#the way my friends train their dog is not the way I would ever train a dog

[beansnpeets]

Thinking about human behaviour compared to animal behaviour again.

It's funny to hear people (the older gens) complaining that "kids these days are lazy, they don't wanna work, etc." What do we get for busting our asses? There is no reward. Many will never own homes. Many are unemployed, trying to find work, and nobody will hire them because they don't have a million years experience and a masters degree OR they want people to work for minimum wage??? People are giving up because there is no reward. Why would we do all this for nothing?

Same as a dog that won't recall when you haven't reinforced it with a reward. Your dog isn't going to do what you tell it to if there is no incentive. No, your dog SHOULDN'T listen just because you're boss and it should respect you. That isn't how it works. They don't think that way. And honestly neither do people.

When we went hiking Sprocket wasn't always taking treats gently from me when I recalled her or she checked in and I rewarded and my one friend told me to stop giving her treats. I told him I won't work for free so why should she. And he said "I do things for free all the time because I want to do them," and I didn't say it then, but I wish I had, but if you like doing it, that's the incentive. It's a self-rewarding behaviour. Just like anything else a dog does, like chasing a squirrel or sniffing things or getting into the trash. Heeling instead of going off to sniff stuff or recalling off of something they want to chase is something you have to reinforce. You have to give them something better so they make the choice you want them to make. They won't make it just because they *respect* you. They won't willingly recall off of exciting prey out of RESPECT. You need to give them a tangible reward for that. You cannot possibly expect your dog to listen just because and then punish them for disobeying you.

Yeah, Sprocket bit my fingers a couple times. The one time pretty hard. But she was excited. She knows how to take gently and I reminded her and she tried very hard to be gentle most of the time. I wasn't going to stop rewarding her for checking in with me and recalling while we were off leash hiking in the woods. I want her to know that coming back to me is good and in the event of an emergency I would like her to not blow me off.

[dnangelic]

what is the truth. schrodinger's normal abnormal boy

[inkskinned]

kids remind me, often, of the things i've taught myself out of.

i have a big dog. he looks like a deer. he is taller than most young children. while we were on a trail the other day, a boy coming our direction saw us and froze. he took a step back and said: "i'm feeling nervous. your - your dog is kind of big."

goblin and i both stopped walking immediately. "he is kind of a big dog," i admitted. "he's called a greyhound. they are gentle but they are pretty tall, which is kind of scary, you're right. their legs are so long because they are made for running fast. i am sorry we scared you. would you like us to stand still while you move past us, or would you feel more safe in your body if we move and you stay still?'

"oh. i didn't know that about - greyhounds. i think i ... i want to stay still," he said. at this point, his adult had caught up to us. "i'm nervous about the dog," he told her, "so i'm - i'm gonna stay still." she didn't argue. she didn't make fun of him. she just smiled at him and at me and held his hand while goblin and i, with as wide of a berth as we could make, crept our way through.

behind us, i heard him exhale a deep breath and kind of laugh - "he was really big, huh? she said it's because greyhounds have to go fast."

"he was big," she said. "i understand why that could have made you a little scared."

"yeah. next time i - next time do you think i could maybe ask to touch him? when - i mean, next time, maybe, if i'm not nervous."

later, going to a work event, in the big city, i stood outside, trembling. my social anxiety as a caught bird in my chest. i took a deep breath and turned to my coworker. she's not even really my friend yet. i told her: "i feel nervous about this. i am not used to meeting new people, ever since covid."

she laughed, but not in a mean way. she said she was nervous too. she reached her hand out and held mine, and we both took another deep breath and walked in like that, interlinked. a few people asked us - together? - and i told the truth: i feel nervous, and she's helping. over and over i watched people relax too, admitting i feel really kind of shy lately actually, thank you for saying that.

the next time i go to an event, and i feel a little scared, i ask right away: wanna hold hands? this feels a little dangerous. i hesitate less. i don't hide it as much. i watch for other people who are also nervous and say - it's kinda hard, huh?

i know, logically, i'm not good at asking for help. but i am also not good at noticing when i need help. i've trained myself out of asking completely, but i've also trained myself to never accept my own fears or excuses. i have trained myself to tamp down every anxiety and just-push-through. i don't know what i'm protecting myself from - just that i never think to admit it to anyone.

but every person on earth occasionally needs comfort. every person on earth occasionally needs connection. many of us were taught independence is the same thing as never needing anything.

each of us should have had an adult who heard - i feel nervous and held our hand and asked us how we could be helped to feel safe. no judgement, and no chiding. many of us did not. many of us were punished for the ways that we seemed "weak".

but here is something: i am an adult now. and i get nervous a lot, actually. and if you are an adult and you are feeling a little nervous - come talk to me. we can hold hands and figure out what will help us feel safe in our bodies. and maybe, next time, if we're brave, we can pet the dog that's passing.

[ellecdc]

thank you, McLaggen

inspired by the TikTok audio of Phil Dunphy saying "if you ever say anything disrespectful about my wife again, I'll kill you. Sorry, I don't know why that sounded like a joke; I will actually kill you."

James Potter x fem!reader who was apparently 'too much' for McLaggen

CW: they're at a party, readers last relationship left her feeling small, but she loves James and is all good now

It took a bit of unlearning when you found yourself in a relationship with James Potter. 

He sensed your hangups immediately; as if you were a duffle bag containing paraphernalia and he was a well-trained drug dog.

He noticed the way you seemed to fold in on yourself when you were excited, the way you cut yourself off when you began rambling, and the way you seemed to make yourself smaller as if that was what was required for the people around you to feel comfortable.

“Why do you keep snuffing out your own light, lovie? I miss your spark.” He’d said to you one night.

In all honesty, you hadn’t been aware you were even doing such a thing.

But you certainly knew why. 

Though your mother always told you to never look back on life with regrets, you’d spent about a year in what you now consider to be a rather unfortunate relationship with Tiberius McLaggen. 

And though you hadn’t noticed he’d been doing it; by the time your relationship ended, you realised you were perhaps a mere shadow of the person you used to be.

He’d ended the relationship after suggesting you were ‘too much’.

The irony of it was you were the smallest you’d ever been at that point; the ‘least’ you that you could possibly be. How could you be ‘too much’ and diminished at the same time?

You spent a lot of time reflecting after that, but it seemed that when you and James started your relationship, those old habits and qualities made their way back into your subconscious and it took James pointing it out for you to even notice.

You were glad he had, though. He was lovely, and he was caring, and he loved you. He loved your energy, he loved your passion, he loved your excitement, and better yet, he loved sharing those qualities with you.

All of the traits that your ex had deemed unseemly or unflattering were the traits you loved most about James, and in turn what he most loved about you.

And why would you deny such a lovely person of anything they wanted?

You just couldn’t.

So the two of you had been dating for nearly five months already, and you felt more comfortable in yourself than you ever had before.

You thought perhaps that this was just the effect James had on people; you found it almost impossible for any of his friends to be anything but their best selves when they were in his presence. 

You loved him immensely for it. 

You were getting a first hand look at exactly that from your spot on the arm of the sofa as you watched Peter throw his head back in boisterous laughter not usually seen from the typically soft spoken marauder. James didn’t even spend any time being smug about eliciting such a laugh from the cushion below you before he was complimenting Remus on his jumper, knowing very well that Sirius was the who picked it out for him - and also knowing Sirius would absolutely take full responsibility for the compliment - only to coo about how sweet they were together and leaving both boys blushing messes. 

You had almost forgotten you were sitting in the middle of a Gryffindor party when someone sidled up beside you.

“Lookin’ good, Y/N.” McLaggen commented as he looked you up and down.

You fought the urge to grimace as you narrowed your eyes at him. “Tiberius.” 

“Didn’t think I’d see you here; not really your scene, is it?” He commented with an air of casualty you knew was entirely for show. “I’m here with my new bird; she’s in Gryffindor.” He carried on without waiting for you to respond.

You hummed in acknowledgement as you looked around the room. “It doesn’t look like you’re here with anyone, McLaggen, seeing as you’re standing here talking to me.” 

“Come now, can’t old friends catch up?” He said salaciously. 

“We’re not friends, Tiberius.” You retorted forcefully.

He held his hands up in mock surrender as he chuckled at you. “Down girl, no need to get all jumpy now. You always were a bit of a handful, weren’t you?” 

You didn’t even have a chance to tell McLaggen where to shove it before James was standing up from his place hidden behind you as McLaggen’s face fell. 

“Ah, if it isn’t Tiberius McLaggen; kicked off the Ravenclaw quidditch team, failing Astronomy, received a mere acceptable in Herbology last term, and totally shit the bed with the most beautiful girl in Hogwarts. I’ve heard so much about you!” James recounted with faux cheer as he stuck his hand out to McLaggen, forcing the bloke to give him an awkward handshake as James stared at him hard.

James Potter was still flashing his (what should be award winning) smile, but it never met his eyes which were no longer their warm hazel. 

“Sounds like you’re the one I have to thank.” James carried on as he dropped McLaggen’s hand, wiped his own hand off on his trousers and threw his other arm protectively, possessively, affectionately over your shoulder. “Turns out if you hadn’t been such an absolute fucking tosser and fumbled the best thing to have ever happened to you, I wouldn’t have my sweet, gorgeous girl here. Congrats on losing the most lovely little thing to have ever looked your way; now sod off before I decide to do something that might just be worth making her frown over.”

You were unsuccessful in hiding your snort of amusement as you hid your face in James’ shoulder and listened to McLaggen scoff and stalk away. 

“Merlin’s tits, Prongsie! Did anyone else know James could be mean!?” Sirius cackled as the two of you turned back towards the group. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen James end a conversation without at least wishing someone a good day.” Peter carried on.

“Did you actually threaten the sod?” Marlene continued.

“No, I didn’t threaten him.” James muttered somewhat petulantly. “I promised him pain if he ever spoke to my girl like that again.”

The group cheered as you felt a shy yet pleased heat spread across your face and you shoved your face back into James’ shoulder.

James, for his part, accepted you eagerly and rubbed his hand up and down your arm as he pressed a kiss into your hair. 

“I’ll never let anyone make you feel small ever again.” He promised quietly; whether he was promising himself, or you, or McLaggen, you weren’t entirely sure.

What you were entirely sure of was that it was a promise he intended to keep.

[junislqve]

ᯓ your lips, my lips — hyung

— pairs hyungs + reader syn when the hyungs can’t seem to take their eyes off your lips wc 820 cw kissing fluff suggestive | mlist navi ── ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

note this was supposed to be my first post, but here it is ⸜( ˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

LEE HEESEUNG

“missed you, baby”

heeseung snuggled in to your side as your head laid on his chest. the apartment was quiet, your breathing combined with his the only thing rivaling the sounds from the tv.

he took a deep breath, letting your familiar scent seep into him. he felt content whenever you were there. all the worries of the week vanishing just by your presence.

you both had restless nights studying for the finals, having no time to see each other. there were so many burdens you wanted to let out, yet all of them seems to be said just by the silence.

in your trail of thought, you failed to realize heeseung was blantantly admiring you. his eyes trained on your lips, sporting his own smile.

he leaned in to peck your own. smiling giddy a second later when you come back in for a longer kiss.

“i really missed you”

PARK JONGSEONG

ever since jay picked up cooking, you always offered to do a taste test. claiming it was to ‘test the seasoning’. as annoyed as jay was sometimes, he could never really refuse you.

jay loves the way you would smile brightly when you taste anything he made. he’d even cook whenever you were around just so he could hear you compliment his cooking.

you were sitting on the kitchen table, while jay stirred up the soup from a new recipe he found.

“can’t i try it yet?” you sigh.

“not yet baby, it’s still boiling hot” jay said. scooping up a tiny bit and blowing on it for good measure, he carried the spoon closer to you and placed a hand under your chin.

you hummed in content, savoring the taste, “this tastes so good, jay” you say, going to grab another spoonful for him. a second later, jay’s lips were on yours. his warm breath fanning your lips.

he stays a second longer, his hand coming up to your neck pulling you impossibly closer. when you both come up for air, jake was back to cooking with a grin.

“your lips taste better”

SIM JAEYUN

jake absolutely loves everything you do. from how passionate you are about your hobbies. whenever you were doing your homework. when you were doing the dishes.

even when you’re doing something as simple as talking. jake likes talking, there was never really any silence in your whole 2 years of being together.

jake always had something interesting to say whether it was about his family, his friends, his dog, or ( mostly ) about you.

on the contrary to jake, you seem to be more quiet. you talked a ton, yes, but you preferred listening to him talk more. resulting in being more quiet whenever he had anything to say.

jake might love talking, but he’s the best listener you’ve ever known. giving little quips and comments on the right moments, and even staying silent and just listening whenever you needed an ear.

you’re currently sat on his carpet, him across you. you were talking about something that happened today and jake nodded along.

he loved whenever you talked, clinging onto every word you were saying. his eyes wander over to observe your face.

the way your eyes crinkle at something funny that happened, or the way that your nose scrunches when you recount an awkward encounter has his heart beating like crazy.

he mainly loves the way your lips curl into that gorgeous smile at a fond memory. loves how you bite your lip when you were thinking.

he couldn’t even stop himself from reaching and bringing you in for a kiss.

“you’re so cute, i can’t help it”

PARK SUNGHOON

he loves kissing you on the forehead. you would find him kissing your forehead almost every day.

it has become his love language. in the morning, afternoon, night, or midnight he would always make time for you and show you that he loves you.

especially on busy days or weeks when you both have less interactions due to busy schedules. he gives and shows affection to you by doing a small and simple but heart-wrenching gestures.

however, sunghoon loves getting comfortable and cozy in bed with you. usually past midnight, when you two decide to finally try to sleep instead of being on your phones.

sunghoon would lay beside you, facing you. trying to close your eyes and drift asleep, you felt sunghoon’s gaze on you.

during these times of the night, looking at you when your face is all peaceful. sunghoon can’t help but stare at you with that look. the look every 2000s romcom guy have in their eyes, filled with hearts and lovesick.

he adores you so much and when you fail to suppress a small smile, he barely hesitates to go in for a kiss.

he won’t ever stop being grateful for having you by his side. will always have his heart on his sleeve whenever you’re in the equation.

© junislqve 2024. liking, rebloging and commenting are appreciated.

[pers1st]

can't quit you - alexia putellas x reader

pairing: alexia putellas x reader

warnings: bit suggestive, angst but happy ending

Taking a quick breath in after sleepily glancing at your phone to check the time, you shoot up in the bed that is not yours, next to the body that is not your dog's, whipping around. Your head drops as you get ever so dizzy, and you hit the nightstand next to the bed with a loud bang.

"Ow", you wince, holding your forehead tightly and pressing against it, as if that would help your pain in any way.

"Joder", a soft voice mumbles next to you as you push the covers back, revealing your still naked body. Usually, it would be dark when you left Alexia's bed, but by now, the sun had risen and you were late.

Fuck.

"Get up", you instruct her as you crawl out of the warmth of the bed, hastily gathering the clothes you'd left on the floor last night.

"Ale, we have training." The blonde is still laying in bed, the duvet cover all the way up to her nose as she shields herself in comfortability. She doesn't react to your words.

"Ale, we're late", you huff as you pull your sweatpants on. At that, the seemingly unconscious body shoots up, banging her head the same way you had.

"¡Joder!", she curses as she mimics your actions.

It's been two months since you last spent a night in Alexia's bed. Your relationship was a long and stable one, and when you broke the news to your teammates, every single one of them was shocked.

You and Alexia, however, weren't. Despite the two years you called yourself her girlfriend, the both of you agreed that it was time to call it quits. Time to go back to being friends. You let yourself become too comfortable, and, along with it - clingy. The two of you could never be apart, and you both know that it wasn't beneficial for you or Alexia individually.

Still, you know that, no matter what happened, you can always count on Alexia, and so the breakup felt less like a stop in your relationship and more like a shift. That's how you found yourself in her bed after a team night out, and then, just a month ago, the two of you silently agreed that whatever this was - it was okay. You had, after all, agreed to remain friends (with benefits, it seemed).

But the golden rule of it all seems to be that you don't stay over. You and Alexia agreed to spend time apart, to be on your own, and although it included late night calls and (sometimes drunken) hookups, you didn't sleep over anymore. You didn't wake up in her arms anymore. Until today.

"Ale, I don't have any training clothes", you sigh, the realization dawning on you that of course, you didn't pack an overnight bag. Why would you? You never stay over.

"So? Wear mine", Alexia shrugs, throwing a pair of shorts into your face. You duck away quickly and watch as the fabric gets caught on the lamp.

"Yeah, sure", you chuckle.

"You go to training, I'll be there once I've driven by my house."

"But that'll mean more extra laps, no? Just wear mine", Alexia huffs, seemingly unbothered by your problem. It's, however, not as easy as it used to be.

"I can't, Ale. We're not together anymore, we don't share clothes, we don't fucking fall asleep together!"

You didn't notice your voice raised until Alexia raises her eyebrows at you, wincing ever so slightly.

With her still looking at you like a deer caught in headlights, you grab your keys from her wardrobe and leave her behind, not caring to say goodbye.

Your ex-girlfriend confuses you. How does she not see the problem? How does she not see the gravity that comes with the night you spent at her flat? How does she not understand the problems this causes?

You huff in annoyance as you walk towards your car, knowing that you'll be running laps for a good half-hour after training, seeing as officially, you were supposed to be there five minutes ago. With the extra ten minutes it took to go home, and the fifteen minute drive to the training grounds, you know that Jona will have a very stern talk to you. The only hope you can cling onto is that Alexia is already there, and the fact that no one notices how weird it is for the both of you to be late on the same day, when you usually never are.

Jona's words are harsh, but they are nothing you can't handle. Alexia already finished her laps during training, it seems, as she is not with you while you round the pitch over and over again. With only two laps left, you speed up slightly, not noticing the figure sat on the bench before you finally come to a stop, reaching for your water bottle.

Keira raises her eyebrows at you silently as you take greedy gulps. It's not a particularly warm day, but the sun is beaming down on the pitch as if it is Summer and the excessive running left you dry.

"What happened? You're never late."

You know by her tone that she is hinting at something, but you shrug as the two of you begin walking towards the building.

"My alarm didn't go."

It's a lie. You didn't even set an alarm, with how exhausted you had been last night. Keira wants to say something else, you can sense it in the way she keeps looking at you and then back down, but you don't urge her to, because you don't want to hear it. You don't want to hear anything, really. You didn't speak a single word to Alexia during training, dodging her every time you were asked to partner up and not cheering her on the way you usually did.

Even now, as you joined Keira for lunch in the cafeteria after a quick shower, you lead your friend to the table furthest in the back, away from everyone else. She doesn't mind, though, instead yapping to you about everything and nothing. Aitana joins you halfway through your meal, and you quickly become the third wheel, though you can't exactly complain. Your head is dangerously close to exploding, with the speed that thoughts are racing through your head.

Maybe sleeping with Alexia after the breakup has been a bad idea. After all, you split because it seemed impossible to spend time away from each other. With the excuse of remaining "friends", you still partnered with her every time, made conversation with her about everything and nothing, ended up in her bed every evening just to escape mere minutes later and pretend nothing happened. It's a vicious cycle, and it needs to stop. And that realization is what's bothering you the most. The fact that you need to stop. The fact that you actually need to be apart from the woman you still love so dearly.

You don't notice Keira and Aitana already left until a new body appears in front of you. Glancing up, you find the one person you didn't wanted to see.

"Estas bien?", she asks, looking down at your full plate. Feeling nauseous all of a sudden, you declare your lunch finished and throw your wet hair over your shoulder.

"Sí", you mumble as you rise from your seat, beginning to walk to the tray of dirty dishes.

"Estas segura?"

"Sí, Ale", you huff, reaching around her to discard your plate.

"Okay", Alexia shrugs. "Are you coming over tonight?"

