His voice is quiet, muffled still. 

“Yeah, I would,” You smile, squeezing one of his forearms. “Cool,” He says, his grip tightening. Emotional constipation aside, It’s moments like these where you forget why you left to begin with. These moments you cherished with Leon after being so vulnerable. The way his voice softened and became shy, how he would hold you close. Maybe, after your confession, it would change things, maybe.

Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Tags: @neondogs, tagging since I finished it before I sent you the excerpt 😭