#i remember this round grey boy

[luveline]

hi baby if you feel up for it i'd love to request some fluffy fluff with sirius. maybe he's usually so reserved and stoic (because, cmon) and they're out with his friends and they're all making fun of him for being so lovey and doting on r

love u sm!

love you!! ♡ fem, 1k

"This is really lovely," Sirius says, your face turned to the light in his hand. "It's bright without looking out of place. Blue is your colour." 

"Thanks, bug," you murmur back, holding still as he cleans the smudged mascara from your lower lash line.

"Every colour is your colour," he amends. "It goes nice with your top." 

You rub your lips together slowly, sticky with gloss. His noticing makes all your make up efforts worth it. 

Sirius wipes his thumb into the tissue you'd given him and tucks it away, stroking your cheek one last time with his other hand before stealing yours to twine your fingers. Your friends have carried on into the pub, but it doesn't take long to catch them. Remus was kind enough to wait at the entrance, eyebrows raised. 

"What?" Sirius asks. 

"Nothing." It's clearly something. "At all." 

You figure it's between them and skirt past Remus with a smile, eager to hide away in the warm wooded walls of The Firestroke. The boys filter in behind you, following you through the entryway and past the bar to the table James has commandeered with Emmeline. 

He's fiddling with her hair, readjusting a bobby pin, another held between his lips. "It looks nice, Emme, you should have it out of your face more often." 

"Marl says that all the time. Hey!" She beams at you. "Come and sit by me." 

You laugh happily and slide onto the seat next to her. You, Emme, and James sit on the booth side while Sirius and Remus set themselves down opposite. A waitress arrives and Sirius doesn't wait for the others, ordering a round of drinks for the entire group, wherever they may be. They'll filter in soon enough. 

"And extra cherries for my girl, please," Sirius says, nodding to you as he does. "Thanks." 

"Ooh, for his girl," James croons. 

"Remember when he'd order stuff for me like that?" Remus asks. 

Sirius rolls his eyes, offering his hands to you from across the table. Honestly, you're slightly surprised at his behaviour today, but you won't look a gift horse in the mouth. You lay your hands in his obligingly and relax as he begins to draw shapes into the fronts of your fingers, tiny stroking lines that feel ridiculously good, even under the eyes of your friends. "He's lying. I'd purposefully get his food wrong when we were teenagers so he'd have to go up to the counter and correct it." 

"Like exposure therapy I never signed up for," Remus sighs. "It worked, too." 

Sirius laughs. He's handsome to begin with, the last burst of a tan from summer's end on his skin, his hair dark and lush in the shimmering light, and when he laughs it's a tenfold effect, the grey of his eyes suddenly mesmerising, the wicked curve of his smile softened into a sweeter thing that begs to be kissed, or admired at the very least. You let him keep one hand but turn the other inward to give him similar treatment, rubbing your fingertips up and down his palm in a ticklish wave. 

"Do that to me, mate, there's a good lad," James says, offering his hand. Emmeline bats it away. 

"Awfully jealous today, aren't they?" Sirius asks you, ignoring their teasing to curl your fingers in and cover them. 

"I…" You're not sure what to say. Does he not realise how sweet he's being? Publicly? He's not usually this open. 

"You okay?" 

"Fine, just…" Words fail you twice. You cringe at your lack of explanation, but Sirius doesn't falter in his nice touches. It shouldn't shock you when he slides his chair tight against the table and pulls your hands ever closer, his top lip scratchy with hair as he leans down to kiss your knuckles. "Siri." 

"Yes, darling?"

"Jesus," Marl says, announcing her presence with a faked gag. "What's your problem, Black?" 

"I'm deeply in love, McKinnon. Not that you'd know what that feels like." 

You melt in your chair as he kisses a short path to your wrist. You could write Marlene a ten thousand word essay on love if she needed it, that's how adored he's got you feeling. 

"Absolutely vile."

"So sweet!" Mary denies, plopping herself down in the chair beside Sirius', all pink tulle and flowery smells. Any other day you'd be jealous of her in a good-natured but undeniably insecure manner, terrified that Sirius was gonna turn to her and see her in all her dewy beauty, but he doesn't so much as look up, your hands now rubbed against his cheek. 

"He's had a bit of catnip or something," Remus says. 

"It's the eyeshadow," you try to explain. 

Sirius lifts his head severely. "It looks perfect, but it's definitely not the eyeshadow. I'd feel just as mad about you if you were covered in soot." 

"Good to know," you say breathlessly. 

"Oh, so you're feeling pathetic today?" Marl asks.

Sirius sighs as though he's been greatly inconvenienced and sits up properly, casting his gaze around the group for a lick of sense between them, if his slack eyebrows are anything to go off of. "You're all wrong. I'm this pathetic for her every day of the week." 

"Then what's with the PDA?" James asks incredulously. 

"Mate, first of all, look at her. And if you must know, it's our anniversary." 

You flinch, your gaze jumping to his. The group erupts with well wishes and 'why didn't you say so's, and James slaps his card on the table, insisting that the round is on him to celebrate. Your heart races as you make the calculations in your head, calming as you realise that nothing falls on today's date, not a half month nor a first date. 

"Sirius?" you ask while everyone's distracted. 

He takes your hand again and begins kissing your knuckles once more. "I'm lying," he says, as you'd figured, scratching your fingers with his stubble. "That's what he gets for prying… You really do look lovely tonight." 

You nearly swallow your tongue. "Thank you. You look lovely, too." 

He smiles, twining your fingers together to rest his face against the back of your hand. "Thanks, angel." 

[mrs-kmikaelson]

01| The Grey Area

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader Summary: You meet Aaron Hotchner and he makes you see everything in colour; he makes you feel like you're the only girl in the room. But then, as you find out that you're not, you realize the colour he actually makes you see the most is grey. Warnings: emotional and physical cheating, forbidden love affair, reader is in government, cm level violence, r is a bitch at first, hotch is a jerk, based on olivia pope and fitzgerald grant Words: 3.8K

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Part 2

a/n: is this based on scandal by shonda rhimes? yes. why? bc that was peak television. making this a series bc i need to learn how to make things other than long fics (be proud of me).

1989

For as long as you could remember, life was slow. Everything was black and white: your surroundings, your activities, your beliefs. 

And then you met Aaron Hotchner, and you started seeing things in colour.

"I'm sorry, is this seat taken?"

You barely looked up at the person, just shaking your head and continuing to twirl your pen on your desk. He sat down right after.

You didn't expect him to talk to you. In fact, you were sure your disinterest was written all over your face in bold red letters. 

"I'm Aaron. Aaron Hotchner." He held his hand out; you only saw it because he held it over your desk, not because you actually looked in his direction. 

You stared at his hand plainly before looking up to the front of the class where the professor had just stood up. "And I'm not interested," you said. Presumptuous of you, maybe, but this was Georgetown, and it was your second year. Everybody was competition, and nobody actually wanted to be your friend unless they were looking for something a little more.

It was like you could hear his frown. "I— we can't be friends?" 

Finally, out of just pure exasperation, you looked at him, and boy were you taken aback. Aaron Hotchner, as he so formally introduced himself, had dark, dark brown hair, almost black, and a jawline that wasn't too sharp nor too round. His brown eyes looked at you expectantly, confusion swimming through them. Briefly, you thought he was perfect, but that wouldn't change your stance.

Despite your short-lived awe, you deadpanned, "No, we can't."

Aaron went to open his mouth, but then the professor started speaking and it cut him right off. You looked toward the front and didn't back at him once, listening intently. You were determined to succeed above all things, and no boy would get in the way of that.

Your first lecture of the semester went fine after that. You packed up your things at the end and you were gone before Aaron could try again. You went to one more class then got ready for work without another thought of him.

During nights, you were a bartender at this place near the campus. It wasn't just college kids; it was also frequented by businessmen and other big spenders who tipped well so long as you smiled and laughed at their jokes.

The excessive flirting wasn't ideal, but the job paid the bills, and since you were doing this all by yourself, that was exactly what you needed.

You rarely saw people you knew. There were regulars, and every once in a while you might've seen a kid from one of your classes, but it wasn't something you expected often.

You certainly didn't expect to see the hot guy from Advanced Legal Research.

"Hi there, what can I getcha?" You weren't looking at the customer, busy cleaning a glass and simultaneously passing someone their drink while you spoke to them.

"Hey, you're the girl from my LAW-J 301 course"

You paused at the person's voice, both at their enthusiasm and familiarity, and looked up. When you did, you couldn't help the groan that left you. "Seriously? You, again?" Each word was enunciated slowly, accurately demonstrating your annoyance. However, you got back to what you were doing, taking your eyes off him. "What, are you stalking me, Hopscotch?"

"It's Hotchner."

This time, your sigh was accompanied by a pointed eye roll. "Duuuude." You looked back up. "I do not care. Now, what do you want?"

He snorted. "Do you talk to all your customers this way?"

You flashed him a sarcastic smile. "Just the ones that can't take a hint." He opened his mouth for a sharp rebuttal no doubt, but you redirected the conversation. "Your order, Hopscotch. Or else you're gonna have to kick rocks."

He acquiesced like it was such a hardship you were asking of him, like you weren't in a bar that he came to specifically to order a drink. "Fine. Whiskey, neat."

That, you could help him with. You grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels and poured some into a glass for him, all the while making conversation. He wasn't special; you did this with every customer. "What are you doing here?" When you got no response, you glanced back up to see a confused expression on his face. You elaborated, "Doesn't seem like your scene." You would've said no offense, but who were you kidding? You were already abrasive to begin with.

But he didn't look offended. If anything, he looked curious. "How so?"

You slid his drink across the counter, cocking your head at him as if telling him it was stupid to even ask. "You introduced yourself with your first and last name, extended your hand for me to shake, then just now, you referred to our class with the course code." You raised a brow then. "A little formal, don't you think?"

Now he looked a little offended. "Formal? I don't think so. I'm a little old fashioned at most."

For the second time that day, you deadpanned. "You're at the bar in a suit and tie. You couldn't have made it any more obvious that you don't do this often."

He got a little red then. You think that, if he could've, he would've loosened his tie, but he just picked up his drink, taking a swig. You'd give him a little credit, though; at least he looked like he could take his liquor. "Fine," he admitted, "my friends dragged me out."

"Ah," you chuckled, "common occurrence here at GWU. You'll get used to it soon, freshie."

He furrowed his brows. "How'd you know I was a first-year?"

You grinned. "You just told me, Hopscotch."

He groaned, making you stifle a laugh. No, you wouldn't laugh at him; that'd make it seem like his presence was growing on you when it wasn't. 

You didn't need new friends, and you certainly didn't need suit-and-tie-wearing, formal Aaron Hotchner.

But he stayed there. He stayed there and talked you as you served other customers, asking you to refill his drink every now and then. You wondered where his friends were, but by the time closing came 'round, you assumed they were long gone.

He talked to you all night, you realized. 

And you didn't totally hate it.

Aaron visited you at work the next day, too. That's when you told him your name. Then you started talking to him in class. Then, before you knew it, you exchanged numbers and he was visiting you at work nearly every day.

But you were right in your earlier reservations. You and Aaron Hotchner couldn't be friends.

You just learned that too late.

2005

"Tallie, tell Gretchen that I need the files on Henderson's case by the end of the day, please."

You walked with your assistant at your side, heels clicking against the floor as you went through all the day's administrative business. Every day, Tallie went over your schedule with you as soon as you entered the building. Time was of the essence in your job, and you had none of it to waste.

"Yes, ma'am, and— if I may—"

"Oh, and contact the President's Chief of Staff. I need to meet with him by the end of the day to discuss the recent terrorist attack in London again. We need to communicate with the British government without overstepping."

"Done, and—"

"And could you please get Rob Burton on the line for me?" You turned down the hall that led to your office. "He said he has an inquiry for me."

"Well, ma'am, um—" You had just reached your office when Tallie stopped, sighing. You looked back at her, raising a brow. Sheepishly, she pointed ahead of you. "There's that."

Your brows knitted together. You turned, following her gaze to see a dark-haired man standing in your waiting room, eyes on his watch. As if he felt your presence, he looked up, and as soon as your eyes locked, you realized why he looked so familiar.

Tallie cut off your thought process. "I kept telling him he didn't have an appointment, but he said you knew him and would let him in, that it's urgent."

You let out a sigh of your own, muttering under your breath, "Somehow, I don't doubt that." It had to be urgent if Aaron Hotchner was at your office. You glanced back at Tallie, giving her a tense smile. "Thank you, Tallie. We'll raincheck that phone call with Mr. Burton?"

She nodded, giving a "Yes, ma'am," before she walked past the man in your waiting room to her desk.

Like old times, you couldn't hold back another sigh, but you got your exasperation under control before you walked up to him, if not just to be professional and keep up appearances.

"Agent Hotchner," you greeted, a faux smile on your face. "It's... nice to see you." It was like the words stung coming out of your mouth, and that was because they weren't true. If he was half as good of a profiler as you thought he was, then he'd know that.

If he knew you as well as he thought he did, then he should've known that regardless.

You didn't bother waiting for his greeting; you didn't care for it. "Let's talk in my office." Not a question.

He complied, following you into your office and shutting the door on the way in. With your back still turned to him, you momentarily closed your eyes, willing yourself to have the strength to sit through whatever it was he had to tell you.

When you had it, you turned back around, dropping all the pleasantries now that you were away from prying eyes. "What is it that's so important you couldn't say over the phone?"

He didn't answer. Deep down, you both knew it was because he could've. He didn't need to be here, but instead of agreeing with you, he nodded to the two chairs in front of your desk. "You're not going to offer me a seat?"

You scoffed. "If I did, would you take it?" You're met with silence, another answer in and of itself. It'd been six years, yet you could still read Hotch's tells like a children's book. He didn't like to say anything when he knew you were right.

You took that moment to examine him. He looked the same, just as you left him. Maybe a bit more worn, a bit more tired, and a bit more cold, but weren't you all?

Briefly, you wondered what he was thinking about you.

He got to the point, as he always did. "I have a suspect for the murders of 12 women in D.C. spanning over the past six months," he told you. "His name is Eric Clark. He's the founder and CEO of a new tech start-up here; they're calling him the new Zuckerberg." The sarcasm in his voice when he said that last bit was evident, shining through his monotonous persona.

You were aware of the murders he spoke of, and you were aware of who Eric Clark was. He was invited to some state dinner you just went to. But you didn't say this. Instead, you shrugged like it didn't matter to you and asked him, "So why are you telling me?"

If your nonchalance bothered him, he didn't voice it. He simply explained, "I need a warrant." A warrant, he said, like that sentence stood alone. What he was realling saying was, he needed a warrant, and he needed you to get it for him. More than that, he expected you to get it for him.

That forced a chuckle out of you, even though you didn't feel any humour at all. So that was why he was here; six years go by without any contact, but now that he needed something, here he was. 

You felt a strange sense of déjà vu. Hotch needing something and claiming that you were the only one who could give it to him.

"You need a warrant," you echoed, splaying your hands out in front of you. "So go take that up with a judge."

You saw a sudden crack in his calm composure. His eyes narrowed just the slightest bit, so slightly you wouldn't have noticed it if you didn't know what to look for.

But you knew what to look for.

"Come on, Y/N." He said your name like you were just old friends, like this stop by your office was a normal occurence. "Everyone knows you have pull in this city."

You did have pull in this city. In fact, you had pull in just about every city in America; being the U.S. Attorney General gave you that kind of power.

So yes, you had pull, and now Hotch wanted you to pull some strings for him as if you owed him a favour, as if you owed him anything.

You didn't say this, but you were sure that your next words said enough for you. "Where's Gideon? Normally, he's the one to come knocking on my door when the BAU needs something." You found it highly unlikely that he'd ever send Hotch, of all people, on his behalf.

Hotch pursed his lips. "He's on leave."

You made a clicking sound of realization, but it was more mocking than anything since you already gathered as much. That meant he was unit chief now, and that was why he was here. So that's what it took? you thought. All it took was a promotion, obligation, and now he was here.

He was here, checking his watch in your waiting room, marching into your office and shutting the door, clenching his jaw and pursing his lips like he was the one with the right to be mad. 

You'd give it to him: Aaron Hotchner sure as hell had guts.

You circled back to the original topic. "Yeah, Hotch, that's not happening." He went to cut you off, but you stopped him by raising a hand. Your were firm as you asserted, "If you're here with me instead of with a judge, that means you have insubstantial evidence. So how about, instead of ambushing me and wasting my precious time, you go back to the drawing board?" It wasn't a suggestion as much as it was an insult.

His jaw tensed, his eyes hardening as he stared at you. "I am sorry to waste your precious time, but precious lives are at stake." Condescending as ever.

"I undersand that, but you clearly have no probable cause." Or did you forget what that was? you wanted to add, but you kept that part to yourself.

You thought, if he clenched his jaw any harder, it just might break. "I have a profile—"

"Which clearly isn't enough—"

"You of all people should understand the importance of a profile, Y/N."

You took a sharp breath through your nose. It was low of him to say that, and it was also such a profiler of him to say it, mostly because he knew it'd get you.

You weren't always the Attorney General.

Perhaps this is why you agreed. "Fine. I'll go talk to a judge for you."

He sighed, "Thank you." He said it without looking at you, then he was opening your door and walking out, and you nearly thanked him for it.

Six years had gone by.

