#they'd just have me play out of the book and tell me when I was doing it wrong

[caramelkoo]

honeysuckle

boyfriend!jungkook, established relationship, smut

summary : according to your boyfriend, a little competition won't hurt anyone especially when the game is his favorite. Making you feel good.

warnings : mature, strong language, heavy on the smut, a little fluff thrown in there, fingering, pussy slapping, he asks for consent, they're freaky, dick piercing, ass slapping, hickeys, sex in a jacuzzi, reverse cowgirl, riding, jungkook wants oc so bad, dirty talk, he calls oc sweetheart, unprotected sex. if i missed something, do let me know.

a/n : hi my loves, here’s your promised smutty treat. tbvh that picture has not left my mind ever since i saw it lmao. I love you guys so so much. You're so loved and cherished. Please don't read this in front of your parents. also @rpwprpwprpwprw was the sweetest to ask for a tag <33 xoxo

"Oh yeah baby, just like that"

"You fuck me so good"

'Take my cock like a good slut you are"

Any other day, you're all about sex positivity and letting your body get what it wants but today of all days, your neighbors want to ruin the peace that you so desperately craved.

Your boyfriend, Jungkook had left early for a business meeting promising you to come back as soon as he gets done with it. As much as you missed him, you had felt the need to have some time for yourself. You thrive on being Jungkook's girlfriend, it's all butterfly in the stomach, princess treatment kind of love but you can't lie about wishing for some alone time just for yourself. Finally, you were getting it. You had it all planned bit by bit.

Step 1 : take an everything shower

Step 2 : cook something delicious for yourself while wave to earth plays in the background

Step 3 : read a romantasy novel you've been anticipating for a long time.

Step 4 : if sleepy, sleep. If not, take out your pink best friend from the bedside drawer and seek your pleasure listening to Jungkook's voice recording you had him record the other day. It always works.

Step 3 and you're already at the verge of giving up. It appears the people next door didn't exactly like your plan and they wanted to make you realize how lonely you are. Screaming at your face, "Haha guess who's not getting a dick". God forbid if a girl wants to have quite and peaceful night while romanticizing the shit out of it.

You slam the book on the bed and sigh. For a second you consider calling Jungkook but stop when you realize that you'll only be hindering his work. What are you even going to tell him? that you can't read because your neighbors have been fucking each other for hours now? No, that's just stupid.

Taking off your reading glasses you make your way to the kitchen. If you can't get sleep tonight, you might as well give them a tough fight. When and if they decide to let their horny asses take a break and decide to doze off, they'd catch on to the fact that there's someone next door whose mama didn't raise a quitter. Immature? you don't think so.

Once the woman's voice on the speaker alerts you that your phone has been connected, you start off with your favorite go to song when you need to cry your eyes out. "Fuck to an emotional song now" you think.

Coming in terms with the fact that you might have to pull an all nighter, you begin making coffee. The word itself brings a smile on your face. Coffee, which got you through your med school. Coffee, which got you Jungkook.

If you really think about it, hadn't you mustered up the courage to go on a solo date that day and have a coffee all by yourself you wouldn't have crossed your paths with him. It's funny actually because how many couples do actually last this long after meeting at a random coffee shop?

After dating douchebags for almost three years you had taken a break from dating all together. It was high time you focused on yourself. Honestly, it's not like they were the only one who was messed up in your previous relationships. You had some parts you had to heal as well and the moment you caught up on that, you went on a journey. Journey to self love, journey to find yourself and a journey which will leave you not perfect but healed.

As for the dimwits you dated in the past, sometimes it was "why do you always have to be like this? how much more space do you need?" or, "What do you mean you don't want to have sex right now? C'mon don't be a spoilsport".

Spoilsport, your ass.

Standing up on your tippy toes, your hands reach out for the coffee container but before you could even settle your foot down on the floor, two arms circle around your waist making you gasp in utter shock.

The need to defend yourself takes so strongly over you that you don't even turn around in order to check the person before your elbow connects with their nose.

When you finally do, you can't stop the scream from leaving your mouth. Your face all red and your eyes as big as saucers.

You panic, "JUNGKOOK?"

When you see blood oozing out of his left nostril after he lifts his face, you mentally curse your sister for forcing you to take self defense classes.

"What's with the song, sweetheart?"

"I told you you were gonna be my death someday but who knew it was gonna be tonight"

After cleaning up his nose and giving him a cup of coffee, you both were now sitting on the couch. You had turned off the music, though. God knew it was not making the situation any better.

You take a sip before speaking, "Oh, don't be dramatic. Who comes home like this and at this hour?"

"My flight was late, sweetheart. I wanted to get to you much sooner but destiny had plans--" he gets cut off as his eyebrows crease in wonder.

"What was that?"

"The neighbors. They have been going at it for hours now" you shake your head in disbelief.

"For hours? That's some stamina I must say" he breaks out in a fit of laughter as you place your cup on the table in front of you.

Turning towards him you ask, "You find this funny? I haven't been able to sleep because of them"

Your voice comes out a bit whiny and you wonder if you're acting a bit childish.

"Oh, sweetheart. How about this, I take a quick shower and we cuddle to sleep" a mixture of warmth and concern crossing his face.

Your smile is wide when you say, "I'd love that"

Jungkook finishes his coffee and pecks your lips as he saunters towards the bathroom. However, when he turns back and says the most unforeseen thing, your silly mind doesn't even think twice.

"Actually, _____. Why don't you join me?"

Bubbles form inside the jacuzzi as smoke fills your surroundings. The smell of warm water hits your nose making it feel tingly. Your stomach is doing summersaults as your boyfriend lets you down inside the water, heart skipping a beat.

Only when Jungkook lets himself sit on the other side of the tub, you can finally take a deep breath. His eyes never leaving yours. When you're with him, there's nothing you care about. Not your horny neighbors, not the world, nothing. It's just him and his presence that lights you up. A smile that could rival the sun.

Him.

Your fingers play with the water as you try to make a conversation. This moment right here, is peak level of intimacy for you. You're both naked, exposed and vulnerable yet you've never felt safer. Not to mention how you feel like a high school girl trying to talk to his crush.

When you were young, the bathroom was the only place you could run and cry in and no one judged you. The four walled room provided more comfort than people in your life. It holds memories but when you moved in with your boyfriend, you left those at your old house. To rot, because what else?

With him, every corner, every space in your house feels pure and blissful. It’s filled with laughter, moans and him.

Jungkook's legs are lightly brushing yours every now and then, the movement sending shivers down your spine. What's happening to you?

"So, how was the business trip?"

"On a scale of one to ten, how funny is it that you wanna talk about business while looking like that and all I wanna do is fuck that sweet mouth of yours because of how much I missed it?"

You shudder, the effect he has on you is beyond belief and now with the expression crossing his face, pure lust and longing, it's as though somebody has set your whole body on fire. A mix of hot and cold feeling running through your veins.

"Jungkook"

"Come here"

"Wh-"

He cuts you off, "Come here, sweetheart. Come to me before I lose my ever loving mind'

You don't have an option other than to scoot your way towards him. He positions your body between his legs, his taut and muscular chest touching your wet back.

Wetness pools between your legs as his hardness presses at your lower hip just above your ass. Your pussy throbs with need and you stop yourself from reaching down to relieve that tension.

His fingers ever so lightly graze over your arm, frequently making drawings on it.

"How long did you say they were going at it?"

You look at him, "About three hours. Why?"

He's up to something. You can feel it in your bones.

"Do you think they're still gonna be able to fuck each other after hearing your screams through the wall, sweetheart?"

Fuck. The idea of making them listen to you while your boyfriend fucks you into oblivion doesn't sound so bad. You missed him, you missed being in his arms and you missed him being inside you as well. So, where's the harm in that?

"You wanna give them a show? Let them know how well your man fucks you?"

The moan that leaves her as she lets her head fall back heavy on his chest tells him everything her words can't.

"Jungkook, please. It's been so long" she cries out.

She stirs making herself more comfortable but that just makes him hiss through his teeth as her ass grazes his cock, the metal on the tip leaving a cool sensation. He's not gonna give in easily though. He will make her earn that release.

His hands cup her tits, fully covering them and they fit so perfectly in his hands. Heavy, full, perfect. As if they're made just for him to suck, him to cup, him to cum on, him to leave purple love bites on.

"I know, sweetheart. Do you wanna know what I kept thinking about while I was away?" his voice trails off, "I kept thinking about how bad I wanna fuck your throat"

The sound that leaves her is filled with need.

"Jungkook, baby please."

He trails his hands down her chest and stomach before it reaches her pussy. Just around her clit. His finger are soft and light, not putting pressure when all she wants is for him to give her the release she so badly craves.

Jungkook's cock is already leaking with precum and his balls ache. He missed his girl so fucking much, so much that he lost count of how many times he had fucked his hand while thinking of her while he was away. When his colleagues saw his flushed face, he had no other option than to blame it on the cold weather.

His finger slide down and back up her slit, making her visibly shiver.

Shit. He's not gonna last long if she keeps making those noises.

"How many finger do you want, _____?" he asks as repeats the same motion.

His mouth comes on her in a searing kiss, it's possessive, passionate, burning and everything nasty. He's straight up claiming her mouth as her tongue tangles with his own.

Pulling back he waits for her response, "Two. Please"

Following her command, his two fingers slide inside her. He tightens the hold on her stomach to have her stay in place when she bucks her hips forward.

She screams.

"That's my girl"

He slides his finger out before sinking it deep inside her cunt again. Crooking them in such a way that he hits her g-spot. Desperate moans fill the room mixing with the steam coming out of the hot water. Her hands ghost over his, fastening his pace.

"You want it faster, sweetheart?"

"Yes, much faster. I wanna cum so bad"

Happy to give her what she wants, he begins rubbing at her clit while his other fingers work their way in and out her wet cunt.

"Oh my fucking god"

"That's right. Get what you want. Such a good girl for me"

He's an animal at this point as he tries to mark her his more than she already is. Jungkook has always been open about sex with his girlfriend, his needs, his wants, his desires and she'd done the same. You compliment each other perfectly. It's easier that way, not leaving any room for doubts.

She like dirty talk, he gives it to her.

When her hips lift forward matching his thrusts, he smirks. Biting her slender neck as she chases her orgasm.

"Aghh"

It finally happens, her hands grasp his even more tightly, other hand gripping the edge of the jacuzzi as she lets out a scream. Her breath fastens as sweat beads her forehead, Jungkook never stopping with his praises.

When she settles back down between his legs, he takes his finger out and sucks them clean. Brown eyes never leaving hers.

"Do you think they heard us, sweetheart?"

Her laughter brings smile to his face, "You're crazy"

"And you're mine" He pecks her cheek, letting his lips linger there for a bit. Basking in the feeling of her love's skin against his lips.

At the beginning of your relationship when you were just getting comfortable with intimacy, jungkook loved kissing her cheek. It was his way of showing her that she's adored by him. Then he realised that quite frankly, it's her. He likes kissing so much because it's her that he's kissing.

He holds her for a while before speaking up, "You wanna help me with a problem?"

He doesn't need to tell her twice but soon as her next words leave her mouth, he takes a double take.

"Sit on the edge and I'll suck you off" he hears her say as she kneels before him.

"Later" he grabs her by her shoulders as he positions her back between his legs. This time facing him.

Her legs wrap around his waist and his thick cock presses against her navel. He knows how badly she wanted to take him into her mouth and he could have let her do that only if he was strong enough to resist himself from sinking deep inside her.

"Now, I wanna fuck you. Raw and nice just like my girlfriend deserves" his voice comes out breathy.

"I love you"

"Me too, sweetheart. More than you know" he assures.

Knowing he can't take it anymore, he lifts her up and sits her body down on his cock. Slowly by slowly as she moans her way through it. ____'s head falls into the crook of his neck and his grip tightens on the curve of her waist. The ampallang piercing multiplies the pleasure tenfold as you both roll your eyes at the back of your head.

Jungkook got madly drunk the other day and came back with a dick piercing which resulted in her getting mad at him and him fucking her to show how good it gets with it.

Having said that, he presses a searing kiss on her lips and his breath knocks out of his chest in the process. It's almost like he's dreaming. The feel of her body on him, his cock deep inside ____, her arms caging him. It all feels surreal. At this point, the neighbors are long forgotten. It's you and him now.

He takes one of her sensitive buds in his mouth, flicking it with his tongue. Moving it in circular motions.

The next few seconds involve him spanking her ass as if he wants to leave marks, him guiding her up and down his cock as she bounces and giving her frequent kisses. Wet slapping noises fill the entire room as his balls ache with need.

"So good, baby. You feel so fucking good. Wrapped around me like this while I fuck you good, huh?" he slaps her pussy lightly.

Thrust Thrust Thrust

As she falls back again into his arms, crying loudly with utter pleasure, he tightens his hold on her body. Hugging her close as both of your heartbeats sync together.

"Thank you for letting me love you, sweetheart. Thank you for coming into my boring ass life and filling it with laughter. Fuck"

Your sweaty and now tired bodies are wrapped around each other as you both revel in the warmth of intimacy.

He lets out a grown followed by her whine and before he can say anything, you’re both cumming together, sighing and kissing as you come down your high.

A chaste kiss is pressed on her forehead, "So perfect, my girl"

"That was…" you bite your lip.

"Amazing, I know" he says as he mindlessly plays with her black locks.

his hands rub her back. "Sweetheart, I want one more from you"

"One more?"

"Yeah, this time I wanna see your beautiful back. Will you do it for me?"

He tries to ask her as gently as possible. Pride filling his chest when he sees her nod.

Guiding her up with the support of her knees he sits her down on his lap, his balls brushing against her clit as he sinks back inside her. A man can only take so much before he snaps. This was the moment for him. His girl's back glistens in the most beautiful way ever. Sweat droplets mixed with water dripping down her spine that he can’t help but kiss.

"Fuck baby, you look like a goddess right now." he halts,

"So warm"

Trailing his hands up the back of her neck he threads his fingers through her hair, gripping it lightly but also putting enough pressure just so she can feel a sweet pain.

His heart skips another beat when she starts moving forward and then backwards, teasing him. Her movements are painfully slow. He wants to ask ____ to move faster but at the same time, he also wants to make this special for her.

So, he waits and watches her back arch as he feels like the luckiest man in the world.

"Jungkook" she moans his name, holding on to his thigh as he pounds into her from the back. It’s even deeper now, his cock hitting places he’d never hit before. Jungkook mentally thanks himself for trying out this new position because he’d just about take any chance to feel more connected to ____.

Just when his stomach contracts and hardens, he asks, "____ I’m gonna need you to spread those ass wider. I’m very close"

When she hums in response he gently pushes her upper body so that it’s flat on his legs, immediately letting him see more of ____'s ass. Her asshole clearly visible to him. It’s such a vulnerable position that you’re both in. Her more than him.

He has to ask her, "Sweetheart, if you don’t feel comfortable we can always stop, alright? You just have to ask"

Her whiney voice reaches his ears, "I’m okay, baby. Just- Just fuck me"

So, he does. His hips thrust forward as he fucks her mercilessly, letting her have the pleasure. She moans, he moans, she cries out, he groans. It’s unbelievably perfect. His hands roam over her smooth back, her ass and even down to her pussy. Both bodies working in a graceful sync.

Suddenly, it’s like the earth comes to a stop. His hands grip his hair while the other one grips hers. His stomach hardens, balls tightening and the moment _____ clenches around his cock, he cums inside of her. Filling her up with hot, white liquid. She follows him soon enough.

"I fucking love this body of yours"

She straightens up and lets her wet body fall heavy on his chest seeking warmth and his arms around her. He’s more than happy to do so. His muscular arms bring her closer to his chest as he relaxes.

Before the next words leave his mouth, he has to make sure ____ is sound asleep.

"I can’t wait to ask you to marry me, sweetheart. I can’t wait to see you in that white dress walking towards me like the angel you are"

He hopes she says yes, he hopes the ring brings the biggest smile on her face.

He hopes.

[reiderwriter]

🫂 Transference 🫂

Pairing: Spencer Reid x virgin!Fem Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge 2024

Summary: He saves your life, and he keeps saving it every day, but Spencer won't let you love him until you finally beg him to. Is transference really that much of an issue?

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, Mentions of Case details - reader is the unsub victim, mentions of rape and attempted rape, gunshot, death, kidnapping, imprisonment, parental neglect, abandonment, loss of virginity (positive), semi-public sex, bathroom sex, fingering, penetrative sex (p in v), missionary, praise kink (good girl), moaning kink (?), safe sex, slight cum play/ oral, aftercare.

A/N: I wrote a virgin reader fic for kinktober that people loved a lot (thank you all!), and I had a lot of requests for something similar, so please - enjoy!

Masterlist || Bingo Board

You'd met him at the library, as if the world wanted you to forever associate the comfort you found in between the pages of a worn book with the man that tried to end your life. At first, you'd thought it a coincidence, then he'd flashed a smile at you, and you'd believed it to be fate, drawn in by the charm he wore as a disguise. 

Your first date was sweet, flowers and dinner. Your second date was sweeter, and they kept on that way. Sugar dropped into your ears until you were floating on cloud nine, right as he turned his charm off. 

“Really?” He started one day, his tone accusing from the get-go. 

“What?” 

“You're really going to eye fuck that man in front of me?” His voice was loud enough to catch notice in the small café you'd joined him in for the morning, and all the life drained out of your face. 

“I'm not- what?”

“No, forget it,” he chuffed, taking another sip of his drink and turning away from you. 

You noticed it more and more from then on, how he would accuse you of small things like looking at other men, like you had the choice to ignore them when they were shop clerks, bus drivers and just fucking people living their lives. 

Your friends were even weirded out when you joked with them about it, telling them all about your silly boyfriend who ripped a poster off your wall because it had some actor or singer or something on it. It wasn't even that important to you, but as you laughed, you were greeted with silence, with sideways glances and concerning questions. 

It was all starting to crumble, and there was nothing you could do to stop it but cling on. 

The next thing was his pushiness. You'd been up front with him at the beginning of the relationship that you were a virgin, something that he was more than happy about. 

He'd said it was because he was a man of God, and he understood your commitment, which confused you as you weren't a virgin for religious reasons. But you brushed it off as everything else about him was so… gentlemanly? 

Until he started pushing his hands up your thighs when he kissed you. He tried multiple times to push his fingers into your underwear as you tried to pull back, each time apologizing immediately when you displayed more panicked displeasure. 

“I'm sorry, something must have… The devil got to me for a second there, Y/N, but I won't let him win.” He kissed the top of your head, and he walked you to your door before giving you another chaste kiss and leaving. 