You shake your head, looking at her with a stare that, admittedly, she doesn't deserve. Alexia isn't the catalyst of this problem, anyways. It was the both of you who made this decision, silently agreeing on a plan that now seemed so foolish. How did you expect to spend every night with her, not allowing yourself to be embraced by her warmth and love, and not fall for her all over again? Alexia agreed to the breakup. She is okay with the two of you not being together again. So, why the hell aren't you?

"No, I can't tonight", you reply, though it is a total lie. You don't have plans at night, ever, because you always know where you'll be. Where you would have been. If the two of you were still together.

"Okay", Alexia says, though it sounds more like a question. You can't seem to stand in her presence for another second, as you bid her a quick, cold-hearted goodbye only to sprint away from the cafeteria and to the locker room to gather your bags and speed home.

Alexia and you agreed. You need to be alone. And you need to practice it, now that you can't drag yourself into her arms again. There is no space for you anymore.

You can't seem to sleep on your own. Before, you were so worn out from Alexia's persistence to wreck you in every possible, leaving you in a sleep so deep the only thing to get you to stir was your shrieking alarm. Now, though, you fall into bed with a thousand thoughts rummaging through your head, and you lie awake for hours, watching the sun set, watching the sun rise, all while tossing and turning around, desperate to find rest.

It's not difficult for the team to catch on. You sweat off every bit of concealer meant to hide the shadows beneath your eyes, and your movements are slow - hazy, almost. Your performance is average, at most, and no one had ever seen you perform averagely.

Alexia notices too - at least you hope, because there is no way she can just forget about you, is there? She watches you curiously, but she never says a word about your piss poor sprints, your late passes or weak shots.

Even Jona seems hesitant to say something - and that is what you're left with. Everyone looking, no one asking. Everyone noticing, no one checking. The whole situation is beginning to drive you insane - Alexia is starting to drive you insane. Though she is not the culprit of this, you can't help but feel your heart wither away every time you look at her and feel just a little bit of anger. This isn't how you want to feel about the woman you loved for such a long time.

It takes you exactly a week to end up in her bed again. Alexia doesn't ask why you are behaving the way you are, and she doesn't react to your hesitation to come over to hers again, which makes you crave her even more. You're a bit like a child, when it comes to these things. You always seem to want what you can't have, to want what doesn't want you. Her head just peeks up from between your thighs as you lean back into her cushions, eyes hazy and head spinning. Alexia is so, so good to you. The anger is long forgotten, at this point.

"Estas bien?", she asks the way she always does, and it causes you to chuckle.

"Sí, Ale. Muy bien", you huff, as she lays down next to you gently, her own body covered in beads of sweat. You push yourself up from the mattress with the last bit of strength you have left, gently straddling her lap as you lean down to capture her lips in another kiss. Realistically, you are worn out, at this point. You've been in Alexia's bed for hours, and the both of you are likely satisfied. But it is so hard to leave.

She chuckles into your lips, intertwining the both of your hands with hers as you finally steal another kiss from her.

This- it felt oddly domestic. There was a softness in her eyes that you haven't seen- or potentially just not noticed, since the two of you broke up. It makes you stop in your tracks.

"What's wrong?", she asks as you lean back on her lap, looking at this glint in her eyes that completely captures you. You can't describe it, but this feels so right- being here, in her bed, being on top of her, laughing, kissing, sharing intimacy, the look in her eyes as she gazes at your every inch, that it feels entirely wrong. These moments are over. Your relationship is over. You have to remind yourself, again and again.

"I should go", you huff silently, pressing one last kiss to her lips before climbing off of her. You almost whimper at the loss of contact, but you rise to your feet anyways, searching for your clothes on her wooden floor.

"You could stay." Alexia sits up, patting the spot next to her as she looks at you, following your every movement with her eyes.

"No, Ale. I should go", you remind her, and remind yourself, and pull your hoodie over your head.

"I'll see you tomorrow?", you ask, though it is a given. The two of you always see each other at training.

"Will you partner with me for passing?", she asks back, a chuckle on her lips.

"Why? Miss me already?"

You only catch the meaning of what you said by the time you are in her hallway, and you pull the door of her apartment close a little harsher than expected. Alexia doesn't miss you. The both of you know it.

It seems like a vicious cycle that the two of you are caught in. Every time you decide to put some distance between the two of you, it leaves you craving her even more. It almost feels like an addiction you are so badly trying to break, but you relapse every time, soaking in every second you can spend in her arms. You go over to hers a few times, indulging the attention she gives every inch of you, and then you leave her high and dry, the wall between you rising again as you dodge her during training and outside of it.

Just last night, you were in Alexia's arms, letting her take care of you the way she always does, letting her kiss every inch of you until there was nothing left and the two of you were breathless.

Today, you didn't speak a single word to her.

Unable to stand the silence in your apartment, you asked Keira to join you for dinner at home, after texting Alexia that you couldn't come tonight.

Alexia, obviously, doesn't seem to believe you as she knocks on your door furiously, all the while Taylor Swift is echoing off the walls of your kitchen quietly, with Keira sitting on the countertop, stirring the pasta every now and then. It is dark in Barcelona already, and just twenty four hours ago, you were with Alexia. Still, she is the last thing you expect when you open the door.

She is dressed in sweats, but she still looks so good. It takes you a second to actually recognize her presence.

"Alexia, I have-"

a guest.

That's what you intended to say, but the woman pushed past you already, barging through your apartment.

"We need to have a talk", she declares as she strides through your hallway. You only manage to catch up to her by the time she has noticed Keira, who looks between the two of you questioningly.

"You, out!", Alexia points to the door as Keira shakes her head, a grin on her face.

"But we haven't had dinner yet!", she protests with a chuckle, but at seeing Alexia's stern face, which isn't kidding in the least, she looks at you, pleadingly.

You shrug. No one disagrees with Alexia.

"Wow, just kicking me out? I'm hungry, you were supposed to feed me! I can't believe this", she mumbles as she pushes herself off the countertop, shaking her head in disbelief as she walks past you.

"I hope your food burns!", she yells from the hallway when Alexia sits down on the couch and you go to turn the stove off. The door crashes closed with a loud bang.

"That wasn't nice", you point out to your ex-girlfriend. Alexia is strict when it comes to football, but outside of the sport, outside of the captain-responsibility, she is the sweetest teammate, friend, girlfriend. Her behavior towards Keira makes you sense the gravity of whichever conversation she is going to have with you, and it makes anxiety tingle in your stomach.

"Sit with me", she orders, though it sounds more like a question when she looks at you and you can see the slightest bit of doubt in her eyes. Along with that softness. That glint.

You are next to her within seconds.

"Y/N, I need to know. If we are friends or not- I can't do this hot and cold", she starts, and the vulnerability in her voice makes you shudder. You didn't know that this affected her at all, she never voiced any complaints, but the way she looks at you makes you realize that this whole situation had nagged her more than she admitted.

"Why did you agree to this- whatever, if you don't want it?", you ask, not knowing how else to describe the situation, curious to know what she is asking of you. Does she not want you to come over anymore? Does she want you to be over every night?

"Because I can't..."

You allow her the time to search for whatever word she is looking for, knowing that she always struggled with English.

"Quit you. I can't quit you, and seeing you, holding you, if you are in my bed I can convince myself that this isn't real, that we didn't break up", she mumbles, her voice barely above a whisper but loud enough for you to hear. She spins your head.

She agreed to the breakup. She agreed that it would be best for the both of you when you first opened the conversation of how dependent you felt on her. In truth, the realization of how much you love Alexia had only hit you when every footballer had suddenly gotten engaged, and you realized that all you wanted was to marry Alexia. The thought was scary, and it sent you into a rabbit hole for a bit, wondering silently whatever you were going to do with yourself when Alexia decided that this relationship just didn't work anymore. Now, as you look at her, you realize that it's foolish. Calling dibs on the breakup was your worst idea yet. But Alexia agreed.

"But you- you agreed, when I broke up with you. You wanted the breakup", you look at her with a questioning gaze, lingering on the freckles on her cheeks.

"Because I don't want to hold you back, amor. If breaking up with me is what you need then I'll try to survive, somehow. But that doesn't mean I want it."

At that, you throw yourself into Alexia's arms. How have you been so stupid? How have you hurt the one and only person you have ever, truly loved, just because you were scared?

You sense Alexia's hesitancy, but after a few seconds, she wraps her arms around you, pulling you even deeper into her chest. You can feel her heartbeat, and smell her perfume, and it makes you question how you have survived the past months without being hers. Her arms feel so familiar, so comforting, that you crave nothing more than to be here - in her embrace - forever.

"I only broke up with you because I was scared. I was so scared of you ever leaving me, and-"

Alexia interrupts you.

"I could never. I could never quit you, amor. You are stuck with me forever", she mumbles into your hair as she gently rocks the two of you from side to side, her arms never loosening around you. You chuckle at her choice of words, though you do admit it is somewhat fitting.

"You'll never quit me?", you ask, a slight smile on your lips as you pull back slightly. At that, she only tightens her arms around you.

"Never. I will never quit you."

notes: this is literally horrible

[glitch-karma]

hai i want to req a scenario where bsd characters has a crush on the reader and tries dropping hints but the reader just thinks that they’re being nice :D

characters: yosano, nikolai, akutagawa, ranpo, jouno

I added Chuuya cause I am self-indulgent, but enjoy!

Tw: Very light talk of characters being very touchy, but still sfw

Yosano

she's so obvious

Constantly complimenting you

Saying how pretty/handsome you are

Maybe a little touchy iykyk

She honestly wants to confess and have a serious relationship with you

and she's been trying to drop hints but..

"Oh Y/n~, you're so cute I could eat you up.."

"Huh? You can't eat people Yosano! Do you need something to snack on?"

"ugh. No, thank you, dear..."

Finally, she'll confess to you after patching you up after a small mission.

"Y/n.. I uhm, really like you."

"Awe, I like you too Yosano! You're my best friend"

She falls on the floor momentarily before just jumping up, grabbing you by the collar, and kissing you.

"O-Oh!" "Yeah. Oh."

"So? Do you.. Like me too?"

"W-Well. If it means we could do that agai- MPHM!"

Nikolai

Another obvious one

Now he's the real feeler upper

He will not let you GO MAN

Definitely a grabber too

I have this vision of him full-on grabbing your ass and you're just like "Oh? What's up, Nikolai?"

Surprise hugs from behind

He lets you braid his hair

Unlike Yosano, he will not be as patient

He'll grab your hands, get down on one knee, and scream:

"Y/n~! I love you! Please go out with me so we can be free together!"

You are not expecting this at all

So you shakily nod

Then he'll pick you up bridal style and run around with you in his arms <3

Akutagawa

Now with him

I wouldn't fucking notice either bro

His idea of hints is odd

"You don't suck at fighting.."

"Uhm... Thank you?"

He's read that some people give food to their crushes, so he'll randomly just set a cup of tea down on your desk

Since it's a food he likes, he'll also just leave figs on your desk???

It's, very confusing to say the least

In this case, I don't see him ever actually confessing

it was actually Chuuya that found out and pushed him along

Aka, he dragged you both into the same room and pushed Akutagawa along

but it all worked out in the end

Ranpo

Oh my God you gotta be real dence

CLIMBS ON YOU?

LIKE FULL ON SCALES YOUR BODY AND SITS ON YOUR SHOULDERS

And when you get tired and ask him to get off he's just like "Nah I'm good."

Shares his snacks with you

You brought him sweet mochi one day and that was the day he vowed to marry you

You thought he was joking?

Likes pitching your cheeks

"You're so squishy and cute Y/n~ Just like a dumpling" "Ranpo that hurts-"

The way he confesses I hear you ask?

One morning he just, out of nowhere kisses your cheek.

You FLIPPED out and he was just confused

"oh, are we not dating?" "WHAT? NO?!"

He didn't realize you were too busy to notice his feelings

Jouno

Side note: God we need more Jouno hc's fr tho

Jouno's way of showing he loves you?

Training you to the mfing bone.

Bro does not let up

If you're a hunting dog it's even worse

Y'know that scene where he stands on tecchou's back?

He does that all the time

Sometimes hits your head too

But, if he sees you're genuinely struggling he eases up

Honestly, he shows hints in very small ways that you wouldn't notice

Like a small pat on the back or bringing you water after a long day

All the other hunting dogs can see the way he listens extra intently when you talk as well

Another thing, he remembers almost every conversation you two have even had.

So he knows all your interests, likes, and hobbies

He would probably just casually do a normal confession, bring you a rose and a gift <3

Chuuya

Chuuya is terrified of letting people get too close to him (Kinnie moment-)

So for a while he wouldn't make any attempts at a relationship with you at all

But after you've stuck around him for years, even when others didn't, how could he not be smitten for you?

After a while of denying, he'll finally drop hints

He'll offer to drive you too and from work (mostly for the excuse to have your arms around him)

He also started bringing you lunches on Monday's

Has bought you jewelery and chokers galore

The expensive ones too cause he rich rich

He will drunkenly confess

"Damn.. Why do you have to go and make me fall in love with you?"

"..What?"

He has never sobered up so fast

He tried to stand up and leave, but you grabbed him and hugged him tight

After a few seconds, he did the same

[mitsies]

crush culture! ; megumi fushiguro

megumi fushiguro is so in love with you, it makes him look like a fool.

megumi fushiguro x gn reader, falling in love, confessions, endless fluff, pining, hbd babygirl fushiguro where my hug at - wk: 5.3k

megumi fushiguro is not new to the feeling of embarrassment.

he's best friends with itadori yuji and nobara kugisaki, who apparently can't go 2 days without making a scene in public. he was raised by the strongest sorcerer gojo satoru, who has the least shame out of anyone he's ever met. these aspects of his life come with an assortment of humiliating memories surrounding them. but this? megumi thinks that this might take the cake.

"i do not," he practically seeths, face turned away and buried in his high collar as best he could, "like them that way. don't even."

megumi doesn't need to look at his upperclassmen to know that maki is smirking like an idiot, and that inumaki and panda were holding in their stupid laughter.

"sure you don't, fushiguro!" panda exclaims jovially, with an exaggerated wink and a pointed elbow nudge.

megumi wishes that animal abuse wasn't illegal.

because truly, there is nothing more humiliating than being grilled by his seniors as they interrogate him about his crush on their best friend.

"it's okay if you like them!" maki says. megumi thinks she might be attempting friendliness, but her words come out dripping with sarcasm. "we can help you!"

megumi snorts at this. "how could you help?"

maki frowns. panda taps his finger (?) on his chin (?) thoughtfully as he ponders. inumaki says something and panda snaps his fingers.

"they like books!"

megumi blinks. "like i said, how could you help?"

panda deflates. inumaki glares. maki snorts.

and then, footsteps sound as someone enters the common room- everyone tenses- and then you appear.

"hey! what are you all up to?" your voice is scratchy with exhaustion and you look absolutely beat but megumi can't help but think that you're the prettiest person he's ever laid eyes on.

because yes, despite what he said to maki, megumi fushiguro has a major crush on you.

you, a 2nd-year at jujutsu high. you, who remembers his favorite foods and buys him trinkets from your missions. you, who checks in on him, and you, who he can never, ever tell he likes because that would be even more embarrassing.

besides, it's not like you like him back. to you, he's probably just the emo 1st-year who can't speak coherent sentences when you're around and sulks around all day.

"oh, nothing important," maki waves her hand, dismissing your inquiry. she looks at megumi with a stupid sly grin that makes him want to punch her.

you apparently follow her gaze, eyes landing on megumi and alighting with sudden enthusiasm.

"oh, fushiguro! i didn't see you!"

megumi blinks. the other 2nd-years do a poor job of muffling their laughter.

if you hear their cackling under their breath, you ignore it, and riffle around in your bag and pull out a tiny wooden figure. it's a dog, painted black and white with yellow eyes. it sits flat on the palm of his hand.

"i saw that at a booth near the train station while i was coming back from kyoto," you explain. "that reminded me of you, so i got it! for you!"

you look at him almost expectantly, as if you're waiting for something. and as if that weren't enough pressure, megumi feels 3 pairs of other eyes boring into his soul.

everyone in the room is watching him. you are watching him. and all he can manage is a strangled, "thanks."

that one word, he wishes it could capture every single thing he wants to say to you. he hopes that instead of the 'thanks' you hear an 'i'm in love with you' and 'i like you so so so much' and 'i want you so bad for real.'

well, scratch that. that would be even more embarrassing, actually. he hopes you just hear the 'thanks.'

and he thinks that you just process the monotonous gratitude and not the underlying message because you deflate a little, and you seem more tired. megumi winces. what were you expecting?

he doesn't get a chance to contemplate his thoughts. maki whacks him in the back of the head. he didn't even hear her walk up.

"okay, fushiguro, go away. we have important 2nd-year business to discuss which you," she points at him for emphasis, "are not welcome to."

megumi snorts. he knows it's a lie. but what else can he do? he stands, still holding the wooden dog like it's a precious treasure in his hands, and leaves without another word, preparing to bury himself in his humiliation back at his dorm room.

megumi's next mistake is accidentally letting it drop to nobara and yuji that he kind-of-maybe-sort-of likes you.

"you like them?" nobara all but gasps.

yuji faux-faints onto megumi's bed, wailing something incoherent about his 'precious boy growing up.' the dark-haired boy makes a mental note to change the sheets.

the 1st-years were situated in megumi's dorm room. nobara was perched hugging her knees on his spinning desk chair, and megumi sat on the floor leaning against the back wall.

"shut up yuji," nobara frowns and dismisses. her brow furrows as if she's trying to unravel a huge mystery. "but you're so... you. and they're... them."

megumi regrets ever opening his mouth.

yuji is having his own conversation on megumi's bed, babbling something about you being 'so pretty' and another fragment about how 'fushiguro would be a good boyfriend!'

nobara doesn't so much as glance at him before turning back to megumi. "do you even follow them on instagram?"

megumi huffs. "how is that relevant?"

nobara snatches his phone from the desk, tapping in the password, which, how did she know his password? she pulls up instagram and finds your account in the search bar.

she gives the same stupid sly grin that maki did and megumi once again feels an overwhelming sense of regret.

"you do follow them. and you're a big fan, it seems!"

yuji reaches over and swipes the phone from her hands. "i wanna see!"

"what do you have to say for yourself, fushiguro?"

megumi wants to wipe the smirk clean off nobara's face.

"shut up," is all he says.

nobara tuts like a disappointed schoolteacher. "do you even know anything about them?"

megumi flushes. "we don't talk often. that's the issue."

"really? because, they talk to everyone. a lot. they don't shut up, actually, in a good way. and they try to speak to you."

at this, megumi looks up at her. she continues:

"but when they talk to you it's like talking to a bag of bricks. i've seen it firsthand. why don't you work on that before complaining, dimwit?"

before megumi can defend himself, yuji is exclaiming something rather loudly.

"they like pokemon!"

nobara and megumi both look at the boy, unimpressed. he notes this and tries to defend himself.

"hey, i'm just trying to help. they posted this with a pokemon card in the background," he checks the date, glancing back at megumi's phone, "two years ago."

and that's when megumi is met with a sinking feeling. this must be what despair is, he thinks, as he snatches the phone back from yuji, ignoring his whining.

megumi could cry, at this very moment, as he scrolls through all your posts only to see that yuji has liked every single one, dating back to 3 years ago.

he buries his face in his hands and groans, ignoring nobara's questioning and yuji's pestering.

"what happened? someone tell me," the ginger demands, before grabbing the phone to see for herself. and she gasps, so loudly and so dramatically that you'd think that her own mother was shot in front of her.

"itadori."

the boy looks confused. "what?"

"you fucked up."

"huh?"

"this is irreparable damage," nobara all but shouts, waving the phone around in the air, "now they're never going to get together and it's all your fault, and they probably think that fushiguro's a creep and will hate him forever now!"

yuji joins in the caterwauling by trying to justify his sins, and megumi covers his ears. and then, a notification arrives, and megumi's phone pings.

everyone is silent. you could hear a pin drop.

nobara slowly, slowly checks the sender before jerking the phone out towards megumi. "it's them," she whispers.

megumi feels ill as he takes the phone back. he doesn't really want to reply but yuji and nobara are watching so intently and he doesn't want to keep you waiting, so he opens the message.