Yet you wouldn't have been able to tell with the way your heart was racing.

You went on with your day after Hotch left, going through paperwork and dropping by the White House. You had a meeting with the President that day, the President of the United States, the most important person in the whole damn country. That was little old you that did that.

You weren't the same girl he remembered, not that girl from Georgetown who rolled her eyes at every one of his corny jokes, and he wasn't the same guy who'd sit and wait for you the by the bar, either. He was the unit chief now. And you were the Attorney General.

Things were different now. 

Or maybe they weren't.

Because Aaron Hotchner came striding into your office just later that night.

Your door flew open, Aaron walking in thereafter with a stone cold frown and determination etched onto his face. It wasn't like the Aaron you knew to frown so much, but that wasn't what you were focused on.

You immediately shot up from your chair and rounded your desk, baffled by his behaviour. "Hey! What the hell do you think you're—"

You didn't get to finish your sentence. Before you could berate him, Aaron's hand was on the back of your head and his lips were slamming into yours. Slamming was the right word. This was fervent, almost violent, like he wanted to bruise you, like he wanted to permanently mold his lips into yours.

Your eyes went wide. You should've pushed him away—you really should have. But it was like you weren't thinking. Like you were on auto-pilot, your hands automatically went to his hair, your lips moving in unison with his.

This was muscle memory. God, how could you have ever forgotten what this felt like? Like ecstasy, and butterflies, and all good things in the world. Kissing him felt like everything all at once.

But everything meant that it came with all the bad in the world, too.

Your senses came back to you as you pushed him away, stumbling backward. You were sure you would've fallen, had your desk not been right behind you. You were heaving, and he was no different.

Fuck. What did you just do?

Your eyes darted to the door, alarm flashing through them. "Tallie—"

He finished your thought, assuring you, "She's gone. I sent her home."

Relief flooded your body. She wasn't here, she didn't see anything. That was good. But then what he said actually hit you. Your eyes narrowed into slits. "You did what?" He rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to retort, but you kept going. "You sent my assistant home?"

"Yes."

You scoffed. He sent your assistant home, and he was just admitting it proudly like it was nothing. Maybe nothing was different after all if Aaron was still here, barging into your life like he owned it, like he owned you.

And perhaps he did.

"You can't— you can't just—"

"I can't what?" he cut you off then took a step closer. "I can't come see you?" Another step. "We used to see each other all the time."

You were already cornered, right against your desk. "That was before," you responded. "Before—" the rest of your sentence got caught in your throat. You had glanced down momentarily, catching sight of his hand in the process. There, something glinted in the light. A golden band.

A wedding ring.

Your chest tightened, your voice getting smaller. "Before that." Even if he wasn't a profiler, it was impossible not to notice the crack in your voice.

You didn't know how you didn't feel the ring when he had his hand on your head.

Confused, Aaron followed your line of sight, right down to his hand. When he realized what you were referring to, he sighed, "Y/N, it's not what you think—"

A humourless chuckle left you. "It never is, is it?" You could count the number of times he'd said that to you. "God, I can't believe it." You chuckled again before your laugh faded into something angrier. No, not angrier. You were furious.

You didn't know if there was even a word in the English language that could describe how furious you were.

"You—" you took a deep breath, stopping yourself from yelling. "You're doing this to me— again?"

"Y/N—"

You slapped his hands away when he tried to put his hands on your arms. You didn't want to feel that fucking ring touch your skin. "Again?!" you seethed. "What, two times wasn't fucking enough for you? You had to go and do this a third time—"

"Please, just—"

You refused to let him get a word out. "No! I don't need any more of your excuses, Hotch!" Lord knew that if you heard them, you might just believe them.

You nearly did the first time.

To think that he had just been in your office hours earlier, acting like he didn't know you, like he didn't break you down just to build you back up and do it all over again. 

He could've at least given you the courtesy of leaving you alone, but it appeared that he couldn't even do that. Still, he was defending himself, false conviction lacing through his voice. "Haley and I are separated—"

"Separated?" That forced another chuckle out of you. "Sure, and I'm the Pope."

His glare at you hardened, like he was mad at you "I'm being serious."

Another laugh. He couldn't figure out why the hell you were laughing.

"Haley, haley, haley." Your voice raised. "It's always about fucking Haley." Even when he was with you.

Especially when he was with you.

His jaw locked. "We're not together right now."

You snapped, "Tell that to the fucking ring on your finger, asshole." 

It was laughable, really. You were the Attorney General of the United States of America. You sat in one of the highest offices of the land. Yet Aaron Hotchner still had the ability to turn you into putty in his hands.

The Attorney General didn't play second fiddle to anyone.

But you'd always be second to Haley Brooks.

"Get out, Hotchner." 

"What?" He had the audacity to look hurt, confused. You didn't understand what there was to be confused about. 

You managed to wriggle yourself out of the space where you were stuck between him and your desk, walking to your door and nearly yanking it open, holding it for him wordlessly.

He scoffed. "Y/N, come on—"

You shut him down. "No. I did what you asked earlier. I got you your warrant, therefore we are done. Now get out."

You didn't meet his eyes but you felt them burning into you with the same heat that'd make an unsub crack. It was the same heat that'd make you crack, too, which was precisely why you refused to look at him.

After what felt like a lifetime of staring at you, his footsteps sounded. You didn't look up until you watched his shoes pass you. Immediately, you closed the door, locking it.

Your hand fell around the door handle, your forehead resting against the door. Briefly, you wondered what the sensation in your eyes was, until you realized it was tears.

You hadn't cried in so long.

But whenever Aaron Hotchner came around, tears seemed inevitable.

taglist: @c-losur3

[charliemwrites]

Girl rage, girl rage, girl rage!!

CW for Simon being a Jerk and a Creep, mentions of violence and murder, and kidnapping.

One time in high school, there was a boy that wouldn’t leave you alone. You gave him a million chances to knock it off, growing more and more hostile, snapping your teeth. The inappropriate touches in the hall, the lewd comments at lunch breaks, the fucking pictures. Nothing salacious, just long shots of you from afar, trying to go about your day.

One day he reached for your chest and you snapped two of his fingers. His parents wailed that you ruined his rugby career. You told them he should get better at football.

When you’re annoyed, you crack the knuckles of those same fingers on your own hand.

It’s the first thing you do when you wake up in a bare, grey basement, laid on a thin cot on the ground. Pop, pop. Recalibrating your foggy mind.

You don’t quite remember how you got here. Last clear thing is the bar. Doesn’t matter how you got here though, at least for the moment - just that you are here. And you don’t want to be.

You’re handcuffed, chain looped through an exposed pipe above your head. You clink it once, twice. Decide it’s fairly sturdy and take stock of everything else.

Your stomach is a bit tight with nausea - drug induced, you figure. Ugh. And your head aches, nothing a glass of water won’t fix.

But all your clothes are intact, no ache between your thighs or burgeoning bruises on your breasts. No shoes, though. Bummer, you liked those.

You crack the knuckles on your other hand; pop, pop.

You think of the scent of cheap whiskey, shattered glass, policemen wrapping you in a shock blanket. Remember your date chocking on his own vomit in a dark alley, then someone much bigger and stronger grabbing you as you tried to leave.

Hm.

The pipes are warm. You settle back against them and wait.

—

You don’t scream when Simon enters the basement. Don’t make a single peep. You shift against the pipes, tucking your feet under you as he approaches. Your eyes are so big, rounded as you peer up at him through your lashes.

“Such a smart girl,” he coos, “staying quiet for me. Or are you just that scared?”

You blink at him, the tiniest indent dimpling your bottom lip from your teeth. He crouches down in front of you, arms balanced on his knees. You’re curled up so small. He wants to bundle you in his lap, tuck you away.

“It’s alright, little one,” he soothes. “There’s no need to be scared.”

You twitch a bit, the metal cuffs clicking together. He flicks his eyes to them, sighs.

“Those are so that you don’t do something stupid,” he explains patiently. “Like you did earlier.”

A little furrow of confusion creases your brows. He exhales, amused despite himself. So precious, his girl. Like you can’t fathom why he would be upset with you.

“Going out with a strange man.”

He tuts, feels that black rage simmering again, same he felt when he realized you and that slime were no longer at the bar.

“He almost hurt you in that alley,” he reminds, “had he not been so drunk he tripped over his own fucking feet.”

He takes a second to breathe, fingers twitching. They feel too dry, too clean. He was so worried about getting you home that he had no time to bother taking care of that scum.

“I tried to let you have your fun, baby. I really did. But I can’t — I can’t anymore. The world is far too dangerous.” He brushes the backs of his fingers down your cheek, coos at the little shudder that runs through you. “And you’ve proven that you can’t take care of yourself.”

Your lips part. Shock, confusion, protest. It doesn’t matter, he’s more distracted feeling the soft give of your plush bottom lip beneath his thumb, bitten pink.

“It’s alright. You don’t have to worry about that anymore,” he soothes. “I’ll take care of you from now on.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, dropping your head to your arm. He hums.

“I know, sweet girl, I know. This is for the best, I promise.”

You sniffle a bit, blink wet eyes open. Wet your lips with the tip of your pretty pink tongue.

“What… what do I call you?” you ask, voice soft and raspy.

Oh, such a sweet thing. Such a sweet, clever girl. You’re going to be so, so good for him.

“Just Ghost for now, luv. Let me get you some water, you’ve earned it.”

—

You exhale slow and soft, counting every fourth heartbeat. If you don’t, you’ll start trying to break things. The smart money is on your bones giving before that stupid pipe. So. Breathing it is.

You’ve never felt out of control in anger. Everything is always so sharp and clear, you think and move with a precision you usually can’t coax from mind or body.

This… Ghost, though.

It was a pleasant surprise that he didn’t realize what you did in the alley. Too dark, perhaps. Too quiet. Perhaps he thought you were fleeing in fear.

It’s an advantage you can’t squander. He’s much bigger than you, much stronger. Carries himself with posture and purpose reminiscent of military or former military bearing. There’s a physicality to the way he moves that echos violence.

You know that you will only get one proper shot to escape. There is no point wasting it on shouting and cursing and snarling. Even if he did only consider it bluster and bark, it would plant seeds of doubt in his mind. Make him careful and conscious of any slip ups.

Sometimes, rabid animals appear friendly or docile. The virus gets a new victim close enough to turn and bite, spreading and infecting.

You run your tongue over your teeth, imagine the taste of blood if you’d bitten through his thumb like you wanted to. Inhale and exhale again, start the counter over.

Pause to resist another sneeze, blinking past watery eyes and sniffling it away. Christ, he couldn’t have at least cleaned the basement before chaining you up down here? Could barely focus on his ridiculous monologue through the allergies.

Not that you think you missed much; and you’re sure you’ll be hearing it again.

He’s just like every other man you’ve ever killed, you muse, settling in again. And it’ll be so, so sweet watching the blood bloom.

[so-much-for-the-seashells]

The Fun Kind of Sparring Pt. 2

Soldier Boy (The Boys) x Reader

(Aka minors do NOT interact with this post)

A/N: Sooooooo… did ya miss me?? Heh. My down stairs brain has been exercised, that’s for sure. Took five but now I’m trying to change lives 💪

Anyways, as always, all interaction, especially commentary/tags, is extremely appreciated! It really makes my day to hear that people like what I’m putting out there.

Content Warning: 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ If you thought the last one was diddle-that-skittle-worthy, this one… I think I’m going to need to take a cold shower. I mean, my man doesn’t stop talking. I will say he’s really sweet to the reader. A few things he says sound more like him in canon, but overall he’s really sweet. Look, guys, life is lifing rn so I just needed a sweet hot old man to talk me through it 🤷‍♀️

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Previously on The Fun Kind of Sparring

"Good girl," he praises, and it's all I can do not to keen. I have to be soaked through my shorts by now, there's no way. "Well, what l'd do next... that's simple. I'd fuck her until she cried, and then I'd keep going. And I'd keep going until the only thing she can remember is my name, until she's gooey and clingy and a sweet little fucked out thing, all for me," he finishes, his grin from before returning back to his face. I'm losing it. I can't think straight. And yet- he's still waiting for me to make the first move. Son of a bitch.

"O-okay," I clear my throat, unable to find my senses. "And if that hypothetical girl was me?" We both know it's me, I just need to hear it.

"Well in that case I think l'd be the luckiest bastard who ever lived," he says sincerely, looking at me with a gaze that can only be described as pure adoration and lust. Yep. That's it for me. I lean up and kiss him with as much force as I can muster.

A strand of spit connects our lips when we part, and if I hadn’t heard him say all those dirty things I’d think it was the most erotic thing imaginable. It’s certainly a close second, though.

He crashes his lips back to mine once the strand breaks, demanding access that I could never be strong enough not to give. He explores my mouth with great fervor, silencing the small whimpers and whines trying to tear themselves from my throat. Once he’s sure I’m breathless he moves down, planting a row of kisses to my jaw before kissing down my neck, biting and sucking dark marks at the juncture of my neck and shoulder.

But through the lust induced haze that’s already clouding my brain I can only remember one thing.

“Uh, Ben?” my voice is unrecognizable, breathy and high.

“Yeah?” He says into my collarbone where he’s been leaving more love bites.

“What about you? Don’t you get to come in the story?”

“Oh, you’re sweet on me, huh, baby? Don’t you worry about me sweet girl, that’ll come later- no pun intended.”

“Oh, okay,” I mumble, tugging him up by the hair so I can kiss him again. “I could kiss you forever,” I say. And it sounds stupid, but his plush pink lips are just too good to be true.

“That can be arranged, sweetheart,” he smirks, leaning down to kiss me again. There’s just no feeling like it. I reach for the hem of his grey sweatpants, but he grunts, pulling away. I look at him, eyes wide with confusion.

“Sugar, as much as I’d love to give some sad sap the chance of walking in on this, I think it’s better we move this to my room.”

“Oh, okay,” I concede.

“Trust me,” he says, almost… shifty? Whatever. I’m too horny to decipher his gaze at the moment. I let him all but pick me up off the floor, and I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror embellished wall: my face is sweaty and splotchy, hair already a wreck, hickies everywhere on my neck and shoulders. Holy hell. I haven’t even gotten laid yet, and I look like I went nine rounds in a porno. Motherfucker. Me-fucker, in a minute. Good god.

“I think I’m an artist,” he says smugly from behind me, admiring the blues and purples on my neck and shoulders, and catching my gaze in the mirror. He presses his bulge to my ass, at which I gasp. He’s huge. I can already tell. How the fuck does he even-? I don’t even know how I’m going to finish that question.

“C’mon sweetheart, my room ain’t far.”

“Okay,” I mumble, stuck on the absent feeling of his bulge against me. “But the floor was so hot,” I pout.

“Don’t I know it, sweets,” he grins. “But I’ve got big plans for you, if you remember.”

I moan softly at the memory of his dirty words

“Attagirl.” The shit eating grin from before is right back on his face. “Now c’mon, sweets,” he tugs my hand in his, practically dragging me out of the gym. Before I know it I’m laying on my back in his soft bed, him over me. He somehow kisses me both soft and slow, and rough and fast, and it’s almost impossible to breath. Especially as he adds more to the canvas he’s made of my body.

“Can I?” he asks, tugging at the hem of my shirt. I nod, and pulls it up over my head, obviously enjoying what he finds under it.

“Of course my pretty girl has pretty tits too, I shouldn’t even be surprised, but”-he kisses the tops of each of my breasts-“damn, baby.”

I blush at his praise, unable to help myself. “Can I take off this cute little bra?” he asks.

“Mhm,” I say, hoping that he’ll just rip it off. But instead of being raucous he gently unclasps it from behind, teasing it off of me. He trails lower with his lips, lavishing my breasts in attention that leaves them perky and alert once he leaves them for my stomach.

I can’t help but start giggling at the feeling of his scratchy beard on my stomach as he continues his trek of kisses and such southward. “What’s funny?” he asks, obviously amused by my laughter. I can only giggle harder because he seems to catch on, now intentionally scratching at me with it. He starts kissing lower and lower, and eventually my giggles dissolve into moans as he nips at the juncture of my thigh and pelvis.

“So sweet,” he mumbles, tugging at the waist band of my shorts. He pulls both them and my underwear off in one go. “Oh, sweets,” he breathes. “You this wet all for me?”

I squeak, unable to respond to the dark, lust-filled look in his eyes as he asks. Thankfully the question is rhetorical, because my brain is already starting to get fuzzy.

He gingerly pulls off my shoes and socks, before pressing featherlight kisses to and massaging up my left leg. Just as he reaches my sopping heat does he stop, biting the squishy flesh of the inside of my thigh before returning back down on my right leg.

“Ben,” I whine impatiently, unsure of how much more of this teasing I can take before I just come without him doing anything.

He just tuts at me before continuing his ministrations. And good grief does he know what buttons to press, because my legs already feel like jello in his hands.

Finally he bites my other thigh, and I’m all but shaking with how eager I am for him to do something, anything to me. And he seems to be more than happy to comply.

“Listen, if you tell me to stop, I’ll stop,” he says roughly, sincerely, as his cheek rests against the inside of my thigh.

“O-okay?” I say, my tone far past breathy.

“That’s my girl,” he grins before diving in.