They found the first body the next morning.

She was young, maybe 16 or 17. Beaten, raped, mutilated, and asphyxiated. They said he'd kept raping her body long after she'd taken her last breath. It took them two weeks to notify her parents because of the way he'd left her. 

You'd watched the news report the same week with your boyfriend, shocked and horrified at the news and cuddling closer to him for comfort. 

Each step you came closer to him, each time you allowed him to touch you, he took it as a sign of his ownership, his claim on you. Not a single other person could get in between him and his prize. Each time you rejected him, he killed another girl. 

By body five, they'd called in the BAU. 

“Did you hear they're bringing in the FBI to solve that Cathy Renaud case? It's all over the news. Apparently, the team is super special.” 

You'd brought up the words while cooking him breakfast. He didn't live with you, but any good girlfriend would feed their man, so he woke you up every day on his way to work to let you prepare him something. 

His whole attention was on his phone, though, as he nodded through your conversation, grunting and moaning at each word. 

It was only when you brought him his plate of pancakes that you realized that he was just as interested in the subject as you were. Because he was staring at the photos of the girl he mutilated the night before. 

You didn't want to think about everything that happened after that. After the plate fell to the floor and cracked, splintering into your foot and causing you your first injury in a long line. 

You didn't want to think about the things he showed you, the way he touched you, or at least tried to. You heaved and wretched and emptied your stomach every single time you thought about the restraints on your wrists, how he'd tried to rape you but couldn't bring himself to do it because you weren't young enough anymore. You weren't dead enough.  

Instead, every time you thought back to that week, you found yourself back at the end. You replayed the bullet lodging into his brain as a comfort, which told you more than you needed to know about your mental state. It was Spencer Reid who'd shot him. He'd been quick enough to realize that the man would never have been talked down, and he'd fired the shot as a mercy to you. He may have killed your boyfriend, putting him down like he was a sick animal, but you were the one put out of your misery. 

He didn't stop to watch the body hit the floor before falling to your side, the other agents clearing the room and checking the corpse. He'd helped you to your feet, drawn an arm around your waist and pushed your head into his chest so you didn't have to see the carnage on the way out, didn't have to deal with the camera flashes as the press scrambled for pictures of the monster's willing victim. 

“One step at a time, this isn't your fault. Just stick with me,” he said, moving you from the house to a waiting van as you clasped his vest desperately, needing the lifeline he'd thrown you. 

“Ma'am, ma'am. I'm a paramedic, I won't hurt you, I just need to take your vitals, make sure you're okay.” 

The voice was vague and in the distance, and you were so sure it wasn't directed at you that you simply let yourself wrap around the man who'd saved you when you got to the ambulance. Nothing else was around but his chest, his hand on your back, your legs wrapped around him as they finally gave out. 

“Ma'am… Please, you're injured-” 

“Y/N,” he spoke finally, and you grabbed him tighter, nails digging into the skin at his neck. 

“You're Y/N, right? We've been looking for you for a long time. I'm not going anywhere, I won't let anyone hurt you.” 

The words were enough to reassure you, pulling back slightly as the paramedics began working on you, but not enough for you to embrace their touch. You clambered away from the paramedic the moment you saw he was a man, close in build and coloring to the corpse in the building behind you. 

You screamed, you cried, you pounded at the doors as Spencer held to you him, letting the paramedics sedate you, rocking you to sleep on the step of the emergency vehicle.

He was by your bedside every time you woke up, too. It was funny seeing him there when you still didn't know his name. Your parents hadn't visited, too ashamed to be associated with the entire thing to even check in on you. 

He had himself assigned your emergency contact after six days of your parents not showing up. In all that time, he'd sat patiently by your side as you wailed and raged and went numb, and the cycle repeated itself in perpetuity. 

He was there, too, with a bag of clothes and a fresh start waiting for you when you were ready to be discharged. 

His team had since moved on to another criminal of the week, putting the lives lost behind them as they traipsed through more cases and corpses and killers. He was still there, though. Somehow. 

You were old enough to be able to discharge yourself from a hospital, old enough to not need a guardian to take care of you. Spencer stayed anyway, and you didn't bother asking why. 

“I don't want to leave the hospital,” you said, climbing back into the bed you'd forced yourself into for the last week. The same bed where the nurse had ran your rape kit even after you'd told her he'd never touched you like that, after you'd explained and denied and shouted to high hell that no-one had touched you like that and she sure as hell wasn't going to be the first. 

Spencer had put a stop to the traumatic experience when he'd returned with your coffee, always picking up something for you when he went out. 

The nurse had gripped and moaned and murmured an apology, and you knew you'd not been an easy patient, but you couldn't bring yourself to feel bad about it. 

That didn't mean you wanted to leave yet, though. 

“I can't leave, I have nowhere to live.”

“Y/N, you can't stay here forever.”

“Spencer, I can't go home. My apartment is a crime scene, I almost died there, and there are reporters posted there 247 waiting for me to come back. They think I'm evil, they-” 

“They think you're a victim,” he said calmly but firmly, cutting you off before you could spiral again. “Which you are. And you'll be a victim forever if you don't get out of that hospital bed and start moving on.” 

He dumped a bag on your bed, a bag you recognised as one of your own overnight bags from your apartment. He looked at you again, the question in his silence. 

Are you going to keep being his victim?

You huffed as you got out of your bed, throwing off the covers and standing in front of him. He didn't budge. 

“Well?” You asked, looking at him as he stood still, not moving even an inch. 

“Well, what?” He replied, eyebrows knitting. 

Instead of replying, you rolled your eyes and reached behind you to the ties in your hospital gown, opening it until you could pull it off your body before pulling out the clothes he'd left in the bag. 

You didn't glance at him again until you were fully naked, readying your underwear so you could pull it on. When you turned back to him, his gaze knocked the wind out of you. 

You'd stopped feeling like a woman the minute he'd carried out of that room. You were a child, a fragile doll, a specimen to be studied. For some of the nurses, you were an infection they could catch. 

Spencer Reid, against his better judgment, was looking at you like you were a woman. Like you were the object of his every desire. 

“S-Spencer…” you said suddenly feeling the shame and embarrassment of being naked suddenly in front of another person. You pulled the sweatshirt he'd packed you over your torso, covering all of your intimate areas as you stammered out your apology. 

“I- shit, I'm sorry-”

“I'll wait - I’ll wait outside. If you need anything you can… you can do whatever.” He said, dragging his eyes off of your body and letting them fall anywhere that you weren't. His eyes darted from the floor to the wall, to the air next to your head and finally to the door where he took himself out. 

You dressed in a hurry and followed him. 

“Spencer? Spencer, I'm ready,” you said, running down the hall to him and grabbing his arm, holding it for support and comfort, but mostly just to be close. 

Since waking up from that first sedation of many in those first few days, you hadn't been more than a few hours without having him hold you. 

His team had sent many warning looks watching you wrapped around him like a scared child, hiding behind him like a small, shaking dog. You hadn't seen a problem in it, truly clinging to him like a lifeline. 

After whatever the hell had just happened in your hospital room, though? Now you felt each solid ridge of him. You hadn't felt like a woman, sure  but you equally hadn't acknowledged Spencer as a man until then. A very attractive man. 

The stubble on his jaw only made it sharper. His gentle, curving eyes, cut at the corners by the start of laugh lines, his mouth straight and… and kissable. For the first time in months, definitely for the first time since you'd met your monster, maybe even for the first time ever, desire heated the depths of your stomach. 

Your breath hitched, and you held him tighter as he led you out of the ward and ushered you into your new life. 

“We're not going to your apartment. Your landlord released you from the lease for…obvious reasons after some persuading. Your parents-” 

“My parents?” You asked in disgusting, halting in the hall. For the first time since you'd left the room, he had to turn and look you in the eyes. He'd done his best to dampen the desire, but some part of you still recognised it, even as your logical brain fought to be heard. 

“Your parents agreed to fund three months in a new apartment. After which time, you will have a job and some stability, so you'll be able to pay for it yourself.”

You tried to argue and tried to talk back, but your tongue was thick. 

A new apartment. Living alone, being alone, for any amount of time, felt daunting. 

But Spencer took one more step towards the door and then another, and you had no choice but to walk with him, hand slipping down and grasping his like it was your lifeline. 

The drive to whatever new apartment your parents had leased for you was silent, and the storms in your head grew until they'd taken up so much space they erupted forth, darkening the actual skies. A crash of thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance just as he pulled into the building. Luckily for you, there was underground parking, so you didn't even need to contemplate letting the lightning hit you. 

There was one space left, and Spencer pulled his car in, flipping the engine off and getting out without another word. 

He led you up the stairs, then he led you to your floor, then he led you to your door and handed you the keys. 

You felt cold as you opened the doors, knowing you were about to confront items of boxes that had watched you be burned, cut, slapped, beaten.

There were no boxes behind the door. Everything had, to your shock, been unboxed and staged already. 

You recognised magnets on the fridge, stuffed animals on the bed when you made your way to your bedroom. Your toiletries were neatly tidied into your medicine cabinet, hell, even your bookshelves had your own dog-eared copies of books well past their prime. 

You had every comfort and joy without having to push yourself through the pain of thinking about where these items had last been kept. 

There were new things too. The couch was definitely second-hand, but it wasn't the one you'd brought at Goodwill the week after your college graduation. That one was stained red, no doubt, somewhere in a tip. There was bedding and sheets and blankets and plates and forks and knives - a whole household of items that someone had chosen. 

You turned back to Spencer and cried. You buried your face in his chest and wrapped yourself around him again as he held you. 

And then, realizing he'd been the one to orchestrate this, if not the one who had arranged everything himself, you pushed up on the balls of your feet, and you kissed him. 

For the few seconds it lasted, it was brilliance. The pressure on your lips after a second had your heart singing as he kissed you back, your hands balling into his shirt as you stepped closer and closer, needing to be wrapped around him, buried in safety and warmth. 

He pulled back and stepped out of your reach too quickly, the back of his hand reaching up to his mouth as if checking that it was still there, that he'd actually just been kissing you back. 

“Y/N, you don't…we can't do that.” 

“Do what?” You said, creeping forward, needing to feel him beside you again. 

“You're not… you don't feel about me the way you think you feel about me,” he said, pushing your hair behind your ear as you wrapped your arms around his waist again. 

“How do I feel?” 

“Grateful. Y/N, this is gratitude. I saved you, and so you think you are in love with me. It's called transference, and you will deeply, deeply regret this one day.” 

The urgency in his tone had you flinching, even if he was trying to talk to you as softly as possible. For a moment, you'd done as he'd asked and forgotten you were a victim. It was apparently something he himself would not forget anytime soon.

You stood around awkwardly for another minute or two. 

“What…what now?” You asked, avoiding the kiss and whatever lay in that direction.

“I'll walk you through the emergency contact numbers. The apartment building is pretty old, so there's a wall phone in the kitchen, but there are some modern amenities, too. The laundry room is on the first floor, next to the porters office. I'm in apartment 23 on the second floor, and-” 

“What?” Your entire body buzzed, hearing him speak, and you almost forgot to breathe, rushing to stand straight again.

“I… I live on the floor below,” he said, almost cautiously now that you'd thrown yourself at him. “I thought you might enjoy the company.”

He gave you a weak smile and you wanted to kiss him all over again, to press your lips again and again into the soft flesh of his skin, his lips, his nose, his cheeks, his neck, his chest. 

You wanted him to hold you. You stood by the sofa and let your grip on a cushion tighten to stop from throwing yourself at him again. One rejection was enough for the day. 

Not that you stopped in the weeks to come. 

Spencer had himself relegated to office work for the first month as you rode out the waves of your grief, sticking by his side for comfort.

Your friends came and went, but they wore the stench of ‘I told you so’ and ‘I saw that coming,’ and you suffocated on it after so long. 

Every day after he returned home, you arrived at him door and threw yourself into his open arms, sitting with him for hours. Most days, you read together, ignoring that the man flipped pages three times as fast as you did. Some nights, you watched shows or movies, making your way through three companions worth of “New Who” in a week.

Each time you came, he took care of your food, ordering or cooking simple pasta dishes for you. 

He told you about the time his coworker had taught him how to make the perfect pasta, berating him for putting oil in his pasta water, and damn near drawing his weapon while he made sure he salted it. 

You laughed together and ate together, and you forgot together. 

Your life was back to normal when you got your first job interview. It's nothing spectacular, but it was enough that it would pay the bills to the apartment whose lease is a ticking bomb counting down to 0. It was a normal office, where you would be doing normal work that you had absolutely done before. 

The interview was normal, the female employee that meets you first reassuring you that the company is safe, their employees vetted and supported. 

And the company makes feminine hygiene products anyway, so they don't attract too many men, or at least none like the monster you'd known. 

All in all, the interview went well. 

It went well all the way until you reached the bus stop. You felt eyes on you, watching your movements, but you couldn't see anyone else focusing on you particularly.

You felt the stares on the bus, and the stares when you got off the bus two stops early. You felt the stares walking around the block three times to throw whatever was following you around off your track. You felt the stares as you sat outside Spencer's apartment until 6:45pm, when he came home and found you there. Your interview had been at 1pm.

“Y/N, what's wrong?” He said, immediately holding you and guiding you into the apartment. 

Your anxiety and fear had settled into self-loathing and disappointment. You let him hold you quietly, rejecting food and conversation. 

You sat quietly with him on his sofa as he held a book in one hand, stroking your hair with another as you laid on his chest. 

The emotions of the day were overwhelming, consuming the part of your brain that had started being happy again for the first time. You grew angry at the sadness for seeping back in, and in an act of rebellion, you pushed back up and kissed Spencer once more. 

His brain was slower to react this time, even if his body wasn't. 

You straddled his hips as your lips joined his, melting together in a hot embrace. He dropped his book quickly, hand resting on your hip as the one that had been stroking your hair angled your jaw up so he could set the pace. 

All your emotions were swept away in a wave of desire as you slowly rubbed against him, butt shifting as you clumsily followed your arousal past your worldly knowledge. 

You couldn't even think about what was next because your tongue was clashing with Spencer's, and your brain was short circuiting. 

The second you let out your first whimper of pleasure, he pushed you away and stood up, crossing the room to put distance between you, just as he had a month beforr. 

“Y/N, you had a bad day, but this isn't… This isn't how you should make yourself feel better.” 

“Spencer-” 

“I told you about transference before, Y/N, you need to listen to me. I'm not… I'm not the one for you.” His voice shook as he ran his hands through his hair in stress, body tense in a way that informed you he was holding himself back. 

“Transference. Transference…” You sat upright on his couch and let all the logic rush back into your brain at once. 

“Y/N?” He asked, voice shaking as he watched you zone out of the conversation, almost afraid that he'd damaged you again. 

“Is there… Is there something wrong with transference?” You asked, voice impossibly calm as you still stared straight forward. 

He moved towards you again and knelt at the floor in front of you, clutching your hands in his. 

“Y/N, you don't really want me like that, you don't, you can't-”

“Love you?” You asked, your voice finally breaking, eyes finally meeting his.

It was as if you knocked the wind out of him. He sat there completely dumbstruck. 

“It might not be love, okay, I'll admit that. But you're… you're strong and smart, and you take care of me. And you're attractive, and you make me happy, which is something I didn't think I'd ever be again-” 

“Y/N, something happened to you today, and you threw yourself at me. You threw yourself at me when you moved into your apartment. You felt stressed, and you reacted, Y/N. You don't love me.”

You sat calmly listening to his words again, your body still aching for his touch, your heart still pounding in your chest. 

“Okay. Okay. So if I do…this when I'm not feeling vulnerable, then what? Then you'll believe me?” 

“Y/N…” he sighed in defeat, hand again raking through his hair. 

You grabbed your things and stood up off the couch, bending to press another kiss to his lips before you parted. 

He was shocked silent, but that didn't stop him from chasing your lips as you rose, rising to his knees and then his feet as you walked away from him.

“I'll see you tomorrow, Spencer. Get some sleep,” you said, letting yourself out or the apartment and carrying yourself, heavy and dejected, upstairs. 

If Spencer was anticipating seeing you again the next morning, he wasn't anticipating seeing you in his office.

“Spencer,” you called out as you walked into the bullpen, clipping your visitors badge into place again, making sure it wasn't crooked.

Immediately, he stood from his desk and rose to meet you, ignoring the looks from his coworkers as his hands landed on your arms, immediately checking on you. 

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” He whispered, checking for tears, or injuries, or something to show him your motive for seeking him out. 

You just smiled at him, brushing a hair behind your ear when you saw him hesitate making that same gesture. 

“I was summoned. They need my statement to corroborate your weapon discharge paperwork, and Agent Hotchner called earlier.” 

His hands dropped as he breathed a steady sigh of relief, trying to make his reaction smaller than he knew it was. He was afraid something had happened to you again, and he was so caught up in his relief, that he didn't notice you moving closer until your lips were on his cheek and you were waving him off as you ascended the stairs to Hotch's office with your escort. 

“Spencer,” Morgan's voice called from behind him, and he turned hesitantly. 

“What was that?” 

He felt the eyes on him, and he pushed all thoughts of you to the side in place of total rationality. 

“I explained transference to her but… she doesn't seem to - she doesn't care.” 

“Spencer the last time I saw that girl, she was practically the walking dead. She just smiled.” Morgan said, shaking his head. But Spencer was watching you, and not his friend, and really, he wasn't even listening.

“Spencer? Spencer?” Morgan said again, rising to get in the man's face some more until he finally looked at him again. 

“She thinks she's in love with me.” 

“How do you know she isn't?” 

You kept working on him, little by little, day by day, until Spencer's field work started again. 

A little part of you was sad that he wouldn't always be around every day anymore. But you'd got that job and got over yourself as you started going out more. You made friends at your office, and you went out and laughed and joked with old college roommates. You felt like a human being again, and to no one's surprise, you still wanted Spencer Reid. 

He left every Monday on a case, and by the time Wednesday rolled around, you missed him. Going out to drinks with some coworkers after clocking off certainly didn't sate your appetite for him. 

“Spencer,” you said, breathily into the phone when he picked up, throwing yourself onto your bed. 

“Y/N, what happened? Is everything alright? Do you need me to come back?”

“No, Spencer, I just-” you hiccupped and giggled before continuing. “I just missed you so much.” 

The silence on the line was suddenly so funny to you, and you giggled again. Feeling hot, you stripped down to your underwear and started talking again. 

“I miss cuddling up to you and crawling all over you. You're really soft, you know?” You sighed, hands trailing up and down your stomach lightly. 