+

you is my insta that interesting LMFAO

+

megumi blinks. he's not too sure what to say.

"play it dumb," nobara hisses at him, "reply fast! your read receipts are on, dumbass!"

+

megumi srry what r you talking about?

+

he sends the text, and nobara swipes him on the head. "you sound so mean! what if they take that the wrong way?"

+

you sorry LMAO i dont want to bother u 😭😭 im just confused

megumi oh no wait im srry i think that was yuji he was using my phone idk what he was doing

+

nobara sighs in relief.

"crisis averted," she crows, "eat shit yuji."

megumi ignored the resulting argument as he continues to text you. he can't help but smile at his phone as the conversation keeps unfolding.

+

you oh LMFAO well that explains it ig!!

megumi yeah haha srry about that again

you oh its no problem i was just like confused what're u up to rn ?

+

megumi's heart flutters. this is so you, to ask what he's doing, and it's so you to care. one side of him is blushing and kicking its feet, and the other wants to sink into its grave and rot because how is he meant to say he's talking to his stupid best friends about you?

and so, he lies.

+

megumi im just reading rn itadori and kugisaki r hanging out w/ me in my dorm being very loud nothing new

you omg !! i didnkt know u liked reading what book?

+

this is where the panic sets in again. megumi reads, sure, and he likes it, but he wasn't reading anything at the moment.

besides, how far would you look into the answer? if he said a romance book, would you take it as flirting? if he said a smart, pretentious-sounding book, would you think he's smart?

he isn't sure so he just tells you whatever he's just finished, which happens to be a romance.

+

megumi rn im reading My heart and other black holes it's rlly good have u read it before?

you no buuuut ive def heard of it somewhere i'll add it to my 'to read' list rn

+

megumi silently applauds himself because, hooray! he's pretty sure he did something right!

his phone pings again: it's another text from you.

+

you its kinda late rn and i have an early mission tmr sooo i should probably go to bed

you but dont get me wrong id love to continue our convo soon !! are you free tomorrow around like lunch?

megumi yeah i am

you perfect!! i know this rly cute cafe if youd like to meet me there after my assignment!!

megumi yeah actually that sounds great i'd love to

you ok awesome :) im tapping out for tn then ill text u when tmr!! goodnight fushiguro !

megumi goodnight, sleep well!

+

megumi stares at his phone. and then he looks at his friends, who are still bickering. and then he looks back at his phone.

nobara catches on. "what happened? what were you guys talking about?"

megumi can't speak and he just hands nobara the phone. she scrolls through the messages and gasps very loudly, for what must've been the 100th time that night.

yuji, who had gotten up, read the messages over her shoulder. "oh, wow! yay fushiguro! i knew it'd work out!"

nobara swats his arm.

"you dumbass," she snips, "how is he supposed to go on a date with them if he can't even speak to them in person?"

megumi wishes that the ground would open up and eat him alive.

yuji 'ohs' and flops back onto the bed, resuming whatever the hell he was doing on his game console.

nobara takes a deep breath. "fushiguro," she starts, "you are going to need some serious help."

it was 7 in the morning on the dot when megumi's door was slammed in.

the noise woke him up, and he shot out of bed like a bullet. maki, panda, nobara, and yuji all filed in through the doorway. megumi frowns deeper than he thinks he ever has.

"get up, fushiguro!" maki's voice is drill sergent-esq with how utterly loud it is. "we have work to do!"

she sports her wooden bō and a stern expression. everyone else looks similarly serious. megumi's eyebrow twitches.

"what is going on."

no one bothers to explain- instead, maki gestures, and panda all but drags the boy out of his bed.

"we're here to help train you," yuji chirps, "you've got a big day today!"

megumi kicks and punches but can't get out of panda's grasp, so he allows himself to go limp. he thinks that if he had been fully awake, he would be bringing every single person on campus hell.

"yes," he groans, "today's big, sure. which is why i don't want to talk to you guys. you're all bad luck."

"now, now," nobara chides haughtily, hands on her hips, "we've done so much for you already! and we're helping you prepare for your date! how is that bad luck?"

"yeah!" yuji's exclamation is even louder than maki's wake-up call and megumi wants to tear his ears off.

"and plus- we made inumaki go with them on their mission and told him to mess something up so you have extra time!"

megumi blinks. he's still being dragged around like a doll but he pulls his phone from his pocket to see a message from you:

+

you hey sorry this mission is taking a little longer than expected we might have to have a late lunch :(

+

he taps out a reply hurriedly and resumes being hauled across campus to- the training field? what exactly are they going to try and teach him?

when megumi is finally released, he stands, brushing the dirt and dust off his clothes- before maki knocks him to the ground again with her bō.

he glares up at her as he sits, not bothering to get back up again.

"first things first-" she says, pushing her glasses further up the bridge of her nose, "don't be yourself. you're really awkward, laughably so. and i don't know their type but generally awkward guys aren't it."

megumi says nothing. there's no getting out of this- his only real option is to wait it through. and honestly? he's not that mad anymore, just a little disgruntled. he needs the distraction or else his nerves will eat him alive.

"i don't even know if they're into me," he grumbles from the floor, "how do you guys even know if this is a date?"

his words are followed by silence. and then the other students break out into a fit of laughter.

yuji leans down to megumi's level and smacks him on the back while he cackles joyously, sending the other boy sprawling across the dirt once more. "good one!

panda wipes a tear from his eye (can pandas cry?). nobara leans against maki and clutches her ribs.

megumi rolls his eyes. he isn't looking forward to this.

the entire 'training session' was generally useless. it was just a lot of 'be nice to her' and 'get her to fall in love with you' with no actual explanation of how.

megumi thinks he might be ill when he walks into the cafe and sees you there. you look elated when you see him enter, already sitting in a booth seat.

he sits across from you. the cafe is, true to your word, charming. potted plants are abundant and the natural light filters through the skylights.

"fushiguro! i'm happy you're here!"

this was you. an undeniable kindness, an insurmountable sense of caring that you put on display for everyone to see.

"i said i would, didn't i?"

megumi surprised even himself when his words came out normal and decidedly not choked up. this was progress- maybe maki's methodization helped.

your grin rivals the sun and megumi finds it in himself to muster a small smile-ish in response.

megumi thinks that you can sense his pensiveness, and he is silently thanking you for your grace. you steer the conversation, prompting him to speak every-so-often. he doesn't even get a chance to utilize maki, nobara, yuji, and panda's shit advice, not that he would've in the first place.

eventually, he works up the courage to inquire about your day and mission, which you gladly speak about. the flow of the conversation is easy and light. he only wishes he could join in more, but his nerves stop him.

at some point in conversation, you blink, and thrum your fingers on the table. megumi observed how you slightly jostle your bowl of udon, but you don't seem to notice or care.

"i'm sorry! you asked me about my day, but i totally forgot to ask- how was your morning so far?"

it's megumi's turn to blink dumbly. he had been really, really glad when you'd glossed over his morning in the conversation. he wasn't too sure what to say.

it's not that megumi was a bad liar. he lied a lot growing up, mostly to gojo, and now mostly to his friends to get them to leave him alone or shut up. but he didn't want to lie to you. he didn't even think he could- his brain was working overtime to converse with you through his anxiety. how could he conjure a lie?

megumi internally prepares for you to hate him and lose all interest after he begins telling you about his morning.

"kind of rough," he means it as a joke but you look so curious and concerned that he can't just leave it at that, "our wonderful classmates woke me up at 7 to... speak with me about stuff."

he's really, really trying to exclude the actualities of the event, but he's already in too deep.

"oh, that's awful," you sympathize, "what stuff?"

megumi wants to die. he wishes that his bowl of ramen was poison and that he's passed out right then and there. he wishes that the ground would suddenly start shaking and that the roof would collapse right on top of him. but none of that happens and he continues to talk.

"it was... kind of to prepare me for this date thing, i guess." he talks to quietly and quickly that you almost don't catch what he says. but to megumi's misfortune, you do. and you laugh.

and at that point, megumi might as well be dead for real, because your laughter is the most beautiful sound in the world and he is so, so embarrassed, more so than he's ever been. this has to be #1 now, for his most humiliating life moments.

(megumi also needs to stop saying that. it seems like every time he decides a new moment is the most mortifying of his existence, a new one comes in to replace it. he thinks he's accidentally manifesting it.)

"really? is that why inumaki came with me today, last minute? to buy you time?" your eyes are twinkling now, and you look at him so amused that it would really be a crime to not indulge in this conversation.

"it is," he confirmed. "it's not like it was worth it. i should've just slept in."

your grin grows, and megumi decides that there isn't anything he wouldn't do to make you smile like that again.

"what did they tell you?"

megumi tells you about maki's opinions on 'awkward boys.' he tells you about yuji's exuberant laughter and very loud opinions. he accidentally mentions his doubt about this being a date, to which you look away, a bit embarrassed.

"i meant it to be," you explain, "but i wasn't sure if i communicated it properly, y'know? but i'm glad you got my point."

you continue to prompt megumi to talk, and suddenly, you're both running your mouths. he doesn't think he's spoken this much to anyone in forever, and he's shocked at how easy it is to speak to you once he's started.

you're really listening, and you find him funny, and you think his opinions and stories are interesting, and megumi has never wanted to speak more.

the conversation seems like it could last forever, until you are both prompted by a waitress who politely tells you that the cafe is to be closed soon and that you should finish up and pay. checking the time, megumi realizes that it's been 3 hours. his food is only half-eaten and has long since become cold and soggy.

the two of you pay and leave. megumi confesses that he's never really done this before and he's not sure what he's doing as you two walk to the train station and you beam at him, bumping into his side purposefully.

your hand finds his and you nimbly intertwine your fingers- megumi thinks he could die a happy man right there.

"it's okay," you smile, "we can make up the rules. it's up to us."

megumi contemplates this, for a moment. he is feeling oddly emboldened. maki was wrong, he was right, you seem to be liking him a lot, and he got over his nerves and actually managed a human conversation.

so he's only a little nervous when he proposes:

"i have a rule, then."

you raise an eyebrow, urging him to continue.

"we do this again soon."

megumi doesn't look at you, and suddenly all the anxiety sets back in, because, god why did he say that and why aren't you replying and what is going on and do you hate him not and did he ruin everything?

he risks a glance at you, expecting to see you throwing up in disgust or glaring daggers at him. but when he turns, he sees you, eyes wide and cheeks hot, opening and closing your mouth. he squeezes your hand, feeling a little bit of satisfaction, and that seems to help you work out your thoughts.

"sorry," you laugh a bit, "i just... wasn't expecting that. but i agree with that rule. i definitely do."

the walk back to the train station is peaceable, and the ride home even more so. megumi doesn't think he's felt this kind of feeling in years, and he thinks he loves it.

when the two of you return to campus, megumi is reluctant to let go of your hand. you turn to face each other, near where the dorms separate into year-based sections.

"i had fun," you say, a bit breathless. you're not sure what from.

megumi smiles unconsciously. "i did, too."

"i'll text you?"

"i'll look forward to it."

megumi expects you to let go of his hand and turn back to your dorm, because that was that, and the first date was done, but instead, you hesitantly lean close to his face as if you were about to tell him a secret.

but instead of whispering something into his ear, you plant a quick peck on his cheek before scurrying away, leaving megumi to think as the sun lowered in the horizon.

he stares after you, and he is suddenly extremely grateful that yuji didn't know social media norms.

the following stretch of what would be considered 'dating' was, in megumi's humble opinion, perfect. when he was with you, it was like everything clicked into place.

you were one of the few people megumi would consider himself comfortable around, and you were by far the person he spoke to the most. he was only grateful that gojo was overseas at the moment because he'd never live down how utterly and undeniably lovesick he was.

besides, he already heard enough from his friends.

"you guys are so obsessed with each other, it's disgusting, just get hitched already," maki scowled.

"when are you going to ask them officially?" nobara gossiped.

"life is so unfair," panda stated.

"you guys are so, way, mega, too cute! can i be the flower boy," yuji wailed.

"salted salmon cod roe," inumaki exclaimed.

but they did present the very real question of when and how megumi was going to ask you officially.

nobara was the most insistent.

"why do i have to ask? why can't it just happen?" megumi had made the mistake of inquiring at some point. nobara responded by kicking him in the ribs.

"they made the first move, so it's your turn now."

(megumi supposed that her reasoning was sound, but concluded that her methodization was a bit harsh.)

and so, it was up to him to ask you to officially be his partner.

he had a few ideas, all of which were quickly shot down by his council (nobara and yuji) for various reasons.

a text was too anticlimactic. a dinner date was too formal. a picnic was too casual. a walk was too boring. and simply asking you? that was apparently taboo.

and all of these ideas were presented with the clause that megumi could ask you verbally. sure, he'd become quite the conversationalist around you, but he thinks that he might pass out should he attempt to ask you something of this gravity.

this, megumi decides to ditch all of his friends' advice and take it his own route. if it'd worked for the first date, why wouldn't it work now?

he visited his favorite bookstore in tokyo 3 months after your first date and picked out a copy of 'my heart and other black holes.' he spent a week rereading it and annotating it with little notes and thoughts. he doodled in the margins. he wrote little jokes in the spacing.

and then, on the very last page, megumi wrote a little note. his handwriting was neat and his phrasing was clear, but he couldn't help his anxiety lurching as he reread it.

what if you misread it? what if you say no? what if you don't even read the book?

the logical side of megumi knew that none of these would happen. but he couldn't help the stress mounting within his chest.

on the next date you both went on, this time to a record store, he handed you the book. he told you that it's nothing much and to read it whenever you'd like, pretending like he didn't just hand you a piece of his heart.

but you'd smiled at him with stars in your eyes, and megumi couldn't help but think that it'd all work out.

later that night, long after all your classmates had fallen asleep, you cracked open the book.

you decided you could read it all in a night, seeing as it was a rather short novel. you retrieved your pen and a highlighter from your desk, ready to annotate, when you saw that megumi already had. his thoughts and feelings were scribbled between the lines, his mind whirring with connections and ideas displayed on the pages.

you could cry, this meant so much.

you breezed through the story, smiling to yourself at megumi's comments. it was over before you knew it- and just as you were about to close the book, the empty page at the back where the dedications usually go held some dark blue ink.

you riffled through the pages back to that spot and read the little note that awaited you. it was brief, and the sight of your name written in his writing alone was enough to make your face heat.

you read his condensed message about 'how he's never met anyone quite like you' and about how 'you make him feel more like himself than anybody else ever could.'

you read about how he's liked you forever, and how he was sorry that he couldn't ask you in person, and you read his final, concluding question: the question asking if you'd officially be his partner or not.

you close the book and stand.

the time is 2:57 in the morning when megumi is promptly awoken by a knock on his door.

he almost doesn't answer but then he hears your voice calling his name through the sliding door, and who is he to leave you waiting?

you look tired, is megumi's first thought when he sees you. your eyes are droopy and you waver a bit as you stand. but you're holding something in your hands- a novel. the cover is familiar. megumi realizes what this is about but he can't find it in himself to bring it up.

"what are you doing up so late? you should be getting some sleep," megumi chides you gently instead. you don't reply, instead sliding in past him to sit on his bed.

megumi blinks. he's not too sure what he's supposed to do now. he's not to sure that you know what you're doing, even.

he sits next to you on the bed, waiting for you to say something. you don't.

you look at him. he looks back at you.

finally, megumi breaks the silence.

"did you finish the book? what did you think?"

you don't reply right away, blinking at him owlishly.

"i really want to kiss you right now," you reply.

he wasn't expecting that.

"oh," megumi says.

"yeah," you respond.

he blinks at you. you keep on staring at him.

"okay."

that's all he needed to say, apparently, because soon enough you're kissing him, and he's kissing you back.

when you break away, your head stays close resting on his collarbone. the material of his sweatshirt is soft and plush beneath your cheek.

neither of you speak for a few moments. you don't need to see megumi's face to know that he's flushed cherry-red.

"so," he starts awkwardly, "i take it you liked the book."

you laugh, a sleepy laugh into his figure, and he smiles. his arm moves to wrap around your waist.

"i say yes, by the way," you basically whisper, "i would love to be your partner."

megumi doesn't think he's felt affection this profound for anyone before. here you are, his partner, so lovely even when you're about to pass out.

"cool," he whispers back, but you're already asleep in his arms.

bonus:

nobara is a little concerned when she wakes up and you're not in your dorm.

usually, you're asleep much later than she is, with the exception of when you were forced out of bed. you'd typically stagger out of your room and meet her in the kitchenette where she'd make breakfast for herself, you, and anyone else who'd ask that morning.

for you to be awake before her without any obligations was unusual.

but the pitiful amount of concern she holds vanishes within a heartbeat when she, upon entering the common room, sees you and megumi curled up close on the sofa.

you're both tangled together, so engrossed in each other's presence that neither of you notices nobara's entrance until she loudly clears her throat.

you smile nervously. "morning!"

nobara doesn't return your greeting, instead furrowing her brows. "when did you get up today?"

you blink, trying to come up with a reply because you see the cogs turning inside her head and you can predict where this is going.

"uh... an hour ago?"

you think you've never seen nobara look more smug. "you liar. i know that's a lie because when i checked 2 hours ago, you were gone."

"so," nobara grins, "where did you sleep last night?"

you look at megumi. megumi looks at you.

neither of you are sure how you're meant to lie your way out of this one.

[prettyboykatsuki]

oliver talking his partner through it and calling him d**** god your brain is so huge my stomach hurts thinking about this. he’ll never tell you he loves you to your face and tries to fuck you more like he hates you because he doesn’t want to get too attached but as you’re getting close he’s all in your face and your neck, teasing you, biting your ear and softly begging you to tell him how you feel, how it’ll be better for him if you tell d**** just how close you are and how much you need him. takes you over the crest so sweetly, and continues rolling into you, chasing his own. his kisses are nonstop and so overwhelming, and he knows they are but he just really needs to connect with you like this. never the first to say “i love you” but unfortunately (in his opinion) he expresses it in so many other ways. sorry.

but i crumble completely when you cry | a. oliver

✮ tags ; DADDY KINK, afab + fem!reader, situationship!oliver, hooking up, unresolved romantic tension, p in v, praise, soft sex, it gets emotionally strange, riding, creampies, unprotected sex, under-negotiated kink in a sense though oliver is very careful

✮ wc ; 2.2k (i dont want to talk about it)

✮ a/n ; anon im going to haunt your dreams for putting this absurd image into my head when i dont even go here im crying screaming throwing up ive been thinking about it for hours. hours of my life wasted on this guys dick. upsetting!!!!!

also i do not write this often and do not plan too again any time soon so if ur seeing this and thinking about following me for content like it i would not recommend!!!

✮ synopsis ; you don't trust oliver with your heart or your feelings. nor do you expect anything from him.

but it's hard not to lean into him when he decides to cradle you so gently.

Your relationship with Oliver is both very ambiguous and very clear.

There's a line drawn, and you both steer clear of crossing it in your interactions. Oliver is fun. He's attractive and charming, a massive flirt but just genuine enough to be interesting.

It helps that he's hot. Physically, he's got an unreal build.

He's an athlete, so he's big. Wide chest and strong arms, thick thighs and the height to top it off. He's 6'3, and he's sexy (and his dick is huge) - and you sleep with him because of that. You don't date him explicitly because he's a womanizer. If you'd met when you were a little younger, a little more naive - you might've tried to dog-train him into being your boyfriend.

Because on top of the immaculate dick, he's fun to be around. He's funny, he drinks well, he's not a scumbag in the ways that turn you off.