It’s like nothing I’ve felt before. It feels like he’s lit orgasmic fireworks, like far too much and not enough all at once, like… it’s fucking inexplainable. Especially while I’m physically squirming from how good it feels, while he only needs one big hand splayed over my stomach to keep me down. I couldn’t even tell you what I’m moaning between the incoherent mess of his one syllable name and the whines he’s pulling out of me.

It’s incredible. And he’s so methodical, so good at it. Eighty odd years of experience will do it to you I guess, but this is like, next level.

And before I know it my stomach is tightening in on itself, and I try to warn him. I really do. But he doesn’t even need me to warn him. Instead he takes his hand off my stomach and places both on either of my thighs, locking me in place around his head. And before I know it, his tongue thrusting in and out of me and his nose and facial hair rubbing on my clit have me coming with a loud cry of his name. I’m physically shaking by the end of it from how he continues to fuck me through it, lapping up every last drop.

The thing about Ben is that he does everything with great fervor. Passion, really, except he thinks that’s too feminine a word. There just has to be a certain exceptionality to the way he does things. When he snorts a line of coke, the line had better be four times longer than anyone else’s. When he performed back in the day, it had to be more grandiose than Queen, more ostentatious than Madonna. When he eats pussy, it has to be fucking leagues ahead of any other man or woman in the entire world.

And man oh man does he deliver. I think I come again, but it’s hard to tell from how intense the initial orgasm was and how fuzzy the overstimulation is making my brain. But he eventually pulls back, once again resting his stubbled cheek on the inside of my thigh, my come glistening on his jaw and mouth. It’s a sight of debauchery in its purest-or should I say filthiest- form. I’m panting, trying to ground myself as he smugly smirks at me, his greens eyes sparkling like cut emeralds.

“Y’like that, sweetheart?” he asks, knowing damn well I do. And yes, he’s cocky as fuck, but… he’s not wrong.

“Yes,” I mumble.

“Good girl,” and at that I clench around nothing. And he does not fail to notice.

“Aww, my sweet girl likes being a good girl,” he observes, languidly running a knuckle through my folds. I gasp, and he chuckles. “Easy.”

He surprises me by thrusting one finger in- and like he said, it wouldn’t do much with how wet I was. So he gives me a second, and I start to feel it, especially when he hits my g-spot on every languid thrust, eliciting tinny moans from me. The tinny moans get louder when he starts scissoring his fingers inside of me, opening me up as far as he sees fit. “Gotta get you ready for me,” he explains, spitting on his other hand before brining his thumb to my clit. I’m beyond fucked once the rough pad of his thumb meets my sensitive bud, gasping his name and arching my back.

“You’re taking ‘em so well, sweet girl. Gonna give you another,” he tells me before adding a third finger and rubbing on my clit even faster. I barely last three minutes of this before I come for the second-third?- time with a weak cry of his name, still ready for more. I’m flustered from how easy it was to make me come, and his words certainly don’t soothe my blush.

“Oh, look at this pretty pussy gushin’ f’me, she’s too good to me,” he groans, slowly thrusting his fingers in and out to prolong my bliss. “Aww sweet girl, why’re you embarrassed, huh? I think my new favorite color is pink cause of your sweet cheeks. My pretty girl, my perfect girl.”

My mind is so fuzzy. Ben- Soldier Boy- is literally praising me whereas he calls anyone else a disappointment or a whore. And he’s making me feel so good, not only because of the incredible sex but with the way he’s treating me.

He kisses me again before he stands up, and I can taste myself on him. I don’t mind though, because his lips, his tongue… I can hardly account for my senses, much less comprehend the taste of myself. He stares at me and finally takes the waistband of his sweatpants in his hands. I can’t help the way my jaw drops as he finally pulls them and his boxers down, and naturally he gives me his signature smirk.

The bottom line is that he’s even bigger than I had thought earlier. Like, this is a size I thought only dildos came in, not the real thing. It’s long, it’s thick, and it’s rock hard. His eyes are trained on mine, so naturally he catches me gaping and laughs. Jackass.

“You know that not all of that is going to fit, right?” I ask, a little nervous.

“We’ll see about that,” he says, cocksure. I can’t help but gulp involuntarily, but once he brings his lips back down to mine I’m right back into my whipped frenzy, pouting and following his lips like a puppy when he pulls away, rummaging in his bedside drawer but talking all the while.

“Don’t worry, m’gonna give you what you want, just gotta ease you into it, okay? Ain’t gonna treat you like a loosened whore, I could never. My sweet girl. Didn’t bring you in here for nothing, wanted this.” He holds up a small bottle, and that’s when I get it. He needed the damn lube. That’s why he wanted to come back here. Not a big connection, but for someone who’s ready to let him doin all sorts of unspeakable things to her and thank him for it, it’s a revolutionary revelation.

“Oh-oh,” I say, my voice breaking when I watch him fist himself a few times.

“Gonna make it feel so good for you,” he mumbles, rubbing a generous amount of lube up and down his length. As if it hasn’t already been beyond good. “Tell you what, baby, I want you to ride me, just to start. Y’can adjust on your own time, take it as slow as you need, okay sweet girl? ‘Cause if I’m on top… I don’t think I can make any promises.” At least he’s honest. The horny part of me wants him to just go ahead and rail me within an inch of my life, but the small, annoying, rational part of me recognizes how huge he is. He sits down next to me on the bed, comfortably resting against the pilos and the headboard. His legs are splayed, showing off the endearing curve to them.

It takes a lot out of my already fucked out self to move two inches and straddle him, but I do. He smiles, genuinely smiles, and I can’t help but smile back.

“Take it easy, sweet girl,” he tells me. “We’ve got all night. You just take all the time you need.” I’m so turned on by how sweet he is, I genuinely can’t even help it.

“Okay,” I mumble, reaching for his cock, feeling it in my hands. It’s just a little thicker than the grip of one of my hands- definitely thicker than anything I’ve ever had, but not as scary as I thought. I rub the leaking precum over his tip, because even though he’s already poured a more than generous amount of lube on himself I can’t be too sure. Not to mention the delicious gasps he’s making at every touch are enough to just do this for the next six hours.

But finally, finally I’m ready. I position myself over it, my arms encircling Ben’s wide, freckled shoulders.

And then I slowly, ever so slowly sink down on the tip. We both moan at the newfound sensation, and I physically have to stop for a second. He’s just so big. All of him is, from his ego to his overall stature, but inside me? He’s huge, and the stretch is beyond satiating.

“You okay, sweets?” he asks, recovering quicker than me.

“Yeah,” I whisper.

“Good girl,” he kisses me on the lips. The distraction of the kiss lets me move more comfortably down his length. I make it a little bit more before I have to stop again. “You’re squeezing me so good, this pussy was made for me,” he groans when I stop, and I hide my own noises into the crook of his shoulder.

“Ben?” I mumble.

“Yeah?”

“I need help,” I whine, keeping my face hidden to hide my embarrassment.

“Aww, sweetpea,” he lets out a small laugh despite himself, furthering my angry red blush. “C’mere, look at me,” I do as he says, my thighs sore from keeping me up as I do so.

“No need to be embarrassed with me, sugar,” he says softly, before bring my lips to his, a big hand cupping the side of my head. I barely notice his other hand on my hip until he slowly starts guiding me down on him, lifting me up and down where I’m and pushing me down further and further as he does so. He muffles my whimpers and whines into the kiss, kissing me so long that I forget what it’s like to breathe.

Once he’s bottomed out and I’m properly seated on his lap does he pull away, letting me moan as loud as I need to.

“How do you feel?” he asks, his own voice strained.

“Full,” I mumble, because it’s true. He’s so all consuming in this moment, all I can concentrate on is how he fills me to the brim.

He twitches inside of me at that, his brow furrowed.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Nothin’ baby, you just can’t be throwing around words like that,” he groans.

“You asked,” I protest.

“I know,” he retorts, kissing me again. After a few moments of sitting there on his lap, I tell him I’m ready to move a little.

“You need help, sweets?” he asks, giving me a knowing look. And I want to say no, that much is probably written on my face. Want to show him that I’m capable of bouncing on his enormous cock, but I sincerely don’t think I am.

“Maybe,” I concede sheepishly.

“That’s okay, baby,” he smiles gently, grabbing me by the hips. He slowly lifts me up his length, and I can feel my walls trying to contract around him as he moves me up, clenching him like a vice. A soft groan leaves his lips whilst various whimpers leave mine.

He keeps this gentle pace, so slow that I can feel every single inch of him slide in and slip out. Slowly the burn from the initial stretch disipates into pure pleasure that leaves me whispering his name every time he bottoms out. But eventually it’s not enough, because the thoughts of his promises creep into my empty mind, his promises of fucking me. Until I cry, until I can only remember his name and nothing else.

“Ben,” I mumble, my head still resting in the crook of his neck as he eases me up and down. “I’m ready.”

“Ready for what, pretty girl?”

Jackass. He knows damn well what, I can hear it in his voice. “I don’t want to say it,” I whine. He pulls me back so we’re eye to eye, resting me on his lap.

“I think you’re gonna have to,” he’s grinning ear to ear.

I pout, my hands resting on his chest.

“C’mon baby,” he prods, thumbing my lower lip. I take his thumb into my mouth, sucking on it. It clearly takes a lot out of him to take his finger out of my mouth, he seems to be turned on by the action.

“Fine. I want you to fuck me,” I tell him, crossing my arms.

“You’re lucky I like you so much. If anyone else were acting this bratty with me I think I’d have to teach them a lesson,” he smirks, the cocky promise clear in his eyes. Before I can retort he slips out of me, and I whine at the emptiness. I don’t like it.

Thankfully I don’t have to wait long because he lays me down, resting over me in a plank just as he was when we were “sparring.”

“Y’trust me?” His thumb comes up to meet my pulse point, his other fingers grazing across the bitten flesh of the juncture of my neck and shoulder, creating the most delicious sting. I nod frantically. “Words, baby.”

“Yes,” I whisper. His presses down barely a fraction harder, and yet it’s already enough to set me off even while being empty.

“I need you to promise me something, gorgeous,” he says, making the most intense eye contact I’ve ever seen from him.

“Okay,” I whisper.

“If you need me to stop, you tell me, okay?” His eyes are slightly wide, indicating how important to him this is. It’s easy to say: “Okay,” he has all of my trust. I kiss him for good measure, and we’re back. Fireworks gone off again halfway through as I take initiative to deepen the kiss before he can. But it doesn’t matter, because he’s stronger and so all consuming, and before I know it my mind is blank again. Blank and wanting one thing: him.

He gets up and I whine, not wanting him away from him. “Miss me already? My clingy girl,” he says affectionately, grabbing a pillow and putting it under my hips, kissing my stomach.

Settling above me once again, he lifts my legs up so that my ankles are resting on his shoulders, nearly bending me in half. But I let him, I’ll be as malleable ad he needs me to be if it’ll help him deliver on those promises.

“You sure you want this, sweets? Last chance to back out,” he tells me. I can’t believe he has the audacity to let the thought of me wanting to back out cross his mind. I’ve never wanted anyone more than I want him.

“I’m so sure. Fuck me, please,” I tell him. This is the strongest my voice has been this far, and I think he gets the memo.

“As you wish,” he grins, before sheathing himself in me in one go. I scream his name, but the noise is cut off by all air leaving my body as he thrusts into me at a literal superhuman pace. The sounds are ungodly, with every thrust a broken moan and the occasional grunt from him. He finds my g-spot with ease, slamming into it with every thrust ad he pounds me into his mattress.

“You sounds so pretty, maybe we should look into making one of those Internet videos.” I moan at the idea. I didn’t think starring in a porno would be my thing until he and his transatlantic 1950s accent suggested it.

“Yeah, everyone would want a piece of this pussy. But she’s all mine,” those last three words are punctuated with particularly hard, possessive thrusts that leave me gasping his name.

He brings his hand up to my throat once more, and the moment his thumb grazes my pulse point as it did before I realize just how much I want to come. “You like that, huh. Such a good girl,” I clench around him as he presses light pressure to my throat, and even though he’s not even done anything with my clit and it’s been maybe two minutes I’m coming hard and all-consumingly. It washes over me in waves that match Ben’s pace, seemingly getting more intense as he keeps fucking me.

“Oh sweetheart, you look so gorgeous when you make a mess of my dick. I’m hopin’ to see that five more times before the end of the night,” he tells me, but I barely hear him, too engulfed in my pleasure. He somehow adjusts the pillow under me while continuing his incessant pace and his grip on my throat and the new angle has me crying from how good it is.

“Aww, what’s the matter sweets?” he coos, knowing damn well what the matter is. It’s just too good.

“You’re so deep,” I sob, unable to gain my bearings because of how full I feel.

“Don’t I know it,” he groans, going impossibly harder. Eventually he takes his hand from my throat, and I whine, until he brings it down to my clit.

“Make it a good one, beautiful,” he winks with a click of his tongue before skillfully rubbing circles into my sensitive bud.

“Ben, it’s too much-,” I protest, but all it takes is a few more circles and I’m coming undone around him again. I’m both hyperaware of my tears soaking my face and the burn from the position of my legs but also on the verge of unconsciousness with how good it all feels. My legs are quivering around him but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“You’re okay, sweet girl, taking it so well,” he mumbles against my lips, kissing away my tears. I’d never had a lay so good that the guy had to reassure me that I was okay because I was shaking and crying uncontrollably from just how good it was. But then again, prior to tonight, I’d never had a lay with Ben.

He quickly brings me to the edge again, his fingers fast on my clit and his thrusts deeper than ever. When I come I can’t say his name, I can’t say much of anything because my mind is blank. Fuzzy, syrupy, I feel almost soft while the only noises I can make are little whimpers as he just keeps going. And I fucking love it.

“‘m gonna come,” he warns, and I muster enough of my bearings to tell him ‘please.’ He gladly obliges, coming with a loud grunt of my name, bottoming out so far inside me that he may damn well be in my cervix. I can feel it leaking out of me, and even in my fucked out stupor I can remember to moan. It’s the hottest feeling I’ve ever felt. He slowly pulls out then, gently easing my legs down.

I look up at him with questioning eyes, wondering why he doesn’t go for another three like he was planning to.

“Don’t want to break you on the first night, sugar,” he says, sweetly cupping my face in his hands. “I know you don’t feel it right now but you’re gonna be real sore in a couple hours.”

I pout, unsure of how to react to that. My legs are still shaking and while I do feel tired I’m still turned on.

Okay, maybe there’s dull ache.

“Oh, don’t pout. There’s other nights, and I’m gonna take care of you,” he smiles softly.

“Okay,” I whisper, finally regaining enough sense to talk.

He leans down to kiss me, softly this time. I melt into the kiss, and that’s when I realize: I don’t just want Ben. I think the feelings might be deeper. Maybe I… love? him.

But hey. There’s other nights.

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As a bonus, cause I love y’all: if we can get 250 notes on this post by the end of the poll time then I will do a spicy soldier boy fic with whichever of these gets the most votes. If we can somehow get to 400 I’ll do the top two! No kink shaming, okay? 🥹🎀

In the meantime, if you want more Soldier Boy try Taming the Supe!! <3

For fans of Big Sky!Jensen, part two of 2SC (aka my favorite project thus far) should be coming out next!

And don’t forget, asks/requests/thoughts/thots are always open!!

[fluentmoviequoter]

Creepy, But Special

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x goth!fem!ME!reader

Summary: Tim sees a woman in a cemetery after dark and can't stop thinking about you. When he calls for the M.E. and you arrive, he gets a chance to find out more about you.

Warnings: spoilers for 5x22, r is an ME and performs an autopsy, mentions of past judgement and insults, fluff, Tim gets kinda flirty even while there's a dead body between them?

Word Count: 2.5k+ words

A/N: The request said shy reader, but she's pretty open with Tim so I didn't include it in the pairing dynamic. R is very professional with the other characters, though, so that could be considered shy, I think. And, as always, ignore the Chenford gif🤭

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“Kojo, c’mon,” Tim urges as Kojo tugs the leash away from Tim.

Kojo has been taking his time on this walk, more of a stroll to sniff everything than a walk, but Tim is ready to get home. When Kojo returns to Tim’s side and begins trotting again, Tim rewards him with a whispered compliment: “There’s the best boy.”

As they near a cemetery, however, a cat meows inside the open gate, causing Kojo to stop again. Tim shakes his head but watches Kojo as his ears perk, and he looks into the narrow gate opening.

“No, Bazinga,” someone says from inside the fence. The cat meows again, and this time the voice - pretty voice, Tim’s mind corrects – laughs. “How are you going to do a séance if you can’t talk, Bazinga?”

Tim and Kojo step to the inside edge of the sidewalk for a better view. Tim should know better than to let his guard down here, but when he realized that the creepy cemetery cat had supervision, he needed to know more. Standing at the fence, he can see a gray blanket spread across a small clearing. You’re sitting on the blanket with a large book open across your lap. A black cat, Bazinga, presumably, roams around you before jumping onto your shoulder.

Tim can’t help but be intrigued by you. He can tell you're young in the dim light of a nearby streetlight. While he’s simultaneously drawn to you and put off by your odd choice about where you relax, Tim lets his logic win and snaps for Kojo to heel beside him. With one final glance at you, Tim leaves you in the dark but remembers your voice long after you ask your cat, “What do you think about the black cat stereotype and how well you fit into it?”

When Tim wakes the following morning, his first thought is you. Part of him wonders if he imagined you, a young woman dressed in black reading in a cemetery in the middle of the night, yet he can’t get you off his mind even as he rises and gets ready for work. Now that overtime has been approved, he has to focus on catching the masked individuals who attacked Aaron and Celina just hours after he saw you.