“Y/N,” he said in a warning tone. 

“I miss your face. I'm switching to video call,” you announced and fumbled with your phone. 

“No, Y/N, wait-” he said, but pulling the phone away from his ears, he realized his protests were too late to matter as he took in your half-naked form. 

Though your face took up the majority of the view on the camera, he could see the soft trim of your lace bra poking into the camera, and the generous push of cleavage your angle facilitated to boot. 

Checking around him for people looking, he tucked himself into a corner and scowled back at you. 

“Y/N, this isn't a game. Turn the call off and go to bed.” 

“But I miss you,” you whined. 

“Y/N,” he hissed, eyes falling to your hands where you'd begun massaging your heavy breasts. 

“When are you coming home?” You asked, whining again like a petulant child as the alcohol flushed through your system, bringing all of your desires to the forefront. 

“Soon,” he said, not trusting himself to say more than a word. 

“Good. Because I miss you. Spencer, I- I think I want to have sex with you.” 

His eyes shut as he tried to remain calm even as your words rang in his ears from 1000 miles away.

“We'll talk soon, Y/N. Good night,” he closed, finally hanging up and covering his face in his hands. He made his way quickly to his motel room, threw his phone down on his bed, and ignored as best he could his throbbing cock in his pants and the three pictures you'd sent him since he hung up. 

He didn't resist for long. 

Three nights later, you found yourself at a bar, living life to the fullest. You'd taken back to society like a swan to water, and you weren't letting the stern words of Spencer Reid keep you down. Knocking back another shot, you smiled and cheered with your friends until you felt the eyes on you again. It was different this time, though, hotter, and closer. You turned to look at the door and saw Spencer Reid and the other people who'd saved your life walking to a booth. It was Spencer's eyes on you. 

You definitely did not believe in a higher power - how could you, after all - but you did believe that this was fate. 

You blew him a kiss as he watched you walk back to your table with another cocktail in hand, letting a man who'd been trying to flirt with you earlier follow you to your friends. 

When you went for your next drink, you found him at your side in a heartbeat. 

“I'm not checking up on you,” he said, even though he was. “I'm ordering a drink.” 

“Two drinks,” you said, shooting him a flirty smile as you pressed yourself against him again, chest to chest. 

“You're ordering two drinks, Spencer,” you whispered into his ears as his head dropped down to within an inch of your own. The air felt changed, but you refused to move to close the gap. You'd put in the work the last few times. You needed Spencer to be the one to take the chance this time. 

He ordered your drinks, and still you didn't move apart, huddled together as if you were whispering conspiracies to one another. 

When your drink was firmly in your hand, he grabbed your wrist and led you to a dark corner of the bar. You sipped your drink quickly, managing two swigs before he took it and placed both drinks down - right beside Penelope Garcia - and dragged you out into the hall. 

The bathrooms were empty when he pushed you inside, and your heart throbbed as his hands pushed you into a stall, lifted your legs to wrap around him, and then his lips finally crashed into yours. 

Transference or whatever else it was supposed to be, you didn't give one shit in that moment as his tongue coaxed your lips apart.

His hands didn't stay in place for long as he dragged them up and down your body, exploring every part he'd memorized from the pictures. Every curve or inch he'd previously held tenderly, gently, he now raked over with the hunger of arousal, pushing your short skirt up until it was past your hips and his fingers could sink into you instead. 

You were soaked before he even had one digit inside you, his thumb rubbing roughly against your clit as you turned to jelly in his hands. 

You'd masturbated before, sure, you were a grown woman. But the feeling of someone else's hands, someone else's hest, the knowledge that someone else desired you so badly that they'd drag you into a bar bathroom just to sate their lust? That was new, and it was exciting. 

His lips covered yours as your legs shook, silencing every moan, every whimper with his tongue. It was wild, messy, your tongues clashing wildly and messily as your hips rocked violently, trying to reach that high, but also trying to make this last past his fingers. 

It wasn't to be though as you shuddered around his three digits, your orgasm ripping through you silently, leaving you wide-eyed and wide mouthed. 

“We're done,” he said, gently kissing your cheek as be stood you up, letting you stretch out the soreness in your muscles. 

“For now?” 

“Forever, Y/N. This was a mistake.”

Your heart hit the ground, and he stomped on it, but the anger filling your gut pushed up and out before he could completely bow out. 

“No,” you ground out through gritted teeth. 

“Y/N, you aren't in love with me. You feel grateful that I saved you, you feel attracted to me because I'm older and you think I can protect you, and a little part of it is that you've always been attracted to men who are dangerous. You're not in love with me, so-” 

“You sound like him.”

Shocked, he paused, and his grip on your hips tightened until his nails were biting into your skin. 

“What?” 

“You're telling me how to feel, you're telling me what to do. You sound like him.” 

“Y/N, that is unfair-” 

“Unfair is denying that I'd know how I'm fucking feeling to let you wallow in self sacrifice, Spencer. Unfair is playing the martyr when we can both see that you want this as fucking badly as I do.” 

You didn't give him a second longer to react, but grabbed him by the wrist and, making sure your skirt was once again in place, pulled him back out of the bathroom and into the club. 

Stopping by Penelope, you put his drink in his hand and grabbed yours, downing it quickly. He followed your actions, taking a sip until you were done and slamming your drink back on the table. 

Then you kept him moving, pushing doors open, hailing a cab, and climbing in with him hot on your heels.

You kept your grip on him tight until you'd marched him to his apartment. Releasing him, you flattened your back against his door, letting him slowly unlock the door as you spoke to him again finally.

“Do it, Spencer. Be my first.” 

It was like he was a different man walking over that threshold. His hand were on your face, his tongue again fighting yours as you stumbled back into the apartment, crashing into the wall, then the coffee table, and then the couch. 

You cursed in anger hitting his closed bedroom door and pushed him away to open it yourself, but his arms wrapped around you from the back and he sucked bruises against your neck as his hands grabbed your breasts and squeezed them.

His cock was rigid in his pants, and your body ached for the unknown, the soon to come pleasure that he was to deliver. 

He pushed you down onto the bed quickly, and you rolled yourself over, pulling your own dress off as quickly as possible. 

“That's my job,” he moaned, meeting your lips again as his hands fell to your underwear once again. 

“You have a long to-do list, Spencer, I'm just helping,” you smirked as he kissed you again, your hands shakily working down each button of his shirt as you acted to tear it off of him. 

“We have all night,” he replied, fingers once again rubbing at your bundle of nerves, hips pushing up and into his hands. 

“No, Spencer. No, we don't. I need you now.” 

His mouth covered yours again as you finally, finally got his shirt off, letting him throw it to the floor as you started working on his belt. Your legs spread as he inched closer, sitting between your thighs comfortably as he waited with bated breath for you to finally touch his cock.  

You knew what dicks looked like, you knew what they were supposed to feel like, but you never realised you'd want to touch one so fucking badly until his sprung from his pants. 

He took your hand and spit in it before you wrapped your fingers around him and felt the heat of his cock pulsing against you. 

He was big, long more than girthy, and you wondered how thousands of years of women had managed to survive coupling if this was the weapon meant to numb them into horny submission. 

One stroke, and you were a mess, his fingers hooking into you as you flicked your wrist up and down. 

You watched his precum rise and swiped it up in one finger, tasting it as he groaned and started thrusting up, fucking your hand as he scissored his fingers inside of you. 

He stretched you out, readying you for his thick cock, and you gladly sat there, letting him use you and ready you all at once. 

When you were ready, he wrapped his arms around you again, lifting you onto the bed properly and laying you down softly in the sheets. Kneeling to roll on the condom he'd grabbed from his bedside table, you watched in curiosity as you tried to memorize every movement, every second of him sinking into you. 

The tears in your eyes were emotion just as much as pain, your heart hammering in your ears as he whispered praise into your ear, dropping confessions like bombs. 

“You're taking me so well, Y/N, that's good…” he moaned, pushing in one inch. 

“That's it, Y/N, just a little more. I love you, you can do it,” he said, sinking in two more. 

“You feel so good, Y/N, made just for me,” he said as he finally hit your limit. 

You knew the stretch wasn't the end, and he rested there for a second, letting you get used to him before you lost patience with him. 

“Spencer just, just push through,” you grit out, and he did, snapping his hips up just that.inch or two more and sending that spark of pain through you. 

In an instant, his lips were on yours, his fingers on your clit, flooding your nerves with pleasure as all you could think of was the pain. 

But when the pain faded, there was still him, and his cock neatly sheathed inside of you. 

His hips moved languidly at first, his entire body weight pushing down on you, lazily twisting and writhing as of this were just one of your cuddles on the couch. 

You whimpered, and he moved faster, and you learnt quickly that your noises and sighs to him were what his praise was to you - motivation.

You moaned, and he picked up his pace, moving faster as you whimpered a lustful ‘yes’ into his ear. 

“Good girl, good girl, Y/N, that's it. Good girl,” he repeated, unable to say more as you whimpered and cried under him, speech lost as he split you in half with his dick.

You grew louder, and his cock buried itself deeper, your moans dragged on longer and he picked up speed. 

He whispered that you were his perfect little slut, and you jolted in his arms, cumming on his cock and screaming his name. 

He kept pumping into you, careful to make sure the condom stayed in place as he finally bottomed out and let pleasure roll through him again.

Coming down from his high, your tongue pushed into his mouth, and you rolled him over, sitting yp on his dick as he watched. 

You rose off his cock, letting him stare in wonder as your own arousal dripped off of your skin, his cock coated in arousal, and spit from his fingers and, yes, a little bit of blood. 

You crawled back and peeled off the condom, tying It quickly and discarding it before you tasted his cum quickly. 

It was just a soft lick, but it had him declaring his love for you again, and you decided that there were very few things you wouldn't do to hear those words. 

As delightful as your lips felt, though, he quickly bundled you up and forced you to the bathroom, turning on the taps in the bath and placing you on the toilet before leaving. 

Even now, after everything, he was still taking care of you. Maybe especially now. 

You finished, and he came back. More stolen kisses and moans and a bath that turned into more later, and you found yourself bundled into his spare clothes and wrapped in his arms on his couch again. 

He clicked play on another episode of Doctor Who (you'd finally reached Donna, and he was excitedly introducing you to the new character), and you finally looked up at him again.

“I love you,” you said again, loudly this time, with no fear. 

Though his training told him the response he should give, Spencer just looked down at you again and gave in to his heart. 

“I love you, too.” 

You fell asleep quickly after that, head resting over his heart, the sound of the steady beats lulling you to sleep. 

[joonipertree]

Imagine being Mikey's girlfriend and having so many teenagers giving you respect as if you're the leader of the number one biker gang in Tokyo.

Imagine how confused everyone in your school is when a group of bulky, testosterone filled, aggressive high schoolers come and bow at a 90° angle. You're staring with reddened cheeks because ???????????

But they're off to go to class without a word, muttering to themselves. Your classmates and friends are like: "dude what the fuck happened?" and you're like "I don't even know."

Then some fuckers come and offer to hold your bag for you? To get you lunch? Someone gave you their bento? And everyone starts noticing how it's only the delinquents that do it. Mostly the ones wearing the Tokyo Manji uniform.

If there's a Toman member in class, you bet your ass they'd threaten the teacher for you. Like "They got that answer right!!" and you're like "no!!! I didn't!!!"

You're so scared your teachers were gonna give you detention. Or call your parents to let them know their child had a gaggle of delinquents doing their bidding.

God, imagine if they call you a title. Like "princess" or something. I can't even think of a title suited for this. But like something cringey that gets you annoyed and the clueless people around you start having even weirder theories.

Biggest one? You're the Yakuza's daughter.

IMAGINE!!!! IF SOME OF THE TOMAN INNER CIRCLE WERE THERE SJSNSNSJKSKWKA

I'm imagining Baji and chifuyu laughing their ass off in the corner, on the floor, gasping for air. And when you notice them, you run and ask if they had anything to do with this.

Baji wishes and chifuyu was growing purple from lack of oxygen. You kicked at them and wacked them with your book. WHICH MADE THINGS WORSE BECAUSE YOUR FELLOW STUDENTS ARE SEEING U BEAT UP GANG MEMBERS. YOURE A RAGING MONSTER IN THEIR EYES NOW.

If the toman members see this, do you think they'd be afraid of you? They'd be shaking in their boots at someone most likely half their size and that couldn't even win an arm wrestling match.

You'd ask Baji and chifuyu to tell them to stop. They would very loudly call you princess and run away cackling.

I'm pretty sure in highschool, the inner circle go to the same school. I don't remember but Takemitchy, Hakkai and Chifuyu go to the same school right?

If you think Takemitchy would help, chifuyu convinced him not to. Anyone else there is just someone you couldn't get a hold of. And you just ended up ignoring the delinquents and going about your day. Which just made you look like even more of a gang leader, walking down a hallway with a blank stare while people around you bowed.

Some non delinquents call you princess and you're telling them that "no, it's a prank. A sick joke that my boyfriend is playing on me."

People realise very quickly why you were being treated like royalty when the school day ended.

Because lo and behold, The Invincible Mikey was standing at the gate, leaning against his infamous bike as he waited for you. People just stopped and stared, not bothering leaving the vicinity, out of curiosity and maybe fear.

You see Mikey and start stomping towards him, everyone holding their breath because 'the yakuzas daughter was going head to head with the captain of the Tokyo Manji Gang.'

But Mikey was smiling brightly, arms open for a hug as he made grabby hands at you.

You came close and kicked him on the shin.

I honestly can't imagine everyone's reaction. Stunned silence. It's a sense of doom I think. A sense of 'rest in peace'. But also, the utter shock and respect you'd just accumulated from your peers in a second. You had some mad fucking balls to do that shit. Even full grown adults wouldn't do something like that to Sano Manjiro. People were ready to join your followers and praise you.

The kick was weak by the way, Mikey didn't even flinch. He just looked confused and then you ranted to him about your day and suddenly he was fully relying on his Babu to hold him up. Because my god, was he laughing his ass off. He couldn't breathe.

If Ken-chin was with him, let's be honest he would be, the man would also be on his knees dying of laughter. Just...imagine every Toman member that's part of the inner circle.... laughing vehemently at you for this.

With grumbles and glares, you try walking home by yourself but Mikey is quick to pull you back into his arms. His laughter hadn't stopped but he was leaning on you now.

The way one sinewy hand was on your waist while the other was tangled in your hair...made it very clear what you guys were to each other.

It was a collective 'oh.....oh' moment.

Mikey peppered many apologetic kisses on your cheeks and you whined about how embarrassing it was and how people were watching. Unbeknownst to you, Mikey had slyly made eye contact with anyone staring and glared daggers at them.

Ken-chin then decided to stand in front of the two of you and throw daggers at the on lookers for him.

And as much as you wanted to push away, you leant into his kisses and let him give you one on the nose and forehead. He tasted sweet on your lips too and your arms were around his neck, pulling away to stop the boy from going overboard like he always did.

"I'll treat you to lunch to make up for it?" Mikey whisperer gently, eyes soft and lovesick.

"Promise to call a meeting and tell everyone to stop?"

Mikey snorted, "Yes princess."

The punch on his arm was a lot harder. Mikey made an exaggerated pained expression, snickering to himself as he pulled you in close.

"It's not like it's a lie, though. You should be treated like royalty and have everyone do your bidding."

The blush that rose on your cheeks made his heart flutter.

"Only you can....treat me like that."

Oh he's not letting go of you any time soon.

Bonus: Later on, when you meet Baji and Chifuyu...they call you princess and burst out laughing. You promptly throw both of your shoes at them.

I also feel like if the Haitani brothers caught wind of this, it'd just be the worst for you. They are the snarkiest motherfuckers.

[myafterlifeisbetterthenyours]

Hii, hope u're doing ok in ur break. If the slot is till open, can i request Sir Pentious n Alastor with a dom male! reader who used to be a detective before he died?

I like the thought of Alastor being with someone who's supposed to arrest him (lol), and making him call the reader 'sir' a lot.

You Have The Right To Remain Silent... If You Can~

Sir Pentious

You slammed the serpent onto the desk, bending him over as you slid a hand down his scaly form, gripping his surprisingly curvaceous hips.

Yanking his head back by his hood, you growled in his ear.

"Where are you hiding the weapons?"

The man gasped softly, back arching as he swallowed the lump in his throat, scaly rear almost presenting to you.

"I'll never tell!" He whined, trying to pull from your grasp, only to moan as you gripped his hood even tighter, pulling him close.

You yanked his arms back, snapped a pair of cuffs onto him.

They were cheap cuffs, stuff from a xheapo store, you sure if the man tried hard enough they'd break, yet you knew he wouldn't, the man whining softly as you leant over him.

With a sadistic smile, you gripped his face, pulling him in close.

"Tell me, and this can be easy. Ooor you could resist, and I could be very, very Hard on you~" you growled, practically grinding on him.

The man simply moaned, biting his lower lip.

"So, you think you can break me?! I'd love to see you try!" He cried triumphantly, as you leaned in, breathing heavy on his neck.

You smirked, yanking on his hood as you slammed his face into the desk.

"Oh don't worry. I'm not scared to throw the book at you." You growled, leaning in close, practically purring in his ear. "But with you, snake boy... you should be careful, cause if you keep resisting imma spank you with it."

You growled, slapping his scaly "ass", Pentious moaning lewdly as he practically pushed back in your hand.

The man all but whining as you manhandled him.

You had some back and forth, Pentious declaring he'd never reveal his secrets, you determined to 'drill' them out of him, using your 'experience' on Pentious. Putting that top notch detective experience to work.

Of course you weren't too rough. You were too experienced a detective to rough him up enough to leave marks, well, to leave bad marks, you left plenty of fun marks on the man, though even then he never minded a bit of rough play.

Having the man at your mercy was always a lovely thrill, Pentious a giddy idiot when intimate, but he was surprisingly capable at theatrics when in the mood, man a damsel at your mercy.

Well, not necessarily at your mercy, Pentious was totally in on it, the man all but eager to submit to 'your authority', putting up as much of a fight as he was expected too.

You didn't get too rough, well, not physically, as you didnt wanna leave marks, not that Pentious minded marks, he just didn't want the sort you couldn't explain off.

Pinning him to the desk, you'd hold him close, kissing and suckling his delicate neck flesh, drawing a string of moans and whines from the man, Pentious moaning loudly as you suddenly bit the snakes neck.

This was hardly the first time you'd played this role, Pentious particular to a bit of power play, especially when you so naturally knew your part.