You're old enough to know better. You have a career. You're too busy, and too jaded about love to try and fix whatever weird shit he has going on. So even if the two of you harbor some sort of emotional or romantic feelings for each other, you're smart enough to not get invested in those feelings and smart enough to have no expectations.

Oliver is your fun. He's your sneaky link, your weekend off. You come to him to blow off steam. You have rough, fast sex and it's good. Sometimes you chill afterwards, and you'll indulge each other in some physical affection but other times you take your shower and leave. It's a good time, and you know well enough not to ever ask him for any of your emotional needs. You have your therapist and girl friends for that.

Normally, when you're having a rough week - it's prime time to go to him. He'll fuck you a little harder than usual, and sometimes he's nice enough to kiss it better. But it's still, very distinctly, never crossing that boundary.

But some weeks, like this week - shit is bad. Not just stressful bad, but everything in the fucking world that could go wrong, is going wrong bad. It's not the kind of thing you can get over by compartmentalizing and even when you try to do your usual thing it doesn't really work.

You're trying right now - to get over the fucked up week you had. And you're turned on, but somehow - it's still not enough to get you completely out of it.

Oliver pauses mid stroke, in missionary - hetero-chromatic eyes staring you down as your thoughts are somewhere else completely. You don't notice the first time he stops, or the first time he calls you.

And he only gets your attention by cupping your face and making you look at him. You startle as you cast your glance his way.

"What's with you?" He asks, though he's not pissed or anything "Not feelin' it? Want me to stop?"

"No, you don't have too."

"Not what I asked," He chastises, letting go of your face "Not having your full attention is making me go soft,"

This makes you laugh, and Oliver cracks a smile seeing the tension melt off your face if only slightly.

"I'm cool with stopping." He assures. You let your hand reach up to his shoulder.

"It's not like I want to stop, necessarily? Like I wanna do something to get my mind off it and sex feels like the best option, but you know how it goes sometimes," You say, trying your best to avoid the emotional baggage of your words "We can stop though. I'll pay you for your wasted time," You tack the joke on at the end to ease the tension.

You're expecting him to pull out and stop, or maybe challenge himself into fucking you so good that you forget. Something more quintessentially Oliver than what he does do.

He gives you a blank look first, than a laugh that is a touch too sincere for you to be comfortable "That bad of a week?"

You're suddenly in dangerous territory. Somehow, this strange intimacy makes all the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You swallow thickly, the emotions coming over you so quick you end up looking away.

"Yeah. You know. It's fine, but you know."

"Mm," He says. He leans into your space. His breath is warm and his stubble tickles your skin as he whispers in your ear. You feel your breath hitch. And the air feels heavy "Wanna try somethin' else?"

"Like what?"

"A surprise," He says first, and find your stomach tightening. A hollowness in your nerves "Gotta trust me."

"You're scaring me." You joke.

"I'm a sex expert, you know?" Oliver says, humming against your skin "If I can't remedy your little problem with my dick, it's bad for my street cred. My yelp reviews will tank."

"You're such a dumbass."

"Do you trust me?"

You don't know how to answer. Yes, for the most part. Not with everything, but with your pleasure at least. Whatever this is, it doesn't feel the same. But you say yes, anyways. Oliver kisses your jaw in reply, then he pulls out.

He flips position easily. He ends up on his back, then he grabs you to rest on top of him. You're not sure what you're expecting. He holds you by your hips as your sex hovers over his cock. His thumb is rubbing circles into your skin as he sinks you down slowly onto him.

You only stare at him, mouth opening as you feel him stretch you open for a second time.

You're more aware of it this way. He's so thick, and so intrusive - and normally, you're feeling that in hard strokes. Fast and rough, like something knocking into your cervix. But like this, he's hitting a deep angle. You can feel every curve, every inch, as you come down slowly.

He keeps you there. For longer than you'd expect. Just keeps you, settles you, holds you gently. You stare at him as he grabs your hand, locking your fingers. Your first instinct is to panic, or crack a joke - but there's an intense look in his eye that shuts you up.

Uncharacteristically gentle, you find yourself frightened. Oliver's hands reach for you again. They hold your waist and slide up the planes of your body. He holds your tits in his palms and squeezes.

He does this a lot, but there's not usually this much touching. This much foreplay. It's grabby, a deeper pressure. He doesn't...feel you, in the way he is now. You stare at him, and he looks back at you so fondly you feel a strange urge to pretend it never happened.

"Play with your clit," He says, though there's no urgency in his voice.

Deep and smooth, the timbre in it has you shaking. You listen, on auto-pilot as you play with yourself clumsily and build a slow pressure. He just watches.

"C'mere, baby. And don't stop touching yourself."

Another pause. It's not the first time he's called you that. He likes to call you all sorts of things when you're fucking, and baby is one of the few. But not like that. Not like this. He gives you a lazy, self satisfied smile and encourages you by placing a hand on where he can reach on your low back.

You lean down, and Oliver tucks you into his chest. He's warm, and strong - and smells so good, like musk and cologne. Your free hand is on his chest, as he grips your hips and fucks up into you.

"That's it," His voice is pleasant to your ears. It feels funny to you "Just gotta listen to me."

He starts fucking you slowly. It's a familiar feeling, a pleasant stretch that dulls into a euphoric fullness. But it's never been this slow before. Each thrust is slow, and punctual, and so deep you feel yourself gasping. It's not enough to push you over the edge, but it's enough to make your mind feel a little numb.

You think he's going to keep at you like this, maybe edge you to take you out of it. But he doesn't. He keeps his pace.

"Had a hard time this week, didn't you, tough girl?" He mumbles, so low it doesn't feel real. You feel your heart start to race. You feel your throat start to close around something, choking "Did a good job and came to me. Gonna let me take care of it?"

You stumble. You aren't sure what to say, you nod and hope he feels it. He laughs a little. You can't be sure if you're fucking Oliver or not.

You know it's him but he's never been like this. Not once. Not ever.

"Gonna let daddy take care of you?" He says, though it's tentative. Your breath hitches. Something strange overwhelms your senses "Tell me, baby."

"Uhm," Your first reaction is a sense of resistance, an immediate pull away. Not that you hate it but you aren't sure how to adjust. You squirm, but you don't tell him no. You feel like you can't in this state "Uh-uh,"

He keeps surprising you, pressing his lips to yours where you hover over him, tender as he ups the pace of his thrusts.

"That's what I like to hear," He almost sounds proud "You'll hurt your head if you think too much. And I'd be a bad daddy, letting that happen, yeah?"

A vulnerable, foreign sensation drives you to speak "You're not bad in that way."

He laughs "Just in other ways, right?"

You giggle "Uh-huh."

"But not in this one," He repeats, very carefully. He fucks into you harder now, pays extra special attention to you. It's all for you, is what he's saying in a language completely foreign yet somehow so known. One only the two of you will ever know fully, confined in the four walls of this room "Daddy is good at taking care of you like this, so you should let him do just that. Tough girls always need their daddies, hm?"

It's what ends up tipping you up over the edge. You cling to him, succumbing to whatever weird space the two of you have fallen into you. Suspended in this odd sense of comfort that Oliver has thrust you in unannounced.

You don't trust Oliver with a lot, and this is more than what you should ever find yourself giving. In the back of your head you think you should pull away.

But he's comforting. It feels good, and strangely feels safe - and even for all the ways he's awful, you trust he'd never do anything bad to you. Even if it's a blip in the timeline, for now it's what you need. A blurry cross into your emotional needs that translate into your physical ones. Too much and so overwhelming, you hug closer to him and take a deep breath.

"Mm," You let yourself lean into him. Just this once, you promise yourself. "I wanna cum."

"Want it a little harder?"

"Mhm,"

"Then Daddy will give it to you a little harder, yeah? Anything for you." He says, and you try not to think to deeply on what that really means. Because even in this state you know it's not nothing, but you should never pry "Daddy can give you anything you want."

"Yeah?"

He chuckles a little as he fucks into you hard. Fucks into you how you need. You're wet enough, and wondering if you were always so into being doted on. Or if it's just the fact that it's Oliver. Another thing you decide to overlook as you zero in on the sensation of being pistoned from underneath. You're soaking. The room noisy with the sticky noise of Olivers cock penetrating you over and over, skin hitting skin as his hips press against your ass. His grip is bruising but not intentionally, his chest huffed in pleasure.

He's just as close as you are, you know all of his cues. You play with your clit faster, sensitive bud throbbing hard as all the blood rushes south. Your mouth has fallen open as the slow, thick desire coiling and culminating into something cosmic. Something big and heavy, but not too fast. Not a crash landing like you're used to.

But a single weight, the force of a star dropping to Earth. You figure Oliver is the gravity in your universe, holding you down so you don't float too far. You want to cling onto him for much longer.

And somehow, you're inclined to think he would let you.

"Oliver," You say his name as it builds, then decide on something else "Daddy,"

"I'm here, baby," He says back, like it's all he has to say for everything to make sense when nothing about this does "I'm right here. Let go."

So you do. You cum hard, and it comes in long never ending waves. Too much. It makes you collapse in Olivers arms, both arms coming around his neck as he continues to fuck you through the aftermath.

"Gonna," He voices, rasping as his thrusts become sloppy "Shit. Cumming, shit."

He cums with you, cums deep inside like usual and you mewl at the feeling of being filled with hot, sticky seed.

When it's over, you're almost afraid to look at him. When the tensions settled, and his chest goes back to it's steady breaths - you wonder whats going to happen next.

"Wanna stay like this for a while?"

You nod.

"Mm. Sleepy."

"Stay like this, then. I'll wake you in a little."

"So you can kick me out?" You joke, trying to pretend nothing is different. He pauses.

"Just to shower," He whispers, hand resting on your lower back "Sleep."

There's too much to think about. Tomorrow will be strange. You let yourself succumb to your own exhaustion.

"Okay."

[incorrectbatfam]

If you could create and add a new DC character, what would they be like?

I'm going to tell you about David, and knowing you guys, you'll agree with me when I say he should have his own comic.

David has been my best friend literally since we were 8. He is the only constant I've had through my life. He introduced me to the drums and helped me get a motorcycle after I got my license. We are each other's platonic ride or die. If he asked me to bury a body, I'd do it no question, and I know he'd do the same for me.

That said, I clearly have the braincell in this friendship.

Don't get me wrong, he's smart in certain aspects. He's a talented musician, good athlete, taught himself to fix most plumbing issues, speaks decent Japanese, easily clicks socially, and is super empathetic. But in others, he's like a plate in a knife drawer.

Some highlights from over the years:

He ate the brown paper bag his lunch came in on a field trip

He thought hot chocolate was just cocoa powder (no milk or water) in a mug and the microwave would melt it. His sister had to call the fire department

He gave a stray dog his scarf for warmth and never saw that scarf again

He licked the dust off an XBox controller

He got a speeding ticket outside the DMV literally five minutes after getting his license

He made gender reveal cupcakes to come out to the rest of our friend group when we were 17, but he threw them into a Ziploc and they jostled around his backpack for half a day before lunch

He thought closing a browser tab would get rid of a computer virus

He tried hotboxing his own car while driving

He almost seasoned his food with pepper spray before someone stopped him

He had a tire swing on a tree in his backyard. He decided to stand on it while swinging and smacked his forehead against a branch in front of him. It was literally the most hollow thwock ever, as if confirming his lack of braincells. He then proceeded to get pissed off and punch the tree. He said it was his most gender-affirming experience

He brought me along on a family road trip and used me as a footrest in the car

He frequently writes drum tabs the way he'd write guitar ones (in short the two are very different kinds of sheet music and I'd need three hands to play them). He absolutely knows better. I think he's messing with me at this point

He mistook wasabi powder for matcha

He once got drunk at a frat party, crawled out the lawn of the house, and began eating grass like a cow

I wanted to know what kissing a dude was like out of curiosity and this was before he started physically transitioning, so to make it a more "authentic" experience, he gargled Gatorade beforehand

He tried to make his first battle jacket with washable Crayola markers

He also tried to dye his hair with his sister's watercolors

He's worn the same sweatshirt since he was 14 and I think I can count on one hand how many times I've seen him wash it (I was over at his house a lot)

He's the motherfucker that wears running shorts in the snow

He thought his area code would automatically change when we moved to a new state

He once kicked a soccer ball into an oncoming train

BONUS: when he came out to his parents, they were accepting and while he was at school, his dad mounted a fish on David's bedroom door because men I guess

So yeah, if I worked at DC, I'd insert David in the background of every comic just being his chaotic himbo self. David is beyond space and time. There could be a battle on fucking Oa and David would just be there doing a kickflip. That's who I'd choose.

[whumpshaped]

tw past trauma, conditioned whumpee, dehumanisation, de-conditioning (gone wrong?), manipulation

“I… I’m not sure about this. It feels kinda mean.” 

“I’m literally asking you to do it,” Whumpee said, rolling their eyes a little. Despite their attempts to seem nonchalant, though, it was very clear that they were nervous about this. “Please. I can’t live my life like– this. If I’m outside while some fucker is training his dog, I– it’s embarrassing. I need to do something about it.”

“And you think re-triggering yourself is… the way to go.”

“It’s exposure therapy. I don’t get why you’re the one being so weird about it. You’re not even the one who’s about to do the heavy lifting.”

Caretaker sighed, still uneasy about the concept. “I just don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, I don’t want to be rude, I don’t want to do any of that. I want you to be okay.”

“Well, I need this to be even remotely okay.”

Caretaker bit their lower lip as they thought about it, trying to convince themself this was fine, and they shouldn’t be making a fuss about it. Whumpee was right, they had to get over it at some point. It was just… Caretaker didn’t imagine they would be the one doing any sort of therapy. “Okay,” they said softly. “Um… then, uh, do you wanna start on the floor, or–”

“No. Come on. Tell me to– say the command.”

Fuck, this was so uncomfortable. Caretaker took a deep breath and closed their eyes. “Alright. Kneel.”

The sound of Whumpee’s knees hitting the floor followed just a few moments after. It wasn’t really a conscious reaction, from what Caretaker understood. It was instinctual. Reflex. They opened their eyes to see their friend looking at the carpet, flexing and unflexing their hands that were resting on their thighs. 

“Can you get up?” Caretaker asked gently. 

“I… Of course…” Whumpee swallowed audibly, and made no move to actually get to their feet. “I just need a moment…”

“This was a bad idea.”

“No! No, I can do this. This is so stupid. I can do this. I need you to repeat the command whenever I start getting up, though. Please.”

“I shouldn’t–”

“Can you just help me for once? Instead of coddling me endlessly? I want my fucking life back!”

Caretaker flinched a little at the yelling. “S-sorry. You’re right. Um… Go ahead, then.”

Whumpee slowly took their hands from their lap and placed them on the floor, then made an attempt at pushing themself to their feet. Caretaker hated to do this. They hated seeing their friend on their knees, they hated ordering them around like an animal. But what else was there to do? Whumpee had asked them for help.

“Kneel,” they repeated quietly. Whumpee’s resolve crumbled immediately, and they sat right back down: back straight, hands in their lap, perfect as ever. They seemed embarrassed by it. “If at any point you’d like to stop–”

“I can do this,” Whumpee insisted. “I can do this. They’re just words. Stupid words.”

They tried to get up again. Caretaker sent them back to the floor with a single word. They tried to get up. Caretaker told them to kneel. It was awful. It was so bad. Whumpee started crying after the fourth time, and Caretaker just couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’m done,” they said, tears in their eyes. “I’m not doing this to you.”

“What the fuck?” Whumpee snapped. “You said you’d help!”

“And I said I didn’t want to hurt you!” they yelled back. “You’re sobbing! I’m not doing this. I want you to get better, and I’ll pay for as many therapy sessions as I can, but I’m not doing this.” They turned around and stormed off, wiping their eyes as they went.

[junipers-archive]

spencer reid x bau!reader pining over each other to the point that other law enforcement people (maybe even luke or tara when they first join) think they are dating and are shocked when they find out they are just "friends"?

ah yes yes I love this, and hope you don't mind I added them acting like an old married couple and made it Emily noticing :)) (Word Count: 600)

Today is Saturday's are for Spencer :) request an au!

You were on your way back from the most recent case, loading onto the jet you look over at Spencer, noticing once more how utterly and unfairly cute he was when he was thinking. He was currently absorbed in one of the many books he checked out from the library this week, headphones plugged into his ears, probably listening to some classical music.

Taking a seat next to Rossi and across from Emily you keep your gaze trained on him, the sunlight trickling in through the window as the jet takes off, you observe, gives him an even more ethereal glow.

You blush when you find that Emily's caught you staring at him for perhaps the third time that day. "What?" You try to play it off cooly, only getting a smile back as she replies,

"Nothing, I just think you two are lucky to have each other."

You mouth opens, agape and looking like an idiot you stare at her blankly, you know she's new to the team and she probably hasn't gotten close enough to know the whole story but to think you and Spencer were really dating? That, in your opinion, was insane.

"I-we-Spencer and I, I mean- we're not a c-couple!" You stutter turning a darker shade of rouse as Rossi begins to smirk next to you.

"Might as well be, the way they pine over one another. All we ever hear is 'Spencer this' from her and 'Y/n that' from him." He finally speaks up.

"Don't give me hope Rossi, the only pining is on my part, and I'm happy just to be friends!" The truth was you weren't, far from it in fact, but Emily didn't have to know that, especially seeing as she'd just joined the team.

"So let me get this straight...you're just friends?" She questions you as Rossi chuckles and you shake your head getting up from your seat to take a nap on the couch. You really shouldn't be getting your hopes up, how could someone as perfect as him like you?

When you get to the couch however you find your spot taken by one doctor Spencer Reid.

"Move." Your lips are pouted and you're eyebrows pulled together, and if Spencer didn't know any better he'd think you were the most adorable human being on planet earth.

His heart sinks every time he lets his gaze linger on you too long, knowing that someone as smart, beautiful and funny as you would never feel the same way. So even as he rants about you to the others, even as he spends every waking minute he can with you and falls for you more and more everyday he tries his best not to tip you off.

Which becomes increasingly harder the longer you stand there with that look on your face.

Its Derek clearing his throat that brings Spencer out of this daze,

"S-sorry what?" He takes one of his earbuds out.

"Move." You repeat, "You're on my side of the couch."

He beams up at you and you swear you melt, "And since when was this your side of the couch?"

You cross your arms, leaning your weight on one of your hips, "Since the day I joined the team, this has been my side of the couch!"

He hums in response which only seems to fuel your anger, and as you two begin to bicker like an old married couple the team places bets on who's to confess first.

Rossi and Derek are firm believers that one day Spence will slip up, but JJ is almost certain that its his puppy dog eyes that will tip you off at some point and force you to finally confess.

Emily's still in disbelief when you land a few hours later, asking one last time before you all exit, "Are you sure they're not together??"

Update: Part 2

[catsteeth]

The Caged Bird and The Leashed Dog

Sandor Clegane x reader

+:✿ Chapter - 2 ✿:+ White Mare

previous chapter | next chapter

Summary: You are the daughter of Jon Arryn, you and your father travel to King's Landing with the intention of arranging a marriage for you. You catch a glimpse of The Hound during your first night in Kings Landing and it creates a mutual fascination even if he won't admit it. 

CW: slow burn, MDNI, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, alcohol consumption, mention of parent(s) death, mention of arranged marriage, mention of prostitution, mention of NSFW themes

Word Count: 3037

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧

Ever since that day in the stable you filled your days with reading, sewing, mindless activities to keep yourself busy. Anything to relieve your mind of the horrors of Kings Landing and your shameful thoughts of the giant who roamed the halls. Loras and you grew distant since you rejected his hand in marriage, in turn you spent your time with the Starks. It was hard at first to be without your only friend but you were determined to get your cousin out of this city. But it wasn’t hard when Sansa clung to you like a scared beaten dog. You were treated no better of course. But at least you knew how to handle such cruelty with a stepmother like Lysa. 

“Don’t let them see you cry,” You’d repeat holding her face “Don’t let it show. Don’t you see how much pleasure he derives from seeing you like this?” 