Once he hears Aaron and Celina’s statuses, it’s easier to forget you and your cat. When they find Roy Gracco and prepare to enter his house, Tim doesn’t even remember his previous cemetery-side walk.

Tim leads the alpha team into Gracco’s home, prepared for anything, but is surprised to find the house clear and cold.

“Drop the gun! Drop it!” he demands as he rounds a corner.

“I think he’s dead,” Nolan calls.

Tim approaches him slowly and confirms that Gracco is dead, 10-5-5.

“It’s a trap,” Nolan realizes aloud.

“Abort! Abort! Abort!” Tim yells. As he exits Gracco’s house, he radios, “Control, I need the bomb squad to the target house for a full sweep. Send the M.E. and TID out here, standing by for a priority search once the house is clear.”

“Yep, got it,” you reply to the police dispatcher.

Your work phone buzzes with a message containing the address where you’re needed. The van is prepped and ready to go, so you only grab your phone, keys, and seal-wrapped black coveralls. When you arrive at the house, dozens of police officers, crime scene investigators, and city officials are waiting.

“Sergeant Grey?” you ask as you approach him. “Has the house been cleared?”

“Almost. Bomb squad’s doing a final walk-through,” he answers. “The officers who found the body are inside and ready to assist you.”

“Dispatch said the air had been cranked down to delay decomp. Do you know if anyone touched the thermostat?”

“No. Sergeant Bradford made sure the house stayed in the same condition as how they found it.”

“Perfect.”

“All clear,” one of the bomb squad members calls as he exits. “Your people are free to enter.”

“Hold up,” Grey calls to TID. “Let the M.E. get what she needs first.”

“Thank you,” you call over your shoulder as you approach the front door.

“Hi, I’m Officer Chen,” an officer greets you as you enter. “Bradford, M.E.’s here.”

“Sergeant Bradford, I hear you preserved the scene and the body. Thanks,” you tell him as you set your bag down.

Tim doesn’t reply, too intrigued that you, a woman who hangs out in cemeteries with her black cat, is the M.E. That and your age, to be more precise.

“What’s the temperature in here?” you ask, looking up at him.

“Fifty-eight,” he answers quickly, shaking himself out of his thoughts and reminding himself not to stare.

“Fifty-eight,” you murmur as you scribble something on your paper. “Then I’m putting time of death between 1 and 2 a.m.”

“Before Aaron and Celina were ambushed,” Lucy says.

“How can you limit it to an hour?” Tim asks. Not because he’s overly interested in your method but because everything you say and do interests him. He wants to hear you talk again. To him, preferably.

“The air temperature and confinement slowed decomp but also affected the blood coagulation. Because of that, and knowing the average maintained temperature since death, I can calculate it with a bit more accuracy,” you explain.

Tim nods and looks at Lucy, who seems to know why he took a sudden interest in forensic science. He has a dozen more questions he’d like to ask you, very few of which are about the case, but you frighten Tim Bradford just enough that he falls silent to let you work.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” you say suddenly.

“Is everything okay?” Tim asks.

“Yeah, just this little guy.” You straighten and extend your hand to show Tim a moderately large spider. “There’s a web in that windowsill, he must have been confused by the temperature drop.”

You cup your hand as you walk toward the window and gently place the spider back on its web. Tim watches every little move you make, trying not to be convinced that you were in a cemetery and are still dressed in black merely because you’re creepy.

“So, based on positioning, lividity, and blood coagulation around the wound in his hand, I’m confident that my estimate of 1 to 2 a.m. today is accurate. More, I’d say that he was unconscious when both the bullets and the knife entered his body. There’s no sign of jerking or resisting, and the stiffness in his spine suggests that he’s been positioned like this for closer to a day.”

“A day?” Tim repeats. “How could he be in one position for nearly ten hours before being shot and stabbed?”

“Was he alive when he was stabbed?” Lucy inquires.

“Yes,” you answer her. “He didn’t react in any way to that pain and the lack of naturally dried blood around the wound, so he was likely already in a state of statis. His heart rate was likely low, the temperature was impeding the healing process, and, as I’m sure you know, bullet wounds don’t close on their own.”

“Then why lead us here?” Tim wonders.

“This is related to the cops that were attacked this morning?” you ask. “I heard about the riddle.”

“Is there anything else you can tell us?” Tim asks.

“I don’t think you’ll find much in this house other than him.”

“I agree.”

“If Gracco is a patsy,” Lucy interjects, “then we should be asking why him?”

“He’s a felon with a history at Mid-Wilshire,” Grey answers as he walks in.

“Sure, but there are hundreds of guys like that. So, why Gracco? Did they pull his name out of a database or is there some kind of connection?”

“You think it’s personal?” Tim asks.

“Look, if I was gonna go to the extreme of targeting police officers, why not take out some of my enemies along the way?”

“That’s gotta count as a goth point,” you murmur.

“Costs us nothing to run with that,” Grey points out. “Get back to the station, check Gracco’s known associates, family, coworkers, anyone he did time with that might hold a grudge. Run them against people that we arrested. And say a prayer while you’re at it.”

“Actually, Grey, can I escort the M.E.?” Tim asks.

You look up from your spot on the floor, and Tim looks away quickly because he suddenly thinks that in that position, you look like a cat.

“Do that,” Grey agrees. “We don’t know what we’re dealing with. Chen, Nolan and Harper are at the station and ready to assist you.”

“Yes, sir,” Lucy replies as she exits.

“Why do I need an escort?” you ask once you’re alone with Tim.

“Because we don’t know what we’re up against and I don’t want to find out the hard way that we’re closer than we think,” he answers.

You nod as you stand, then remind Tim that you have to prepare the body to take back to the morgue. He nods and steps aside, hands clasped, happy to watch you.

“Got it,” Tim says into his phone. “Pine’s got Metro mobilized; do you need me to come back?”

You pull your gloves on as Tim ends his call. He steps toward you and says, “I’m clear to stay with you.”

“Why?” you ask.

“All of our bases are covered. So, if you find something, we need to know.”

You shrug as you concede. It’s not that you don’t want Tim with you; you are confused about why a decorated Metro Sergeant would want to keep you company while you perform an autopsy.

“If you want a mask or anything, they’re in the black case behind you,” you tell him.

“Of course it’s black,” Tim muses.

“Meaning?” you inquire as you mark your incision points.

When you look toward him, Tim gestures to your outfit. You certainly don’t dress like other medical examiners. Or act like them, for that matter.

“What do you have against black?” you tease. “Or are you just jealous of the Converse?”

Tim smiles as he tips his head and replies, “I would rock some studded black Converse, right?”

“Totally. I’ll hook you up with my shoe guy. He might want to see you in the heeled version first, though.”

“So, why’d you become a medical examiner?” Tim asks as you begin the first cut in Gracco’s chest.

“What do you think?”

“Love for science?” Tim guesses.

You lift the scalpel and narrow your eyes at Tim. “Most people just assume I’d like to dig around in dead people.”

“Why? Because you wear black and pick up spiders?”

“Amongst other things.”

“What other things?”

You shake your head and argue, “You have to tell me something about you first.”

“I like the Dodgers.”

“Wow,” you drawl. “Mark me as shocked and surprised.”

“I’m a cop, there isn’t much time to do things worth telling.”

“Fine, I’ll go first but you better have something when I’m done.”

“Yeah, of course. Just, one more thing. How old are you?”

“Twenty-seven. Don’t you dare say oh, you look older, or wow, you must be smart, I really can’t take hearing that again.”

“I didn’t think you must be smart. You clearly are,” Tim replies.

“Good answer. You still want to know about me?”

Tim nods, and you tip your chin down to continue the autopsy as you speak.

“So, you can tell that I like black and spiders… I feel most alive in the fall, Halloween is my favorite day of the year. And cats! They’re much better than spiders because you can watch horror movies and Beetlejuice with them, and birds bring out their violent sides. But cats will also read witch books with you and listen to music, hang out in cemeteries. All the stuff that gets you labeled a ‘creepy weirdo’ is more fun with a cat.”

“Has someone called you a creepy weirdo?” Tim questions.

“More times than I can count. But I have another list that’s longer.”

“A list of what?”

“The coolest tattoos I’ve ever seen.”

Tim hesitates before he asks, “On dead people?”

“Some,” you admit honestly. “Most of them are on live people, though. They’re not as cool when the skin underneath isn’t moving or filled with blood.”

“Interesting.”

“Is this where you call me a creepy weirdo?” Tim shakes his head, and you add, “I guess I’ve just always felt drawn to stuff like that, and it makes me happy, so why should I care what people say about that?”

Tim leans against a table across the morgue from you as you continue to work. He asks a few questions as you work, but the autopsy is as simple as expected. Gracco was killed. There’s no additional evidence about who killed him or why, and his body is relatively clean and well-preserved.

“Sorry I couldn’t be more help,” you tell Tim as you discard your gloves. “If it was a full moon I may have been more help.”

“Because you like full moons, I assume.”

“It was actually a weak werewolf joke, but yes, I do.”

“Does Bazinga?”

You freeze beside Tim before you look up at him to ask, “How do you know my cat’s name?”

“You said it,” Tim answers.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Not today, uh… I saw you in a cemetery a few nights ago.”

“I knew there was someone out there! Bazinga thought it was a ghost.”

Tim nods, unsure of how to keep the conversation going. You both want to keep talking, but there’s something Tim can’t ask, and you aren’t sure you can answer. So, you trace the shape of a crescent moon on your wrist to encourage yourself.

“Will you go out with me?” you ask quickly.

Tim opens his mouth to answer, but you add, “You don’t have to! If I’m misreading this or you’re just being nice and really do think I’m crazy, I understand.”

“I’d love to,” Tim answers when you fall quiet. “Maybe Kojo and I could join your next cemetery picnic.”

“You don’t think that’s creepy?”

“Really creepy,” Tim answers dramatically. “But you like it, so I’d like to see why.”

“What’s your shoe size? I’ll bring you some black Converse.”

“With studs?”

“Wouldn’t you be the stud?”

Tim laughs as he follows you into your office, but his phone rings with an update from Sergeant Grey and he quickly exchanges numbers with you before he leaves. Later, you remember that you never asked who Kojo was, and the picture Tim texts in return to your question makes you smile in your lonely office.

“How nervous are you?” you ask as Tim and Kojo meet you outside the cemetery.

“Probably not as much as I should be,” Tim answers with a smile. “Just don’t tell me we’re eating with someone, uh, someone in there.”

“No, of course not.” You open the gate and joke, “We’ll ease into that.”

“Where’s Bazinga?”

“Bazinga is a cat. In the picnic basket.”

You help Tim spread your favorite blanket on the grass and join him and Kojo as you set the food out. Tim watches you and realizes you’ve never been creepy, scary, or a weirdo. You’re special and if this spot beside you has been left open for him by people underestimating or judging you, he’ll make sure you know how special you are.

[kitashousewife]

“so, what was it this time?”

“osamu!” you shriek, nearly jumping out of your skin when you round corner and find the grey-haired miya leaning against your kitchen counter.

eating your chips.

“i thought i locked the door,” you mumble, throwing the fridge open with a huff. your eyes land on a bottle of wine from a week ago, one you got after your last date.

“i have a key,” he says, mouth full of chips. “besides, ya texted me to come over, remember?”

you’re drinking straight out of the bottle, rolling your eyes at both his attitude and the dribble of wine that falls down your chin and onto your pajama shirt. he’s right, you texted him the second your date dropped you off. it was awful, and who better to complain about it to than your best friend.

“yeah, i do.” you put the bottle down, sliding it across the counter to osamu who slides it back and shakes his head.

“well, let’s hear it then.” osamu picks a couple more chips out of the bag, gesturing toward you. only then do you realize he’s still in his work clothes, black t shirt and onigiri miya, even his apron is loosely wrapped around his hips.

“it was awful, worst one yet. he didn’t even pick me up. sent an uber to get me,” osamu interjects with a snicker. you continue. “i get to the restaurant, and he didn’t even acknowledge me when i sat down! just nodded at like like some dog while he talked on the phone to who knows who for at least 10 minutes.”

osamu nods, seemingly unamused.

“then he spent the entire dinner telling me about how much money he makes, the cars he owns and his latest vacation.”

“business man?”

“actor.”

osamu laughs out loud. “in anything good? anything i’ve seen?”

“well if it’s good, we all know you haven’t seen it,” you hoist yourself onto the counter across from osamu as he shakes his head. “but no, commercials mostly. he said he was really hoping to get on that one soap opera, the-“

“so he was a self absorbed asshole?”

“pretty much,” you nod, picking at your nails. “such a waste of my time! i couldn’t believe it. by the time i finished my food his was untouched! he was yapping the entire time.”

you continue on, gesturing wildly about yet another guy who took up your friday night. and it ended the same as all the others: you, sitting in your pajamas while osamu listens, eating your snack. usually, after an hour or so, you let your feelings out and head to bed, leaving osamu to head back to his own place.

tonight though, he doesn’t want that outcome.

truthfully he’s had it. he’s sick of these guys, tired of hearing about how you’re getting treated when he’s fully capable of doing it himself.

“stop spending your nights with these losers, let a real man take ya out.”

you exhale. “i’ve been trying! not my fault i keep getting set up with them.”

osamu groans while he chews the remainder of the chips, tossing the once full bag into the trash.

“i have someone to set ya up with,” he returns to his spot, directly in front of you and crosses his arms.

“please, who is it? after all this time you finally have someone?”

he nods. “he’s tall, dark hair, has a good job. his own business, actually.”

you hum, kicking your feet back lazily off the counter. he takes a step closer.

“he loves his momma, a real mommas boy type. he’s on time, respectful, and knows how to treat ya like a real woman.”

you raise an eyebrow. “and just who would that be?”

he places his arms on either side of your thighs, trapping you on the counter.

“yer lookin’ at him, sweetheart.”

[samandcolbyownme]

So since you’re doing Outer Banks stories (I think) if it’s alright with you can you make a JJ Maybank x Fem Reader story?

My Shirt | JJ Maybank

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, sneaking around, smoking weed, flirting, kissing, teasing, biting, scratching, hair pulling, unprotected sex, creampie, mentions of skinny dipping, general filth

“Thanks again, JB.” You say as you pull up to the Chateau, “Sorry it so sudden, but you know how it goes.” John B hums on the other end of the line, “Just as long as you’re safe, okay. Stay as long as you need.”

You park and sit back with a sigh, “Thank you. I just got here now, so I just wanted to let you know.” You put your phone on speaker, setting it down so you can unbuckle.

“You should just move here, y/n. You know your mom can’t force you to do anything.”

You get out, taking your phone with you, “I’ve thought about it. I just- I don’t know. We can figure it out when you get back. You have a trip to enjoy. Tell Sarah I said hi.”

You hear him tell Sarah and she takes the phone, yelling a quick, “Hiiii, y/n!” John B takes the phone back and laughs, “anyway. I told JJ to stay away, but you know how he is.”

You laugh, smirking at the thought of JJ coming over when it’s just you.

“Just tell him to go away or I’ll kick his ass.” John B pulls you from your thoughts and you laugh, “I’ll do what I can, JB.”

“Don’t tell him I told you this, but JJ always keeps a joint in the drawer to the right of the sink.” John b says and you smirk, “I always knew you were my favorite cousin.”

“It’s cause I am.” John B laughs, “Alright, plane is ready to go. Call me if you need anything.” You say your goodbyes and you make your way into the house. You look around, shaking your head at the man made mess.

“Boys will be boys.” You roll your eyes with a laugh and you walk into the spare room. You toss your bag down on the bed and go over to the basket that has all the stuff you forgot each time you were there.

You pull out a grey shirt, tilting your head as you try to remember if it’s yours or not. You shrug, tossing it on the bed before you take off your sweatshirt.

This time, you didn’t really have time to grab anything you really needed, you took off with the literal clothes on your back and few others you could grab during your fit of rage, all while you argued with your mother, also John B’s aunt.

John B knows how she is, but he also understands why you keep going back, so he’s there whenever you need because you grew up together. Even though you’re just cousins, it really seems like you were brother and sister.

You kick off your jeans and pull the shirt down over your body, the hem just barely covering your ass fully.

You grabbed your clothes and the duffle and make your way to throw everything in the washer. You look around, shaking your head as you make a mental note to buy more laundry detergent tomorrow.

After spending time cleaning up and throwing more stuff in, you start the wash, biting down on your lip as you bend down to take off your underwear. You toss them in with the rest of your laundry before closing the lid and making hour way to work on the kitchen.

As much as you respected John B and his wishes to not mack on his friends, you were hoping JJ decides to break the rules and show up.

As you’re working on clearing up the counter, you freeze as you hear a knock on the door, “Yo, Yo.”

You bite your lip, smirking as you continue to scrub the bowl in your hand.

“Yo.” JJ says as he slowly rounds the corner, “Oh that’s right, John B’s with Sarah, in another country.”

You turn around and his eyes move down your body, “Yeah and you’re not supposed to be here.” You smirk, turning back around.

“Wait, is that my shirt?”

You look down, and as soon as he says that, the image of JJ in this shirt pops into your head and you feel heat rise in your cheeks.

You dry off the bowl, reaching up to open the cupboard. As you rise to your tippy toes, the grey shirt slides up, revealing your bare ass to him.