And despite the man's craving for status and power, he relished the way you dominated him, a big goofy grin across his face as you used your once lawful abilities to hold power over others, the snake fascinated with almost supernatural power you held over him, almost as much as the hold you had on his body.

And while he'd never publicly admit it, the snake loved submitting every tume you took charge.

You treated him like any other perp, cuffing the man as you... had your fun~

Pentious loved every second of it, you always sure he enjoyed it, the snake loving it when you were in power.

This was a surprisingly big part of your relationship, the two of you having a deeply intimate connection.

Pentious relishing more then just the idea of you, but the sheer dominance you could exert, the man both loving and desperately wanting to emulate your dominant abilities.

And while the sexual aspect was always heavy, he really craved to know how to dominate, you trying to show the snake just how to be more dominant.

Yet despite your abilities and attempts, the man occasionally having bouts of success, you always held the cards in your relationship.

You'd of course teach the snake many of the skills you held.

You were a veteran detective before death, and as such you knew far more about the minds of others then many Sinners in Hell, a skill Pentious desperately wished to emulate.

Of course, when not engaging in Detective themed S&M, you had a deeply romantic relationship.

Pentious, despite himself, was desperate for intimacy. The man adoring the fact he had someone to care and attend to, and you damn well knew it.

The snake was always amazed at your deductive abilities, you able to trll much about him before he even spoke, you doing your best to teach him, too... mixed results.

But despite the regular 'Cops and Robbers' routine, you also had a deeply intimate relationship, you often spending great lengths of time with the man.

You, of course, let him keep something of an illusion of control, the man allowed to build his air fleet and egg-boi army, you keeping a watch of it all, but the man ultimately free to do as he pleased.

Of course, you barely had to assert yourself to dominate the man, Pentious immediately folding any time you so much as touched him, the Serpent relishing your touch in his life, craving your affection.

You had the snake wrapped around your fingers, Pentious loving it any time you flexed your power over him, The snake loving to puff up his ego, but the man quivering if you so much as purred in his ear.

You and your 'big bad snake' shared a deep, if lopsided, relationship, as while the man relished asserting his power and status, he adored when you asserted your power over him, two of you having a deeply adoring relationship.

Alastor

Your little back and forth with Alastor was long running, the man finding you exceptionally interesting.

You were in your 'office', the man sat in a chair as you stood over the man.

"My, Mr Detective, aren't you going to read me my rights?"

You simply smirked, yanking on his dishevelled neck tie, the man biting his lip as you stared down at the man, the Radio Demon's wrists bound behind his back.

The man who was so used to getting his way, that having the man at your whim, the man at your mercy, it was a refreshing change of pace for the man.

And if you happen to play into the roaring persona of an ABU agent eager to 'question' him with some... unorthadox interrogation tactics.

"Oh don't worry, I'll make sure you know every right and wrong you've got~"

Alastor knew this song and dance, having endured such treatment when alive, something he was sure to remind you of every time you had your little 'play sessions'.

You always eager to play into the role, playing up your persona, usually with a distinct shift, either rank or position, or his Crime.

Always making sure to play into it. Hard. Relishing your 'play time' with thr man, the dapper demon seemingly appreciating your theatrics as you pressed him into a wall. Or desk. Or the back of your car.

Or over your car.

Or on that ferris-wheel that one time.

Pressing your body to his, getting closer then any man ever had, binding his wrists with his own dress shirt as you slid your hands into his belt line.

"Looks like youll be going in for some Hard Time?"

You growling in his ear, working over his lithe form, drawing out a string of breathless moans from the man.

Alastor purred, a crackle of static as his back arched, you relishing this control, always managing to illicite a moan from the man.

The demon, despite his pride, was deeply susceptible to your detective persona, the man, in an oddly reminiscent episode enjoyed reliving his mortal years, the thrill of the back and forth. And of the Hunt~

The man was witty, and smug, as he was in life, always eager for your 'play time'. Which was iron8c since he wasnt all too partial to physical contact, yet with you he adored those 'rendezvous' always eager to elicit a rise out of you, man partial to some pain.

Though even as you slammed him against your desk, flesh pressed against flesh, the man always doing his best to keep up his smug persona, his way of encouraging you to 'put him in his place'.

You had an exceptionally smug back and forth every time, Alastor exceptionally snarky, well, until you smacked his ass, Alastor suppressing a whine as you leaning in close, biting his neck.

Now, Alastor would never admit as much, but he was very partial to a good bite on the neck, the man often whining like a doe when you sunk your teeth into the man's neck. A favour he would often return, you having more then a few bloody Tshirts due to the man.

The man would often end up as a whining, mewling mess, eyes crossing as you held the man down, turning Alastor into a moaning, whining mess, utterly submitting to you when in your office.

Of course the man would never admit as much publicly, keeping up his ever smug radio persona when in public.

But when in the privacy of your own home, he'd playfully submit, allowing you to 'take charge', you usually ending up inside of him.

One way or another.

The man, despite his pride, loved your little games of back and forths, able to experience real dominance, a breath of fresh air for such a powerful demon, the dapper demon so used to being the most powerful person in the room, he received an alien body of energy every time.

Of course, your past as a detective was always a point of teasing and prodding for the man, the man loving to work you up with idiotic questions until you'd end up snapping, said snapping usually ending with him bound to a chair, missing half his clothing, his neck utterly covered in big red bite marks.

A big dopey grin on his face with his hair all kinds'ah fucked up.

You were a constant source of entertainment, as whenever you werent 'investigating' something, i.e his body, you were usually enduring his teases and taunts, the man always happy to get a rise out of you, you quickly reminding him who was in charge.

Your favourite being to bind his wrists with his own bowtie, regularly blindfolding him before having your way with him, leaving a whole myriad of new marks and scars.

Alastor liked to pretend otherwise, but it was painfully obvious he was always eager for it, even as he moaned and squirmed, back arching as he practically begged, something he desperately tried not too do, but you always managed to squeeze it out of him, among with other things~

When not engaging in sexually deviance, the two of you had an exceptionally romantic relationship, as even as he was hesitant to show real intimacy, or well, public intimacy was mostly off the table.

Of course, you'd still manage to get something from the man, usually a simple kiss, or affectionate nuzzle, a monumental achievement for anybody. One you always celebrated in your own smug little way.

And yes, he'd never reveal the inner dynamics of your relationship, something you didn't blame him for, he was as vain as you were assertive. You still shared a loving, and disproportionately assertive, relationship, the two of you loving each other deeply, adoring each other. Usually with Alastor being bent over a desk being your favourite way to show it to each other~

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Demon-haunted computers are back, baby

Catch me in Miami! I'll be at Books and Books in Coral Gables on Jan 22 at 8PM.

As a science fiction writer, I am professionally irritated by a lot of sf movies. Not only do those writers get paid a lot more than I do, they insist on including things like "self-destruct" buttons on the bridges of their starships.

Look, I get it. When the evil empire is closing in on your flagship with its secret transdimensional technology, it's important that you keep those secrets out of the emperor's hand. An irrevocable self-destruct switch there on the bridge gets the job done! (It has to be irrevocable, otherwise the baddies'll just swarm the bridge and toggle it off).

But c'mon. If there's a facility built into your spaceship that causes it to explode no matter what the people on the bridge do, that is also a pretty big security risk! What if the bad guy figures out how to hijack the measure that – by design – the people who depend on the spaceship as a matter of life and death can't detect or override?

I mean, sure, you can try to simplify that self-destruct system to make it easier to audit and assure yourself that it doesn't have any bugs in it, but remember Schneier's Law: anyone can design a security system that works so well that they themselves can't think of a flaw in it. That doesn't mean you've made a security system that works – only that you've made a security system that works on people stupider than you.

I know it's weird to be worried about realism in movies that pretend we will ever find a practical means to visit other star systems and shuttle back and forth between them (which we are very, very unlikely to do):

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/09/astrobezzle/#send-robots-instead

But this kind of foolishness galls me. It galls me even more when it happens in the real world of technology design, which is why I've spent the past quarter-century being very cross about Digital Rights Management in general, and trusted computing in particular.

It all starts in 2002, when a team from Microsoft visited our offices at EFF to tell us about this new thing they'd dreamed up called "trusted computing":

https://pluralistic.net/2020/12/05/trusting-trust/#thompsons-devil

The big idea was to stick a second computer inside your computer, a very secure little co-processor, that you couldn't access directly, let alone reprogram or interfere with. As far as this "trusted platform module" was concerned, you were the enemy. The "trust" in trusted computing was about other people being able to trust your computer, even if they didn't trust you.

So that little TPM would do all kinds of cute tricks. It could observe and produce a cryptographically signed manifest of the entire boot-chain of your computer, which was meant to be an unforgeable certificate attesting to which kind of computer you were running and what software you were running on it. That meant that programs on other computers could decide whether to talk to your computer based on whether they agreed with your choices about which code to run.

This process, called "remote attestation," is generally billed as a way to identify and block computers that have been compromised by malware, or to identify gamers who are running cheats and refuse to play with them. But inevitably it turns into a way to refuse service to computers that have privacy blockers turned on, or are running stream-ripping software, or whose owners are blocking ads:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/02/self-incrimination/#wei-bai-bai

After all, a system that treats the device's owner as an adversary is a natural ally for the owner's other, human adversaries. The rubric for treating the owner as an adversary focuses on the way that users can be fooled by bad people with bad programs. If your computer gets taken over by malicious software, that malware might intercept queries from your antivirus program and send it false data that lulls it into thinking your computer is fine, even as your private data is being plundered and your system is being used to launch malware attacks on others.

These separate, non-user-accessible, non-updateable secure systems serve a nubs of certainty, a remote fortress that observes and faithfully reports on the interior workings of your computer. This separate system can't be user-modifiable or field-updateable, because then malicious software could impersonate the user and disable the security chip.

It's true that compromised computers are a real and terrifying problem. Your computer is privy to your most intimate secrets and an attacker who can turn it against you can harm you in untold ways. But the widespread redesign of out computers to treat us as their enemies gives rise to a range of completely predictable and – I would argue – even worse harms. Building computers that treat their owners as untrusted parties is a system that works well, but fails badly.

First of all, there are the ways that trusted computing is designed to hurt you. The most reliable way to enshittify something is to supply it over a computer that runs programs you can't alter, and that rats you out to third parties if you run counter-programs that disenshittify the service you're using. That's how we get inkjet printers that refuse to use perfectly good third-party ink and cars that refuse to accept perfectly good engine repairs if they are performed by third-party mechanics:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/24/rent-to-pwn/#kitt-is-a-demon

It's how we get cursed devices and appliances, from the juicer that won't squeeze third-party juice to the insulin pump that won't connect to a third-party continuous glucose monitor:

https://arstechnica.com/gaming/2020/01/unauthorized-bread-a-near-future-tale-of-refugees-and-sinister-iot-appliances/

But trusted computing doesn't just create an opaque veil between your computer and the programs you use to inspect and control it. Trusted computing creates a no-go zone where programs can change their behavior based on whether they think they're being observed.

The most prominent example of this is Dieselgate, where auto manufacturers murdered hundreds of people by gimmicking their cars to emit illegal amount of NOX. Key to Dieselgate was a program that sought to determine whether it was being observed by regulators (it checked for the telltale signs of the standard test-suite) and changed its behavior to color within the lines.

Software that is seeking to harm the owner of the device that's running it must be able to detect when it is being run inside a simulation, a test-suite, a virtual machine, or any other hallucinatory virtual world. Just as Descartes couldn't know whether anything was real until he assured himself that he could trust his senses, malware is always questing to discover whether it is running in the real universe, or in a simulation created by a wicked god:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/28/descartes-was-an-optimist/#uh-oh

That's why mobile malware uses clever gambits like periodically checking for readings from your device's accelerometer, on the theory that a virtual mobile phone running on a security researcher's test bench won't have the fidelity to generate plausible jiggles to match the real data that comes from a phone in your pocket:

https://arstechnica.com/information-technology/2019/01/google-play-malware-used-phones-motion-sensors-to-conceal-itself/

Sometimes this backfires in absolutely delightful ways. When the Wannacry ransomware was holding the world hostage, the security researcher Marcus Hutchins noticed that its code made reference to a very weird website: iuqerfsodp9ifjaposdfjhgosurijfaewrwergwea.com. Hutchins stood up a website at that address and every Wannacry-infection in the world went instantly dormant:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/10/flintstone-delano-roosevelt/#the-matrix

It turns out that Wannacry's authors were using that ferkakte URL the same way that mobile malware authors were using accelerometer readings – to fulfill Descartes' imperative to distinguish the Matrix from reality. The malware authors knew that security researchers often ran malicious code inside sandboxes that answered every network query with fake data in hopes of eliciting responses that could be analyzed for weaknesses. So the Wannacry worm would periodically poll this nonexistent website and, if it got an answer, it would assume that it was being monitored by a security researcher and it would retreat to an encrypted blob, ceasing to operate lest it give intelligence to the enemy. When Hutchins put a webserver up at iuqerfsodp9ifjaposdfjhgosurijfaewrwergwea.com, every Wannacry instance in the world was instantly convinced that it was running on an enemy's simulator and withdrew into sulky hibernation.

The arms race to distinguish simulation from reality is critical and the stakes only get higher by the day. Malware abounds, even as our devices grow more intimately woven through our lives. We put our bodies into computers – cars, buildings – and computers inside our bodies. We absolutely want our computers to be able to faithfully convey what's going on inside them.

But we keep running as hard as we can in the opposite direction, leaning harder into secure computing models built on subsystems in our computers that treat us as the threat. Take UEFI, the ubiquitous security system that observes your computer's boot process, halting it if it sees something it doesn't approve of. On the one hand, this has made installing GNU/Linux and other alternative OSes vastly harder across a wide variety of devices. This means that when a vendor end-of-lifes a gadget, no one can make an alternative OS for it, so off the landfill it goes.

It doesn't help that UEFI – and other trusted computing modules – are covered by Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act (DMCA), which makes it a felony to publish information that can bypass or weaken the system. The threat of a five-year prison sentence and a $500,000 fine means that UEFI and other trusted computing systems are understudied, leaving them festering with longstanding bugs:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/09/free-sample/#que-viva

Here's where it gets really bad. If an attacker can get inside UEFI, they can run malicious software that – by design – no program running on our computers can detect or block. That badware is running in "Ring -1" – a zone of privilege that overrides the operating system itself.

Here's the bad news: UEFI malware has already been detected in the wild:

https://securelist.com/cosmicstrand-uefi-firmware-rootkit/106973/

And here's the worst news: researchers have just identified another exploitable UEFI bug, dubbed Pixiefail:

https://blog.quarkslab.com/pixiefail-nine-vulnerabilities-in-tianocores-edk-ii-ipv6-network-stack.html

Writing in Ars Technica, Dan Goodin breaks down Pixiefail, describing how anyone on the same LAN as a vulnerable computer can infect its firmware:

https://arstechnica.com/security/2024/01/new-uefi-vulnerabilities-send-firmware-devs-across-an-entire-ecosystem-scrambling/

That vulnerability extends to computers in a data-center where the attacker has a cloud computing instance. PXE – the system that Pixiefail attacks – isn't widely used in home or office environments, but it's very common in data-centers.

Again, once a computer is exploited with Pixiefail, software running on that computer can't detect or delete the Pixiefail code. When the compromised computer is queried by the operating system, Pixiefail undetectably lies to the OS. "Hey, OS, does this drive have a file called 'pixiefail?'" "Nope." "Hey, OS, are you running a process called 'pixiefail?'" "Nope."

This is a self-destruct switch that's been compromised by the enemy, and which no one on the bridge can de-activate – by design. It's not the first time this has happened, and it won't be the last.

There are models for helping your computer bust out of the Matrix. Back in 2016, Edward Snowden and bunnie Huang prototyped and published source code and schematics for an "introspection engine":

https://assets.pubpub.org/aacpjrja/AgainstTheLaw-CounteringLawfulAbusesofDigitalSurveillance.pdf

This is a single-board computer that lives in an ultraslim shim that you slide between your iPhone's mainboard and its case, leaving a ribbon cable poking out of the SIM slot. This connects to a case that has its own OLED display. The board has leads that physically contact each of the network interfaces on the phone, conveying any data they transit to the screen so that you can observe the data your phone is sending without having to trust your phone.

(I liked this gadget so much that I included it as a major plot point in my 2020 novel Attack Surface, the third book in the Little Brother series):

https://craphound.com/attacksurface/

We don't have to cede control over our devices in order to secure them. Indeed, we can't ever secure them unless we can control them. Self-destruct switches don't belong on the bridge of your spaceship, and trusted computing modules don't belong in your devices.

I'm Kickstarting the audiobook for The Bezzle, the sequel to Red Team Blues, narrated by @wilwheaton! You can pre-order the audiobook and ebook, DRM free, as well as the hardcover, signed or unsigned. There's also bundles with Red Team Blues in ebook, audio or paperback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/17/descartes-delenda-est/#self-destruct-sequence-initiated

Image: Mike (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/stillwellmike/15676883261/

CC BY-SA 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/

[leeknow-thoughts]

minho, seungmin and jeongin as sub teachers who fucked you after school :3

୨୧ A+ STUDENT

𝝑𝝔 cw : college!au, blowjob, tit job, unprotected p in v, some clit play, 3 way, uhhhh I think that's it, porn with some plot

𝝑𝝔 a/n : I feel like I should say this!! I am semi fluent in Korean! I'll add translations under texts that are in Korean for those who don't speak it!! <33 I slightly changed this to them being teaching assistants in college!!!

After months and months of putting it off you had to do a speaking appointment with one of the teaching assistants for your Korean Language class. They'd just ask you questions in the language that you should be able to comprehend and reply to, you'd answer the questions, and they'd give you a grade based on pronunciation and overall comprehension. It was supposed to be simple, except it totally fucking wasn't. You weren't bad at speaking Korean, especially not after your months of practicing, rather you were just bad at speaking to new people. "You really shouldn't be nervous," your closest friend, Felix insists while walking with you to the campus library, "I know the guy you're gonna do the speaking appointment with, he's really nice don't worry," he reassures.

It does little to help your nerves though, becoming more anxious with every step closer to the library. "Felix why couldn't it just be you doing the speaking appointment with me," you grumble, dragging your feet as you step into the library.

"You'll do great y/n, don't even sweat it!" he encourages and parts ways with you.

You check your phone, looking for the study room that your teaching assistant had booked for your session. You find the room after a moment of searching, knocking on the door before opening it and coming face to face with the man who was going to be grading you. "H-hi," you wave to the man.