 Arya would teach you small things she learned during her sword training, and in all honesty it was the most fun you’d had in years. You found yourself becoming more and more invested in those little girls' well being. 

It seemed as soon as Nedd arrived in Kings Landing his time ended. 

That day seemed like a dream. You were summoned by Cersei to her Chambers.

“Has Lord Stark mentioned anything to you about the nature of your fathers death?” Cersei questioned you calmly as she poured wine into her gablet.  

“My fathers?” You asked genuinely confused, she nodded as she sipped her wine “No, your grace.”  

“Good. It would be cruel of him to spark paranoia in the mind of a grieving daughter.” She said as she paced the room with her goblet of wine in hand. 

“Paranoia?” If you weren’t before you would be now. 

Cersei interrupted you once more “Lord Stark will be arrested for treason today. Somewhat unrelated but it would seem that Lord Stark’s head is filled with paranoid thoughts.” 

You didn’t understand why your uncle was on trial for such a crime. You were just a girl to these men, they didn’t speak of such things with you, that is yet. “Little bird, you are a clever and strong girl. I know you are loyal, loyal to the Starks, they are your family. But it is important to be loyal to your allies just the same. Sometimes family will only drag us down, allies however can make us stronger.” Cersei not so subtly threatened you.

You nodded politely, as soon as you could leave you tried to find your little cousins. 

You found Arya by the stables. You noticed the men lying dead on the ground with the Stark girls baggage. You saw Arya holding her bloodied sword after pulling it out of the stable boy.

She was horrified, you approached her slowly and quietly.

“Arya” You spoke gently but that didn’t stop Arya from jumping and pointing needle at you. “Arya, you need to run.” You said softly, almost a whisper. 

She ran to you dropping needle, she wrapped her arms around you. You held her close but kneeled to her height. 

You held her face with both your hands and your eyes bore into hers. “Your family is not safe here. You are not safe here.” Your grasp on her head did not waver. “You have to find a way out, get to the city, find a way out of the city, get to the north.” 

“I can’t!” She began to whine as she cried 

“You can!” you stroked her hair trying to keep her attention “You killed those men?” 

“Just the stable boy” she cried softly

“You killed a man. That's more than most women will ever kill.” You pulled her face closer trying to make sure your words reached her  “Listen to me those men will come and they will kill you. Don’t trust anyone, never tell them your name, never tell them your house. Lie, and get good at it. Kill if you need to.” You said as you grabbed needle and put it in her hand, “Now go.” You say as you let go of her and she runs off. 

‘Good’ you thought as you watched her run away. As you watched you didn’t notice the tears that had fallen from your eyes. 

Soon enough you were summoned by Cersei to witness Nedd’s verdict. 

She didn’t anticipate what came next, and neither did you, watching the death of your uncle. 

You held Sansa through it. As she screamed and cried, you tried your best to conceal her eyes. 

Your eyes however dodged from your uncle to The Hound behind him. You hoped he would do something to stop it, but he didn’t 

And so, it happened. 

The second hand of the king died.

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚

He thought of it every night. 

The moment he touched you, your skin, the moment his rough hands caressed your throat. 

He rolled the thought over in his mind millions of times. Gods’, it tortured him to no end. He tried to bury himself in his duty, bury himself in any woman who looked the slightest bit like you on the Streets of Silk, even taking himself in his hand at the thought of your scent…. More than once.

The thought of you sparked resentment and anger in his chest. He was Kingsguard now, he had no use for a woman, had no use for these emotions he felt. 

He hated you for it. Hated you for the way he wanted to rip Loras’s head off anytime he saw you and him in the garden. Hated you for the way he thought of your eyes everytime he closed his eyes. Hated you for the way his mind would wonder at you at any turn even on duty. Hated you for the way his chest tightened anytime he caught even a glimpse of you around Kings Landing.  And he hated you for the way your eyes caught his. Each time it was like a deadlock, those eyes, they were a bow and arrow and they shot through him each time. 

He grumbled under his breath anytime you were near. Purposefully look away from you as if you didn’t exist. You pretended not to care, but you fought hard just to catch a single glimpse of his face. The burns that draped across the right side of his face like the sheer lace curtains you had in your room in the Eyrie that distort your view from the window. 

Neither of you had much time to think about these emotions during the following days. You were spending your time mothering Sana as she grieved her fathers death. The Hound was now King Joffrey’s personal bodyguard now that Robert was gone. A terrible task truly. 

Even worse one when your stubborn and rebellious tongue didn’t obey your better judgment around the new king. The Hound tried to convince himself he hated it, but it turned him on even if he didn’t want to admit it. He tried to keep you safe, as safe as he could. Whenever you shot an annoyed glance, a cleverly concealed insult Joffrey's way, the Hound would simply divert Joffrey’s attention to something else. But if you ever got on Joffrey's bad side he couldn’t do much, far be it from him to question a king. On Joffrey’s name day you tested his patience. Joffrey had you and his lady Sansa accompany his side during his Name Day celebration. However you felt a slight sting of joy knowing you’d be so close to him once again. But more so your stomach turned in on itself. Joffrey no doubt invited you for the explicit challenge of trying to elicit some kind of reaction from you in some way. This became clear once he continuously asked for your input on the celebratory fighting. You’d had a small fascination with combat at first. It was like a dance but with blood and swords. but soon you’d grow bored of it. 

As The Hound had beaten a man to a whimpering submissive pulp the fight was over. Joffrey clapped and cheered as The Hound removed his dog helmet.  

Still you were stunned by him. You wanted to hate him for not helping your uncle. You tried to hate him but in all honesty you knew he couldn’t do anything to stop it. He’d no real power, no real way of stopping it.

“Well struck, Dog!” Joffrey shouted, and snapped you out of your trance.

Joffrey turned to you and Sansa “Did you like that?” he asked, taunting you and her. 

“It was well struck, your Grace.” Sansa replied, stoic. 

“I just said that.” Joffrey said, his eyes narrowed, his tone deepened. 

Ser Meryn looked over in Sansa’s direction. You knew what that meant, 

“I found it boring.” You chimed in, your eyes just as narrow as his. 

“You did?” He asked with the same threatening tone 

“Mm” you nodded 

“And what man did your house bring to fight?” 

“Brought no man.” You shook your head 

The Hound returned to his station by the Kings side. He pretended not to listen but he was, intensely. 

“You brought no man to my name day tournament?” He questioned further, you knew he would have taunted you further. To state it was for lack of good men or perhaps your dead father’s power died with him, that your house was to die with it.

“Not one.” Your head whipped towards Joffrey, gaze sharpening. “Not one man wished to celebrate your name day it would seem.”

“Ser Meryn.” Joffrey commanded. 

You noticed the Hound's head tilt in your direction as Ser Meryn walked towards you and slapped you across your face, cutting your lip with the armor of his glove. As Ser Meryn walked away you turned your head back towards Joffrey. 

“You are a pretty girl, a little more plump than I would like, but still a pretty girl.” Joffrey said “You should be more agreeable in tone, or you might find you won't be so pretty.” He smiled as he threatened you. 

“Hm?” He waited for your response as you wiped the blood from your lip. 

As you looked up, “Do you wish for me to cry, your Grace?” you asked almost mocking. 

Joffrey began to dryly chuckle at your remark, probably about to order another hit for you as Ser Dontos Hollard stumbled onto the tournament drunkenly. The Hound cleared his throat, getting Joffrey to shift his attention towards him and not you. With his attention shifted you were safe once more.

Your eyes stayed on the Hound however. You knew what he had done for you, however subtle it was, you noticed. 

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚

You found yourself spending more and more time near your mare. The moon shined on her just right for her coat to shine almost like metal, and your candle light shined on her just perfectly for her to glow like the sun. Lika, she was the only thing left you had from your home. You’d begin to yearn for the times you’d be furious with your fathers decisions and his useless attempts at comforting you. Because at least if he’d seen you were struck the way you had been, he’d have taken you home. He’d have helped you. But for now, you had Lika. 

As you sat in front of Lika’s stable, you read some book you’d stolen from Tyrion at some point. It was hardly interesting, infact you’d almost fallen asleep but Lika nuzzled her snout into your neck and sniffed you deeply, jolting you awake before you smiled and wrapped your arm around her head. You began to stroke the side of her head as you heard a low and deep voice beckon from the entrance of the stables. 

“Fuck are you doin’ girl.” 

Your head snapped towards him, relief befell you once you saw it was him, the Hound.

You looked back towards your book, “Reading, or I was anyway.” You replied softly

“Read in your room,” He said gruffly as his large hand opened the doors to the stable wider. He was so tall he ducked into the doorway as he walked inside. 

“I’ll decide where I read.” you said defiant as always. 

With a dry chuckle he began to walk towards you, “Words like that are the reason you got that cut on your lip.” 

“You don’t have to remind me of it.” You thought to yourself how this is exactly how you must sound to Sansa.

“Fuck-” He hissed under his breathe “You don’t want my help? Suit yourself.” He huffed “But don’t scream for me when you need it.” 

“I won’t want it.” You say softly “Anyways, you can’t help me.-” You began as he cut you off

“I helped that Tyrell you love.” He said with venom in his voice and a softness in his gaze. 

You furrowed your brows, stood up and faced him head on “And I have thanked you for it.” 

“I know you helped that Stark girl escape.” He said matter of fact

You huffed “What do you want from me?” you asked pained

“I want you to stay away from me.” 

“You seem to forget you came to me.” 

“You should run from me, you should tell me to go.”

“I don’t run.”

“That’s the fucking problem with you, girl. If you’d any sense you’d think of yourself. Change that tone of yours. Change those eyes, the way you look at people… like you want to gut them.” 

“I do want to.” 

“Stubborn” he chuckled darkly “Stubborn will get you beaten.” 

“Why did you come for me?” 

“I saw the light-“

“No. If it were anyone else you’d’ve gone on your way by now.” 

“Fuck does it matter?” 

“Sandor-”

“Don’t call me that.”  He hissed

“Tell me,” You say, raising a hand to his scarred cheek. He flinched and backed away quickly. His scowl deepened. He moved away from you, he turned to face outside the stables. “You wrapped your hand round my throat, and you won't let me touch your cheek?” 

“It’s different, you’re not ruined.” He said whilst he stared into the nothingness outside the stable doors. 

“Am I not?” You asked, your words felt sharp. 

“No, no you are not.” His words felt gentler. 

“I’ve no one, I’ve only this cage I sit in.” 

“You’ve got someone,” He scoffed over his shoulder at me, my eyes looking up at him widening against my will. “You’ve got that Tyrell,” You huffed, “That stark child that follows you like a bloody shadow.” He looked back into the night, “I’ve got no one,” 

“You do,” You say without noticing how bold it was until he turned to you, “Or you would, if you’d let them.” 

“My brother.” he mumbled, his head hung low as he walked closer to you. “Pressed my cheek to the fire.” He finished, unwilling to give anything else. “I know you’ve heard the story, Baelish, that cocksucking rat, no doubt told you.” 

“Course he did.” You didn’t lie, you never could to him. “But I asked you.”

He smirked slightly, his head still slightly turned away from you not wanting you to see. 

Your hand rose to caress his cheek, you did it slowly. He flinched his head away slightly and in turn you pulled your hand back slightly. As his head came back, moving closer towards you. You moved your hand to his cheek once more, slowly. He grabbed your wrist before it could make contact with his face.  

“Look at me,” He hissed “I’m a killer, the things I’ve done-” He thought back on those things “You don’t want this girl.” His grip on your wrist did not loosen, as if he was genuinely trying to protect you. “You’ll wed some lord, you’ll have his sons, and you’ll be far and gone from this shit city.” 

“I don’t want to wed a lord.” Your eyes now are not so hateful but sad. 

“World, doesn’t give a fuck what you want.” His hand reached out, slightly cupped the back of your head, hardly touching. He ran his hand down the length of your hair. Once he reached the end of it he held a lock of it in his hand to examine the color in the candle light. His deep, rich brown eyes reached yours once more. He could swear yours sparkled in any light. 

“I’ll walk you to your chamber.” He said gruffly, peeling his eyes away with yours. He grabbed the book in your hand and walked towards the doors of the stables. 

You let out a staged huff as you followed him. 

As he led you through the halls you realized that you were doing just that, following him. He knew where your chambers were and knew how to get there swiftly. 

The thought lit a fire in your chest. 

As he arrived at your door he stopped, as you opened it you turned to look at him. 

“You stole this from the imp.” He grumbled as he held up the book you did in fact steal. 

Your eyes went from the book to him, “Are you going to report me to the Queen.” You said, you smiled slightly with your eyes. Testing him and his loyalties. He growled under his breath and walked off.

The way you tested his patience stirred something in him. 

He’d definitely be taking himself in his hand that night again.

Is love the death of duty.  Or is duty the death of love?

[sunboki]

⎯ THE DEVIL'S PLAYTHING a Christopher Bahng fiction

💣 : Christopher Bahng x fem. reader

TROPE. bodyguard au, demon au, friends to lovers, eventual smut, minors DNI

WORD COUNT. 6.6k words

WARNINGS. chan & han are demons(NO POLY), mentions of lucifer/the devil, eventual smut, descriptive violence, smoking, fighting, cursing, blood, wounds, drinking, reader gets drunk/passes out

PLAYLIST

AUG'S NOTES. this started as a random blurb while in the bathroom(tmi i know) but i just HAD to make a longer adaptation!! as usual, if you enjoy the fic please feel free to leave feedback & a reblog!ised ya’ll bodyguard chan would be back.. your wish is my command~

SYNOPSIS. A petty robbery leads to deep debt for Chan, a white-eyed demon occupying Hell. So eventually, he finds himself faced with no choice but to go job hunting. The best offer available? A bodyguard gig in the human realm. Oh, and the worst part? Jisung’s here too.

or alternatively :

When Chan had to leave Hell to "babysit" (a.k.a. protect) you in the human realm, he wasn’t expecting for things to turn out the way they did — in more ways than one.

SMUT WARNING. usage of the nickname “bunny” and “good girl”, somewhat hinted size kink, praise, dumbification, barely dubcon (reader gives consent ; nonverbal), creampie, chan cums inside (use protection ya’ll), monsterfucking! basically lmao

There’s an infinite list of reasons why humans shouldn’t associate with demons. But was it really all that important? Maybe the humans wanted it.

Or, maybe the demons did too.

Maybe, the demons didn’t have a choice.

What a funny thought.

Although, for Christopher Bahng, a demon himself, it was reality.

So the real question stood. Is it the humans that shouldn’t associate with demons, or the other way around?

The thought occurred to Chan at some point, but his head, ringing with the sound of silver coins clattering on glass surfaces, drowned out every ounce of sensibility. Blood, flesh, he was a demon. And right now, he had hell to pay as Lucifer’s underling. No pun intended.

Demons were an ideal choice for bodyguards, too obsessed with their own greed to pay any mind to the consequences, dogs to somebody else’s beckon, minds trained like hunting dogs.

Taking care of the dirty work, for a price.

A price that Chan needed, desperately. Because one thing demons, including himself, love doing is tormenting.

That is until he’s the victim of the tormenting, and all of a sudden the experience doesn’t feel too welcoming.

Raiding his home was an understatement considering they had utterly demolished every inch, not leaving a single fragment remaining in one piece. Granted, he didn’t cry about it. Instead, he lived up to his name, his title.

..Let’s just say he doubted the red stains would ever leave that shirt of his, metallic scent strong enough to make your nose burn.

Unfortunately, Lucifer wasn’t the greatest at forgiving, and he determined rather quickly this was only the start of his problems regardless of how sweetly the demon lord threatened explained he would dissolve Chan into ash if he ever got tired of him.

Alas, two weeks later, he gets a call.

Combing a frustrated hand through raven-colored locks, he holds the phone up to his ear, repeatedly snapping his fingers. The girl kneeled between his legs raises up begrudgingly, wiping her mouth and disappearing into his bathroom.

Well there goes a good blowjob.

Yet, finally, a job was proposed.

Multiple, according to the drone of a fumbling assistant. Jobs comprised of one he’d primarily work and occasional hitman gigs on the side.

Catch? The job was located in the human realm. Not impossible, but not as easy as sleuthing in Hell, where common folk were demons and not big-eyed, nosy, mind-your-damn-business-mortals.

The job in question? Babysitting. Specifically for Lucifer's right-hand man, otherwise known as the Devil’s Plaything. And, despite not being a demon, served Lucifer as if he was one. How cute.

Or as the trauma-induced auditor phrased it, “guarding” some girl.

“Guarding” was something he was mildly familiar with, but never a human. Never in the human realm. So when the suggestion was offered, Chan’s first instinct was to reject—remind Hell’s moderator that he wasn’t just a regular, but a demon of impressive status. A white-eyed demon, who, in fact, ranged most powerful of its kind.

His first instinct was also to punch the man working at the register of this putrid smelling burger joint right in the face, maybe frame his head as a part of a collection while he’s at it. Demons are creative like that.

Because being in this situation, nonetheless currently walking around in the human realm he swore to never step foot in has his stomach jarring.

“Chan, look at this! It’s called K-E-T-C-H-U-P, what a funny name!”

Oh. Yeah. The walking headache, Han Jisung. Forgot he’s here too.

Digging through his pockets for spare change, all he could find was a few meager pennie’s as the obnoxious noise of his demon-companion scarfing down a double cheeseburger had Chan’ jaw progressively tightening.

“Um, sir, that’s not enough to pay for-“ Without hesitation, Chan lifted his upper lip with his index, revealing the sharply pointed canines underneath and effectively silencing the apron-clad employee, frantically printing his receipt without another word.

Yes, apparently there are perks of being a hell-spawn.

Although, the burger still tasted like shit. What a shame.

Heading to the location wasn’t all too difficult, being that it was rather easy locating such an enormous property surrounded by tall, black hinged gates. The passcode… was another story.

Lucifer was likely laughing his ass off watching them try figuring this out.

“Okay, It’s probably like 666 or something- JESUS— you guys scare me sometimes.” Clutching a hand to his erratic heart with panic, a pacing Jisung nearly toppled over as his soon-to-be Boss suddenly appeared out of nowhere, gates slowly opening behind him.

He may not be a Demon, but by how nonchalantly he appeared from thin air, he seemed to gain some attributes over the years.

It didn’t take long for either of them to figure out why the title “Devil’s Plaything” was attached, because the more he toured them around this palace of a house, the more he told of his reasons for hiring them in the first place. Well, more like why Lucifer sent them here.

Easily speaking, his and Jisung’s role would be to protect you at all costs, considering your father’s current predicament (a.k.a coming under investigation for the bodies discovered in Hanuel Park). Not to mention the countless assassins sent on a daily basis, scouring the property for entryways.

Although he’s not surprised by their hesitance. This man, Yoon L/N, was the closest resemblance to the Devil on Earth.

He was terrifying, and coming from a demon, that said a lot.

Chan has to watch his tongue, because he’s not guarding another one of hell’s representatives, a creature of unprecedented rudeness and hatred, he’s guarding a human.

Someone who falls in love and cries, someone who can’t get away with murder when they’re annoyed and go uncharged.

Humans are pitiful. They’re emotional and too trusting and—

You step down the stairs.

They’re pretty and soft and really, really fucking pretty.

The sound of your father clearing his throat rips him from his trance, your trance.

He can practically sense Jisung choking on his laughter.

“Y/n, these are your bodyguards. Bahng, Han, this is Y/n,” He gestures, and Chan notes the gleaming watch on his wrist.

Best guess that thing’s averaging $70,000. Not to mention that this entire house, though naked to the human eye, is laced in traps.

Whether it’s the more hollow wooden plank on the floor that triggers some alarm or the multitude of switches under your kitchen’s island, the security system is certainly intact, and for good reason.

However, you couldn't have made Yoon L/n’s actions look more hypocritical, appearing so opposingly sweet.