He groans lowly, trying to cover it up with clearing his throat, “And only my shirt?” He blows out air, a quiet fuck escaping his lips.

“Sorry, Jayj. JB must have just thrown it into my basket by accidental.” You say over your shoulder and he shakes his head, licking his lips, “I didn’t say it was a problem, sweetheart.”

You smirk, rinsing your hands off, “That’s a shame..” you turn around, crossing your leg in front of the other as you grip the counter, “Because I was going to tell you that you needed to take it off of me yourself if it was.”

He tilts his head and lets out a sigh, “Now that you say something, get that fucking thing off right now.” He walks over to you, his hips pin yours against the counter behind you.

You look up at him, giggling slightly as he pulls the grey fabric up over your body, revealing what he’s always pictured while his hand strangled his own cock.

“Fuck, y/n.” He slides his hands up and down your arms before he moves them to cup your cheeks, “Fuckin’ beautiful.”

You smirk, licking your lips before you look down at his shirt, “I think you’re a little behind, Maybank.”

He chuckles, looking down, “Yeah, I guess so. Let me fix that.” He pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it down, “C’mere.”

He pulls you into him, spinning you around to walk you back to the couch as his lips crash onto yours.

You moan against his lips, pulling yourself closer to him, “Jayj.” You whimper out, “Please, touch me. Do something.”

“Mm.” He kisses down your neck, “Needy for papa J, I see.”

You gasp as you feel his hand slip in between your legs, sliding up and down between your wet folds, “All I need to know.”

JJ smirks and crashes his lips into yours as two of his fingers thrust inside of you.

Your back arches off the couch and your nails sink into his skin as he swallows your moans, “J-“ you whimper out, “J.”

“Does that feel good? Hmm?” He asks, peppering kisses all over your face as his fingers curl upward, “Gotta tell me what you like, sweetheart.”

“T-that.” You gasp, walls clenching around his fingers, “Feels so good, Jayj.”

His lips move to yours as he repeats the action, which has you squirming under his touch, begging for him to stop even though you really don’t mean it - and JJ keeps going, working you towards your first orgasm, “Are you close? Your pussy is squeezing my fingers for dear life.”

You bite down on your lip, nodding your head, “Oh, fuck, y-yeah.”

His lips find yours and you moan into his mouth. He swallows them with ease, glancing down to watch your cunt swallow his fingers, “Fuck, you’re so worth the lecture.”

He crashes his lips into yours and you become a whimpering mess under him as you cum. Your body tenses under his and he groans against your lips, “That’s it. There we go.”

You moan louder as JJ’s thumb rubs lazy circles on your clit, sliding your hands up to his hair. You whimper, pulling him back down to kiss you again, “Please, fuck me.”

“Never thought I’d hear those words in my life.” He pushes his hips between your thighs and his cock slips into you, making you both gasp out in shock that things finally happening.

“Holy mother of fuck.” He groans as he kisses you roughly, his cock pushing into you fully. You cry out with pleasure as his thrusts pick up immediately.

Fast and hard.

Your eyes roll back as his hand comes up to lay on the side of your neck, “You sound so pretty.” He kisses back your jaw, “You look so pretty.”

He moans lowly, “Fuckin’ pussy is taking me so goddamn well.”

How slides his hand over, gripping your throat tight - and your phone rings.

You try to turn your head and JJ moves your head back, “Don’t worry about that right now.” His lips fall to yours, distracting you until it rings again.

He looks over and grabs it, handing it to you, “Answer it. It’s John B.”

Your eyes go wide and you sit up, but JJ pushes you back down, “No. I’m going to eat you out while you talk to him.”

You answer the call as JJ moves down your body, “Hello?”

“Hey, we landed, just thought I’d call and see how you’re doing.” John B says on the other end, “You didn’t clean up did you?”

You take a deep breath, “I just.. woke up from a nap.” You bite down on your lip as JJ’s tongue works it way into your pussy, “And yeah.. I did clean up.”

You try your hardest not to let any whimpers or moans slip because JJ was phenomenal at this. His tongue swipes around your cunt as his fingers rub harsh circles on your clit.

“You didn’t have to do that.” John B laughs, “But I appreciate it. I ne-“

“More laundry stuff. Noted.” You force a laugh to cover up the moan that’s desperately trying to escape, “I’ll go tomorrow.”

You bring your hand up, covering your mouth as you close your eyes.

“Did JJ show up? I tried calling him, too but he isn’t answering.”

“Haven’t seen him.” You lift your head, watching as the blonde between your legs absolutely devours you, “Which… is..” you squeeze your eyes shut and breathe out, “Surprising.”

“I’m sure he’ll show up, but you know the drill.”

You roll your hips, biting down on your lip to compose yourself, “With you constantly drilling it into my head, how can I not?”

He laughs, “Alright. Let me know if you hear from Jayj.”

“I will.” You roll your eyes, praying that John B will just hang up, “Have a good trip.”

“Will do. See ya, y/n.”

“Yep, bye.” You pull the phone away, hanging up before you reach down and grab JJ by the hair, “You motherfucker.”

He laughs, reaching down to grab your hips, “I’m only fuckin’ you, baby.” He smirks and flips you over, lifting your hips so he can reinsert his cock into you and you moan out loudly, “J-Jayj, please.”

“So needy.” He lifts a hand, allowing it to slap back down onto the skin of your ass, “I fuckin’ love that.”

He leans down, wrapping your hair around his hand and pulling you to sit up a little before his thrusts fall back into being hard and fast.

You reach up, holding yourself up on the arm of the couch as you cry out, “Yesyesyes, right there, JJ!”

“That’s it, baby.” He throws his head back, groaning out before leaning down to peck the back of your shoulder, “If only JB knew just how much of a little slut you were for me.”

“He would explode..” you laugh slightly but it turns into a moan, “Fuck, J.” You tilt your head back and he rests his forehead against it, “You close again?”

“Uh huh.” You nod slightly, “Need all of you.” You push your hips back to meet his thrusts and JJ groans, “You want it, you gotta earn it.”

He sit down on the couch and pulls you back into his lap. Your legs move to either side of his hips and you sink back down onto his cock.

He leans forward, kissing up the valley between your boobs, “So fuckin’ beautiful.” He leans back, hands sliding down your sides, “Fuckin’ look at you.”

You start to bounce, eager to get him to his point of spilling everything inside of you.

You needed him, maybe it was the forbidden love label that your over protective cousin slapped on JJ, but you could go crazy if you didn’t get it.

“Ridin’ me like a pro. Fuck.” He leans back, eyes trailing down your body to stop and fixate on your body meeting his with each bounce from you, “Jesus, fuck.”

His hands grip your hips and he looks up at you, “Gimme one more, sweetheart. One more, and I’ll give you want you want.”

Desperate for his release, you grip the couch behind his shoulders and continuously slam your hips down, moaning out constantly as you work yourself to your own orgasm.

“Fuck there you go.” JJ bucks his hips up, “just like that, keep it goin, baby. Keep it goin’.”

Your lips meet his, swallowing each others moans as you feel him finish inside you, “Jayj.” You whimper, “Feels so good.”

His pulls you into his body, arms wrapping around you as he kisses your head, “How was that, hmm?” You nod against his neck, “Amazing, Jayj.”

He rubs your back for a few minutes before he giggles to himself. You sit up, tilting your head as you look at him, “What?”

He licks his lips, laying his head back, “You have ever gone skinny dipping?”

You shake your head and he raises his brows, “You want to?” You bite down on your lip and smirk, standing up to wrap a blanket around your body, “I’ll race ya.”

You take off for the door and JJ is instantly behind you, laughing and still naked as can be, “Don’t let me catch you.”

——

Let me know what you thought! Thank you so much for reading! I truly love each and every one of you. See you in the next one! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[lunajay33]

Taste for Older Men Part.2

•⚰️🍂🍑•

Summary: Growing up with you never had much interest in boys your age but when your dads best friends stuck around more everything changed

Pairing: Cowboy Negan x f!reader

Warnings: age gap, evil boyfriend

Part.1

•Masterlist•

It’s been a week since everything happened, my parents have been extremely over supportive always, when I’d come down for breakfast they’d have wide smiles and cheery voices but I couldn’t hate them for it they’re just trying to make me feel better even though I was already happier than I’ve ever been in my life

I still work everyday at Negans farm but my parents still don’t know that we’re together and we’re not quite sure how to tell them, I mean he’s my dads best friend and I don’t want to ruin that but I also can’t give up Negan he’s all I’ve ever wanted so there’s got to be a way

I was in the barn pitch forking up some loose hay when I feel Negans arms wrap around my waist

“You know if I was gonna get more help around here I’d have told you my feelings way earlier” I laugh as I lean back into his chest

“Watch yourself lil lady I’m still your boss remember”

“Oh I remember” he spins me in his arms resting my hands on his shoulders

“So how do we tell my parents I don’t want to sneak around I want to be able to be with you when we’re around other people”

“I know sunshine, old man invited me over tonight to watch football might tell him then, and you can talk to your mother” I feel nervous about this but it needs to be done

“Hopefully they don’t rip my head off”

“If they’re going that route it’ll be me they rip apart” me smiles as he leans down to kiss me his grey speckled beard scratching against my face but it was something I craved when he wasn’t around

“Come on let’s finish up our chores before you get carried away like last time” I laugh as he groans

I got home early as Negan let me off to get ready for tonight and go through everything I want to say to my mom, he wanted that time too he had more to worry about but my father is an understanding man I just home he can understand this too

I stripped off my dirty work clothes and hoped in the shower, relaxing as the dirt and sweat from the day washed away down the drain, after I was all squeaky clean I got dressed in a casual pair of black leggings and a red long sleeve shirt, putting two braids in my hair then waiting on my bed anxiously

After another hour I picked up my phone and dialed Negan, after two rings I hear his voice and everything seemed to not be as stressful

“Hey baby ya alright?”

“Yeah I’m better now, just nervous”

“Don’t stress honey I’m on my way over now, we’ll get this settled” he said with a calming tone

“Okay I’ll see you soon”

We hung up and I made my way downstairs sitting at the kitchen island waiting to hear the rumble of his truck, soon the headlights shine through the window and he’s knocking at the door

I want to rush to the door and through my arms around him but contain myself and let my dad answer, Negans technically his guest anyways

“Negan! You excited for the game buddy?” My dad asked cheerfully as he patted him on the shoulder

“You bet, I meet you in the lounge soon I’ll go say hi to your wife and y/n!”

“Always with the southern hospitality!”

Negan rounded the corner and came into the kitchen where me and my mother sat I couldn’t help the huge smile that stretched my cheeks

“Negan so wonderful to see you again, last time was a bit crazy” I looked down a little embarrassed by that whole fiasco

“Lovely to see you too, and of course my dear little farm hand” he said brushing his hand down my back out of my mothers gaze making my skin chill

“Oh Negan she’s still behaving well isn’t she?”

“Mother of course I am”

“Don’t worry she’s always a great help, got myself a lil working lady”

I look up at him with so much joy and admiration before my mother clear her throat and snaps us out of our moment

“Well here’s two beers, better get in there before he makes a big deal about us stealing you away again” she laughed handing over the beers and began left the room

I look back at my mother who had a knowing look on her face, raised eyebrow with a slight smirk

“What?”

“I’m not stupid sweetie, I’ve seen the way you looked at him since he started coming around, only recently he’s been giving you the same look soooooo you have something to tell me dear”

“Don’t be mad, what I feel for him is real, how he treats me really show how badly Mike treated me and how much Negan treats me like a goddess, he’s a good man”

“I’m not mad, I’m glad you found a man who can treat you the way you deserve, hopefully your father will look at it the same way”

I down now we wait to either hear a fight or Negan comes out smiling

“WHAT?” I hear from the lounge, oh no

I rush into the lounge seeing my dad up in Negans face and he looked more betrayed than angry

“Dad, calm down it’s okay”

“How is this okay my best friend with my daughter”

“I love her f/n” he went silent and so did I this was the first time Negans declared his love

“You love me?” I ask as I step closer

“Of course I do, you’re a wonderful woman every moment with you I feel more happier and at ease than I’ve ever been”

“I love you too sunshine” I lean up to wrap my arms around his neck and he held me tight

“F/n, you know Negan and he’ll treat her right compared to that excuse for a boyfriend she had before” my mom said then hearing my dad sigh

“I know it’s just a lot to wrap my head around, when did this happen?”

“The day we had the barbecue, he came and made me feel better about everything that happened and well our feelings just came out”

“I mean me and your mother knew how you felt about Negan it was pretty obvious, I guess I can eventually get use to this”

“My god was it that obvious?” I ask looking up at Negan and he had a sly smirk

“You didn’t make it sneaky when you’d look at me darlin”

Taglist: @azanoni @scorpioempress @fanficwriter5 @elliesr1fle @imimatcha4life @indigosparkle444

[takeariskao3]

as per usual, i am late to the memegeddon… but here is a lil something based on this meme from @petalsthefish

James stabbed the last carrot on his plate with a bit more violence than the action called for. However, it had no effect on the conversation happening a few seats down at the Gryffindor table.

“I s’pose the library?” Albert Jenkins-Wright prattled on. “Where do girls like her even hang out?”

Across from James, Sirius snorted.

“And she’s never on her own,” one of Jenkins-Wright’s sixth year mates chimed in. “It’ll be like asking her out in front of her whole dormitory.”

The small group of boys all made equal, yet indiscernible, noises of agreement and glanced around to where the fifth year girls had their heads together. James couldn’t help it, he peeked up as well. The girls in his year were all giggling in hushed tones over their pudding. As he watched, the object of their infernal conversation threw her head back and laughed in full merriment. James’ insides twisted painfully and he refocused on his empty plate.

“Valentine’s Day though,” another of the boys chimed in. “That’s a lot of pressure for a first date, isn’t it?”

James had heard quite enough. He shoved back on his bench and snapped, “She has to say yes first.”

Albert Jenkins-Wright glowered at him. Thankfully, Sirius also stood from his seat, albeit less petulantly, and smirked. “Good luck with that.”

Peter and Remus followed, Remus shoveling his last few bites of potatoes into his mouth. A small slice of guilt broke through James’ foul mood, but he stalked away nonetheless.

“I thought you were attempting indifference?” Peter hissed as they reached the entrance hall.

Out of the corner of his eye, James saw Remus grin. “Yes, I distinctly remember that New Year’s resolution too.”

“Let’s be honest,” Sirius sighed, clapping James on the shoulder. “We all knew it was doomed.”

“Jenkins-Wright is a prat,” James said without any real bite behind it.

Peter rolled his eyes. “Every bloke who likes Evans is a prat.“

“Including you,” Sirius added.

Remus covered a laugh with a cough; Peter sniggered.

As they mounted the marble staircase, James ground his teeth together, determined not to be a prat.

He made it as far as the second floor.

“What kind of name is Jenkins-Wright, anyhow?”

His three friends groaned.

Ten minutes, two floors, and a password later, they found armchairs tucked into a corner of the common room. James had exhausted his complaints about Albert Jenkins-Wrights’s name and had now moved on to his intelligence.

“Like she’d ever go out with a bloke who couldn’t even scrape an E in Charms.” James insisted.

“Do shut up,” Sirius grumbled, settling deeper into the cushions.

James scowled, and had just opened his mouth to release a very un-witty retort when an eruption of giggles tumbled through the portrait hole.

“The tea leaves don’t lie!” Anna Perry cackled while looping her arm through Evans’.

Green eyes flashed and Evans shot her friend a flat look. “Your only proof is a lump of soggy Earl Grey and something about Saturn’s anus–“

“Janus,” Anna Perry stressed. “It’s the moon of discernment, and its current alignment with Venus makes tonight the perfect conditions for predicting–“

As the girls walked by their cluster of chairs, James couldn’t help himself. “What’s this about Saturn’s anus?”

“Never you mind,” Evans spat. At the same time, Anna burst, “I’ve just read her teacup. And it’s fascinating–“

“Hardly.” Evans rounded on her friend. “You think my soulmate is at Hogwarts.”

James’ heart lept into his throat.

“Well, obviously,” Anna huffed, clearly exasperated. “It showed they were near! Could be proximity, could be timing, it could be the next person who asks you out!”

Evans looked increasingly unimpressed.

James, however, suffered a temporary bout of insanity. “Hey, Evans? Go out with me?”

“No,” she replied smoothly, without so much as looking at him.

The rejection was expected, and only made James grin wider.

“See?” Evans gestured to where James leaned over the back of his chair. “By your logic, Potter is my one true love. Some prediction that was.”

Anna’s shoulders slumped. “Fine, don’t believe me. But I know what I saw.”

Evans rolled her eyes and yanked Anna toward the rest of the girls, who had settled at a long table and were pulling out homework.

Watching them go, James sunk back into his seat, unable to control the self-satisfied smirk stretching across his face.

He was met with three expressions of equal disapproval.

“What?” he asked with an air of false innocence. “I wasn’t about to let her fall madly in love with Albert Jenkins-Wright.” When none of his friends showed signs of going along with this farce, James continued, “Apathy is overrated, anyway. Whatever happened to going after what you want, huh? Where are the proper grand gestures? Men used to duel for the hand of a lady, you know…”

Silence hung between the four of them for several long moments before Sirius lounged back into his seat and rumbled, “You’re a nuisance to society.”