He had ginger hair, small eyes, and a fox like face, "hi," he hums looking up at you, "please come in," he motions to the seat across from him, "it's y/n right?" he asks as you sit down, placing your blue tote bag on the ground next to your rolling chair.

"Yeah, that's me," you smile, "what's your name?"

"Jeongin," he stretches out his hand for you to shake, which you do, "since this is your first speaking appointment I figured we should do a small ice breaker before we start," he smiles.

He has a nice smile, he's cute too, undoubtedly so. Cute little dimples are like jewelry added to his pretty white smile. "Oh yeah, for sure," you agree, letting go of his hand.

"So where are you from?" he asks.

"I'm from the north part of the state, I'm living down here for college and all," you explain, "what about you?"

"I'm from Busan, South Korea, I'm here on an educational visa," he tells you, "so why are you learning Korean?"

"Well I'm a linguistics major, so I need to take a foreign language and this one seems like the best," you smile.

"Why not take Spanish or something easier, I'm guessing that by now you know that Korean isn't very easy?"

"Yeah, I like a challenge though," you grin, "and besides I already speak Spanish."

"Mhm," Jeongin nods his head, "do you want to get started?"

"Yeah, let's go."

"그래. 너 부전공이 뭐예요?" he asks, fiddling with his hands on the desk.

"okay. what study are you minoring in?'

"저의 전공은 언너인데 부전공은 화학이에요," you explain.

"my major is language but my minor is chemistry."

"좋아요," he praises, "그래 will you translate this sentence to english, 애기가 깨지 않게 조용히 노크해 주세요"

"good" "okay... please knock quietly so the baby doesn't wake up."

"Please knock quietly so the baby doesn't wake up," you recite after a moment of thinking.

"Great job," he praises, his eyes turning up when he smiles.

The speaking appointment is over before you wished it was, you walking out with a good grade as well as a cute boy to have a crush on.

The next day eventually approached, you having to wake up early in the morning in order to get to your Korean lecture. You put on your cutest, and shortest, skirt just in case you ran into Jeongin on the way to class, wanting to impress the pretty boy.

When you walked in you were surprised to see three men standing around the podium in the center of the room instead of your usual professor. One of those men being the boy you had met yesterday, Jeongin, the other two were two men you had seen around campus a few times. You briefly recognize one of them, a man with cat like features and black hair, he was on the dance team with Felix, you had seen him on stage at one of Felix's recitals. The other guy, also with black hair, you had only seen around campus a few times. They were all extremely attractive, you had to admit.

You took the seat you normally sat in, in the front of the room so you could hear well. When class officially began the man in the middle, the one on the dance team spoke to the room of tired freshmen college students, "hello, since the professor for this class started her maternity leave today, we are going to be taking over her class for the rest of this semester and the next one," he explains, "does anyone have any questions?"

When no one in the room raises their hand the man you had only seen around campus speaks up, "my name is Kim Seungmin, this is Lee Minho," he points to the other man with black hair, "and this is Yang Jeongin," he motions to the ginger haired boy on the other side of Minho.

Jeongin smiles when Seungmin says his name, and Seungmin continues, "today we're learning about how to ask 'or' in Korean," Seungmin informs the class.

The two boys next to Seungmin take seats in the audience while Seungmin is pulling up a slideshow. You're beyond shocked when Jeongin takes the seat next to you, giving you a small smile, his eyes immediately refocusing on Seungmin who is standing behind the podium. "H-hi," you greet the man next to you.

"Hi," he grins, turning his head to look at you, "I actually wanted to talk to you about something," your heart can't help but skip a beat, "I was wondering if you could stay after the class and talk to me and the other teaching aids, we were grading one of your papers and we noticed a few mistakes, we just wanted to help you out and let you make up the points you missed."

"Oh," you can't help but sound a little disappointed, "y-yeah totally," you agree, "thanks."

"Of course," he grins, he leans in closer and you feel your heart nearly jump out of your chest when you feel his breath under your left ear when he whispers to you, "I like your skirt, don't tell me you wore it just because you were hoping to see me."

You turn your face to the man who is seated beside you, a smug grin plastered on his face, "okay, so," Seungmin projects his voice so the lecture hall can hear him beginning his presentation.

The lecture takes forever, with every second you're dripping more and more into your silk panties. Rubbing your thighs together and willing for the clock to speed up. You wait in your chair as students file out of the lecture hall one by one. Until finally you're the only person left in the room, along with the teaching assistants. "So you're y/n," Seungmin is leaning on the podium, his gaze taking in your figure, "you weren't lying Jeongin, she is hot."

"Wh-what?" you can't help but stutter.

"And in her cute little miniskirt," Minho is cooing, standing up from his seat a few rows behind you and Jeongin, walking down the aisle, taking a seat on the other side of you.

"I-I w-what's going on?" you nearly whimper.

"You're going to make up your grade," Seungmin explains, "by letting us play with you."

Jeongin's hand is moving up your thigh before he speaks, "you'll let us right? You'll be a good girl just for us?"

Who could've thought his pretty face could just be a facade for his filthy mouth. Minho cups your jaw, forcing you to look at his intense gaze, pressing the pad of his thumb on your lips before you're opening your mouth, letting him put his thumb in, your lips enclosing on it, sucking earnestly. "That's it, jagi," Minho groans.

Jeongin is standing up, moving in front of you and you hear the sound of his zipper coming undone before he's pulling your face back to him, Minho's finger slipping out of your mouth. "You're gonna suck my cock," Jeongin commands with a gentle tone.

He pulls down his boxers just enough so that his pretty cock is freed, and your mouth is fucking watering at the intoxicating sight. You're quick to act, spitting in your hand before wrapping your aforementioned hand around Jeongin's dick. Slowly jerking him off before you're pressing a kiss to his tip, a gesture that makes him groan in the filthiest of ways.

You're soon sucking his tip into your mouth, looking up at him, watching as his lips fall into an 'o' shape. You take a deep breath before you slide your head down more, taking more of his cock in your throat. "God, you're filthy aren't you," Minho is humming from his seat.

You whine around Jeongin's cock, watching as his body reacts to the vibrations of the noise, your hand wraps in his, bringing it to your hair, conveying to him it's okay for him to move your head.

Which he does without hesitation, his cock hitting the back of your throat, tears falling from your lashline. You don't care though, not when Jeongin's hip movements become more and more sporadic, his grip on your hair only tightening with each stroke on his cock.

"You're gonna swallow all of my cum," Jeongin instructs in a sultry voice.

That's all the warning you get before you can taste his cum on your tongue, a few more languid strokes of his cock to ride his orgasm before he's pulling your head off his cock, "open your mouth, let me watch you swallow like a good girl," he demands.

You open your mouth, showing him his own cum, before closing your mouth and swallowing every last sultry drop of it. "Atta girl," Jeongin rasps, "now go help my hyungs," he points to Minho.

You finally turn to man beside you, his cock fat and hard and slapping against his stomach, "c'mere, kitty cat, you're gonna ride my cock," Minho tells you.

You're eager to stand up, moving to hover above his lap while he moves your skirt up just enough to expose your ass and yanks your panties to the side before he's sitting you down on his cock.

Each inch stretching you more and more, your head rolling back eyes clamping shut, utterly consumed with pleasure. "Well don't just sit there, jagi, bounce on my fucking cock," Minho commands.

Like a cock drunk whore you're following his every command, bouncing on his fat cock, his fat tip kissing your cervix with each movement of your hips.

Your eyes are snapping open when you feel one of the boys squeezing your tits together.

It's Seungmin, he's standing over you, his cock also out, before he spits on your cleavage, squeezes your tits together before shoving his own pretty cock between the mounds. You don't even remember feeling him take your shirt off but you don't care when Seungmin is fucking your tits and Minho is fucking your cunt and Jeongin is watching intently from beside you.

Your eyes are screwed shut, as the feeling of pleasure builds in your stomach the more and more you fuck yourself on Minho's cock. The feeling erupts when Jeongin's pretty fingers move to play with your sloppy clit.

Your vision completely whites over, waves of pleasure overtaking your entire body, lighting every nerve on fire. "Oh my fucking God!" you cry as you cum on Minho's cock.

"There you go," Minho hums, "fuck, I'm gonna cum, just keep fucking riding me don't you dare fucking stop."

It hurts so bad, the burning ache in your thighs, but the pleasure is worth it. Minho cums with a low groan, followed by Seungmin jerking his cock until his cum spills all over your tits with an airy whine spilling from his lips.

"Good job," Jeongin hums from beside you, "you're definitely making an A plus after all the work you just put in."

[bokettochild]

random LU hcs before I go to church

Legend likes to draw, and while he uses it for practical purposes (he's compiling a bestiary of his own) he also likes to sketch random crap he finds while traveling

Hyrule weaves. Not fabric, since that's a bit legthly and requires materials he can't get or keep for long, but he's very good at making baskets and the like! When the rest go to his cave, it's just full of woven items, including his attempts at weaving a freaking chair. Hyrule is going to become Pier 1

Sky writes poetry but never shares it with anyone. Groose used to laugh at it when they were kids, and so he's very self-conscious about it (and not very good anyways). He does come up with some really, really good pieces though from time to time!

Warriors couldn't read before he enlisted. He had to learn, and did learn rather quickly once he had to, but he still did very much not grow up with books. He is, however, very fond of oral tradition and somehow keeps a library's worth of knowledge in his head, since he never knew how to write it down before.

Warriors loves folk tails and will use any excuse given in order to share them with the younger ones

Wind is a very proficient mapmaker. he's terrible at drawing figures or anything, but he's very good at charting things out and putting them down on paper

Wind has a great eye for photography though! He and Wild sometimes play a game where they have to find a particular item and take a pictograph of it and then they'll have one of the others judge which one is better. Wild's candids are usually better, but Wind has a talent from framing and using the light to his advantage that outshines Wild's.

Wind likes composing little tunes with the Windwaker when he's bored. he has accidentally discovered several magical songs and their effects in this manner. Sometimes Time debates if just teaching his the Song of Storms from the get go would have been better in the long run, since it would have saved them getting soaked so much

Four has a fascination with artistic metalwork. He can't do it himself, and often times can't understand how someone thought up the idea in the first place, but it gives him great delight to see various metal pieces/tools/items forged together into the oddest art pieces

Twilight claims he's no good art of any kind, usually blaming "these darn big paws o' mine", but the secret is that he's a talented embroiderer, he just doesn't consider it "art" in the same way the rest do. Most Ordon folks add stitch-work to things so he considers it standard practice, not exceptional.

Sky is also very good at stitch-work of all kinds

When Sky and Twilight discover their shared skill-set, they absolutely use it for evil (start adding little patterns and things on their brother's stuff). Is this competitive? They're Links, you tell me!

Time claims not to be very creative, but he's actually quite good at art himself! Just drawing, as his paintings have a very childish sort of color combinations and the like, but he's surprisingly very good with shading and proportions!

All the boys play music, but Twilight's a good hand on the fiddle/violin (but only for short periods) and Legend has a surprising preference for the piano/organ. They'd make an excellent duet if they actually managed to know any of the same songs

Wild cannot and should not play instruments, Hylia help your ears if he does. He's also not that great of an artist (look for JoJo's comic of him drawing a new tapestry, it's hilarious). He likes the art the others make, but in general, the best he can do it just making designs and patterns that always seem to resemble Korok puzzles.

[notanactressyay]

— ༉‧₊˚. 𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐞

— ₊⊹ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 . Natasha Romanoff x reader

— ₊⊹ 𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 . Natasha always patched herself up. she never even allowed anyone near when she's hurt. you, on the other hand, made her a bandage and even discovered a little more about who she was.

— ₊⊹ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 . implied violence, bullet wounds, blood, bruises, talks of the red room, cursing, emotional moments, caring for baby Natasha.

— ₊⊹ 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 . finishing that a year later. yup, that's me. but that's just too special for me to drop it.

fic started: july, 08, 2023, 1:06pm. | finished: june, 23, 2024, 9:29pm.

dividers belong to: @saradika-graphics — ₊⊹

you're at home, reading a book as you usually did. the day was calm, tranquil, and it didn't seem like anything bad would happen. the sun rays came in from the gap between the curtains and shone right onto your face.

little did you know what was going on out there. the avengers were looking for the Winter Soldier, and well, the search wasn't going really good. cars crashing, civilians injured. and the target out there, no signs of him.

your best friend, the Black Wid— Natasha, had been as reckless as she always was, and attempting to protect a citizen, she took a bullet on the shoulder. and instead of getting immediate medical attention, she used her bleeding arm to fire a shotgun and throw a few more punches here and there.

Steve wanted to get her to a SHIELD facility, but she knew their usual procedure — they'd have her arm cut open to remove the bullet, stitch her up, and keep her in observation. she didn't want any of that. too much physical contact for her liking.

so she thought of the only smart way she could make this play. she couldn't simply go to her house with a criminal running around, in the middle of a mission. and her team would go looking for her there. not a smart choice. so she went to you.

not that she wanted to be taken care of. not that she needed to be taken care of, due the intense amount of pain going through her system. she'd just go to your house to hide, yeah.

the knocks on your door sounded heavy and urgent. you placed the book down, walking to the entrance and looking through the peephole — finding yourself in front of a bleeding, broken Natasha Romanoff. the door almost flies open, and she doesn't give you time to ask questions, stumbling inside and kicking the door shut.

"shh, keep your voice down." the redhead whispers weakly. regardless of the pain, she tries to be sarcastic. "don't be too loud or they might find me."

"your arm!" you whisper-yell, ignoring everything she had said. you ran to grab a cloth, pressing it against the wound. Natasha hissed loudly. just then you realized it was a bullet. "holy shit, i'm so sorry."

"i'm good." she weakly reassures, grabbing the cloth from your hand, taking a step back. she applied pressure to stop the bleeding — but she was barely standing. "just a tiny scratch,"

"shut it." you shake your head and carefully lead her to the nearest couch, helping her to sit down. by now, you'd have already called an ambo. but like she said, she was being chased. "spit it out, c'mon."

"mission went wrong." she sighs, allowing her eyes to close for a moment, then opening them again. when she feels you sitting down next to her, she instinctively scoots over, as if to create some distance. "the most of it is classified. but it went wrong. that's all i can tell you,"

"alright, Natasha. but you got to go and see a doctor." you chuckle humorlessly, pointing out the obvious.

the redhead was sweating, expression showing clear pain. even if the bleeding on her shoulder had stopped, she was still weak. it didn't matter she was trained for that. she was still a person.

"i can handle it." she tries to smile, but feels the uneasiness again. her eyes feel heavy, and she wants to close them. but she knew that meant passing out, going to the hospital. "just get me a first aid kit and i'll be okay."

"god, you're stubborn." you murmur. you'd probably give her a speech, but not now. "hang in there, i'll be right back."

you quickly went to the bathroom and grabbed the first aid kit from the cabinet, placing it on the living room's coffee table. you also grabbed a water bottle and a bag of cookies you had, in case she wanted to eat later.

you just didn't expect her to push you back when you reached out to touch her arm.

"just give it to me," she extends her hand towards the kit box, coaxing a small, incredulous laugh out of you.

"you expect me to let you do it yourself? in that state?" you ask, genuinely concerned now. you sit down by her side once again, slowly. she gulps.

Natasha was your elusive superhero friend, so you never really had that much of physical contact before. you didn't know about her past, either. you didn't know her fear of people touching her. her fear of being vulnerable. because back then, she wasn't allowed to be vulnerable.

widows never failed. widows never got sick. if a widow had an injury, that meant victory. she'd have to heal herself and focus back on the mission. so simply putting, Natasha didn't know what it was to allow someone to care for her.

but now... she was almost passing out. really. she also knew damn well you had no intentions of hurting her, nor reasons to do so. or else, she'd have distanced herself a long time ago. so she sighs in defeat.

"... just make it quick, okay?" she shifts, allowing you in her personal space.

you sigh as well in relief, opening the first-aid kit box and grabbing a wipe, putting some hydrogen peroxide on it. the blood under the cloth had long dried. you carefully unwrapped it from her arm, setting it aside. you examined the wound closely. the bullet went through, it was good, somehow. you wouldn't have to magically learn how to make a surgery.

Natasha's eyes followed your hand, as it wiped away the blood covering her arm. she was so tense at the beginning. but time went by, and her brain slowly registered the fact she didn't have a reason to be tense. her shoulders visibly eased up.

"the bullet's not here," you whisper, throwing the dirty wipes away and grabbing the ointment, the antiseptic, and the bandages. "i'll patch you up for now, but Nat, you seriously need some stitches."

she's relieved. the pain is still strong, but she's relieved, with you. only if you knew how bad she was trying not to cry right now. her voice quivers, as she points to something inside the box. "i-is that aspirin?"

you frown, stopping the movements. "it is. do you want some?"

"mhm." the russian hums, unable to stop the little tear from rolling down her cheek. with your help, she takes a couple of pills and swallows it with the water you grabbed earlier. "thank you,"

"you're welcome." you murmur back, softly smiling at the sight of Natasha's tender side starting to show up. you continue, applying the ointment on her skin and carefully spreading it.

"i never had this before," Natasha says, almost inaudibly. her head lowers itself to your shoulder, surprising you. "did you know that? because back then, getting hurt was a good thing. they made us believe that, i mean."

you listen to her soft rambling, humming to let her know you heard. you finish wrapping the bandages around her arm and shoulder, and put some band-aids to keep it secure. in response to her leaning against you, you carefully, gently wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer.

"i'm glad you know that's not true anymore." you comment, and she nods. her lips quiver more. my, she looks so.. broken. and you'd do anything to fix her. at least try. "you can cry, Nat. let your pain out."

she sniffles, her one good arm circling you as she weakly buried her face on your shoulder, allowing the tears to flow freely. her body trembles, so you hold her closer, tighter. your body heat comforts her.

after a while, she certainly doesn't want to talk. her sobs quiet down, and she tries to cuddle up against you. " 'm tired, wanna sleep."

"i know." you say, pressing the back of your hand against her forehead. she surely had a fever. but the aspirin she took before would help, in a few hours. "you can take your rest now."

Natasha whimpers quietly — which was supposed to be a yawn — and allow her eyelids to finally shut. she clings to you tightly, as if genuinely scared you would disappear if she let you go. but you never would.

not after seeing such a thing. she did something major today. and you treasured it with your whole heart. you pressed a kiss on the top of her head and held her — having no idea if the SHIELD spies would come after you. nah, probably not. Natasha knew what she was doing.