“Nice to meet you,” You hold out a hand.

He doesn’t miss the half-smile you give him.

Shit. Don’t look at him like that.

Introducing themselves, you momentarily slip past, and in your stead, your father beckons either of them to the side.

“I’ll only say this once,” Yoon smiles, but it’s a leery smile, one that causes his gums to gradually show, like it’d belong to a murderer, a serial killer of some kind.

Fitting.

“Get her into danger, hurt her, or disobey my orders under any circumstances and I kill you, understood?”

And even though at the snap of a finger Chan could have this man drop dead, he believed him, both simultaneously nodding their heads without complaint.

Meeting eyes with Jisung, a common denominator sits heavy between them, most likely the first thing they’ve whole-heartedly agreed on this entire time.

This is gonna be one hell of a job.

.. .

District 9’s nightclubs are always a bust. If you’re looking for a drink without it being laced you might as well give up, and the only thing that keeps a person from getting swept away in the expansive sea of high heels, go-go boots, and awkward teenagers that miraculously managed to get past the bouncer is a lone, blinking red sign that reads “OUT”.

The first time you ever came here you never thought you’d be so relieved to open a squealing door.

Leaning against the side of the brick building sits the girl responsible for an entourage of drunk-calls and random texts of her location when she sneaks out.

Her moth-eaten sneakers are pulled up to her chest, bleached hair messily arranged into a spiky up-do while she aimlessly scrolls on her phone. Although you know she’s noticed you by now.

“I feel like..” She sighs, black mascara smudged beneath her waterline. “I should’ve taken that Vodka shot.”

You wrinkle your nose, dropping down on her left.

It’s fairly easy conversing with Ha-joon, a girl who didn’t require a reaction or a response, who didn’t talk much but had a whole pocketful of opinions. And you listened.

She swivels her head ever so slightly toward you.

“Do you think drinking a laced shot will make my life more interesting?” Her remark scarily nonchalant, you chuckle, snatching the joint from between her thumb and index and tossing it against the neighboring business’ wall in front of you.

Unfazed, she rises to her feet, pulling a Marlboro pack from her back pocket, palm cupping the lighter’s flickering flame.

“If you count fentanyl as a good time, then sure,” Lifting your chin to cock a sarcastic brow, she rolls her eyes before abruptly snapping her fingers, remembering. The sound ricochets off trash bags stashed at the furthest end of this deserted alleyway.

“You said your Mafia-daddy hired new bodyguards?”

Ah, you forgot you mentioned that.

Don’t mind the “Mafia-daddy” part.

Nodding, there’s a beat of stillness before she lightly nudges your calf with her shoe, Ha-joon’s sign for you to list some sort of detailed description for her to piece together.

This happens every time you meet somebody new. Her little guessing game before the first impression, apparently.

And so you do, spilling information to the best of your capabilities from the fifteen seconds you met them. Their hair, height, eyes (you recall Han’s especially, huge and hypnotizing like black-holes), clothing, and all the details your jumbled brain can pour out to your overly eager, easily bored best friend.

“So this Chan guy..”

One clever glance and you’re already predicting her next words.

“Does he have a big nose?” Smirk growing the darker your cheeks redden, you pathetically groan, burying your face in your hands.

Of course she’s cornered you, because you can’t deny your yes of an answer without evidently lying and digging further into your self-made rabbit hole.

Leave it to Ha-joon to secretly slip the raunchiest sentence you'll hear all night.

Smugness gradually dissipating, the barely-blonde shuffles back down, phone screen displaying countless messages you don't ask about.

Like earlier, Ha-joon doesn’t talk much, but she has a lot to say. Additionally, if she doesn’t bring it up herself, don’t mention it.

Years by her side taught you that.

“They’re only gonna get you in trouble, I have a feeling,” She murmurs prior to taking a long drag of her cigarette, lipstick shade perfectly contrasting with the soaring puff of smoke sifting from her mouth and nose upon exhaling.

She’s always been on the rougher side. Spontaneously rough, the type that would impulsively send you a text she’s going backpacking tomorrow despite an exam scheduled, the type that would continuously run away on a whim.

In essence, everyone on campus has some sort of crush on her (apart from yourself, obviously), whether it comes down to her rumbling persona or how much of a hard-core lesbian she is, you’re not sure.

You click your tongue, glaring at her flippantly.

“And that’s not doing you any better.” Musing in regards to her bad habits, she laughs lowly, low-rise jeans bagging down by her ankles while bending closer.

Your hands brace in anticipation, coughing when she blows a heavy smoke plume right in your face.

You choke a giggle, shoving her senselessly giggling frame.

“The only thing I’m letting do me is that waitress in there,” Painted nails pointing to the entrance while making utterly obscene gestures, you dramatically gag.

Well, until she spins on her heel, fetching a plastic bag holding two bottles of Cass beer from behind a metal trash can.

You tilt your head, the girl wordlessly cracking one open with her teeth and the other using the junction of her shoulder.

‘A Ha-joon thing’, you think as she hands you a glass, chilled exterior sending an unwelcoming wave of shivers throughout your body.

Your initial response is to decline, but her index to your lips shushes your reasons.

“I know you don’t drink often, but just a few sips just this once, please?” Batting invisible puppy-dog eyes, you sigh, gulping down a haphazard swig.

Last time you had genuinely gotten drunk was back in junior year of high school, all the kids swarmed in a rando’s basement, acting appropriately irresponsible for your age.

You recall your fat crush on Hwang Hyunjin (before realizing he was actually in a relationship) being the main component in getting so drunk that you blacked out, though you’re sure the highly unflattering pictures Ha-joon took would jog your memory.

Yet just a few sips was an understatement, something you should’ve known. Because conversation turns into more conversation, funny conversation, deep conversation while your wrist unconsciously lifts to your mouth till your friend transforms into nothing but a blurry figure illuminated by the moon.

And you wonder, as you feel yourself tilt further and further toward the cement below, if Ha-joon will snap unflattering pictures of this moment too, of stupid decisions leading to stupid consequences.

Most likely.

.. .

"Mmm." You mumble, face stuffed into his sleeve as Chan carries you from the alleyway, ushering a loopy Ha-joon into a taxi with a short bow.

Clad in his work attire primarily made up of black elements, he carefully places you in the back seat of the SUV and pulls off his dark coat to wrap around your body, ensuring you're fully swaddled to secure as much warmth as possible from the biting cold.

"We're going home, so hang on just a bit longer for me." The man assures, patting your head lightly before sliding into the driver's seat and pressing his foot to the gas.

Han, who was sitting in the back beside you while Chan drove, took experimental peeks at the pink-hue decorating your cheeks (evidence that you'd be drunk) to your puffy lips pursed in a pout.

He internally squeals, fiddling with his phone in his pocket, unveiled demon tail practically wagging with glee.

"Hyung, can I? Pleasee Hyung- just one photo she looks so cute–“

“No." The older of them responds sternly, one hand clutching the steering wheel.

As much as he normally wouldn’t care, this was his- their first actual order in fulfilling their duties, and Chan wasn’t willing to pay the price of fucking up Yoon’s guidelines.

His companion huffs, deflating by your side as he directs a childish frown at Chan in the mirror, only met with an equally stern gaze reading "no nonsense".

Chan had always been one to take his job seriously, not that Han didn't, he just liked having a little bit of fun jumping from side to side across those permanent marker drawn lines.

In actuality, if it weren't for his friend, Han would've never gotten the job in the first place.

Stark glowing of your houses’ lights lining the driveway ripped away his thought process, quickly intervening when your door opened.

"I can carry her," He claims, arms crossed while the older bodyguard simply cocks a brow, an action that shouldn't have Jisung shying away like he was.

There's an immense staring contest until Chan releases a hefty sigh, gesturing for Jisung to go ahead.

"If you drop her, I kill you, then myself."

This earns a giggle while Han unbuckles your seatbelt, softly cooing with you lying in his arms.

You're cute, very cute in fact.

Very off limits, in fact, he reminds himself, grip tightening the creepier he pictures your father—and it’s the adorable scrunch of your nose in discomfort that reminds him of his strength, immediately relaxing his hold.

Like Chan said, any wrong moves and they're both off the radar in seconds. Business.

The entirety of it all was a bit hilarious considering how things were when you'd first been introduced to the two, not appearing to be the type to get drunk like this, to get drunk at all in a secluded area next to some nightclub.

Chan wasn’t wrong when he said it’s always a surprise with clients.

Well, he was referring to his hitman job then, but it's still applicable in this situation, right?

…Right?

Forget it.

Slowly, oh so slowly your eyes peel open, instantly noticing the familiar smell and interior that definitely wasn't where you'd been five minutes ago with Ha-joon.

Ah. There he is.

Chan.

Peering over where you're tucked in bed, dressed in pajamas.

Hold on, pajamas?

Scrambling up and simultaneously wincing from the throbbing headache settling a dull ring in your ears, you send him an incredulous stare, face incessantly warming the longer you think about it.

Hangovers provide another of the many reasons why you don’t drink anymore, because this hellish predicament led to a single hellish explanation you certainly didn’t want to face.

"You... My clothes.." Stumbling over how to phrase it, you suppress a scowl watching the ghost of a grin make its way on his lips. Maybe you're imagining it.

One of his veiny hands reaches up to cover his eyes, leaving you to instead infatuate upon plush lips moving when he speaks.

"My job description, along with the papers you read and signed before I was hired gave me consent, but whatever I see is strictly confidential between you and I."

Gathering your sanity, you scoff, humiliation and embarrassment flooding your system at an alarming rate.

Flopping back onto the bed, you slam a pillow over your face, muttering a "strictly confidential my ass" that he had to have heard from the low laugh uttered in reply.

He stalks over, fingertip tapping the water you hadn’t noticed sitting atop your nightstand.

Cautiously stealing a glimpse out from your pillow to see where he distanced himself across the room, you finish the cup in a swift motion, wiping your mouth with the back of your sleeve.

“You huma- You aren’t good with your alcohol, are you?” He starts, quite entertained witnessing your annoyed gaze, one which very noticeably doesn’t stay focused on his eyes.

Sucking your teeth, you slouch, mirroring his crossed arms.

You’re fine with playing feisty, and by the awfully attractive way he’s cocking his head, he’s also willing to join this biting game.

“And what makes you think that?”

“Because I’m never passed out and in need of someone to call for me when I go drinking.”

At this you practically hiss, grasping any futile chance to retaliate to no avail.

Opposed to his teasing nature, he drags a stool to your bedside, insisting you drink more.

Even more opposing, a gentle hand presses to your forehead, checking that you haven't contracted a fever.

To say your heartbeat pounded didn’t credit the surprise to its full extent, and thank whatever God above the experience only lasted a few more seconds, giving you plenty of time to freshen your haywire sensibility and brush your teeth before any more soul-sucking Chan run-ins continued.

You should’ve known better than to think he’d truly leave you be though, said soul-sucking bodyguard currently propped against the bathroom’s door frame.

“How did you get into this anyway? Y’know, bodyguard stuff..” You begin to ask, voice muffled from the toothbrush deterring any fully audible sentence.

He cocks an eyebrow.

“I have my ways.”

“Your ways?”

Within split seconds he’s right next to you, making rather intentional eye contact through the mirror.

You inhale sharply.

“Look, sweetness, my job as your bodyguard is to keep you safe,” He pokes his tongue into his cheek. “And if I tell you, I can’t guarantee that.”

There are three things you realized in that moment.

One, Chan is so, so close.

Two, he has an unfairly gorgeous face.

And three, your mouth is smeared with toothpaste.

Great.

You’d like to admit the first night of meeting these new bodyguards, more specifically Chan, went as normal and as non-Ha-joon-influenced as possible, but this effect on you causing your bloodstream to erupt in a hormonal frenzy of attraction told you the story had just begun.

.. .

"Jisung. Hold. Still! Keep moving and this wand is going in your eyeball."

Three weeks in and one thing after another has lead you closer and closer with either of them, whether it's convincing Jisung to go on ice cream runs (where Chan always ends up tagging along) or attempting to remain focused while they help you study (more like trying not to laugh at Jisung and averting your eyes off of Chan’s biceps in that muscle-shirt of his), the three of you are practically conjoined at the hip, and not on bodyguard standards.

"Okay okay! I was itchy. Can you move the piece of hair by my eyebrow?" He whines, grasping an apologetic squeeze on your waist while you focus in his lap.

You’re currently brushing mascara through his unfairly long lashes, but if anyone saw this without knowing the situation, chaos would likely unfold.

Although for you and Jisung, it's your average Friday night spent watching the weekly scary movie he’d decided on, Insidious. One he’d been commenting on for the past thirty minutes or so about how the “representation of demon’s was wrong” while you absentmindedly agreed, looping your index around the strand before abruptly stopping.

Residing slightly above his temple lay a scar, a decently sized scar at that.

Strangely enough, it's circular, like some type of horn or something had been there at some point. Maybe a biking incident?

"Ji?”

The boy's eyes drift up to you.

"What's this scar?"

Below you, he freezes, frantically thinking up the best excuse.

Lots of options, not a lot of time to decide.

"Ah.. that? When I was younger, I developed a weird kind of bump there, 'had it removed." And thankfully, you grunt a response, resorting back to applying his makeup.

Truth be told, those scars (another you hadn't seen yet) were his old horns, forced to be removed in order to initially land this job.

It still sends shivers down his spine thinking about when they had first been cut off, the recovery process resembling something out of nightmares.

Trust, the headaches were awful.

Chan, on the other hand, could keep his, considering he had the ability to conceal them on command. For Jisung, an inferior red-eyed demon with a few years beneath him and in such desperate need for income, chose the painful way through. As for his tail, that was luckily simple to hide (much to his pleasure).

Nevertheless, you could confidently say that your test-subject could easily land a modeling career after your makeover, and by the way he kept staring at the mirror, he seemed equally as enamored as you.

Well, that’s before a jumpscare leaps upon the screen and either of you shoot up, your clumsy companion whacking himself in the face with the mirror.

Staving your giggles, you try soothing the boy; you really do, but the uncannily gory scene that decorates the screen has you cringing back, and when you look at Jisung, expecting to find him cowering, your blood runs cold.

His lips are parted, but the only thing your horrified eyes are drawn to are the hooked canines peeking there. Not to mention his eyes.

Ghastly crimson, glowing.

Except when you breathe in an unsteady gasp, his head snaps to you, sudden facade appearing unaltered, like you hadn't seen something borderline terrifying.

Softly pulling your face close to him despite the screaming instinct to flee, he observes your bewildered expression, brows taut with concern.

“Y/n?”

Sweet tone contradicting, you immediately double backward toward your bedroom door, awkwardly honing the “I’m going to bed” excuse in hopes that suffices for the night.

Frenziedly closing the door, you determine rather quickly you don’t plan to go to sleep. Not that you think you could, but because this discovery isn’t normal.

None of this is normal.

How they found your location back at the alley despite Ha-joon never contacting anyone, how you “coincidentally” walked in on Chan “washing” his hands despite the water running red. Oh and you can’t forget about the rag left behind, putrid stench characteristic to a specific substance.

Blood.

You weren’t stupid. No father disappears the majority of the year on so-called “business trips” only to come back with new cuts and scratches he makes a sorry effort denying, and no daughter of his has literal bodyguards (yet you’re not sure they’re even official bodyguards thanks to your suspicions) glued to her side 24/7.

He does something dangerous, you know without doubt. But according to this hunch of yours, your father may not be the only one tied up in illegal madness.

.. .

Slipping into the car unknown to them was far easier than you anticipated.

You didn't plan on sneaking in in the first place, sure, but upon overhearing their hushed conversation regarding some type of “target”, you assumed whatever topic they were discussing may answer a select few of your billions of burning questions.

So, crouched in the floorboard of the backseat, you try muting your breathing, noting the clutter of metal sounding from your left, whatever responsible assumed to be shoved in the trunk.

Weapons. No mistaking it.

Your discovery is short-lived however, and you flatten yourself the best you can as Han twists around in his seat to grab something, already thirty minutes into your nearly secret mission.

Shit.

His shocked scream tells you enough.

Chan is fuming.

"Jisung, you told me she was asleep. So care to explain why the fuck she's in the back of the car?"

Han frantically flails. "For the record I told you she was lying down–”

"I. Don't. Care! She's not supposed to be here and all that matters right now is that she's at home and in bed, understood?"

As Jisung's lips pull into a tight line and Chan cranks the gear shift into drive, you glance around, a sudden–though risky–idea coming to mind.

"Hey, I could always tag along?"

"No!" They both shout in unison, heads jerking back to face you as if you suggested driving off a cliff.

That sounded much better in your head anyway.

Well there goes that.

Or so you thought.

Because unfortunately for them, wherever needed them needed them urgently, and through many clearly vocalized “she is staying in the car”’s, you weren’t driven home after all.

Fluorescent green lights cast an eerie glow across the perimeter, the location gnawing at your gut. An equestrian center by exterior, though there’s something else.

Wrong. You can’t explain it, but this place is wrong.

Discreetly unloading the guns, you skin crawls observing Chan messily stuff bullets into the magazine of a M240, the mere size of the thing setting your nerves ablaze. And as rightful asking questions seems, you can’t.

That feeling from earlier glues your mouth shut, like if you spoke too loudly, someone, something, would find you.

Thick foliage lay highlighted by your headlights, paving depth into sequential darkness.

You squint, zoning in on a small expanse of branches ajar. An ideal hiding spot.

Wait.

Bright flashes of iron spur your legs into motion, the switchblade cleaning slicing your wrist while mid-duck.

It forks into the car’s interior where the trunk had been opened, your cry of pain muffled by Jisung who basically throws himself inside a stall with you, the stomping of horse’s hooves muting your ragged breathing.

Firing belonging to none other than the machine gun Chan had been wielding pierces the air outside as either of you stay pressed to the stable wall, the pad of footsteps drawing nearer, causing your eyes to squeeze shut.

This is it. You’re going to die.

Much to your relief, it’s Chan, tactical holsters slightly torn, sweat beading his forehead.

The two share a look, remaining silent before delivering an eventual, affirming nod.

Short-lived.

An additional attacker sifts from the shadows, facial expression ushering no other logic than to kill.

Manic eyes, estranged eyes.

The older bodyguard spins, successfully blocking the first hit. Supplies are scattered everywhere, horses beginning to shift uncomfortably.

The perpetrator is faster, smaller, and lands a decent punch into his abdomen. However, the attack is futile, and just before he can stake his knife into Chan’s leg does the bigger man utilize his own weapon, ammunition positively bludgeoning every square inch of the assailant in baited seconds.

You understand why machine guns are strictly used for long range now.

Immediately, soft numbness floods your senses due to Han’s hands covering your eyes and ears, and you sit there for a while, blocked from the grotesque view of impalpable violence being enacted right before you.

You’d forgotten you were huddled together on the other side of the wall, too horrifically immersed.

It's strange. So much is strange.

These two men that you've grown effortlessly close to, grown effortlessly friends with, murder. Defensively in this case, yes, but they hadn’t brought those guns by chance, they brought them by intention.

Not just a twisted hobby like dissecting animals or something along those lines, but murder.

You’re sure they have their reasons, but it's difficult even imagining it. People who are extremely gentle when with you, responsible for such doings.

Talk about a duality.

The faint clatter of gun shells rattling against the marble flooring earns a subtle flinch, Jisung's hands cupping closer to your skin.

Then you smell it, what he'd warned you of no matter the cleanliness of the job.

A metallic, burning scent of blood, causing your nose to burn and your throat to grow increasingly dry.

Your stomach churns.

"You don't forget that smell" Chan had said before leaving the vehicle, and you knew what he was referring to now.

Putrid reek of rot and gunpowder beckon your lungs into fight or flight, but you remain still, ignoring the sharp sting of your wrist, bubbling blood dripping down your arm and onto the floor below, right atop your shoe.

Faint falling of bullet shells put an end to the fighting, then you’re blindly directed out the door without so much as a glance behind you. For your own good, you assume.