[beetlesau]

Bus Ride, Drabble Dabble, Bakugo/Reader

I'm obsessed with the idea that Bakugo would go feral for a woman that's as normie as his dad just because his mom CHASED his dad DOWN because she wanted him, And Bakugo is his moms twin. ANYWAY. Just messing around with a tame version of that idea. Being bored. Zero Edits, I don't even know if I spelt names correctly lol K Baaiiiii

"Why does your hair look like that?" Mineta peaked over the bus seat down at you. You instinctually pulled the collar of your shirt up to cover any cleavage that could have been showing from that view. 

You sighed, it was a common question back in school before UA. You'd been made fun of for it for as long as you could remember, but you never cared. It was your second year at UA, you'd thought someone would have said something sooner than now, but here you were. You made an obvious glance up at Mineta's purple grapelike head before bringing your attention back to his face. 

"Same reason yours looks like that, I guess. Our quirk just made us different." You looked back down to a Heroes Weekly Tabloid magazine you'd been busying yourself with prior. 

Your hair was normal, bland even, save for the bands of white that flowed down from your temples. The doctors said that when your quirk manifested, it must have put such a strain on you that your body responded in the odd way it did. The same thing happened to your eye color. You had such intense grey eyes after your quirk appeared you hardly remember the color they were before that day.  

"No I mean your haircut!" he chided. Your eye twitched before you looked up again at the pervert menace. You noticed that comment also grabbed the attention of the others on the bus. 

In the seat across from Mineta sat Ashido and Uraraka. Uraraka, who sat by the window, glowered at the boy as best as her round sweet face could. Ashido sneered and shot a glance over to Mineta's seatmate, Kaminari. A look that said, "if you don't do something, I will."

Kaminari, not wanting to have his face melted off as collateral damage, stood in his chair and turned back to face you as well. He put on his best flirty smile and propped his cheek on his fist. "I don't know, I think it looks pretty good. Edgy. Mysterious."

"Yeah, it's a mystery why she has that haircut. It's so unflattering on you! You could be an absolute ten if you'd just--"

Mina flung her leg across the aisle, shoving her boot into Mineta AND Kaminari's sides.

"You dimwitted jerks! You're lucky she doesn't have Uraraka float your two asses and hog tie you to the bus like a couple of balloons!"

"Say the word and I'll do it, girl!" Uraraka looked at you with her dusted pink cheeks. She may have been a softy but she was a ride-or-die. 

You laughed at your two best friends and shook your head no. It was alright. It wasn't anything you weren't used to.

"She cuts it herself." a gravelly voice across from you catches your attention. "Didn't you say that, like, first day of school? Do you not pay attention, idiots?" Bakugo takes one of his earphones out as he readjusts against his school bag. All the noise must have bothered him enough to chime in. 

All four members of the conversation lean out into the aisle and look back at the blonde. Did he just say he remembered some random thing someone said about themselves? 

"Oh. Right, yeah I kind of do remember that." Kaminari pulls out his phone and starts typing away like a madman. Not seconds later a couple of simultaneous dings are heard a bit further up the bus. "Uh, do you know why she cuts it herself though?"

"What's it to you dumbass? She's right there, ask her yourself." he sucks his teeth annoyed, but looks over to you. "Don't tell this shithead anything you don't want to." You smiled at him, your cheeks finding a bit of color before you turned back to Kaminari. You raised your eyebrows at him as though to say, "You heard the man."

Kaminari groans before trying a new tactic. "I mean, I already know the answer. I remember, I was just trying to see if YOU remembered. In fact, I think I probably know more about her than anyone else on this bus." he stated matter-of-factly. You looked at him with an incredulous expression before the hothead across from you spoke out again. 

"You're full of shit." he turns to you again, "You cut it that way so it doesn't get in your way! That's why it doesn't matter what the hell it looks like. You're not trying to win fuckin beauty pageants, you're trying to kick villain ass."

"What's going on, what did I miss? What was that text about?" Kirishima crouched in the aisle, looking to Kaminari for answers. 

"Kirishima, thank god! Mineta move, let Kirishima sit there, you've been a menace long enough today." Mineta checked the seat Kirishima had just come from and saw it was across from Yaoyorozu and agreed without too much fuss.

"Oh, man, you just missed Bakugo say that the lil lady back here isn't winning any beauty pageants." Kaminari slowly shook his head in mock disappointment. 

"WHAT THE HELL? DID I FUCKING SAY THAT??? YOU WANNA KEEP PUTTING WORDS IN MY MOUTH?" Bakugo shot up from his seat, sparks popping off his hands that gripped the back of Ashido and Uraraka's chair, the smell of scorched plastic permeated before Uraraka opened her window.

"It's okay Bakugo, he's just trying to mess with you. You're right though, I just hate having my hair in my eyes so I cut my bangs myself." you blow air up from your mouth and watch as the short choppy fringe fluttered about just a bit. "One of these days I'm gonna have tech support just make me a built-in headband so I can grow them out. The grow-out stage is a bitch, is all. " you laugh.

"So that's why Bakugo called you Fringe for the first year of school!" Kirishima nodded in understanding.

"Hey, Kirishima, do you know her favorite color, by the way?" Kaminari ponders dramatically. 

"Uh, It'd be a guess, but no I don't think I've ever asked--What is your favorite color?" Kirishima politely and enthusiastically requested the information from you now. 

"Oh! Well now hold on a minute, maybe we SHOULD guess it." Kaminari's words were laced with a layer of sticky entrapment but you were curious to see where he was going with all this nonsense. 

"Sure, go ahead." you shrugged. 

"Let's take turns guessing. Is it teal?" he looked at you expectantly, and you gave him a cocked side-eye. 

"No-"

"OH darn. Okay Bakugo, your turn. What's her favorite color?"

"This is stupid." he huffed

"Well if you don't know, just say so--"

"It's the same as her birthstone, jackass."

Your blush told Kaminari he was correct, or at least close enough. 

"What makes you so sure? Did she tell you?"

"Obviously it's the same as her birthstone, she has a bracelet she wears that's that color, so why wouldn't it be? It's not that hard to figure out if you weren't an idiot."

"--you know her birthdate?" Uraraka's eyes were wide and she was blushing profusely, knowing full well what was happening. 

"What's her favorite food?" Mina piped up, ignoring the subtlety that Kaminari was attempting, seeing exactly what he was trying to get from the angry blonde. 

"How the hell should I know." Bakugo sunk back down in his seat, attempting to put his dead earphones back on, conveying he was done with the interrogation. 

"Well that's a tough one anyway, I'll eat just about anything. I'm not picky." you shrugged, trying to save Bakugo from any more annoyance. 

"Psh. Yeah, but you have such an annoying sweet tooth. I swear I came down to the common area one time and you were practically scarfing down a cupcake. I thought you'd end up eating the wrapper." Bakugo interjected. 

"Oh, that's ... That's true actually!" you grinned. "Well, the sweets part. I was not going to eat the wrapper! Sato had made some for the class. Maybe if you didn't go to bed so early you could of known how amazing it was." you pouted.

"I don't eat sweets before bed, are you nuts? How's anyone supposed to sleep hopped up on sugar? I don't know how you do it." he mumbled, crossing his arms and spreading to take up more room in his seat. 

"Ah, well I suppose I do have trouble falling asleep sometimes." you considered, "I should try out your schedule for a week and see if it helps!"

"WHY ARE YOU ALL STARING? What the fuck could you all have to look at? Fucking annoying." Bakugo stopped to yell when he noticed the small group of onlookers were, well, still looking at the two of you. 

"Kaminari, he's right, you should mind your own business." Mina said as she and Uraraka turned back around to go back to their own thing. Mina turned to send you a glance and pointed at her phone, indicating you should check your phone. 

Looking at your recent messages you see one from the pinkette,

So are you going to pretend it's normal for THAT guy to know everything about you??

You bit your lip as you glanced over at the annoyed guy staring into the back of the seat in front of him. His leg was bouncing in boredom and probably irritation if you had to guess.

Mina was your best friend, but she could be a bit dramatic. 

You weren't sure you were ready to tell her that Bakugo had made it known to you that he was interested. Like, VERY interested.

And you were, less obviously, interested back. You knew his favorite food. His favorite color. He even told you things that made him feel insecure and confided his feelings about being a hero to you. 

It happened suddenly one day. You noticed him looking at you, like actually looking. He held you back after class and said your actual name and not just fringe. That was when you realized you had feelings for him. You didn't hate the nickname, and you considered yourself on good terms with him. He acknowledged your strength and treated you as an equal. But something about the way he said your name made your mind go fuzzy. It felt like you'd just woken from a dream and saw him for the first time. Were his eyes always that intense? 

"I talked to my old man the other day, and he told me some gross shit about how when he and my mom met- she pursued him relentlessly. Borderline insane is what it sounded like to me. My pop apparently doesn't have a spine and he just gave in. Whatever." Bakugo rolled his eyes before waiting for you to say something. 

"Oh! Um, I don't know, I guess I can see how that's romantic. Uh, why are you telling me this though?" you shuffled your weight from one foot to the other, noticing there was a bit too much heat bouncing off the two of you. 

Bakugo bit the inside of his cheek, taking a moment to find the wording. "I'm not crazy like that. I'm not some clone of my old Hag I just wanted to say." he lifted his arm to stretch his back, his actions nonchalant for such an odd topic of conversation. "Anyway, I waited a year is all I wanted to say, so I think I'm going to persue you now."

"Wh-what? You waited. Ah what?" you stammered, you could feel your heart pounding in your chest. "W-what if I don't want you to pursue m-me?" you laughed. You were nervous. And nervous you always say something to deflect the awkward feelings. 

"I'm not very good at not getting what I want, but like I said-I'm not crazy like that old hag, I'll let you have your own say. Anyway. I'll see you later." and then he left you standing there dazed and confused. 

You looked over to him now, sitting alone in his seat. Why else would you have been sitting in the back if not because you knew he'd be back here? You smile to yourself. While this could be your secret for a little while longer you really couldn't resist after seeing his commitment to knowing you in front of the others. 

You pull out your earphones, put one ear in, and hold out the other to Bakugo, who accepts without hesitation. He shoots you a nod and pushes his bag to the floor making room for you to sit by him. 

And you do. You probably will for the rest of your life if he has his way, and you're happy with that. 

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - I Still On1y Care About...

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

Sept 2024 Week 1

Ongoing Series - Thai

Monster Next Door (Thai Thurs Gaga ) eps 7 of 12 - Deeeelightful. They are so damn cute + a nice kiss! The rise of the green flag semes continues. I like it when Diew flirts and shows that he does have some experience in a relationship, and he can/will flex his power. Props to God for being a man who remembers to TAKE HIS DRINK with him. 

Addicted Heroin (Thai Tues WeTV) ep 4 of 10 - Yep I still like it and all its toxicity. It’s fun to see how closely it follows the original. Now I really can’t wait to see how this one ends. Since this time around we get an actual ending.

Battle of the Writers (Sun YT) ep 6 of 12 - How did they know that what I wanted more than anything was a side couple = spoiled prince + demon lord? How clever they are to give them to me. Meanwhile, in a shocking twist, the leads have known each other since childhood. Because why be original? 

I Saw You in My Dream (Weds Gaga) ep 8 of 12 - Oh it’s very cute. I love Ing. I love that Ai was honest with his bestie. Best friend's older brother trope is a go! Also good kisses all round. 

Kidnap (Fri YT) ep 1 of 12 - Ohm has his shirt off less than 5 min in. I guess GMMTV is learning what we want. My boy Title is the creep character again. I’m assuming that’s why GMMTV brought him on board at this juncture. Sigh. New boy, Q, looks like Mek’s younger brother. Ultimately? I'm not convinced on this one. It is doing what it says on the tin, but nothing more than that. I’m not wild about it, but I will keep watching.

The Trainee (Sun YT) ep 10 of 12 - The more OffGun BLs, the more time they spend communicating as characters in those BLs. It’s kind of charming. They've become the pair that advocates for communication in relationships. I like it as evolution for their brand. Flirting via the printer was very fun. Especially as the Thai script is so beautiful.

Live in Love (Sun Gaga) ep 1 of 5 - I guess this is a lockdown narrative? Odd choice. A lot of familiar faces but from more minor rolls. Is this from the Destiny Seeker people? It feels like that. It’s a bigger cast than I was expecting, and a sort of classic university BL of the kind star Hunter produces. Or the end of love people. Pretty classic Thai pulp stuff. I’m mildly enjoying it. Hali is too hot to be the dorky second lead. Nice to see Boat back on my screen. However, it is… what’s the word I am looking for? Oh yes. Boring. Plus singing. 

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

The On1y One (Taiwan Thurs Gaga) eps 5-6 of 12 - I entirely lost my mind over this show this week. Fuck me it's so good. The delicacy sends me. I keep expecting it to be clumsy and then is just isn't - it's so subtle and it demands we pay such close attention. I feel like I'm holding my breath the whole time I'm watching.

Cliff's notes on these 2 eps as follows:

The pure unadulterated tsundere of it all.

The awesome angst, it aches.

The series of repercussions after the fight was pacing genius.

The brilliant juxtaposition of "the kid who self isolates too easily" versus "the one who has been forced into isolation" meets both of them being smart enough to know why they react out of hurt, but neither can stop doing it.

Baby’s reaction to learning he’s going to be left behind = to instantly make plans to do the leaving in the future hurts my heart in the best possible way.

"Maybe what we call eternity is just persistence."

Maybe one boy simply deciding to be another boy's rock is romance. 

Production better nail the second half of this show! It better be the world against them from here on out or the audience is gonna riot.

And by "audience" I mean me.

Sugar Dog Life (Japan Sun grey) ep 5 of 10 - Oh noes! Poor baby boy!!! My heart hurts. But also gah so cute and next week they shack up together! Hooray! 

I Hear the Sunspot AKA Hidamari ga Kikoeru (Japan Weds Gaga) ep 11 - too much time spent on the girl again. I don’t need excuses for why she’s a bitch. So can we talk about Taichi instead? It’s such a good characterization, this boy who understands everything about other people but doesn’t notice anything about himself, including his own abilities of observation. The person who is special never realizes how special they are, I guess. The soundscapes are so good with this show. The moments where prod decided to be silent are so vital and so pivotal and used with such delicacy and strategy, it’s truly audio magic manipulation.  

First Note Of Love (Taiwan Mon Gaga) eps 7-8 of 12 - I loved how Orca just jumped on the stage. What a great side couple. CHARMED I TELL YOU. Orca was all… singing? Naw. I came back to fuck the manager's brains out. Anything less than that is unacceptable. 

Takara's Treasure AKA Takara No Vidro (Japan Mon Gaga) ep 10 fin - Essentially this was a growth story for Takara and an exercise in patience while the two of them learned each other’s quirks and languages. It was also an exercise in patience for me... who doesn’t like the power differential of a weaker younger character having to do all the pursuing while constantly feeling like he is inferior to the older popular hot character. I know this was a BL that was definitely for some people, since plenty liked it way more than I did, but I didn’t like it very much even though there’s nothing objectively wrong with it. It simply wasn’t to my personal taste. 7/10 

Seoul Blues (Korea Fri? YouTube) ep 5-6 of 8 - Enter an ex or something? Well he certainly has a type. Bah. This whole series seems to be mainly about cheating. It’s very annoying because they are all so pretty. 

Happy of the End (Japan Tues Gaga) - Based on a manga, longer than usual run time. A boy is disowned for being gay, dumped by his boyfriend, and ends up in a dysfunctional co-dependant relationship with his would-be kidnapper. We were due for another messy JBL. Messy gay pain here we go.

Oh it’s exactly what I expected. Do I like it? No I do not. And ya know what? There is plenty airing. I have a bad feeling about this one. DNF 

It's airing but...

4 Minutes (Sat Gaga) eps 1-6 of 8 - Gaga picked this one up so we can watch it there. I'm waiting until the end, it seems angsty and confusing and full of awful people being awful. But also... high heat and I'm shallow. So we shall see which devil wins (and how it ends).

The Hidden Moon (Sat ????) ep 1 of 10 - This is a supernatural romance (my ghost boyfriend trope) ‘เดือนพราง’ by Violet Rain (I Feel You Linger)... A Bangkok writer is hired to write an article about an old mansion in Chiang Mai which is being converted into a café. He gets into an accident and nearly dies on his way there. After that, he sees the ghosts of people who died at the mansion, one boy catches his attention. Was substantially recast. Couldn't find it. Didn't really look.

In case you missed it

Meet You at the Blossom (China) - I'm eating crow, binging the fucker, and live blogging. It's just taking me some time. This isn't really a bingable show, not for me anyway. It's A LOT to take all at once. No new one this week.

Next Week Looks Like This:

Plus:

9/9 Jack & Joker (Thai Mon IQIYI) 12 eps? - Be gay YinWar, do crimes. Dehup gives us Yin, War, Mark and a few other familiar faces in a Leverage sitch, only queerer.

9/14 Love Sick 2024 (Thai Sat ????) ?? eps - Remake of the original. I'm scared too.

9/15 Bad Guy My Boss (Thai Sun Gaga) 10 eps - Assistant to a player boss who is in love with that boss decides to quit to save himself. The boss then makes a move. (A gay What's up with Secretary Kim?)