[angstics]

Highlights from the AJ Pen webcast on the My Chemical Romance Foundations Tour set and lighting design book:

“[Gerard Way] was the most- he was the one that I was interfacing with most to come up with this design. Although the rest of the band did have their own say in one way or another. And he in his other life is a comic book author who wrote the Umbrella Academy. So I did a deep dive into comic books to sort of, understand his world a bit more. And I thought I'd throw a little nod to the comic book world with this sort of cartoonish call-out box [in the design book].”

“This picture from a Nine Inch Nails show is something that Gerard sent me. And he was, when he was asking me to make the color palette look washed out and not necessarily all bold colors, he wanted it to sort of have a sense of being weathered.”

“We took an approach where each song had its own kind of color and it wasn't just one color across all of the lights. We'd take groups of lights, randomize the selection set over the whole rig, and then sort of stretch that make the colors in a neighborhood.”

“That drape is actually black. That's lit with just four or five Mac ultras to give it this lovely red color.”

“Thank you to Gerard Way for working so directly with me on the creative for this project. And then the rest of the band, Ray, Mikey, and Frank, they all had their own say and their own take on this project. And it was a very collaborative effort with me and the band.”

“One cool thing about this band is they play, they're analog. They just play. The drummer listens to a metronome that's just coming off his iPad. So there's no time code. There's no reference. All I know is that more or less they're going to be playing at the same tempos. Although sometimes he would shut off mid song because he would push and pull the tempo bottom style.”

“I will say that for this band the drummer that plays with them didn't chart on most of the records... And he likes to try to really recreate what each drummer that tracked the records was doing.”

"We didn't have any video content to play. Other than there were a few things that our video director, Robbie came up with to mix in with the IMAG. So we did carry IMAG screens and he did mix in a little bit of content, but for the most part, it was basically IMAG and a set on stage.”

“The reason that this set worked without like, a bunch of video screens on stage really well for this band was they never played the same set list twice. And I don't mean that they just had a set list that they had a couple of songs they'd swap out. I had to plead with them to keep the first song to be the same so that we could drop the Kabuki in the same place every day.”

“So once that first song was out of the way, they literally crumpled up the set list from the night before, threw it out... And that's why this sort of set design approach worked. The band would tell their own story because they know their music. I never had a set list feel like it was dragging or wasn't telling the story in some way of what's within their music. They know how to rearrange things and we just programmed each song so that it would stand on its own and work no matter where it ended up in the set list.”

Watch the webcast here! Take a look at the book here!

[gyuzgrl]

not-so-secret glances ||bsk||

Summary- Seungkwan catches you staring at his hands and decides to have a little fun.

based on an anon req- hope you liked this !! pt.2

You loved nights like these- tucked away in bed, book in hand with your boyfriend beside you, doing his own thing. The domesticity of laying together in comfortable silence made your heart swell. Seungkwan could be your forever. You hoped one day, he would.

While you read, the soft noises of Seungkwan's phone caught your attention. He was playing Kart Rider. Cute. You peaked over to glance at his progress, but something else seemed to have caught your eye. His fingers.

How he moved them, so deftly across the screen, had you squirming. You squeezed your thighs together, hoping to dull the ache between your legs, and tore your gaze away, returning to your book. About a minute later, however, your eyes found their way back to his hands.

The book in your lap was now long forgotten, lying face down. Your eyes scanned over each digit, noting the pale skin that let his veins peak through just right. Each long, slender finger, had you drooling. They'd reach so deep within you- touch the spots you never could.

You didn't even realise how long you'd been staring for, until a gravely voice breaks you out of your trance.

"I can see you y'know," His eyes remain on the screen in front of him, and he continues, "if you're gonna stare, at least make it less obvious, doll"

Your eyes snap back to the shamelessly discarded book on your lap, and you mumble "I'm not- I wasn't staring"

"hm? so those weren't your eyes burning holes into my phone?"

"I don't know what you're talking about"

Oh you have his attention now.

Seungkwan turns to face you, clicking his phone off as a crease sets in his brow.

"you don't know what I'm talking about, baby? are you sure?"

You nod, unable to meet his gaze.

"liar," he tuts, "I know you were looki-"

"I- I wasn't!"

Seungkwan shoots you a warning glare, and your mouth seals shut. He tosses his phone aside, pulling you under him as he grabs your face.

"do you really wanna lie to me, sweetheart?"

The icy tone of his voice sends shivers down your spine. Part of you wants to be a brat, continue lying, but you know better. Your boyfriend's got a bit of a mean streak, and you have no intention of pushing him today. You shake your head, wide eyes staring up into his.

"good. now tell me, what were you staring at so intently, hm?"

You look away, gulping thickly at the saliva in your throat. It's quiet for a moment. Seungkwan's jaw ticks, its muscles flexing at your lack of response. He tugs your face closer, lowering his own, and whispers against your lips- "oh no, baby you don't get to keep quiet today,"

"you either tell me and I give you a reward, or you keep your mouth shut and I leave you high and dry- don't think I haven't noticed how you've kept your thighs pressed together,"

"h-hands, I was looking at your hands," you whimper urgently, "please don't be mean kwannie"

"mmm that depends, baby- can you be good? can you be a good girl for me?"

"yes-" your voice comes out embarrassingly breathy, "so good for you"

Seungkwan's hand cups your face, finally connecting your lips to his. It's slow and needy and painfully desperate. You can't help the way your hands pull him closer, fisting his shirt, tugging his hair.

His tongue licks into you, exploring the cavern of your mouth with such precision, you find it hard to keep up. Already struggling to breathe, you feel your senses heighten when he trails a hand down to your clit, slipping under your panties.

"kw-kwannie wai-" you gasp, "oh my god"

His fingers circle your clit, toying around with the sensitive bud while you moan into his mouth. It's hard to focus with him everywhere.

Just as you think he can't push you further, Seungkwan tugs at your bottom lip, nipping it with his teeth as he pulls away ever so slightly. It's a simple act- kiss, bite, pull- but god it has your brain fuzzing over.

You moan, hips bucking into his hand, and he takes full advantage by slipping a long digit into your sopping heat.

"oh"

Your lips hang open, and he grins, pulling away.

"you gonna cum, sweetheart? hm? gonna cum like this?"

A pathetic whimper slips past your lips, "please 'm'so close". Seungkwan grins.

"I know, baby- but you can wait, can't you? you can be good for kwannie, yeah?"

You clench around his finger, whimpering as you nod. Anything for Seungkwan. Anything.

The stretch of your walls isn't much, but it burns when you have to hold yourself back while his fingers continue their movement. His thumb pushes down on your clit and you let out a sob, tears welling in your eyes.

"aw," he coos, a faux pout gracing his features "don't cry pretty- all you have to do is ask,"

"please,"

"you can do better than that, doll, c'mon"

"kwannie please it hurts- I've been good, I've been- fuck- so good"

"have you? little liar-"

"m'sorry-" you sob, "m'sorry, sorry sorry sorr-"

Seungkwan gives in to your desperate pleas, shoving the digit deeper into you, and you cry out.

"oh baby, I know- I know, let go for me, kay? that's it pretty, just like- fuck just like that"

You tremble under the weight of your orgasm, a string of moans leaving your parted lips. Seungkwan eases you through it, whispering quiet praise into your ears before collecting your arousal with his fingers and popping them into his mouth.

He groans.

"so fucking sweet-"

Before you can process his words, he pushes his lips back onto yours, and you can taste yourself on his tongue.

Breaths escape you too fast for your liking, and you find yourself pulling away for air within seconds.

"colour?" he asks so sweetly you almost forget how mean he was being.

"green"

Seungkwan slots his thigh between your legs, pushing up until your cunt presses flush against his hard muscle. "you know what to do, doll"

A whine escapes you and he pushes harder, "be good and I'll give you a reward, hm? how's that?". You moan, grinding up against his thigh while your hands roam his back, urgently tugging at his clothes.

"so needy today," he says, amused. His pretty lips curl up into a sly smirk and you feel your hole flutter around nothing. "gettin' yourself off on my thigh like a good little girl"

"kwanniee-" Your voice draws out, extending into an 'uh' sound as your poor clit tugs against his skin. Your hips stutter momentarily and his eyes darken, narrowing at you.

"didn't tell you to stop." A hand makes its way up to your neck, and he squeezes, just enough to get you feeling light-headed. The weight of his hand against your throat has you drooling, and as if on cue, your body begins moving on its own- as if under some sort of spell.

"that's it, sweetheart,"

All you can do is moan in response, one hand clutching his wrist as he chokes you. Your body feels electric under his touch, skin on edge with every moment of contact. You know he sees it too with the way his pants tighten at your cries.

"kwa-nnie- m'close- can I cum? please?"

Your hips rut against his thigh, increasing in speed, and your eyes flutter closed. A sharp squeeze against your throat coaxes them open and Seungkwan licks his lips- "go ahead, doll"

A sob echoes through the room, followed by chants of his name, over and over, until he shuts you up with a passionate kiss. Your sounds, although muffled by his tongue in your throat, fill up the space. It was embarrassing almost, how he made you sing under his touch.

Your clit ached. It hurt how sensitive you were.

"so proud of my girl," he coos, pulling away, "you can gimme another, can't you, baby? on my tongue?"

Ignoring the electricity shooting up your body despite the lack of stimulation, you nod, breath hitching as he crawls down your body, leaving a trail of harsh purple bruises on his way to your cunt.

"you've got the prettiest pussy I've ever seen, y'know that?" He breaks off into a loud groan that reverberates against your cunt as his tongue latches itself onto your clit. You jump at the contact, almost losing yourself once again.

Licking you open, Seungkwan brings his hands to your inner thighs, splaying them open to get better access to your clit. He pulls the hood of your clit back with his thumb and traces around it with the tip of his tongue. The action sends you reeling. Your already-sensitive clit throbs under his tongue, you're certain he can feel it too when he pulls back, looking up at you.

"baby," he pouts, "you still sensitive?"

You nod.

"good."

Before you can even breathe, Seungkwan attacks your clit with full gusto- tongue lapping precisely at the throbbing nub as he inhaled your scent. You cry out and your hands tremble as they reach for his hair, fervently threading through his dark locks- whether to pull him closer or shove him away, you aren't sure.

Within moments you feel your orgasm build, yet again, a familiar coil tightening deep in your belly. Trembling limbs threaten to snap shut against Seungkwan's face, but his arms hold them in place, a low warning grunted against your clit.

"easy"

You knew better than to disobey. Your boyfriend wasn't above edging, teasing, anything, honestly. With your orgasm so close, you were on your best behaviour for him.

"m'sorry-" you gasped, tugging on his hair harder, "m'sorry- kwannie"

All he does is groan in response, feeling how you squirm under him. Must be close.

Seungkwan pushes harder with his tongue, spreading you wider, and flicks at your clit- this is your undoing.

Hot liquid coats his mouth, his chin, and your chest heaves like you've just run a marathon. Stars bloom behind your eyes. Your body feels like a live wire.

To tease just a little, he places a kiss on your clit- which you gasp and jolt away from- before crawling back up to you and pushing his lips against yours.

"I love you"

"mm I love you too kwannie- feel so good right now" You mumble, pulling him closer into a tight embrace.

"let's get you cleaned up, okay sweetheart?"

[goldsbitch]

Just don't talk---------

-and listen too.

p11 to Just don't talk

summary: Enemies to lovers on steroids. It's time to talk. Taking a spin on the whole fake dating.

mentions of Olivia Rodrigo lyrics - all rights belong to the respectable owners.

warnings: unprotected sex, squirting, minors DNI

"I WAS HALF MYSELF WITHOUT YOU, NOW I FEEL SO COMPLETE AND IF I'M NOT IN LOVE WITH YOU, YOU'RE NOT IN LOVE WITH ME!!!"

"You know those are not the actual lyrics, right?"

"WHATEVER!"

For a moment if felt nice to think she "pulled" someone like Lando. Bittersweet afterthought came just a second later.

Y/N did not go to the bathroom, in fact she sprinted over back to her hotel, sunglasses on and trying to avoid anyone stopping her. It must have been a record time in which she got back. Phone on silent do-not-disturb mode, apart from one one her best friends, back from her home town. Actively ignoring any resposibilities she was to attend to. Let her bloody PR team handle that for once. She could also be a diva for once. Always playing by their books, someone else's rules and thinking twice before opening any doors. Fuck that now.

She told her everything - only the best of friends give up their sleep for the heartbreak of others. Time zones were playing against them.

There they were, screaming Olivia Rodrigo lyrics out loud as if there was no tomorrow.

It felt good to get out of her system - she realized that she did not properly tell anyone, with all the feelings and complications involved in her recent fling with a racing driver. Fling. That's all it was ever to be.

The two screamed, danced and sang. One in a hotel room, the other in her own flat shared with a partner. Y/N was just a little bit jealous.

//

Lando stayed with the rest of the attendees of that forsaken meeting in silence, while they waited for Y/N to rejoin. As silence goes, this was one for the history books. He texted he few times, without any response. While he was worried, he had to get his own head in check first. When she did not return in about twenty minutes, they inevitably dissolved that meeting without rescheduling. But, since this gave Lando some time to think, he took a copy of the contract with him, cancelled all of the engagements of the day and immediately scheduled a call with his lawyers. He paid them enough for them to be available within thirty minutes.

He disclosed with them their situation fully - leaving out only the explicit details. Lando's lawyers have seen some thing with him over the years, this was a first one. As he did many times, he danced around the fact that he started to crush on this girl, which was making the whole conversation harder than needed. But, his team quickly came up with a clause to add should they go though with this - Recognition of Potential Emotional Development. It was all a bit bizarre, but Lando changed his mind from the initial shock he got. They were wrapped up in their own game anyway. He was getting weirdly excited by this.

//

Y/N ended their Facetime little party after an hour and kept herself locked up in the hotel room. No point in joining her team back for the rest of the day. It was all a little too much and far removed from racing - it was getting annoying. She was determined to get her emotion in check for the following days. It involved room service, some angsty tv show and phone on silent mode. So naturally, she missed Lando's text announcing that he is on his way to her room.

It felt like a strange deja vu. A knock on the door. He was the first one to cross her mind, like an intrusive thought you can't get rid off. She wanted it to be him knocking. And it was.

He let out a big sigh as he saw her open the door.

"Do you always ignore your phone when it matters the most?" he asked, fairly tired after the strange day they'd had.

She refused to answer his comment, simply stepped away to let him pass in her room.

"I was worried about you, you know?" he asked, not letting go as easily as she'd like to.

"Had to get out and clear my head. I'm not obligated to answer any calls or texts," she said in her defense, feeling like she was pushed into a corner.

Another sigh left Lando's lips. "Y/N, let's not go back this again. It's been a little mental for both of us, but we can't let it rule our life."

Was this when he was going to tell her that they should end their "whatever-this-is" affair? Y/N was getting mad - he could have at least wait after the race. There'd be a two week break where she could process all of this.

"Do we really need to do this now?" she asked, giving up on all hope.

Lando was firm on his stance, no more dancing around. "Yes, we do."

"Alright, let me get dressed," as it felt strange to talk like that only in her pyjama. Normally, Lando would drop a comment on how he did not want to hear these types of sentences ever again.

"Great, I'll wait in there," he said, pointing to the living room part of the suite.

//

The pseudo formal feeling Lando brought with him went out of the window pretty soon. He was nervous beyond belief and her overly-panicky mind was already five steps ahead, overcoming their relation before it even ended.

"So, Norris. What brings you here at this hour?" she asked with a hint sarcasm.

He chucked and observed for a moment, recalculating the angle from which to untangle this. In front of him sat slightly disheveled girl, someone who he wanted to know everything about. It seemed like she deliberately did not join him at the couch and opted for a chair nearby.

"It's been a little crazy lately."

"When was it not?"

"Touché, you're right."

He recalled something his mom used to tell him - it usually only takes 30 seconds to be brave, the rest is dealing with the aftermath.

"I've been thinking," he said and only then has Y/N noticed a folder with the devil contract which got her blood raging once again.

"A unique event, yes," she commented dryly.

"Come on. Stop it. I've thought about it and spoke to my lawyers."

"You did what?!"

"Hear me out, you muppet," another sigh and gestured to her to calm down before getting a wrong idea. "I think our little game of cat and mouse has gotten out of hand. I don't think we can go on like this before it blows up in our faces. It's better to control the narrative."

She shifted in her chair, sitting a little too far away from him on the couch. It felt uncomfortable. "So you want to end it?"

Lando was taken back. "Obviously not? Do you?"

She was quit to respond, fuck it now, right? "No, but I'm not the one who protested again the fake dating thing as if it was a request to walk into an open fire," she said defensively. She could not fathom how he could just run around this world, giving these mixed vibes all the time. And Lando was having the same kind of questions.

He stared her deeply in the eyes. His 30 seconds counting.

"Y/N. I think we're past the whole hatered thing. I really like you and it feels stupid to say it like that. But apparently, I need to say it in order for you to start believing me." He wanted to add few sentences about how he will leave her alone immediately if she didn't feel the same. But he didn't. Stopped avoiding.

Now it was her taken back. Stripped down to the core. Time to come forward, to herself and the gorgeous boy she wanted to devour.

"You once said no strings attached. I want strings attached. If we were to continue, I can't do something casual with you. I'm already beside that point," she said slowly, picking the right words in order to get point out.

He smiled. "Good. Feels nice being on the same page." She let out a smirk and a small laugh. The tension in the room gone and waves of relief washing them over.

"Do you realize we sound like high schoolers with a crush?" she commented with a noticeable ease.

"The truth is I believe not so far away from that." She made him feel all those feelings. Excitement. Butterflies. Healthy amount of nervousness. Because he cared. Because they both did.

"Can you come closer to me?" he asked, pointing at the blank space at the couch. More than wiling, she got up and sat next to him.

"Can I kiss you before I ask you to about the lawyers?" she pleaded, while he held her hand gently. He did not need any convincing. In fact, this was all he needed. He approached her face slowly, taking his time to take in the moment. And when he ultimately lock his lips with hers, it was like unlocking a whole new level in the game. Tender, vulnerable and soft. For her, it was like letting go of the biggest worry, she could finally let herself loose and be herself. With all the strings attached. He caressed her lips once more before they both reached for a short breath. He took a lock of her hair in his fingertips and played with it. She kept touching his hands, that were sending her all the way to hell.

"So, are we going with the whole dating thing?" she asked, mainly for confirmation.

"I hope so...It feels exciting to think about that," he said quietly, as if he just began to realize that.

"Yes, it does," she said, before she finally ended their moment of soft whispers and pulled back a bit. "So, the fuck you're talking about some lawyers shit. Are you planning on suing me?"