Hell, you’re not certain they’ll be much left of the bodies after Chan’s wrath.

As for right now, your top priority is your wrist. Swollen, skin tainted a grueling red shade.

Speeding home, you find yourself blurily recalling events, though all the little details simply swirl into strange shapes.

Shock is what it’s called. That state of monotonous wandering, occurrence too unfamiliar to take in, senses turning off. A coping mechanism of some sort.

Blearily you see the two men, talking, stepping out of the room, grabbing medical supplies. Like you’re in a time warp, dreaming. No pain, hurt.

On the other hand, your bodyguards were frantic, spewing curses and scouring the household for proper first aid materials.

Meanwhile, Chan was finally wrapping your wound in the bandages Jisung spotted, blinking madly in hopes his fogging headspace eased up.

Demons and wounds were not a good combination. Especially not human wounds.

Uncontrollable urges instructed him to tear you apart right this minute, do something, anything to quench that inexplicably demanding thirst.

Vulnerable, easy prey. His thoughts chanted, forcing him to step out of the room for a moment to where Jisung perched, close-pin fastened on his nose to block the mouth-watering smell.

“I’m losing my fucking mind,” He heaves, carding stressed fingers through matted hair.

“What, a little blood getting to a white-eyed demon?” His companion muses, hastily dodging Chan’s swinging fist. Immune to his threats.

It’s obvious to Jisung that’s only half of the story, but he’ll wait for his superior to admit it himself.

“It’s not just the blood,” He inhales deeply, gratefully accepting the water Han offered. “It’s her.”

Go figure.

To be honest, Jisung wasn’t good at pretending.

Well, in terms of lying he was a natural (a given, after all), but pretending he hadn’t caught onto his friend’s enormous attraction to you was technically impossible.

Quite surprising though, to think such an arrogant demon would’ve ended up like this.

Susceptible, willing. For a human.

Who would’ve thought.

.. .

It’s nothing short of a roller coaster regaining your stable consciousness. Chest wracking, world spinning. You’re situated in bed, injury carefully wrapped(though you can’t recall by who).

The doorknob rattles, and in walks Chan, except, you don’t feel happy, relieved.

Scared. You feel extremely scared.

“What- What are you?” Waver revealing your anxiousness, you curse the subtle tremble.

He smiles.

“Aren’t you a perceptive little one,” His voice dips lower, and as he edges closer, you find yourself pressing further into the pillow behind your head.

“I’m sure you’ve had your suspicions, so I’ll make it easy for you.” He lifts his curls, two perfectly placed horns residing there.

“We’re demons. He and I are different species, but both demons.”

Demons.

Demons.

Instantaneously, a tidal wave or realization crashes salty water into your lungs, expertly piecing your observations together. Red eyes, horn-like scars.

How had you not caught on earlier?

Momentarily, you meet his eyes. Still brown, although you wonder how deep of a red they’d stain, glaze over stunning vermillion or dusky cinnamon tones.

“Species?”

He hums.

“Red-eyed are the best at persuasion, that’s Jisung. I’m a white-eyed demon.”

So neither crimson nor cinnamon, you decide. Perhaps pale, opal color.

“White-eyed demons are usually Satan’s lap dogs, but what lots of people don’t know,” You crane forward to hear his next words, and he leans in as well. “Is that we’re also the most desired species, the most lustful.”

Lustful.

The words don’t truly sink in, and by the time they do, it’s impossible to rip the mischievous look from his eyes.

"What’s that supposed to mean.." You grumble, avoid his darkening stare.

A subtle tap on your thigh has your attention immediately shfiting, your entire body instinctively jolting.

"You want me to show you?" He begins with a laugh, a low, husky laugh that has your stomach tying knots. Not the usual, squeaky laugh, but one that's different, very different. "But if you say yes, I’m sure no one else can satisfy you the way I can."

Your expression pinches with annoyance, a bit offed by his sudden cockiness.

Granted, he looks heaven-sent despite being a demon, and you doubt he'd be any different in bed, but c'mon now, you have a right to be suspicious.

"And how're you so sure of that?" Leaning back on your arms where he sits in front of you, you fixate on the way kinky locks perfectly line the crown of his head, one particularly messy strand tipping over to linger above chocolate pools for eyes.

"Sweetness, Jisung are I are carved out of sin, there's not a particle in our body not built to fuck."

God. Hearing "fuck" come out of his mouth shouldn't have been that attractive. Chan had always been well-mannered, well-spoken, so to hear him say something vulgar for the first time, nonetheless "fuck", effected you more than you'd like to admit.

Slowly, oh so slowly he crawls on the bed, kind tip of his head betraying sinful intent.

“You want this?” He whispers, and your arms immediately wrap around his neck, tugging him into your lips fervently, needily, with a short nod of approval between sighs and stifled groans.

Your wrist aches, but from how heated this kiss is becoming, that matter is the least of your problems.

He feels like fire, tastes like it, nectarine on your tongue.

You waste nimble time undressing, suppressing a high-pitched mewl the longer he sucks deep purple love bites into your neck and down your collarbones, likely to be bruised tomorrow.

He’s careful, learning your body, your sounds. Touch light as a feather, not enough.

He’s big, that’s a given. Head red and angry with thick beads of precum apparent, you can’t possibly think straight, his name the only sensible word falling off your swollen lips.

Chan Chan Chan.

Brows knitting as his fat head bumps your entrance, you murmur pleas, practically delusional on his pleasure, his love.

Most desired, you understand what he meant by that.

“Feel good? Yeah? That's a good girl."

You can feel your entire body keen at the praise, utterly blissful from how amazing he was making you feel.

The stretch of his fat cock has your common-sense threading dangerously thin, head falling back, fingernails raking his back. Delirious.

When he actually started moving? Yeah, you’re convinced you paid a visit to cloud nine, fucked-out brain recognizing only the squelch of your bodies connecting and the squeaky, absolutely desperate sounds he’s pulling from your throat.

Not to mention his voice, accent thickening tremendously the longer he ruined your drooling cunt.

His, his, his.

"Shit- you feel fuckin' divine," He kissed the sweaty skin of your calf hiked over his shoulder, ankle held by a strong hand while the other occupied your hip, squeezing and kneading with each heavy thrust.

Chan wasn't lying about being carved out of sin, fucking like an absolute animal to the point tears began welling in your eyes, overstimulated and euphoric beyond belief as your hands shakily reach upward.

Obediently, he lowers himself, letting you hold his face for some sense of security while feeling so vulnerable.

You pathetically search his eyes, head thrown back after one particular roll of his hips that earns a rumbling moan from the man.

Each time he bottoms out it feels like you're losing it, rubbing that gummy spot that makes your heels dig into his shoulders and your moans transform into high-pitched cries, shuddering.

"Channie- Oh fuck Channie- I can't It's too much-"

Practically gasping for air to ease the buzzing fuzziness blinding you, you cherish the equally mind-numbing kiss he soothes, pressure in your lower tummy building and building at a flying pace.

"Yes you can, bunny. 'Need to cum? C'mon, cum for me, 'atta girl." He tuts, slowing himself down with each squeeze of your cunt signaling your approaching release.

Torturous.

Nothing like this, never in all his life had he felt something like this. So delicate and fragile as you look up at him, glossy dolly eyes far too tempting.

At this point it was an obligation to stuff your pussy full.

Rolling your puffy nub in tight circles, your thighs twitch, gripping the pillow behind your head like a vice as the sharp knot in your stomach finally snaps and a near pornographic sound rips from your throat, back arching off the bed.

The sight of you has his eyes nearly rolling back, so ruined and angel-like. You're a white rose in a field of wilting grasses. Bloomed in his ill-fated fingertips.

His pants stifle, big hands holding the back of your thighs spread for him. His pace stutters, and with a gritted whine of your name he slams his hips, painting your aching cunt white.

The last thing he anticipated visiting the human realm was to find himself in this situation.

And whether he liked to admit it or not, if the Devil had your father wrapped around his finger, you had him tied up without a chance of escape.

So while you both scrambled to clean up your evidence and not fall over your own feet hearing Jisung clumsily drop a clattering frying pan in the kitchen, he thinks, if only for a second, he’d be okay with it.

Being yours, that is.

FIC TAGLIST. @y-ur--i @atinism @darknova2319 @producedbyhanjisung @knightoftime21 @leonswifesstuff

sunboki, may 2022 ©

[delulu-hours]

Dog tags

Pairing: Jake Seresin x F!reader

Summary: Where reading a book has you fantasying about Jake and his dog tags as he has his way with you.

Waring: 18+ smut, unprotected, biting

A/n: Thank you @agentorange9595 for the request and the lovely idea! On a side not, I am not good at writing smut, but I hope you like it.

You couldn't help but bite your lip as you read the book in hand, fighting back a smile and the urge to giggle. Jake had been out for training, and you knew he would be back late, so you decided to finish the book you were reading. It was about a grumpy special op who fell in love with this badass sunshine girl. You had cried with the female lead when she learned about the terrible past the male lead had and the torture he went through during his ops. The romance was there, and it was hot. And there were several instances where they had hot, rough, and steamy sex. You had never felt jealous over the sex in the books until now. And it wasn't how the male lead was fucking her nice and slow, taking his time but being rough. No. It was for a simple reason. 

That reason was that he was fucking her with his dog tags on.

Yep, the dog tags.

As you finished the sex scene, you let out a small groan. You rubbed your thighs together for some relief before placing the book down. "Pure thoughts." You told yourself, trying to help remove the image of Jake hovering over you, his dog tags hanging from his neck. The way his skin would glisten and how you would just be able to pull him closer by the tags. Another groan left your lips as you pulled the pillow to your face, and a muffled scream left your lips. This was torture. You had never known how deprived you were from the sight of seeing this man fuck you with his dog tags. The need for it. The only issue now was asking this from Jake. Asking him to rail you like no tomorrow so you could still feel him in you for days, and your legs couldn't handle walking. To the point where he would leave bruises on your hips from how hard he'd grip you. Your face flushed at the thought, and you wanted to curse your best friend for ever introducing you to a new world of smut. You pulled out your phone and shot her a quick text.

I hate you so much, but at the same time, I love you for recommending this book to me

10:47

You're welcome, and don't come at me with the innocent act cuz we both know it's just a mask. 

10:52

You are anything but innocent, you're just too shy to ask.

10:53

You rolled your eyes at the message but placed your phone on the nightstand. You were almost done with the book and knew you could finish it tonight; however, you were ready to be done with it, so you just placed it on your nightstand. You turned off the lights and got ready for bed. Jake had told you not to wait for him, as you both knew you'd try to stay up until he came home. As you got comfortable, snuggling close to Jake's side, you drifted off and fell asleep quickly. 

______

Several days passed, and now where you were, holding your drink in your hand. You could see the chain peek out from Jake's naval uniform from where you sat next to Bob and Nat. Lately, your eyes have been drifting to it, and you couldn't help the images that filled your mind as you bit your lip." You okay there?" Nat's voice broke your concentration as you looked at her. A smirk on her lips as she raised an eyebrow. "You look ready to jump him and rip his clothes off." The heat flushed against your skin as you let out a guilty laugh.

"Is it that obvious?" You pressed the back of your hand against your cheek. Nat just laughed and nudged you with her arm as you drank the rest of your drink in one go.

"So much so, but don't worry about any of these meat heads noticing except one." You looked up only to see Jake giving you an amused look, the pool stick in his hands as he took a drink of his beer. 

"Oh my gosh," You mumbled. "I think I need another drink." You quickly got up, and Nat followed you.

"Want to tell me what that's all about?" She asked as she hooked her arm with yours as you went to the bar. "Usually, Jake's the one who looks at you like a meal he's ready to devour, not the other way around." This makes your face heat up even more, and the heat between your legs grows.

"Promise not to laugh." You gave her a pleading look as you found two open stools at the bar. She gave you a slight nod as Penny approached you guys.

"What can I get you girls?" She asked with a smile.

"I'm gonna need two shots of tequila." She gave you a look before going to get the shots. Nat had gotten her usual. "I've been reading this book, and it's steamy, Nat." You looked over at her, and a small sigh left your lips. "And when I mean steamy, I mean the girl is bent over while the guy fucks her like he's on heat, leaving marks everywhere. Claiming her and praising her." She raised an eyebrow. "And by no means is that the part that has me like this. Sex with Jake is amazing, but there's one detail in the book that has me running these images in my head, and I can't help it." 

"Oh god, please don't talk about sex with him." She scrunched her nose, and you shook her head. Penny came back and placed the drinks in front of you.

"Y/n talking sex?" She joined in the conversation, surprised as well. You weren't one to be open about these conversations.

"No." You shook your head. Taking one of the shots and taking it down in one go. There was a slight burn in the back of your throat as you placed the glass down. "No, I'm not talking about my sex life. All I'm saying is that I wish Jake would keep his dog tags on. The book I'm reading has plagued my mind with the thought of it, and I need it now." You looked at both women, who seemed amused about your confession. "I'm serious here, guys." 

"Oh, we know that, honey," Penny patted your hand. "And I think that is why it's entertaining for us." You rolled your eyes and took the next shot; this time, no burning sensation followed. 

"It also sounds like you've been deprived of sex for a while." You shot Nat a glare as she snorted. "Like a beast has awoken." You groaned and placed your forehead on the counter.

"I hate you so much." She just laughed, and Pen gave you another shot. You looked at the small shot glass that lay beside you. You rubbed your thighs with a slight whine that left your lips. "I hate ever reading that book even though it's so good! I even saved my favorite parts on it." You pushed yourself up and took the third shot for the night. 

Little did you know Jake's eyes had been watching you the entire time. Since the moment he started playing pool with Coyote, he had felt the way you had been looking at him. He felt your eyes burning into him– undressing him– and if he was honest with himself, he enjoyed it. It was rare when you were filled with so much lust and need that you didn't even realize yourself that you were showing it. He knew you weren't as innocent as you looked; however, you would never voice out what you liked. And he didn't mind it one bit. In fact, he loved it whenever he would discover something new about you. Just like at this moment, he had a vague idea of why you were acting the way you were. He accidentally stumbled across a book he had seen you read recently. He got curious about what it was about whenever he saw you, as your reactions were entertaining. So when his curiosity got the better side of him, and he opened it on a marked page, he wasn't expecting what he read. It was a lot to take in that he had to stop himself before getting worked up, but also because it hadn't been something he expected. The details were so vividly written. Just thinking about doing what was written to you made him hot as he pulled at the collar of his naval shirt. He could see the flush that dusted your cheeks even from where he stood. Coyote called out his name; Jake ignored him, passing the pool stick to Bob as he stalked toward you. He could hear Phoenix teasing you and Penny laughing, but he didn't care what they said. You had him worked up, and now he needed you, preferably in the comfort of your home. "What you ladies goin' on about?" He drawled, his hand touched your lower back, and he felt you flinch. He rubbed his thumb on your back and felt how you leaned into him. Reacting to his touch like you usually would. 

"Nothin', Y/n was telling us a funny story." Nat had an amused look on her face, and you glared at her. 

"You don't mind if I steal her from you then?" Jake asked, already knowing the answer as he moved his hand to your waist, pulling you up. You stumbled a bit due to being caught off guard and the alcohol running through your veins. Nat shook her head, and that was all he needed before drawing you out of Hard Deck. 

"Jake," You whined when you were out the doors. "I was still drinking." He moved you towards the truck. 

"I think you've had enough for the night, Darlin'." You shivered at the sound of his southern accent sounding heavier than usual. "Wanna tell me what has been goin' in that pretty little head of yours?" When you reached his truck, he turned you to face him. His green eyes looked darker, and you didn't know if it was from the night or from the lust that dilated his pupils. His hands were firmly on your waist as he looked down at you. You bit your lower lip as you took him in. He looked beautiful, but the silver chain that caught your attention was sending you overboard. You pushed your hands up his chest as your fingers grazed the chain. He watched you curiously as you pulled his dog tags, freeing them from his shirt. Your fingers play with the chain before they move to the tags. "Is it that book you've been reading?" He asked, and you looked at him with wide eyes. He would see the needy look on your face, the way a pout sat on your lips. He watched the conflict in your eyes before you made up your mind. He felt the pull on his dog tags as he was forced to lower his face to you. His eyes widened, not used to the sudden dominance you were showing.

"I need you to fuck me, Jake." He felt your lips move against his. He felt how his blood seemed to rush through his body and straight to his groin. "I want you to use me, baby." He felt the tightness in his pants. "Fuck me rough. Mark me up." You pressed a soft kiss on his lips. "Please," You begged, looking up at him through your lashes. A growl ripped out of Jake's lips, and he gripped your hips tighter. A small whimper left your lips as you felt his fingers dig into your waist. And then it all happened too quickly. He got you in the truck and drove back home. 

_____

You barely made it through the doors when his hands were all over you. He pushed you up against the wall and pressed up against you. You could feel him. How hard he was. A small moan left your lips as he groped your boobs through your shirt. "You did this to yourself." His lips moved against your neck before his teeth sunk into your skin. You let out a small gasp as you gripped his arm, your nails dug into his skin. His name left your lips with a needy cry. He grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it off you before moving to your bra. His fingers traced the lace fabric over your skin, taking in the black color. "Fuck you're so pretty, sunshine." He was tempted to rip your bra. Rip the rest of your clothes, blocking his view of your beautiful body.

"Jake," You gave him a warning tone, already knowing what he was thinking. "You rip my lingerie, and I will cut your dick off." You threatened. He raised an eyebrow as if the temptation was there. He knew you didn't mean it; however, he had ruined a few of your favorite sets.

"Yes, ma'am." He smiled as he lowered himself, placing kisses and allowing his teeth to scrape your skin as he lightly bit you. The goosebumps rose on your skin, and you gripped his hair. Just as he got to the waistband of your jeans, he unbuttoned it. Light feathered kisses on your skin as you threw your head back. He observed you as he slowly pulled your pants down. Your eyes dilated as you looked down at him. He kissed my thighs, and you brought them up, stepping out of your pants. "Look at you," His fingers grazed the front of your black laced underwear. He could feel how wet you were. "All wet for me, and I barely even touched you." He watched as you rocked your hips against his fingers. His other hand gripped your thigh.

"Jake," You whined, needing more. He moved his hands to the back of your knee. Pushing you over his shoulder, he picked you up and marched to your room. A smack echoed in the room, and you felt the burning sensation on your ass. You pushed yourself back up, surprised by his action, while he had a satisfying grin on his lips. He kicked the door open to your room. He didn't even say anything as you dropped him on the bed. You bounced a couple of times as you watched him unbutton his shirt. That look in his eyes made the pit in your stomach flare up. He looked at you like a predator, and you were his prey. He took his shirt off like he was ready to pounce on you, and your eyes racked down his chest. The dog tags hung around his neck and down his chest. You bit your lip as you looked at him, taking in his beauty and how the tags seemed to decorate him. It added to the fuel you had racing through your mind. You moved to your knees, your fingers touching his skin about his waistband as you looked up at him. The doe-eyed look you gave him made Jake groan as he fought the urge to ravage you like the animal he felt. He watched as your fingers undid his pants, your nails scraped his pelvic skin as you pulled his boxers down. He let out a hiss as his cock sprung up and smacked his stomach. You licked your lips as you reached out to grab his throbbing cock. Your thumb ran along the head, rubbing the precum across before you stroked down slowly. 