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

Coming SEPTEMBER 2024:

9/17 Love is Like a Poison AKA Doku Koi: Doku mo Sugireba Koi to Naru (Japan Tues Netflix?) 10 eps - Lawyer and a con artist meet at a bar, pair up, fall in love.

9/28 Teenager Judge (Vietnam Sat YouTube) ?? eps - oh I don't know just Ba Vinh doing his thing with pretty boys again.

9/? The Time of Fever (Korea iQIYI) 6 eps - HoTae & DongHee are back! Side couple from Unintentional Love Story, same actors, same character names I an WILD for this.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

Not sure what this is from but I capped it for a reason so, shrug.

The scent trope AND the childhood crush trope? I see you suckering me into one trope because I like the other. Clever, Battle. Very clever.

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are a pain.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

Sigh, Tumblr in its infinite wisdom doesn't like too many at-ings.

[inubaki]

Adam’s Pride Au

-story section by @rainforestakiie. Was kind enough to write this while helping my develop the design. Please check out their stuff. ——

Adam felt undeniably diminutive, a mere wisp of his former self. He was far smaller than he had ever been in his Edenic days and, naturally, infinitesimally tiny compared to his celestial form. He barely grazed the shoulder of his angelic self—how utterly disheartening! His new form seemed so fragile, so vulnerable. Although he was uncertain of the full extent of his new body's powers, his present concern was more with its appearance.

His face was heart-shaped, softly feminine, with a nose that curved gracefully like a bird’s beak but lacked its sharpness. His lips were plump and tender, featuring a subtle, secretive dimple at one corner. His skin was the colour of delicate ash on fresh snow, milky-white and sprinkled with grey freckles that cascaded down his cheeks, neck, shoulders, and back. These freckles meandered down to the lush, pastel green and blue fluff that framed his thighs and extended to his dainty, delicate hooves. Though he lacked the long, arrow-like tail of Lucifer, his tail resembled a delicate spring of blue feathers, starting close to his backside and arching upward like a plume worthy of Hera.

His hips were rounded and plush, akin to the fanciful Barbies Adam had once seen the young Winners chatter about. His arms were slender and cushioned with tender flesh, his fingers long and delicate, tipped with the same blue and green hues as if bruised. His hair was a cascade of soft brown tufts, interspersed with genuine blue and green feathers that sprouted from the sides of his head, two of them curving like horns. Resting serenely between them was a sweet, sinuous snake, coiling gently and floating above his head like an ethereal halo.

Adam's cheeks were rounder than he had ever imagined, blushing with a faint pink tint. He winced, pinching his right cheek and hissing in surprise. It was far more sensitive than he remembered and disturbingly reminiscent of Lucifer! His wings were long and plush, cascading down his back and sweeping along the ground behind him. He inspected them with curiosity; they weren’t gold but a mesmerising gradient of green and blue, interwoven with hints of orange.

He wondered if he could lift them—and if they could lift him. With a determined squint and an arched back, he watched as his wings began to unfurl, nearly causing him to have a heart attack. They didn’t resemble typical wings but rather the majestic plumes of a peacock, stretching around him and fluttering softly. The eyes embedded in the feathers shimmered in gold, purple, and orange, framed by gentle greens and blues, echoing the feathers sprouting from his hair.

Adam's eyes widened in shock as he gazed at his reflection.

“What the fuck am I?” he exclaimed, his voice echoing with disbelief.

A soft gasp fluttered from behind him, drawing his attention. Adam turned slowly, his gaze squinting against the soft, shadowed light of the hotel room.

There, standing in the doorway, was Lucifer, eyes wide and mouth agape in astonishment. “You’re… beautiful,” he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of awe and admiration.

Adam's heart sank.

Fuck!

He’s even shorter than fucking Lucifer?! The pint-sized King of Hell?! How did this fucking happen?!

———

The concept idea was what if Adam’s sinner punishment was to look like Lucifer.

The face of everything he thought as evil and through him excused his own horrid deeds. All that he took pride in and suffered through vanity is stripped away. Leaving a shorter, more ‘ delicate’, even feminine version of himself. He retains his wings but they barely hold the strength to lift himself. His halo becomes a snake, one he later names after constantly trying to chase off. (Though being separated, gives him migraines.). Adam keeps those hips though! Cause damn boy!

Watercolor pencils and @m-d-tr1 was kind enough to color one as well. But all drawn by me. I wanted to test out the colored design.

[rivangel]

//TOTAL PWP, male!reader, subby levi, humiliation, daddy kink, overstim | 1k

Levi is so wet and warm inside, you could melt. The same as his mind since the last time you fucked him through another climax and bent him into a tight kneel. Guttural moans dissolved into whimpers for more without knowing what for, and his fist tearing into the greyed sheet next to his head.

You grip the nape of his neck as a moan is punctuated by hips slapping his ass. You're hypnotized by the subtle bounce with each thrust. You grip and squeeze, and watch his back arch tighter.

“Daddy...” Levi gasps. Sloppy wordless murmurs bleed into the pillow under his head.

“Feel good, honey? You like being my toy?”

You lean back more on your knees and grip his hips, watching slack-jawed each time his hole stretches around the thickest part of your cock, so relaxed and wet and giving. You're tempted to just kneel in place and use him like a cocksleeve. He loves every second of it.

“Mmph…! Fuck! A-Ah—mmn—”

“Daddy’s pretty fuck toy,” you moan. Your palm falls and slaps his round ass. “Daddy’s good fuckin’ boy.”

He keens as you fill his tight ass. Half his face is pushed into the pillow, letting you see where sweat has dripped and his open mouth drooled. You can’t remember at what point you fucked him dumb, but you’re not about to stop savoring Levi in this wrecked state.

“Daddy…” he moans. “Daddy, Daddydaddy…”

You hiss through your teeth, your cock twitching caressed by his heat.

“Fuck, Levi.”

You slide out of him, but before he can register the emptiness, you haul him onto his back, his legs folded for his ankles to dangle helplessly, then pinned in place by your hands gripping the backs of his thick thighs. You're sitting up.

Levi’s hazy eyes inch open and seem to register his own helplessness with an ease that's painfully sweet; they’re soft, completely submissive. You might even ask him to say love right now and he’d do it.

"Beautiful, beautiful…"

You rub your shaft up against his hole, to his shiver, before sinking back in. You jolt when your tip first dips past his rim, followed by a groan punched from your chest. You completely fill him in one thrust.

“God, fuck right there—” he moans, both his legs shuddering. He rips one out of your grip and digs his heel into your lower back, pulling, begging.

With a groan, you let him drag you forward into a kneel, bending his knees by his shoulders with his feet dangling, propped up by your own shoulders. This unreal flexibility in the heat of the moment makes you hiss through your teeth.

“Mm…!—Fuck—”

“Oh”—your fingers clench in the pillow by his head, breaths beating—"this is much better, right?—I can watch your pretty face when—ah—you come, baby…”

For your words, or the passion from your stare boring behind his eyelids, he plants his cheek in the pillow, whining your name as he scrambles for you to hold onto. You dip your head and taste his sweat on your teeth.

"I can't I can't—"

"Fuck..." You rest more of your weight on top of him, grinding deep inside and allocate all your attention to watching Levi's terse expression gape and twitch as he gets close. "Are you gonna come again?"

"Daddy," he whines, his blunt nails digging into the side of your thigh. The answer is clear.

"Oh no... So pathetic, aren't you, baby.”

"F-Fuck." You feel a shiver shake through his whole body.

Not enough.

You're practically eye-fucking the pretty tears beading on his lashes as you ease your pace to devastating, slow, deep slams.

You grunt with every one as he keens, miserably. And like a rubber band, his body utterly pinned underneath you yanks tense and tight when your balls smack his ass, then regrettably loosens, only longingly arching, when you leave. Even with nothing separating your bodies. You feel it all.

"No please, daddy fuck, please..."

"Awe... that's so cute." You rest on top of him, like none of it affects you at all.

That's even better, actually.

"So cute," you mutter, chuckling as he moans underneath you. "You tense up when you beg, you know? Then I praise you, and your ass gets even tighter."

"Shutup," he really sobs, his face pushing for your neck out of shame. "I can't when—ugh—too..."

"You're gonna come 'cause I'm talking to you."

"Please pleaseplease—"

"Say it." You take his throat like a loose necklace and pin him back, exposing himself to you. Your thumb crosses his plump bottom lip and dips into his mouth. He licks, mindlessly.

You feel your self-control beginning to melt.

"Say it."

"'m..." His eyes close. "'m pathetic. Ah."

You groan, a pleasant shiver up your spine. Close enough. For a moment you fuck him faster than you mean to, and he latches onto your unraveling quickly.

“Daddy.” Smack. “Daddy.” Smack. “Come on, don’t fucking—stop, faster, fucking faster—”

You groan with a bright sting dragging down your back—Levi’s nails. The pain adds to your surging orgasm. He's so tight inside, quivering around your swelling cock, you can’t keep up this game anymore.

Your lips dip below his burning ear, fist roving down and taking his firm cock. “God, why don’t you come for your daddy?"

Before you’ve even finished the beckon, his muscles lock, his head falls back, and his cock pulses between your fingers. His legs flail at random, trapped beneath you as they are, as his whole quaking body is.

As a euphoric moan explodes out of his chest, you shudder in the throes of his pleasure, 'daddy' being cried in your ear, and fuck him through it.

“Daddy, fuck!”

“Good boy good boy, Lee…”

Like you promised you'd do, you watch all the tension melt off his expression, only leaving bliss. Without his hair to obscure, his delicate features are even more pronounced, sharper, somehow even more beautiful. His cheeks glow bright red, his jaw dropped and wobbling around whimpers.

You kiss his burning forehead, slippery with sweat, as his legs start to shudder past his climax, and you feel your own closing in on you.

His voice is all flimsy and touched by tears. "Come in me, fuck, fill me the fuck up."

“Ahh"—he’s doing it on purpose, squeezing, rippling, throbbing, practically sucking your cock back inside—“Levi.”

You slam in, sloppy thrusts so shallow you can barely consider it fucking. Only a few seconds. When you tip over the edge, your balls clenching, you slam in and still, whining. It's so powerful, only a few heavy strokes are enough for you to release. Levi still moans under his breath with each spurt pumped into him.

So it's not just calling you daddy...

[magicaldestinyharmony]

In Life and in Death

male!knight x female!reader

CW: mentions of murder, blood and corpses

A/N: check the end for a full one

Death. Death is when your lungs stop inflating with oxygen, when your heart slowly comes to a stop and when your vision slowly fades to black. Some people find death scary and a creepy affair. Others welcome death and embrace it, leaving the world with a smile on their face. Some fall in between or have no opinion at all. However, two people have different opinions. If you ask the fifth daughter of Count Balcom, she'll tell you that it's an annoying event and that she wished it would end. If you ask Lucca Puhlavan, a commoner referred to as the Divine Warrior, he'll tell you that he hates it because it takes his loved ones away.

These two souls have similar perceptions of death. This is a story about a woman who is tired of dying and just wants to live and about a man who has sworn to get revenge on the people who robbed him of a peaceful life with his family.

Let the story begin.

You harshly grip the window sill, turning the tips of your fingers white. You shudder at the scene below you. Corpses line the front lawn and blood flows everywhere. You hear screams, yells and pleas for mercy from the occupants of the once-glamorous mansion outside your room. You shake your head at the sight and turn around. Determined, you make your way to the drawers against the wall of your moonlit room. You unlock one and grab the blue stone glimmering in the faint light. It's called the Returner's Stone. You hold it up to admire it. It's a pretty gem. It's round in shape and sparkles with a beautiful blue light. Once consumed, it allows the consumer to travel back in time. It can only be used once. Thud, thud. You freeze at the sound of footsteps sounding in front of your room. So he came. You think. You don't turn around. Even when the chilling creek of the door being opened echoes through the room, even when you hear the tip of a sword drag across the wooden floor even when the shadow of a man falls on you, “Are you the fifth daughter of Count Balcom?” he asks.

You know the question is rhetorical yet you still turn around and answer, “No. I think you have the wrong person.”

The man in front of you scoffs and you take the time to look him over. His navy blue clothes are soaked with blood. His sword hangs from his right hand dripping with the crimson liquid. His black cape falls over his shoulders. His silver hair catches the moonlight making it seem to shine. You pore into the depths of his grey eyes. You shiver at his gaze. It's cold yet empty. You're reminded of the 15-year-old boy your father brought 10 years ago. You were told he was killed. Murdered in one of the hunts, your father liked to organize. You're not sure how he's alive right now. You stop before you can sink more into your thoughts. Stop it! This isn't the time for these thoughts! “Spare me!” You suddenly blurt out.

Lucca (You think that's the name that was mentioned in the newspapers) immediately responds, “No.”

You grimace. There was no hesitation in his voice. You grip the Returner's Stone tighter and ask, “If-if I saved you and prevented that ‘incident’ would you spare me?”

The tall figure in front of you lets his head fall back and laughs, “No. The only way I would spare you is if you drain all of the Balcom blood from your body. Only then would you be spared.”

You flinch at his creepy laugh and cold gaze. Suddenly, Lucca raises his sword, obviously meaning to strike you down. Adrenaline kicks and you shove the sparkling blue Returner's Stone in your mouth and swallow. You suck in a breath at the sudden pain in your chest. Lucca falters and hesitates. Yet before he could swing his sword and complete his revenge you fall to the floor in agony, clutching your chest. The last thing you remember is the black boots of your would-be murderer filling your fading vision.

A/N: this is heavily (and I mean heavily) inspired by the manhwa Even if the Villain’s Daughter Regresses. It’s a good read but the ml is kind of annoying. When I was writing this it kinda felt awkward to switch from 3rd person to 2nd person. Should I keep it in 2nd person or switch to 3rd? Also, should I keep it as an ‘x reader’ or make an oc? What do you guys think? Let me know by dropping a comment!

[lovepookie]

₊˚ෆ Green Light - l.hs

♡︎ sypnosis: in which you have a staring problem—and lee heeseung notices. the weirdest part? he’s totally into that. he just needs the traffic light to turn green to make a move. did you like him like he’s come to like you? find out next episode! on-

♡ genre: fluff, college au, fem!reader, crack, strangers to lovers

♡ 3.4k word count

♡ warnings: uhh cussing, stalker-ish?, stalking mentioned as a joke, please let me know if you’d like me to add any!

♡︎ nano note: hello lovelies! i’m trying to feed the hee-stans so i really hope u guys like this. feedback is much appreciated! (this may or not have been inspired by the song greenlight by 5sos lmao) may or may not write a part 2 idk lmk. xoxo

.♡.

You saw the way the corners of his lips turned up at his friend’s joke. He was so entrancing, and you didn’t know why. Literally every little move would have your breath hitched in your throat. It was actually kind of annoying. You watched him as he blew his hair out of his eyes, leaning back in his chair in a lazy way. He was just so attractive.

But why?

You’re not sure. You let your mind wander in almost anger as you try to compose yourself.

“Yah! Heeseung there she goes again.” Sunghoon whisper yells in a teasing manner.

Heeseung feels his ears turn warm and refuses to look in your direction.

“Ahhh your secret admirer?” Niki leant in, a playful smirk gracing his lips as he put his full trust in the chair he was sitting on, leaning back on the back two legs to support himself in the air. The professor had told him multiple times about not doing the dangerous act.

Did he listen?

No.

“Leave it alone.” Heeseung mumbles, picking up his pen and spinning it throughout his fingers as he looked down at his notebook. It wasn’t like he was taking notes or anything, the professor was late again to the lecture so everyone was conversating about as they waited.

“You should talk to her.” Jay said nonchalantly, a bubble gum lolipop in his mouth.

“Yeah~ You should~” Niki says as he giggles and bumps his shoulder into Heeseung’s. All Heeseung could do was blush further.

It wasn’t like he was new to the attention, he’d always had an admirer or two, but this felt different.

He’d always liked a couple of the people who took interest in him first, but it was always a sort of physical and straight off the back type of attraction. He was just like Jake and Sunghoon; having many girls lurk his way, but only the popular and pretty ones were the one’s they gave actual chances to.

But you?

This was different.

He’d be lying if he said he couldn’t say why. He had taken notice of your stares one day and had thought nothing of it. You were probably just another admirer. Right?

But one day, he decided to meet your eyes and smile at you for once. And low and behold, he wasn’t sure if it was the best or worst thing to ever happen to him because all you did was stare back. You seemed slightly caught off guard for just a moment, but your gaze never relented. It felt like a a couple seconds at most before his friends nudged him out of it, but damn. He felt so entranced through such a little interaction. The boys took notice of this of course, and now they tease him for it, but he didn’t really care. During the stare down, it felt so…

Different.

He’s given a girl the eyes before, but when he stared at you and you stared back unafraid and even unfazed, he suddenly felt as if maybe he’d been caught checking you out. It lit a fire in his stomach and released the butterflies from their cage—sappy enough to say.

From that day on, he had grown interested in the girl who stared. Almost no emotions could be read from your eyes, so Heeseung felt like he’d remember it forever.

What could he say?

He didn’t understand why he suddenly gained fondness for your cold unfaltering eyes.

He just knew it all felt…

Different.

-

There he was again.

You sighed as the pretty grey-haired boy had rounded the campus hallway, going in the opposite direction that you were headed out of.

Your breath hitches as you took him and his friends in.

Well, more like just him.

He was tall and lean, but strong within himself and the laugh he let out made you feel weird. He was very attractive. You couldn’t quite place a reason why, but you felt it—the steady feeling of your heartbeat speeding up.