He laughed. "I find it funny that your mind went immediately towards that."

"Well you know, child of divorced parents, you never know," she said with a hint of sarcasm masking the true feeling of traumatic memories.

"Right, I understand," he said seriously and made a mental not to ask her about this another time. He longed to know absolutely everything. He shuffled to position himself in less of a slag off position. "So, I've been thinking. The whole "PR relationship thing" - at first I thought it was the worst idea known to human kind. I want to try it with you for real, not to dance like a puppy and not following my feelings," he said as her heart danced the happiest of dances. She nodded at him, letting him finish. Lando was surprised at how much she shifted towards listening instead of constantly jumping into his sentences. He was growing to like that. It was hard for him not to smile. "Right, stop giving me these looks, it's hard for me to get to the point," he said, smiles escaping left and right.

"Hard, you're saying?" she said cheekily. Oh, he was going to make her night really difficult later.

"Anyway, as I was saying. The whole PR thing will be an issue, or more like a thing to tackle together in the future anyway, so why not have some control over it."

She was trying to let this idea sink in. "So you're saying, like date for real and let people think it's for PR?"

He was happy that she appeared to be on the same page. "Exactly. Do whatever we want and just let them worry about our story. And at some point, when we see how this goes, we'll just say we managed to fall for each other because of them and it will a whole happy story for everyone. I feel like if we disclose now, we're robbing ourselves of precious time to get to know each other. What do you think?"

She thought about it for a moment - but her gut feeling was telling her to trust Lando. If she was to start dating him, it would be good to become a team. And he was around this stuff, better than she was. "I think what you're saying makes a lot of sense."

"Pardon? I did not quite catch what you're saying," he said, making fun of her.

"You idiot, you've heard me perfectly fine!" she responded, the corners of her mouth going up again.

"No, I did not, you're gonna have to come closer to say that," he winked at her and got dangerously close to her once again. "Closer, still far away," he said as he licked his lips before kissing her again. While having a way faster battle of tongues this time, she cupped his face as he gently pushed her down to lay on the couch they were sharing.

"There are few things to change in the contract," he said in between kisses, his voice getting characteristically high, as it always did when he was excited. "We need to add a Recognition of Potential Feeling clause, or whatever," he remarked as his mouth found her neck. "And few things regarding the physical aspect of the relation," he whispered to her neck, as she started to let out gentle moans.

"Physical aspects?" she let out suggestively. "Could you be more specific?"

His hands started to roam under her shirt. "I'm happy to show you everything that contract is banning us from doing. First point being not having any physical contact alone."

"Poor Oscar, he's gonna be mortified when he finds out he has to watch," she joked, as she began to touch his dick through his pants.

He bit her lower lip. "Do you like that? When people watch?"

"Depends. I want you all for myself."

"Oh, finally something we agree on. I'm going to be very territorial, you know? Let everyone know that this," he pointed at her torso, "this and this is mine," he said as his hand went in between her legs and lastly to her head. He looked her deeply in the eyes before speaking again. "I've fucked your body, but I feel like mind-fucking you is going to be fun."

Her eyes were wide open and she felt herself getting wetter and wetter. "Lando, show me everything this contract is prohibiting us to do."

It was like giving him three shots of espresso. He smirked, as he began to take off his shirt. "You're going to have to strip for me, honey." She more than happily obliged.

Lando observed like a hungry animal. She was finally his, fully. Her hands crept up his torso, lining his muscles all the way in.

"No touching here," he said as he roamed around her cleavage, "definitely not this," he continued as he kissed her nipple and let her grab his hair firmly. "Oh and most definitely not this," he ended with his hand reaching out all the way down and circled around her clit.

Blood rushed into her head and she arched herself on the sofa handle, giving him a sight to remember during lonely nights. Dim light hitting her body with shadows highlighting the curves. He watched, as his fingers made her lips turn into a smile. It was intoxicating. He flicked them like scissors, gently and watching his tempo. Then he took them out and licked them while maintaining eye contact.

"I want a taste of you," she said before thinking and gestured to come over to her face. She opened her mouth and closed her eyes, starting at the very tip and playing with it gently. She moved her hand up and down his shaft and started taking him in more and more.

Lando was never fan of slow sex. But her moves made him curious to see how far he can push her and himself. Her tongue and lips felt like a soft feather, making his now wet dick sensitive. He got shivers down his lower back, something he rarely did. It was like pleasure started flowing though his whole body. He reached out to hold her other hand and he began slowly moving his hips. He was sliding up and down her tongue as she wrapped her lips around without any plans of letting him go. He on the other hand slit out of her mouth completely, albeit reluctantly. He locked eyes with her and they both knew what was coming next. "I want to try something new this time," he whispered with a hint of excitement in his voice. She was more than happy to try new things with him, knowing all too well that he was perceptive enough to stop the moment she'd feel uncomfortable.

She expected a meriad of different things - but not him, sliding in as slow as possible. It was the sweetest form of torture. Her body, used to his deep hard thrusts was now tightly wrapped around his cock. Lando felt heavenly. Feeling every inch of her body that was around him more intensively than ever before. He kept his slow tempo she she arched her back again, providing him with his favorite view and an angle, that made his moves feel deeper now. Y/n never understood before this moment why some people really likes slow sex. There was tenderness, focus and a pelicular pleasure coming in longer waves. It was like slowing down made them more present. She felt wetter than she ever had with him. And soon enough, when her mind was somewhere high up in the sky, a clear warm liquid started coming out of her - and with every squirt an indescribable heat of pleasure coming around her lower belly. Her breathing became harder and harder, moans that she could not hold in for her life. Lando first felt warmth on his cock and then looked down as drop of her juices started hitting on his stomach. He watched with awe, not being able to get a girl into this position before. As he watched her drown in orgasms, he sped up just a tiny bit in order to get himself ready to finish once she was done. And when he inevitably did, he painted with him cum all over her bare chest.

If this was how it was going to be now, he is going to be a very happy man.

Y/N came down in few moments, her breath going at a normal speed now. He reached out for a box of tissue to get her cleaned up and kissed her once again.

"This was a nice sight," he said, again with his voice going up higher than usual.

She was taken back, this new incredible feeling of finally being "empty" taking over and mixing with a hint of shame as she the aftermath she left on the couch. Lando noticed when her face went red as she saw her stain.

"That's quite embarrassing," she said shyly. And that was not something that Lando would allow. He took his hand and pulled her chin up gently.

"Now, do not ever say that. Did it feel good?" he asked, genuinely curious.

She was gathering herself for a moment before finally admitting. "Oh, god, yes. Unreal."

He smiled proudly. "Good. Well then this is not the last time we're doing this. And also, this," he said pointing at the stain, "is not something a towel can't solve."

She bit her lips and let a smile escape her. If love was a sunbeam, her world was the brightest day in the middle of summer.

p12

_________________________________________

@scopeiguess @leclercsluv @sulliamour @starmanv @riverxsq @eviethetheatrefreak @chonkybonky @bicchaan @saachiep81 @chezmardybum @a-beaverhausen @tbsloneely @iamkaku 

[kichikichiko]

Hi! Can you write the demon brothers with little sister reader? The reader is the 8th of the family. It must be so cute since all the brothers will care so much for their only little sister.

Our little Angel in Hell

This is so cute wtf 😭 Sorry for being so late anon Ive been busy with stuff and only got the motivation do write it now! Hope you enjoy ❤️ Synopsis: HC of the 7 demon brothers with their only sister after Lilith (who's younger than them all) Pairing: PLATONIC OLDER BROTHER! Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Asmodeus, Satan, Beelzebub and Belphegor & lil sister! reader Note: Nicknames (Dove : lucy | Goldie: Mammon | Shellfish: Levi | Angel: Asmo | Rose: Satan | Hamster: Beel | Moonshine : Belphie ) CW: I PUT A LIL CAMEO OF MY OBEY ME OC "Kojika" (Asmodeus' part only) IN HERE FOR FUNSIES BUT SHE DOES NOT HAVE ANY EFFECT TO THE STORY AT ALL 🤠 Platonic siblinghood, fluff, hc, not proofread, nothing else!! 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

Your brothers love you DEARLY. At this rate, "Love" is already an understatement. They would do anything for you and spoil you rotten. You want plushies? Food? Books? Make up? A sacrifical human for a ritual (/j) they'd to it all for YOU.

After losing Lilith, not only did you take it hard but they did as well. Not wanting to lose their only remaining sister, they've become more over protective.

LUCIFER

♤ As the eldest sibling and the head of the family, it is to no surprise that he holds the most composure out of the brothers.

♤ Around his other brothers he appears as "harsh" (but they all know he just cares for them) but around you, he doesnt even try to look stern. Everytime he looks at you his gaze softens and he smiles slightly

♤ "Mammon I'm taking away your credit card privellages" Lucifer sighs while taking away Mammon's credit card for the 5th time this month.

"Give it back Lucifer! An auction for this awesome gold car figure is coming out TOMORROW I NEED IT!" The white hair demon groaned.

You walked into the scene with a smile "Hi Lucy, is it okay if I get this thing on sale tomorrow? Ive been waiting for it to come out for a while now."

Lucifer's frowned expression turned soft in an instant and he gave you a nod "of course, just don't spend too much."

"OH FUCK YOU LUCIFER" Mammon screamed.

♤ If hypothetically he doesnt allow you to get something, instead of giving you a glare, he pats your head and shakes his head a little "Sorry Dove, but not today. We can get it another time okay?"

MAMMON

◇ Mammon is the greediest among his 7 siblings. He is the embodiment of the deadly sin, greed anyways.

◇ He HATES sharing and he doesnt hide that, but with you? He is more lenient.

◇ Don't get me wrong, he hesitates and tells you no sometimes, but other times if not most times, he is more willing to give you something or lend you something, albeit with his snarky/ stuck up personality 😭.

◇ youve been staring at a certain display case everytime you and Mammon pass by, and the yellowed eye demon couldnt help but notice it.

◇ At first he wanted to ignore it, but seeing at your longing/ awed gaze he folded.

◇ "Oi Goldie, you want that?" He pointed to the item on the display case, his hand on his hip trying to act tough and unbothered.

"Uhm.. yes but I don't have any mo-"

Mammon cut you off and walks into the store. "C'mon let's go get it."

LEVIATHAN

♧ Levi loves games, he's always cooped up in his room and rarely comes out.

♧ When he plays a multiplayer game, everyone knows how competitive this demon can get

♧ So to spare themselves from the death glares and the not so PG 13 name calling, they avoid playing him... well unless they truly wanna pick a fight with him.

♧ When you play games with him though, he's a completely different person.

♧ He's patient and kind when teaching you the basics

♧ During your first few games, he'd allow himself to take the loss

♧ He wont admit it, but he loves to see the way your eyes shine and how youre mpre determined

♧ This way, you'll play the game longer and spend more time with Levi

♧ [ROUND 1: PLAYER 2 WINS]

Your eyes shine and you smiled widely "YAY I WON! Beat that Levi! I just started the game and I won against you on. The. First. Try!"

Levi rolled his eyes and smirked "Don't get too cocky Shellfish, I might just beat your ass in the next round"

"Bring it on big bro" You grinned, holding the controller tightly.

ASMODEUS

♡ He's aware you've lost the only female influence in your life (Lilith)

♡ you being surrounded by so many masculine energy worries Asmo

♡ Not wanting you to lose your feminine side, he decided to take on the role of being your main "female influence" in your life.

♡ He is the perfect man for the job

♡ He will take you out for shopping, to the salon, kareoke, photo booths, manicures and pedicures, spas. You name it he'll do it

♡ He's even be the one you go to for sex ed/ advice bc.. well come on

♡ If youre into none of that that's fine too, he'll be your irl diary and listen to whatever you have to say... even hot boiling tea you cant keep to yourself😁

♡ "Asmo!! Are you free?" You opened the door to his room with a smile

Your brother looks at you through his mirror as he was doing his skincare "Yes sort of. Why?"

Your smile turned into a grin as you closed the door behind him and jumped onto his bed "I've got delicious tea"

Seeing your hands on your cheeks and your facial expression made Asmodeus return the grin "Oh yeah? Is it piping hot tea?" Finally facing you as he asked

"Piping.HOT!" You responded unable to contain your excitement "Miss Kojika was finally caught going out with Simeon"

"No way you better not be kidding Angel. Wasn't she just complaining about not liking Angels before?"

"Yeah but you see the way her cheeks turn pink at the MENTION of the Angel Simeon" you made sure to remind him.

♡ The conversation went on for hours, and both you and your brother are happy to have someone to talk to like this.

SATAN

□ Somewhat simillar to his older brother Levi. He gets impatient and is angry quite often, especially at the mention of Lucifer.

□ His way of escape is through his love of cats OR his abode, his sanctuary: his personal library.

□ During the times he disappears, it's a sign that he does not want to be bothered by anyone. And the only one who can bother him is you.

□ He wont exactly call it "bothering" when it comes to you, because he knows you have good intentions and only want to help him.

□ Especially if he just came out of Lucifers office after a heated argument

□ You were in the kitchen when you heard the door to Lucifer's office being slammed shut, followed along with heavy footsteps stomping away. You knew instantly that it was Satan's footstep.

Without wasting another second, you finished up the dishes and went straight to the hallway leading to his abode.

"Satan?" You knocked. "It's me, (name)"

After a few seconds, you heard a muffled "come in" and you twisted the door knob open. "I heard you walking out of Lucifer's office before."

Both you and Satan knows that he didnt "walk out" but you both decided to not correct it.

"Just another fight" he answered quickly while reading a book. "Same as always."

Slowly walking towards him, you took a seat beside him and smiled softly "Dont listen to him. You know he can make no sense sometimes... most of the times" you shruged. "Besides Im here for you. Whaddya say we do something fun?"

Satan's stern face turned soft, and when he made eye contact with you, he smiled "Sure. Thank you, Little Rose."

□ You've got his back, and he's got yours.

BEELZEBUB

♤ the hungriest brother. He just never stops eating.

♤ Whenever anyone catches Beel, he's always got something in his hands to munch on.

♤ And sometimes he's not willing to share his food.

♤ Whenever you ask though he's willing to give you a bite or 2. Hell maybe even give you the whole darn thing if he sees you TRULY enjoying the food.

♤ "Wow you seem to REALLY like the snack more than I do, Hamster..." he'd joke, mouth still full.

♤ Whenever youre feeling hungry he'd take the time out of his day to cook you (and him) some food.

♤ When he's feeling experimental and want to try a new recepie, he'd call you down to try his food and if you like it he smiles earnestly.

♤ Nothing makes Beel more happy (other than food) than seeing you enjoy his cooking.

♤ Even if you ask for it or not, he starts cooking for you more often. It's his love language and you dont seem to mind it. Cooking is a tedious job indeed and you appreciate your brother's efforts to keep your tummy full and happy.

♤ VICE VERSA! You love to bake and cook for your brothers.

♤ If you dont have the talent for either, Beel will be the first gobble up your food and give you a big thumbs up in approval. While the rest of your brothers have a hard time even swallowing the first bite

♤ Beel appreciates your effort and doesnt want you to become disheartened.

♤ But next time he'll supervise you in the kitchen and give you some tips and tricks

BELPHEGOR

♧ SILLY GUYYY

♧ You and Belphie are both the younger siblings (Beel as well but hes regarded as older than Belphie)

♧ And Youngest tend to stick together!

♧ You like having sleepovers, even though its a little bit of a silly ideas because you already live in the same estate as your brothers.

♧ Theyre usually busy so whenever you want this specific want of yours to be endulged you always go to Belphie.

♧ and he never says no to sleeping.

♧ With Belphie you both like to build tent fords together and watch movies together while eating popcord (that you both made sure Beel does not see nor smell because he'll pounce on the both of you before you have the chance to walk out of the kitchen)

♧ Other times you both would go online to buy matching onsies for your sleepover

♧ You both do this so often you end up having a closet full of matching onsies together.

♧ Sleeping with Belphie is indeed very relaxing. And Belphie likes having you around especially

♧ Usually the avatar of sloth put on a pair of Pyjamas and goes to sleep instantly, however with you around, he'll make the effort to put on essential oils, ambiance (if you'd like) and night lights 🤍🤍

♧ "Wow Belphie you put a lot of effort for the sleepover today!" You smiled looking at his room in awe

Belphie smiled and yawned "Of course, anything for you Moonshine. I want you to be as comfortable as possible."

♧ Safe to say you both will sleep in to the point your other brothers will have to drag you both out of bed to start the day

❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀

Masterlist

Requesting

[alittlebitofloveliness]

In defence of Steve Randle

Listen guys, Steve Randle gets a lot of hate in this fandom and as much as it pains me, it's valid. Everyone has their own interpretation of the source material, and fandom is supposed to be fun, so it is absolutely valid and ok to hate or love any character you want. You can hate Steve for many reasons or for no reason at all! This is fandom! That's ok! The story is for you interpret and love and play with and hate on to your hearts content. HOWEVER, to say that Steve Randle isn't an important character to the novel is simply not true, and to say that he hates Ponyboy requires ignoring or downplaying some pretty key moments of the book. This is especially true for those of you who love Dally but hate Steve, because Steve gets a lot of hate for being kind of a dickhead (which lbr, a lot of seventeen years old are, especially to their friend's little siblings) while Dally gets less for doing a lot worse (harassing Cherry, jumping kids, etc). This isn't to say that either character is better- they're both great, nuanced characters who have done bad things, but the fandoms attitudes towards them when they share a lot of characteristics is really telling. Even Ponyboy's narration about them is pretty similar- Pony doesn't particularly like Steve, and he was canonically scared of Dally, but they're both members of his gang and he doesn't hate either of them. You don't have to like Steve as a character, just like you don't have to like Dally or Darry or Tim Shepard or even Ponyboy, but he is important- and he doesn't hate Ponyboy, nor does Ponyboy hate him.

A really important moment in the book is when Ponyboy and Johnny defend Dally after he harasses Cherry and Marcia.

"Dally's okay," Johnny said defensively, and I nodded. You take up for your buddies, no matter what they do. When you're a gang, you stick up for the members. If you don't stickup for them, stick together, make like brothers, it isn't a gang any more. It's a pack. A snarling, distrustful, bickering pack like the Socs in their social clubs or the street gangs in New York or the wolves in the timber."