"Fuck," Jake moaned, and you looked at him through your lashes. He looked down at you with hooded eyes as you pumped back up. His face twisted with pleasure before he grabbed your wrist. "Baby, if you keep touching and looking at me like that, I won't last." He pushed the words out, his tumble rubbing the inside of my wrist. "Tonight, it's going to be about you." He pushed you down, hovering over you as he removed your hands. He used his free hand to move your thigh so he could settle in between your legs. He was slightly rocking himself against you before he pulled back. A frown settled on your lips from the lack of contact. He just had a smirk on his lips. "Take it off, or else they're gonna get ripped." He claimed, motioning to your body. He slipped his pants and boxer off completely, and you wasted no time taking off your underwear and bra. You laid back, watching as his hands wrapped around himself and giving himself a few pumps. His eyes looked at you with such hunger it caused the arousal to gather between your thighs. His hands over the head of his cock as you spread your legs open, showcasing your glistening folds. His nostrils flared as he clenched his jaw. He didn't even bother grabbing a condom as he settled between your thighs. He guided the head of his cock, coating it with your arousal. His left hand rested by your hips as he held himself up. Each time his head rubbed against your clothes, you whimpered. Desperately trying to get him in you, you shifted your hips and gripped his wrist. 

"Jake, please. I need you." You begged, needing him now. He didn't even deny you as he guided himself to your entrance. He didn't even bother prying your hand off his wrist as he held your hip down. He used his hold on you to slip himself in with a full-force thrust. You gasped, back arched as you felt him stretch you open. He forced himself not to close his eyes from the pleasure as he watched the pleasure on your face. Using both hands on your waist, he pulled out all the way, causing a cry to leave your lips before slamming back in. He did that a couple of times, and each time; your reaction drove him crazy. Your nails dug into his skin as you gripped his arm. He moved down to capture your lips, using his right arm to steady himself. The cool metal touched your skin, and you brought his lower lip between your teeth, biting it lightly. Your teeth dragged against his lower lip as he pulled back, and you felt his left hand grip tightly around your waist; you wouldn't be surprised if he didn't leave bruises. He began to move himself in and out of you; the noise of your skins coming into contact echoed in the room. Moaned curses left your lips as your ankles locked behind him. "Jake- fuck- don't," You squeezed your eyes feeling him hit your sweet spot. "Don't stop, please." He groaned, loving to hear your sweet pleas.

You opened your eyes, and a hazy look of pleasure filled your eyes as your gaze lingered on the dog tags that hung between the both of you. You brought your hand up and lightly tugged on it. Jake felt the way you clenched around him. He slowed down, and you looked up at him, ready to complain. "Is this what has been driving you up the walls, princess?" He raised an eyebrow. When you bit your lip and didn't answer, he rocked his hips before pulling out so the tip of his cock rested in your pussy. "Words. Have you been all needy little thing because you've wanted me to fuck you crazy with my tags?" You whined as he pushed himself in a bit. Even if not being in you was torture, Jake needed to hear you say it. You clenched your walls, trying to get him in you. "What did I say? Use your words." The tone in his voice was demanding. You closed your eyes, lip quivering from the lack of him. 

"Jake," You tried to push your hips down, but he held you in place. You knew he wouldn't give you what you needed until you answered him. "Yes," You finally gave in. "I've been wanting you to fuck me with your tags." You looked up at him with hooded lids, and your lashes fluttered against your cheeks.

"See," He trusted himself in you, and you felt full again with him in you. "That's my good girl. It wasn't hard, was it?" You watched as he spun the tags so they would hang on his back, and he felt you clenched down on him hard. "Fuck," He groaned, using his strength to steady himself. "I'm gonna ruin you tonight so this naughty pussy remembers whose it belongs to." He promised, and you felt yourself tense up, knowing that quote a little too well. He licked his lower lip, a smirk dancing on them. You were in for a long night, and you were screwed. He had read your book, specifically the part you had marked.

[gummyfang]

♡♡♡ |   ˗ˏˋ TOO CLOSE FOR COMFORT  ´ˎ˗

➳　【 S i m o n　‘G h o s t’　R i l e y　ｘ　Ｒｅａｄｅｒ 】

❧ Warnings: 𝟏𝟖+, 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭, 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰, 𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐛 / 𝐠𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐯, 𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥, 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐞, 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤

[ 𝟑.𝟒𝐤 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 ]

[ REQUEST BY ANON ] On my knees and requesting respectfully a jealous Ghost fic cos I just wanna be manhandled by that giant behemoth of a man. Just throw me against the wall and break my back daddy 💦😭 

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: sneef sneef i actually interp him as a v soft dom or sub but i cant say im not a rough ghost enjoyer on occasion. also this is not a canon-compliant fic don’t come at me im just here for a good time. ft keegan bc i wanted to add him. this kinda sucks lol.

𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 ♡

It wasn’t like you ever purposely set out to make Simon envious of the men you spoke with.

It was just that, as you’d learned, your Lieutenant was a lot more prone to envy than anyone could have predicted.

When the two of you had spent your first night together and officially gotten together, you and Simon had made the mutual decision to keep your relationship on the down low. Considering Simon was technically your superior at work, you two didn’t want to get into problems with your jobs due to a lack of professionalism. 

That, and Simon was not a man who enjoyed attracting much social attention to himself anyways. He loathed the potential buzz that a new relationship on base would spark, and decided it would be better to announce somewhere later along the line.

This, however, came with one very obvious problem.

You were attractive.

Your good looks were not the issue by themselves. Simon could not deny he reveled in how handsome you were when you gave him one of your loving stares, and how pretty you looked beneath him when he fucked you stupid.

No, the problem was that your attractiveness did not go unnoticed to other men either.

All Simon could do was let the simmering sting of jealousy stew in his chest as he watched you talk to Keegan. You seemed to be blissfully unaware of the ways in which Keegan’s gaze lurked over your form, like a dog salivating at the sight of a steak. But Simon noticed. He sure as fucking hell noticed.

“Good job during training today. Your form is getting better.” 

The flirtatious undertone of the compliment clearly went over your head, as you just chuckled and thanked him. Simon’s grip on his own crossed arms hardened considerably, earning him some nervous looks.

He was leering at the two of you with a thunderous gaze, the atmosphere practically rumbling with tension. It was starting to become apparent how much this bothered him, some of the soldiers sitting near him sharing concerned but equally confused glances. 

If Simon was being honest with himself, he’d probably realize Keegan’s attraction wasn’t as predatory as he was making it out to be in his mind. You’d been friends with the man for months, and you’d been getting along with him very well long before you entered your relationship with Simon.

But the Lieutenant was not being honest with himself, and he couldn’t give less of a damn whether Keegan wanted to propose to you with flowers or just herd you into his bed. His attraction to you was clear as fucking day, and there was nothing Simon could do to stop it without drawing attention to your relationship status.

Lieutenant Ghost was a man of terrifyingly strong control.

And yet, he felt all that control slip from his iron grasp as he watched Keegan extend his hand as he laughed, his fingers intently tracing over your hip.

With that, his patience snapped like a tightly-strung rope. He rose to his feet with an aura so threatening it would make any hostile think twice before approaching him.

Keegan’s steel gaze turned icy as it moved from you to the Lieutenant’s hulking figure behind you. The corners of your mouth dropped slightly as you noticed the abrupt change in Keegan’s demeanor, before feeling the cold zipper of an open jacket brush against your neck. You turned around, faced with your boyfriend’s chest that was practically in your face right now.

“You are needed in my office.”

For a moment, you thought Ghost was talking to Keegan. It was only because he placed his hand firmly on your shoulder that you knew he was talking to you. The two men were locked in what appeared to be a staring match. You swallowed thickly as the tense, uncomfortable atmosphere became more noticeable to you, prickling at your skin.

Finally, it was Keegan who relented, his gaze moving down. “See you later then.” he said, voice devoid of the playful edge it was filled with earlier. He gave you and Ghost one last wary glance, before heading off to a group of people in the corner.

You watched him leave, slightly baffled, before feeling Simon’s iron grip pull you away.

You eyed him with confusion and slight annoyance. Simon, on the other hand, was staring straight ahead, refusing to look at you as he pushed you along. You had never seen him act like this.

“What’s all this about?!” you hissed in a hushed tone. “We’re being stared at!”

You didn’t receive a response. Whatever he had on his mind, he was too focused on it to pay you any mind right now.

Things became even more confusing when he headed straight past the door to his shared office, your brow furrowing even deeper now. “Lieutenant?” you tried, a hint of concern laced in your voice. 

Suddenly, the grip on your shoulder moved down to grasp at your wrist instead, large hands clamping down around your flesh. It didn’t hurt, Simon always had the wits not to hurt you, but his grip was still unrelentingly tight. With his other hand, he unlocked the door to his private room, dragging you in with him. 

Before you could question him any further, he’d ripped off his mask and hungrily sunken his lips against yours.

Your hands froze at your sides, too shocked to respond as his tongue aggressively pushed at your lips. Sighing out a quiet moan, you opened your mouth, met with the overwhelming feeling of Simon wrapping his tongue around yours. 

Simon rumbled out a low groan as you finally started to regain control of your senses, your hands finding their way to the back of his neck. You held onto fistfuls of his hair, tugging at it lightly as his tongue danced with yours feverishly.

You managed to break away after a few minutes of his hurried and rough kisses, only for him to possessively start teething at your neck. 

“Simon…” you mewled, head tipping back to grant him more access. You were so confused but god, you didn’t mind this. Simon was usually incredibly careful and gentle with you. This was new. 

You grabbed onto his shoulders shakily, stabilizing yourself as Simon continued his merciless onslaught on your skin. You sucked in a breath when you felt him teeth at your neck, switching between feverish licks, harsh sucks and bites. You definitely knew that was going to bruise.

“Si, they’re- fuck- people are gonna see that!” you breathed out, tapping him on his side. “Good.” his deep voice rumbled in response, the first word he’d uttered to you since you left with him. His voice had an uncharacteristically dark edge to it, at least when it came to you. “Maybe that’ll keep those fuckers off of ya next time.”

Your eyes widened slightly. Oh.

It was only then that the quarter fell in your mind. Not once in the short month you’d been together had it occurred to you that Ghost was capable of jealousy, much less one to act on it. 

Honestly, you felt a little bad for him. Not that you really could have done anything about it, the idea to keep your relationship hidden was Simon’s idea and mutually agreed upon. But you honestly hadn’t considered how it was possibly affecting him. 

Still, you were pretty sure you knew how to make that up to him right now.

Besides, it wasn’t like you hadn’t imagined what it would be like if Simon fucked the living hell out of you before.

You hiked up one of your legs intently, hooking it around his as you hung off his body. You’d hike it up to his hip if you could, and you sure as hell tried, but God, were you reminded of how Simon easily towered above you in moments like this.

Nonetheless, he seemed pleasantly responsive to your advance. His hand found its way to the small of your back, fingers digging into your skin so harshly you were sure they would leave light flushed marks.

You could feel his prominent, rock-hard erection prod against your belly. Your hands slid down, fingers circling around his belt slowly and gently. Your fingernails dug themselves against his toned stomach, crescent-shaped marks glaring right above the place he wanted your hands most. Simon did not seem to reciprocate the slow, patient teasing you were trying to coax him into. You sucked in a sharp breath as you felt his thick thumbs roughly force their way past the waist of your pants, roughly tugging at the material. Then it stopped. You blinked, looking up at Simon, realizing he was staring straight back at you. He was a damn sight to behold. His balaclava had been roughly tugged down to pool around his neck, revealing those pretty swollen lips and that sexy stubble he usually kept obscured. You could see a dimly glistening trail of spit trailing down from the corner of his lip, undoubtedly due to the tilted angle he’d been ravaging your neck at. He didn’t move his hands, his head instead inching a little closer. “You can tell me to stop.” he responded in that gruff tone, lust dragging his voice down by at least an octave. 

“You can tell me to stop, or that you don’t want this, and we can stop. But if you don’t-” His grip tightened on your trousers, the pull of the fabric drawing you in closer. “-I will have my way with you.” Fuck. Even when he wanted to do nothing but jump you and rail you until your legs gave out, he still waited for your word without fail. You felt a wave of arousal pool between your legs intensely, your clit throbbing gently at the dark promise rumbling in your ear. Your eyes were almost glazed over as you just stared back at him for a moment, puffy breaths seeping out through parted lips. “You may, please-” Your plea had only barely tumbled off your lips when Simon crashed his own on them again. Wasting no time getting down to business, those thumbs hooked around the waist of your pants were yanked down, taking the fabric down with them. Your underwear soon followed, all while his tongue was still firmly pressed against yours. 

Simon wasn’t kidding when he said he’d have his way with you. You felt his large hands clamp around your sides like a vice, bending and molding you to his liking as if you were clay. His mouth began its second onslaught on your sensitive neck and shoulders, this time biting from the back.

You felt him twist you around, effortlessly as if you were a doll, his left hand leaving your waist to clamp around your wrists instead. You were at his mercy, and the thought made the slick sensation between your folds even more apparent. 

It was as if Simon read your mind. The hand that had momentarily remained on your waist trailed down quickly, your shirt curling under his fingers as he kept them pressed tightly against your body. 

Simon was a man who enjoyed taking his time with you, most of the times he’d have sex with you being preceded by extensive foreplay, but he was in no such mood right now. 

His index and middle finger dipped down smoothly, squeezing your clit between them just perfectly. Your mouth opened in a quiet gasp as you instinctively pressed your body into his chest, though the grasp on your wrists ultimately held you in place firmly. 

The pressure on your clit was rough, deliciously so. His movements were swift and controlled as he rubbed up and down just perfectly, fingers occasionally dipping down to prod at your entrance before sliding back up. “Simon, oh God, mmmf…”

You whimpered, your head leaning against his shoulder for any semblance of support. “‘S that good?” The bass of his voice rumbling in your ear made you shudder, swallowing thickly.

“Yeah, mm… Simon… Simon-” His name drifted off your lips in broken moans and whines, and the Lieutenant absolutely reveled in it. He was the only one who would ever get to hear you moan his name like this, only his name.

“Could anyone else touch you like this? God, you’re so fucking wet for me. All for me.” He growled possessively. This time when his hand slid down, they encircled your hole before plunging in fully without warning.

You whined quietly as you felt his thick digits curl against your g-spot expertly, filling you up nicely and leaving no room for small casual pleasantries. He plunged in harshly with a grunt, and you let out a loud moan. “Speak up.”

“Jus’ you. Only you, Si- God.” Your boyfriend kept ramming his digits into your cunt at a merciless rate, as your breaths started to come out in high-pitched whines and pants. He peered at you through the holes of his skull-shape mask still resting on his face. Simon reveled in watching you lose your composure and whimper like a bitch in heat for all the ways in which he could make you feel good.

“I can’t understand you when you sound like that.” Your glazed eyes snapped open, looking up at him as he looked at you darkly. Fuck, he was enjoying toying with you.

“You’re th’ only one. The only one. Nobody else. Nhh… Si… only one who can make me feel s’good…” 

You were struggling to think straight, struggling to form a cohesive sentence as the loud squelching of Simon’s fingers abusing your pussy echoed off the walls. Your head lurched forwards with a loud breathy moan as he changed his angle, somehow hitting your G-spot even more precisely.

You looked back at him, lust clouding your vision as your voice lowered to a more devious tone.

“Keegan could never… make me feel like this…” Instantly, the movements inside you stopped, his fingers stilling inside of you and his other hand finally releasing your wrists. For a second, you thought you fucked up royally and actually hit a nerve. 

This was not the case. Quite the opposite, in fact. 

You heard aggressive rustling and the rumble of a zipper being undone. You tried looking back at him but gasped when you felt his hand clamp down on the back of your neck, torso pressed firmly against the wall. 

His other hand quickly pulled out of you, instead roughly realigning your hips to be further back. The whimper humming softly in your throat suddenly burst out as a loud squeak as the feeling was soon replaced with that of his weeping tip prodding at your cunt, his erect cock pushing its way between your folds.

Simon roughly shoved his way inside, hand roughly keeping you from instinctively lurching forwards. His warm breath puffed against your ear with rumbling grunts as he pushed himself in deeper, until his pelvis was pressed snugly against your ass.

The man did not give you much time to adjust to his girth before starting to move. Not that you needed much time after the rough way in which he had prepared you with his fingers. 

By now, the slick was generously coating your walls, lubricating your hot cunt enough for Simon’s cock to slip in and out effortlessly.

Your mouth fell agape, your cheeks flushed as you struggled to keep your wobbly legs from collapsing, Simon’s rough and fast thrusts throwing you off balance. But nothing slipped past Ghost, you soon remembered, as you felt his tattooed muscular arm clamp around your middle harshly to keep you stable.

You quickly lost control over your volume, whines and whimpers steadily turning into loud and broken. This was usually where Simon would shush you, shove his fingers into your mouth or kiss you. But not this time. “You’re so fucking loud… Fuck, you love this, don’t you?” he growled into your ear, adjusting his pace until he was brutally pistoning his dick into your cunt, his balls audibly smacking against your skin.

“God… you fit so fucking perfectly around this cock. Your pussy was made for this cock.” Simon was usually not one for dirty talk, the words leaving an odd and cringeworthy taste in his mouth after he’d say them. But he couldn’t stop himself, his brain just rolling out the word vomit to subject you to like an assembly line.

You sure as hell weren’t going to complain.

“Simon, fuck- Fuck! Please, just like that. I need- I need you.”

The consistency of his thrusts faltered at that, something that almost sounded like a whimper erupting from his throat. 

A drop of sweat rolled down your forehead as your eyebrows scrunched together, starting to feel the familiar knot in your stomach tightening. Your boyfriend fingering you had already gotten you halfway there, and with the pace at which he was drilling into you you weren’t going to last much longer.

“C’mon, love. My name- let them know. They can all fucking know. Please. I need them to know who’s fucking you. Please…”

He groaned loudly as his hips stuttered, unable to resist you. Goddamn you. You could metaphorically get him to his knees even when he was fucking you against a wall like he wanted to wreck you.

You whimpered, tongue swiping over your lips before obliging him. “Simon- mmm, Simon…” You were hesitant, your boyfriend’s wishes upon establishing your relationship ringing in your mind. But the rough smack you got to your hip told you he couldn’t give less of a fuck right now. “Simon, fuck- God, Simon! Simon!” His name continued to tumble off your lips like a mantra, each thrust into your spongy cunt leaving you less able to think. He was the only thing on your mind, just Simon, only he could fuck you like this. Finally, the coil that had been building came undone accompanied by a loud scream of his name. Your pussy clenched harshly around him as you came on his cock. You were goddamn grateful Simon was holding you up right about now, as you were sure you would have sunken to the floor had it not been for his arm keeping you secure.

The feeling of you clenching around his dick finally sent Simon over the edge too. He let out the most delicious guttural groan as his movements stuttered for one final time, cock quivering before shooting his seed deep inside of you. 

He continued to sloppily fuck his cum into you a few more times before his movements stilled completely, stabilizing himself against the wall with his hand. A silence fell over the two of you as you just took a moment to catch your breaths, Simon’s other hand rubbing over your stomach almost apologetically. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence by any means, but it was also one filled with the realization that there was no way nobody had heard you. 

It wasn’t going to be long before everyone knew who the Lieutenant had been fucking in his room.

“Si, I gotta- I gotta sit.” you finally broke the silence. He responded quickly, pulling out of you with a shaky breath before guiding you to his bed, helping you sit down as he took off his mask and placed it on his nightstand. He eyed your cunt, gently reaching down to half-heartedly shove some of his oozing cum back into your pussy. You whined softly, but didn’t have the energy to do anything else, instead just leaning against his chest. “You sure you don’t mind?” you whispered, fingers tracing the dark lines of his tattoo gently. Simon just grunted.

“It was bound to come out sooner or later.” he said gruffly. “I was growing real sick of it anyway. About time those shitbirds learned you’re spoken for.” You chuckled softly, wrapping an arm around his waist to sleepily tug him into a hug. “You found one hell of a way for them to find out, though. Fucking hell, Si.”

That earned you a gruff chuckle from your boyfriend, who started to guide you to lie down with him on the bed and pulled you tighter against his chest. His lips gently pressed to your forehead as you closed your eyes, the finger drawing figures on his arm slowly coming to a halt as you dozed off in his arms.

You’d both deal with the consequences of this in the morning.

Pinglist:

@rahmown​ (ty for being the first and only one so far <33)