After indulging yourself with a few glances, you decided to place an earphone in your ear and go on with your day.

Maybe the song you were listening to had reminded you of him—you’d never admit it though because by this point in your infatuation you were just trying to seal away any and all ideas of him. If it was up to you, you’d forget the lingering thoughts of him altogether.

You saw the way he looked at you too.

Still.

As far as you were concerned; you had no chance with Heeseung.

That was just reality.

One foot hovering over the gas pedal—yet the red-light never changes.

-

“Guess who’s here…” Jake says as he swings his arm around Heeseung.

Heeseung’s eyes go up from his phone as he looked around almost instinctively and found you. You had your headphones in and wore a pretty moonstone necklace around your neck—but this time your eyes weren’t on him. He watched as you wandered the hallway and scrolled through your phone, most likely to pick out a song. He wandered what songs you’d be listening to; what songs would you specifically take the time to seek out? Did they sound pretty and soothing like your demeanor, or were they loud and abrupt like your gaze?

Heeseung cursed himself for thinking of someone this way.

He didn’t know why he did if he was being completely honest. It was like one glance from you and his whole world changed. To this day he refuses to aknowledge where the butterflies came from.

“Bro at this point, you’re the stalker.” Sunghoon joked, gaining a laugh from Niki and an elbow to the stomach from Sunoo.

“Hey, just because she stares at him doesn’t mean she’s a stalker, genius.” Sunoo mutters.

Jake just chuckles.

“I don’t know. I’d say they’re both stalkers.” Jungwon chimes in, running through a bag of mini chocolate chip cookies like he was a thief in a jewelry store.

“Hey, you say all that but I saw you eyeing her sister. She’s a Sophomore right? Like Sunoo?” Jay states, snatching the cookie bag and chomping down.

“Jungwon likes the Noona’s?!?” Jake teases, eyes going wide.

“Y-yah!” Jungwon yelps, eyebrows furrowed fiercely in contrast to his pink puffed up cheeks.

Heeseung’s eyes widened.

So you had family on campus?

Interesting.

He wandered if you two were close; he’d always been close to his brother.

Heeseung pauses as he realizes he’s curious about your family affairs but after scolding himself a bit inwardly, Niki’s voice brings him back to Earth. “Oooh~ Maybe Jungwon-hyung and Hee-hyung can go on a double date.” Niki suggests, a playful look in his eyes as he towers over his hyungs.

He was a big baby at the end of the day—they didn’t know how he skipped a grade and became a Freshman with Jungwon to be honest.

“Okay pipe down, she’s getting closer.” Heeseung mumbles, his large hand going on the back of Niki’s neck threateningly. The boys quieted down with teasing smiles on their faces as they came up on you in the hallway. In an effort to not be obvious, they achieve the opposite as you get closer and closer.

“Watch this.” Sunghoon whispers, before Heeseung’s eyes go wide.

Within a millisecond, Sunghoon’s hands are pulling at the back of Jungwon’s backpack and dragging him along to stand in front of you. The group can’t help but to stare wide-eyed at the sudden and bold interaction.

“Ummm…Y/n, Is it?” Sunghoon mutters out as Jungwon flails around trying to desperately get out of his grip.

You look up from your phone at the sudden presence in front of your walkway as well as because of the close new voice. When you meet eyes with Sunghoon, his handsome and intimidating ones are still no match for your guarded and undesiring ones.

“Hi? can I help you?” You ask, now sparing a glance to the group in front of you, a dozen plus eyes staring back. For a moment you lock eyes with Heeseung as—for what you’d like to say came from your imagination—his brows soften.

“Oh- well uh, you see, this kid right here is Mr. Yang and he was wondering if your sister was single….” Sunghoon says, gathering his confidence as he talked.

You take notice of the boy in his grasp and how he straightens up at the question. He grimaces but still stares at you expectantly. If he had been coerced into this, he seemed to be equally as interested in your response now.

“Uhh…yeah. She’s single. But not for long.” You state.

Truthfully, you had no interest in any of this, but the countless hours your sister would speak of this Jungwon kid had you wanting to stir the pot a bit.

You knew who they all were. You knew all of their names, courtesy of Heeseung—yet you never let your sister know her crush was also your crush’s friend.

“Oh?” Sunghoon asks, getting more and more comfortable being cheeky as the minutes went by.

“What do you mean not for long? Is someone currently talking to her?” He asks. You scoff as you look down to your shoes, and when you look up you let a small smile give way.

Heeseung feels his heart sink to his ass.

He’d never really seen you do that before.

You were very pretty and your smile did things to his stomach. It left him wondering what a laugh or a wide playfull smile from you would do to him.

“Well…I’m not sure…what was the name she keeps talking about?…” You ask out loud and look around as if to gather your thoughts.

“Was it Jungwon?…” You see the dimpled-boys’ eyes light up.

“…Or Sunghoon?” You pause in thought.

All of the boys’ eyes go wide. Sunghoon let’s his grip on Jungwon go as they stand speachless.

“Or was it…a short international name? I’m not sure.” You say wafting your hand in the air nonchalantly and watching as Jay, Jake and even the possible Niki go tense.

Heeseung watches in amazement as he quickly reads up on how you’re speaking and carrying yourself as if you were executing a play of some sort; your theatrics and persuasive words doing just enough to fool his dumbass friends.

You quickly do a scan over the friend group and see shocked faces, along with a grumpy looking Jungwon.

He quickly turns to you.

“Thank you for your time. I apologize for the inconvenience.” Jungwon utters before he’s grabbing Sunghoons arm to lead him back to the group for a nice and easy talking.

You let a giggle slip as they walk away, not realizing how gullible they would be.

Going back to your headphones and playing your music again in order to switch gears to leave, you decide maybe the sad love songs were too melancholy right now. That was quite a fun interaction that just played out, if you do say so yourself. This time, a love song shuffled from your playlist but before you could get far enough away from the group of boys, your music blasts out loud due to your wires not being plugged into your phone correctly.

You panic and start to fidget to fetch your phone back out of your pocket, the lyrics of love ringing through the halls.

“And it feels like oooh~ you don’t know my name~” The woman of the song sings out melodically. The smooth R&B sounds that follow really catch onto the baseboards and walls of the open hallway, and you curse yourself for walking near the music rooms to get to class. When you finally get a grip on the situation and pause the music, your cheeks are red in color and your heartbeat is at a steady and quick pace. It was at this moment you realized how fucked wires really were and that you needed a Bluetooth upgrade.

As if on cue, a tap to your shoulder pulls you into even more embarrassment as you turn around to take a look at the suspect. You lock eyes with him.

Large pupils softly looking into yours; the nerves you take notice of in them are almost overshadowed by a courageous type of interest.

“H-hi.” He utters out, almost like a whisper.

Still, you catch what he says.

“Hi.” You say back, realizing you’re probably doing that thing again with your eyes where you lock onto a target and analyze it carefully.

You were aware of this habit of yours—and man so was Heeseung. But this time, it was different.

He’d never seen you so up close and personal before. He realized you were shorter than he expected up close, his stature peering down at you to connect your eyes with his. Your eyes were back doing the thing again he noted, but my oh my your rosy cheeks accompanied them so prettily, he forgets the whole reason he even walked over.

After hearing your small response back to him, it takes him a bit to respond, snapping out of the hold your gaze held on him as soon as he realizes that you are just waiting for a response; the two of you just staring at each other in the middle of the hall. His cheeks match yours in crimson. His hand goes up to rub the nape of his neck.

He still never breaks eye contact with you.

“I- uh…I know what you did back there.” He says, unable to look away. You tilt your head sideways in confusion, and Heeseung swears his heart is about to jump out of his chest and run away for everyone in eyeshot to see.

“I…My friends? They just asked you about your sister and I wanted to say you were really good at messing with them. It was charming.” He finishes, looking back and forth between your eyes.

You blush further.

Charming?

Was he really talking about you to you right now?

“Oh- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lie, just thought I’d stir the pot a bit…” You mutter, and now your eyes are searching in each of his.

He starts to smile when he takes notice of this.

It’s almost as if the words being spoken held no meaning, the real conversation happening between eye contact—words being merely a sad excuse so that you two could watch each other up close; study each others intentions through your eyes.

His smile goes wider as he takes in each of your words and tries to multitask, and he finds himself pulling apart esch of your words so he can understand them—having no time to stop the current conversation happening silently.

“Uhm, can i ask you a question?” He asks after another pause. You stare up at him curiously now.

“Sure…”

He smiles as he continues to locate your soul through your eyes. Heeseung knew how he felt. He knew that what he felt very well might be overflowing admiration and curiosity for you.

He liked you.

And despite that it all started with catching you staring at him first, he still felt like he needed to know your intentions.

Did you really feel the same?

Was he special? Different in any way?

“…What color are my shoes…?” He questions, almost like a whisper again. You hear his words and kind of just stand there as you look up, a little confused for a second.

Heeseung chuckles and looks away for the first time in what feels like hours. When his eyes meet yours again, he’s leaning forward, his hands behind his back as he towers over you.

“I said, what color are my shoes?” He repeats, this time a little more confidently.

You knew this was a challenge by his body language; keep your eyes up top and answer the question.

Without looking down you try to rack your brain for the color of his shoes.

White?

Black?

Fucking red?

You don’t know, you don’t stare at his shoes, you’re too busy looking at-

Oh.

Heeseung watches as the realization pops up on your face. He was asking this because it was a reflection of your attention on him.

Heeseung’s shoes were bright green today.

We’re talking neon-neocity green.

The rest of his outfit was all black because he got ready this morning in a rush out of fear of being late for his morning lectures.

And so when you couldn’t answer despite him catching your glances throughout the day, he knew he had his own answer. No, this didn’t proclaim your love for him—but the interest was there, he could tell by the way you looked away for the first time during this conversation, your blush never settling, eyebrows furrowing.

If he didn’t know better, you were madly in love with him. Or so he’d like to think.

The fact of the matter is, if he’d caught your eyes so many times today, why didn’t you know the color? Don’t people who like someone else capture everything about them? What was Heeseung’s thought process? Simple.

In the many weeks he’s caught you staring it was always at him. His face, the back of his head, his side profile. This sole fact and your reaction right now let him know that you were worried that you wore your heart on your sleeve—that you were too obvious in the feelings you conveyed with your eyes. That maybe you were aware of the fact that he knew you’d been watching him relentlessly.

Your face read that you had been caught.

After quickly looking down at his shoes and seeing the godforsaken brightest color in the universe, you can’t help but grimace even more.

“They’re- they’re green. And they’re just shoes-“ You try to get out, but your words are cut off when you look back up and Heeseung’s eyes are smiling with him. For a second you see them glance at your lips, and just like that, you were done with this conversation.

“It was nice meeting you Heeseung, but i have to go.”

Your heart was pounding in your rib cage and it, accompanied with the empty feeling in your stomach, made you feel like you were going to be sick any minute now.

He was terrible; terribly attractive and he knew it.

Heeseung watches as you leave, a laugh leaving his pretty upturned lips.

“Catch you later!” He yells out, cupping his hands around his mouth to get his voice to carry over to your quickly fading figure.

“I love that song too!” He finishes, smiling like a love-sick idiot puppy, forgetting how to walk, learning how to see and trying to adapt.

He looked like a complete moron, stumbling in the halls and looking past strangers in order to continue to watch you go.

He didn’t know why.

But you lit him on fire and kept him feeling warm.

It was a small interaction—but one he’d never forget.

“Hyu-“

“Hyu!”

“HYUNG!” A loud voice rings out, taking Heeseung out of his love-coma.

He snaps his head back to his friend group and is suddenly aware of their presence altogether. Heesung can’t help his smile from falling as he realizes they just saw him do…well…all of that.

“You should’ve seen yourself-“ Jake laughs, running up to him with the others trailing; all with the most painfully teasing grins painted on their faces.

“Shut up.” Heeseung says pointedly, his blush looking worse on his ears and cheeks and along his nose bridge as he flatlines his face in an attempt to hide any and all emotion.

Safe to say, his deadpan doesn’t work.

“Oh my god! He looked so whipped- it reminds me of that one loser-in-love squidward meme!” Niki jokes, laughing with Sunoo.

Yes, even Sunoo was clowning on him; or at least laughing at the circus.

“Please be quiet.”

“Nah, but did you hear him?? wHaT COLoR aRE mY shOeS?!” Sunghoon mocks, slapping a giggling Jungwon’s shoulder.

As if one cue, Niki and Jake both mimic Heeseung’s lean forward which sends the group into a laughing mess. Jay grabs onto his stomach as he wheezes about, the whole group unable to hide their amusement. Heeseung sighs as he lets himself be ripped apart by his friends.

Whatever.

It wasn’t too serious.

As they continued on and dragged him about as they walked through the halls, he went nonchalantly, tuning them out to the best of his ability. With the way they yelled and loudly laughed, he wouldn’t be surprised if the whole school had learned of his little crush.

Still, he didn’t mind. He trudged along, staring down at his shoes with a slight smile. He liked you, and as far as he was concerned, you did too.

All signs pointed to yes—and they were painted a bright neon green.

The light had finally changed colors after waiting for so long; It was go time.

Heeseung was going to make you his.

2024 © lovepookie

♡︎ please do not plagarize, repost, copy or translate any of my works. thank you.

[crochetedblorbos]

"I am not now, nor have I ever been, adorable."

Character Name: Jonathan Sims, a/k/a The Archivist, a/k/a The Ceaseless Watcher’s Special Little Boy, a/k/a Snoop God’s Favorite Kid

Fandom: The Magnus Archives [Podcast]

Voiced/Written By: Jonathan Sims

Yarn Used: Shoes: CraftSmart Value - Dark Almond Trousers: CraftSmart Value - Taupe Cardigan: CraftSmart Value - Olive Shirt: CraftSmart Value - White Skin: CraftSmart Value - Coffee Hair: CraftSmart Value - Dark Chocolate, CraftSmart value - Grey Glasses: Ashland Decorative Wire - Black, 12 gauge

Basic pattern here.

Look. How can you NOT love this pathetic wet cat of a man. (And like most cats, he is also a bastard at times.) He really went through the wringer over the course of the podcast, both physically and emotionally. Thank God he had Martin there for him.

Jon differs from the base pattern as follows:

Shoes: I actually remembered to do the soles in a different color this time! Other than the color, they were done the same way as Joseph’s.

Trousers: I accidentally shortened them. I did not mean to shorten them, but frankly, I miscounted on the first leg and only realized it halfway up the second, so I stopped them at R27 instead of R29, so he’s just a tad bit shorter than normal. (Which is fine, and fits my headcanon for Jon.) I also…well, I’ve finally thrown my lot in on the Great Archival Ass Debate on the side of the Assless, so in R32 (what would normally be R34, but again, everything is two rows lower than normal), I put the decrease in the very back, rather than on either side of R41 as usual. Other than that, they’re the same as Joseph’s.

Cardigan and Shirt: I more or less used the same technique I used for Hux, except that I started a round lower (I think) to make the V deeper. I switched fully to the white for R50 (R52 in the base pattern), then did three stitches on either side of the center stitch of R51 in back loops only to give myself something to hook onto. I then went back later and stitched a collar by making a simple triangle in the front loops of those stitches. I also skipped what would have been R54 in the base pattern and, when I switched to the skin color, I went straight for the decrease to 12 sc around. I was hoping this would make his head less floppy.

Head: I used the loop method again. It’s just easier at this point, especially since Jon canonically has enough grey in his hair that he looks older than thirty. I gave him long hair and left it loose, but at least I got it the right length this time (sorry again, Hux). I was going to give him ears, but honestly, I made his glasses small enough that I didn’t need to. I didn't necessarily plan on giving him buck teeth, but I was in the middle of a D&D session while I was working on his face and white yarn was the only thing I had to hand, so rather than run back to my room for black or dark brown I just went with it.

Arms: When you’re crocheting a character who canonically has a very nasty burn scar on one hand, you have three choices. You can ignore it, you can attempt to replicate it in variegated yarn, or you can crochet a hand and set it on fire. And, well...

...I have a lighter and very poor impulse control. [Side note: I mentioned this to an IRL friend who also listens to TMA, and they said brightly, “Just like the Archivist!] (For the record, burning acrylic yarn doesn’t actually smell as terrible as you might think.) I also decided to cut out the final increase in his hands to make them long and thin. This also means I didn’t decrease for his wrists, which was fine, because I gave him shirt cuffs folded over the end of his cardigan as follows: R9: Join shirt yarn, ch 2, dc in outside loop of each st around, sl st in first dc (10 dc). R10: Ch 1, sc in outside loop of each st around, sl st in first sc (10 sc). R11: Join cardigan yarn, ch 2, hdc in back loop of each stitch in R9 around, sl st in first hdc (10 hdc). Continue rest of arm as normal.

Glasses: These definitely did not turn out like I expected, but eh, they work. I bent the wire into square spectacles and stuck them on. As mentioned, I did them tight enough (accidentally) that I didn’t even need the ears.

Bonus: I deliberately did Jon’s hands so he can hold hands with Martin, or tried to anyway. I realized only after he was complete that I matched the magnet in Jon’s right hand to the one in Martin’s right hand, and there’s not really room to turn them around. I might try pulling Martin’s arms off later and switching them around, but for now…well, at least they can hold hands the other way around.