This line here is super important. Pony and Johnny were willing to defend Dally after he sexually harrassed Cherry and Marcia- soc girls who they clearly liked and were intimidated by- in the name of being a good friend, because that is what's important to them and their gang. If they're willing to do it in this context for Dally, you'd best believe they'd do the same for Steve, and him for them. Steve can and will rag on Ponyboy within the gang, but he'd never dream of bad mouthing him to anyone else. Dependability is important to the gang, and Steve would never publicly shit talk Pony, and vice verca. Regardless of their squabbles within the gang, at the end of the day they've got each others backs. They're buddies. We see evidence of this at the end of the book, when Pony grabs the bottle and threatens the socs with it.

"You really would have used that bottle, wouldn't you?" Two-Bit had been watching from the storedoorway. "Steve and me were backing you, but I guess we didn't need to. You'd have really cut them up, huh?"

The important thing here is that along with Two-bit, Steve was backing Ponyboy, no questions asked. Sure most of it boils down to Pony being a member of the gang and that deep rooted loyalty to one another, but the context for this scene is that Ponyboy was sitting on Steve's car waiting for Steve and Two to stop flirting with some girls. The three of them were hanging out- without Darry, without Sodapop. It's their school lunch break. We know Ponyboy has middle class friend's at school, or that he could've spent time in the school library. It was a deliberate choice to hang out with Two and Steve. He wasn't forced into it. Canonically, Steve and Ponyboy hang out. Never alone, but they're decent enough friends to hang out together in a group. Doesn't everyone have friends like that? I do. This isn't the only textual instance either where they hang out without the entire gang being present. Early on, Pony offhandedly mentions that sometimes Steve and Soda will buy him pop and teach him about cars if he hangs around the DX.

"I had walked down to the DX station to get a bottle of pop and to see Steve and Soda, because they'll always buy me a couple of bottles and let me help work on the cars."

He could've just said Soda's name here but he didn't. Steve buys Pony pepsi and teaches him about cars, even though he gets annoyed with him when Soda invites him to hang around with them too often. And honestly, who wouldn't? I'd be annoyed if my best friend always invited her little brother along with us, even if I liked the kid. Wouldn't you?

Now, we do need to address the elephant in the room. I'm talking of course, about this quote;

"I'd never tell Soda, because he really likes Steve a lot, but sometimes I can't stand Steve Randle. I mean it. Sometimes I hate him."

I feel like very often people forget the context this quote comes from, and so it's magnitude is blown way out of proportion. Ponyboy has just been jumped and then immediately scolded by his brother who constantly makes him feel foolish and unwanted. He's already scared, embarassed, and defensive and then Steve goes and makes him feel even more unwanted. Of course he wants to lash out. Of COURSE he feels like he hates Steve in that moment. I did even reading it. But Ponyboy doesn't truly hate Steve. This moment is PEAK fourteen year old having a rough night energy, it's not truly representative of Steve as a character or of Ponyboy's feelings towards him. In truth, Steve actually kind of likes Ponyboy and is at very least protective over him. This is evidence by the previous quotes, but also when Ponyboy comes back from Windrixville, and is worried about the state placing him in foster care;

"'No, [Ponyboy said] 'they ain't goin' to put us in a boys' home.' 'Don't worry about it,' Steve said, cocksure that he and Sodapop could handle anything that came up. 'They don't do things like that to heroes.'"

It's subtle, and not immediately obvious to the traumatized fourteen year old who is used to Steve's cocky nature, but this is both a reassurance and a very bold claim. Not only is Steve trying to look out for Ponyboy the way the rest of the gang models- by treating him like a kid, letting the 'adults' worry about grown up issues in a misguided attempt to protect Pony- he is also throwing in his lot to make sure nothing does happen. Based on this quote and the rest of Steve's characterization throughout the book its not hard to infer that Steve would fight tooth and nail to make sure Ponyboy stays safe with his family. Sure, part of it is gang loyalty, part of it is his devotion to soda, but part of it is because he and Ponyboy are buddies in their own right, no matter how much they fight. They are friends- and Steve is an incredibly important character for many reasons, but particularly to add depth to Pony's character, to the bond between the Curtis gang, and to highlight how the Curtis gang differs from the other gangs in Tulsa. Steve is just as much an outsider as the rest of the gang, and it's disingenuous to say otherwise no matter how much you may hate him as a character.

[heartfullofleeches]

Clown Talk

Yandere Crime Harem + G.N Clown TV-Showhost Reader

-

Extortion. Aggravated Assault. Murder.

The list went on for the royal who had it all, and lost almost everything in one night.

A well respected and charitable figure in their community, it was a shock to the masses to see local casino owner, and frequent donor to hospitals framed on the five o'clock news for misconduct. Anyone with a good head on their shoulders and a realistic outlook on the world could see straight through the facade. Beneath that mask was a monster - every good deal that person ever committed a cover for their true goals.

Those they had helped plead their innocence. Those they had wronged tied their noose. The documents leaked to the public would tell which party was correct, wiped clean from history before the victor could be declared. Read aloud in court, each word marked a new trial at play. The execution of the rat bastard who got them into this whole ordeal in the first place.

The criminal know exactly who it was. Caught his hand in the cookie jar resembling their safe weeks ago, but they had enough of a heart to let him go for being the one person his little girl had. Not again. Day in and day out they dreamt of how they'd carry out their revenge. Splattering his brains all over the wall. Slicing him into cutlets and having a nice cookout for everyone involved. It was a beautiful dream. The one thing preventing the compete lost of their sanity. Shouldn't be too long now until their people manage to get them out and their hands around that bastard's neck. Only a matter of time-

"Quit mumbling to yourself- I can't hear the TV."

As if this hell couldn't get any worse. A desaturated rainbow flies across the television screen, showering an empty field with stars and hearts that sprout colorful flowers from the earth. The theme song for the show plays in the background; the strums of each guitar string and the voice humming along to the beat drilled into the criminal's head like psychological warfare. While the voice wasn't totally abysmal it still belonged to their greatest enemy. That fucking clown.

"Good Day, everyone! I've missed you all so much, and am so excited to meet all the new faces. Are you ready all for an exciting day of fun and new adventures?"

The few shouts of agreement make their ears bleed more. Needless to say the prison they had been thrown in was a shit hole. Terrible food, hard beds, and televisions that only played one station without interference. That neon haired, colorblock mess of an entertainer had haunted them from day one of their stay; the sounds chasing them whenever they fled to the sanctuary of their cell. Pathetically, while there were a couple naysayers, majority of the prison population had begun to actually like the show. A body hurls into the seat next to them.

"Thank fuck I didn't miss it. You staying this time, Zero?"

Zero's face wrinkles from the frown lines. 4D was a fellow intimate and the biggest fan of the show. A crook booked for various robberies who just like Zero was ratted on by an acquaintance. The nickname came from their tag including the number fourty and they thought it would be cool in unison with the one they forced onto Zero.

"I told you not to call me that."

"I get that you're some big hot-shot and "adults shouldn't be watching shows for kids.", but it's really good when you sit down and watch it. That clown ain't too bad on the eyes either."

Zero resists the urge to snap their fingers as they air quote. "I'd rather flush my head down a toilet."

"Come on! If ya watch it, I'll leave ya alone for the rest of your sentence."

That catches their attention. Armz crossed, Zero looks at the television. The set had switched to that of a kitchen as the clown speaks

"Juno has been feeling better down today, let's cheer him up with his favorite snack! Before we begin, make sure you always ask for an adults help when handing sharp objects or using the stove. Unless you are one yourself. "

With a wink, they throw an apron and go through the steps of making homemade rice treats with the audience. After putting the tray in the oven, they discreetly pull out another one with a full sheet of the treats already made. Marshmallow fluff and melted chocolate chips ooze from their sides as the clown cuts out a heart shaped piece with a cookie cutter.

"And there you go! A simple, fun activity you can do with family and friends, and even get something taste out of it. Juno prefers chocolate, but you can add a number of things to your own and let your imagination run wild."

Great. Now they were annoyed and hungry. They couldn't stand another segment.

"I'm leaving."

4D whines. "Whaaat? That was barely anything. Hey, don't go-"

They grab Zero's sleeve, but are powerless to stop them as they leave the common area and venture up to their room. Over the guard rail of the second floor, they watch the other inmates mindlessly crowded around the television screen and unironically enjoying it. They would've spat at them had it not been for the guard by their cell. Inside the room, their roommate had left the tv on and that same damned show was playing. They go to turn it off only to be cut off by a fake cry of pain.

"Ouch!"

The clown tumbles to the ground, figure looming over them off screen. They come into frame as they grip the clown's arm and helps them to their feet.

"I'm so sorry, Y/n. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"It's okay, Juno. I know it wasn't on purpose."

The two face the screen as the clown speaks.

"Sometimes our friends do or say things that hurt our feelings. Take a breath, hear them out, but there's one important rule. Remember - forgiveness and friendship aren't always mutual. Sometimes people we may think are our friends go too far, and they believe an apology will make everything okay, but that's not always the case. The best thing you can do is forgive - and let go."

The background music is soft. The clown's smile is sincere, but an offshoot of that silly expression they had moments ago. Forgive. That weasel? There's no way in hell they could. He ruined them. Damaged their imagine. The bitterness Zero held was the only thing that pulled them forward. But what would come after they got their revenge?

"That's all for day, folks! And don't forget- you all may be my helpers, but I am here to help you the most!"

The intimate ends up watching the show until lights out. Each episode holds a new life lesson, cushioned by the silly activites prior to them and the songs the clown and their friends sings at the end. Regrettably, Zero finds their lips twitching upwards and a hushed laugh in their chest at some of the clown's jokes. When the clown visits them in their sleep, the dreams didn't seem as bad as before.

The next day Zero finds 4D in the yard. They're hesitant to speak.

"So... Why exactly do you like that clown?"

4D drops the equipment in their hand, looking flustered. "Wow, uh, why do you ask?"

"Just curious. If it's so embarrassing, I can make it worth while."

4D refuses the cigeratte they offer. "I quit. It ain't nothing serious like that, we just... talked."

Zero raises a brow. "Talked? You some kind of nutcase or something?"

"Maybe, but what I mean is I sent them a letter. After all the rush and freedom of the things I did, I was going mad in here. I got no friends, no family. At the end of every episode there's an address so I thought I'd try and send them a letter. I never expected them to respond. Hell, I thought the guards would tear it up and laugh, but neither of those predictions were true. They... helped me. More than anyone ever had in my life. Even sent me a couple things when I hadn't asked. They're all I have."

4D wipes their face with their sleeve. Zero, unsure, raises their hand to their shoulder, but falls short of a comforting touch.

"..Thanks... Take care."

Zero sits in their cell when the next show comes end. They pen down the address on the screen, wondering if they were really going to go through with this. They write out their letter and hand it off to the only guard they trust.

"What do you do, when you've lost everything."

A response comes in a week's time.

"Hey, there!

First off, I want to say thank you for sending your letter in. From the address and the others I've spoken too, I know that you're going through a really tough time. It's understandable to believe you've lost everything, but there will always be a new ladder to climb to the top so long as you try your hardest. You may be in the dark for now, but the sun will shine again for you some day."

Zero loses track of how many times they read the letter. They can see eraser marks from when the writer rewrote their lines. It was the exact same penmanship as when the clown wrote their name on a drawing they had just finished, clearing out the possibility of it being an assistant on the show. Zero crumples the envelope and throws it in the trash, but tucks the letter under their pillow.

When they are released the following month, they're found sitting in front of the community television.

-

"Sunshine's beautiful this time of day, isn't it?"

"B...oss, I'm sorry, please."

Zero takes another drag of their cigar as his head is dunked into the freezing waters. The silence makes the scenario one for the books, but for some reason the sun just isn't as bright as it was on those dirty screens. They exhale as the bruised male is brought out of the sea once more.

"I forgive you, and now I'm letting go." They wave to the others on the boat. "Drop him. I don't want to be late for the show."

-

Arriving at the studio, a whiny voice drills from behind them.

"Aw, man- you got front row seats? Switch with your ol pal. Its the least you can do since I introduced you to them."

[strawberrystepmom]

nsfw - mdni. this isn't graphic it's foreplay but i'm suffering leave me alone. fukuzawa x f!reader. implied age gap, size kink if you squint, reader is wearing a dress, he is referred to as reader's boyfriend. divider by cafekitsune!

"Sweetheart?"

The term of endearment draws your attention away from your sketchbook and where it rests in front of you. You lay on your front in your boyfriend's bed, swinging your legs behind you, and grin at the sound of Yukichi's voice coming from down the hallway.

"In here," you shout back to confirm your location. He wasn't expecting you'd be here at all, assuming you'd skulk back to your apartment instead of his home, but relief washes over him hearing your call.

You are just what he needs after the day he has had. There is never a dull moment at the Armed Detective Agency.

"Welcome home."

You turn to look over your shoulder and see him entering the room, haori draped over his arm. Raising his eyebrows when he takes a look at your position, a bright grin spreads across your face.

"I probably should have called you and told you I'd be here but I forgot." Eyes following his movements, you watch him hang up his garments and make his way to the bed where you lay, the mattress dipping slightly beneath his weight when he slides his knees onto it. "After my appointment I came straight here."

Wordlessly, he glances downward at your body and slides his hands over the curve of your ass, the relieved sigh he breathes making you giggle.

"Did you miss me?"

The man you are so enchanted by leans down to kiss your cheek, hands sliding from your ass to your hips and finally, your waist. He feels so imposing when he positions himself like this over you and heat warms your face, traveling from your cheeks to your heart and to places even lower than that.

"Always until we meet again. How was your day?"

Sighing, you lean forward on your elbows and hunch your shoulders, clasping your hands in front of you. Overall, the day was fine but you have to play up the drama for his sake more than your own. It's one of the things he loves the most about you, that penchant for making even the mundane a tale.

"It was really fine. I went to pick up some groceries, dropped those books I forgot to return off with an apology note. I even remembered to stop and get lunch today." You smile softly, enjoying the feel of his body above yours even if desire makes you wish he'd run those hands over your body again, mapping out territory that belongs to him like a lord in days long passed with his fief. "My appointment went okay, I'll have my blood work back in a few days."

Without any warning, his hands slide up your waist and one of his fingers presses one of the buttons on the back of your dress, unfastening it. Turning your head and glancing over your shoulder, Yukichi pauses for a moment and half smiles, sliding his knees onto either side of your hips.

"Keep going. You were telling me about your appointment."

With a nibble of your lower lip you nod and press your chest into the bedding beneath you, flattening the curve of your spine. He finds the next button keeping the soft skin of your back hidden from his sight and pops it out of the hole keeping it in place, the gap in your dress now wide enough that he can see your shoulder blades.

"The appointment was easy, just in and ou..."

Whatever words that existed on your tongue die when he curls his index finger and brushes the back of the digit over your flesh, goosebumps erupting after the feather light touch. You shiver in response and Fukuzawa chuckles, leaning over your body and letting his slightly overgrown hair brush against you.

"It was in and out?" He asks from right above your ear, lower lip brushing the upper shell of it. "That's great. I was worried they'd keep you waiting."

Those offensively elegant and nimble fingers still make easy work of the buttons on the back of your dress and a whine escapes you and as quiet as you try to make it, he catches it with ease and smirks. You feel the curve of his lips against your ear, the sensation causing you to arch your back enough that your chest is off of the mattress completely.

"We both know how impatient you become when made to wait, don't we?"

[jez-bez]

unpopular opinion: Korn is not the baddest of bad guys

Is Korn a good guy? No. Definitely not. He, without a doubt, accepts his place in the gambling/money laundering part of his father's company. Does he have a choice, though? I don't think he does.

I've seen people talking about Korn being the bad guy, who takes advantage of Ton Kla, their Sugar Daddy arrangement, cheats on him with Fasai (which imo is NOT something he enjoys or even wants to do. I think he's being forced into it but that's for another time I guess) etc etc but I see it differently

Korn loves Ton Kla. Plain and simple. He loves him. Korn just unfortunately, like a lot of people getting raised by shitty excuses for parents, is acting and reacting in the only way he knows how. By control.

It's so clear to see.

The scene where Korn comes back to Ton Kla after two weeks, to me, speaks volumes of Korn's feelings. He's an open book right there.

"How about I fill you in on what happened, okay?"

You can see the hope on his face. He's been gone for weeks, feels guilty about it and now he really wants to tell (his lover) where he was and what happened. I mean, he did just get promoted too (even if its into a fucked up money scheme wth). But he wants to tell Ton Kla because he's finally got time to see him again, he wants to share his hardships and joys. Like normal couples would, right?

But then when Ton Kla doesn't want to listen, doesn't want to hear any of it, Korn gets disappointed.

he then makes the stupidest mistake ever by assuming a fuck would fix everything. Give the boy what he usually wants and the boy will forgive him, right? right?

Wrong.

Ton Kla doesn't want to have sex , which tbf, after being ghosted for two weeks (and having found another toy to play with) isn't weird. I wouldn't either. Go Ton Kla for pushing him away.

The face of realization because Korn is losing control. Not that he's had any control over anything the last few weeks, because not even his subordinates listened to him when he ordered them not to hurt Nan. In fact, I'd even say Korn is naive for believing they'd follow his order.

And then Ton Kla drops a massive, all left over peace shattering bomb because 'his brother was killed and Korn wasn't there, Korn didn't know, Korn let him down.' <- aka Korn's inner monologue probably.

"Who did it, Ton Kla?"

Baby tries so hard, to come up with something to do, to help. Suggesting the only things he's knows, the only things that's probably helped him: his connections through his father. And here's where people bitch about 'he didn't even ask Ton Kla if he was okay!'

listen, I know, I understand. But the man has also been through some shit, he's just reacting right now. He needs to know what happened, so he can help. So he can get that control back that he lost and desperately needs back.

"You don't have to help me. Someone else is already helping."

And once again he gets rejected by his lover, shattering the already shattered pieces of whatever's left of his heart and patience.

Korn so badly wanted to come back to his love, his boy, to share with him what happened in the past two weeks, to finally breathe and calm down. But unfortunately, a lot has happened to Ton Kla too, who just can't handle Korn's absence and random appearance.

"Just go."

Another rejection. Shot straight through the heart.

Ton Kla is not playing around, that's for sure. And honestly, good on him. This is not a pity party for Korn. Both are just reacting to their feelings. Poorest little meow meows. Stuck in their own dysregulation.

"You dare chase me away?"

That right there, is the look of a man who is hurting. Who can't believe what's happening. Knowing he fucked up and won't be allowed to fix it.

He even stumbles out of the house! Poor Korn. I feel for him.

Korn may not be the best character, is very morally gray, but I think people shouldn't forget the home that brought him up. You become what is preached to you, and if you don't know that that is wrong, you can't change. Nothing.