#Anyone would love that in their collection

[robo-writing]

How different Logan’s would eat you out <3

X1, X2, and X3

✦A mix between ravenous and romantic. He wants you to know just how much you’re loved, and he expresses that by how long he can eat your pussy without stopping. savoring each and every movement from you, he actually enjoys when you lose control and tighten your legs around his head, moaning something along the lines of you’ll be the death of me as he laps at your cunt.

Your thighs quake around his head, hands in his hair as you look down at him. He’s having the time of his life, licking at your pussy like it’s the last thing he’ll do in this life, pulling you down and forcing you to sit right on his face.

“Don’t need air, stay,” he mumbles, eyes looking up at you. “Just stay here for me sweetheart.”

You want to protest but goddamn does he make it hard for you, especially when his hands grip the fat of your ass and grind you onto his lips. Higher and higher, you feel your orgasm taking hold with each movement.

“Logan, gonna come,” you whine, and he pushes you as far down as you can go.

“Come on my face doll,” he groans, tonguing at your shaking entrance. “Get my face nice and wet, yeah?”

Origins Wolverine

✦Lovey dovey sickeningly sweet romantic sex; down for anything as long as you’re involved. Sit on his face? Gladly. Pull your legs over his shoulders? Just say when. The kind of lover whose heart skips a beat every time he sees you naked like it's the first time, despite the fact that you're married with a house. Speaks to your pussy as if it’s separate from you.

“How’s my girl doing? Doing alright?”

Your answer is a moan, your pussy clenching around nothing. Logan smiles at your response, thumb stroking up to press against your sensitive clit.

“Yeah, doing just fine ain’t you?” He breathes, kissing the hardened nub before returning to suck on it, your legs shaking in response. “And my other girl’s nice and ready ain’t she?”

“Baby,” you whine, desperate to cum. He’s edged you for as long as possible and you’re almost certain if you wait any longer you’ll actually die. Thankfully Logan grants you mercy, tightening his hold on your thighs as he focuses all his effort into making your pussy leak on his face.

“Come for me sweetheart,” he groans, and you do. Fingers digging into the sheets, you feel your orgasm take hold as Logan wrings every ounce of pleasure he can, kissing at your thighs when your overstimulated pussy can’t take any more.

You barely catch your breath before he speaks to your cunt, admiring how your come trails down your thighs.

“There she is,” he chuckles, index finger slowly collecting the remains of your juices, admiring how they glisten in the low light of your bedroom. “Nice and satisfied, ain’t she?”

DOFP Logan

✦Second biggest munch. Running from danger constantly doesn’t make a lot of time for sex so whenever he finds the rare opportunity to do so best believe he’s jumping at it. Likes to joke that he’s started to go grey because he can’t fuck you as often as he likes. Truly eats you out like he needs your pussy more than he needs air.

“Need to be quiet baby,” he growls, pinning your thrashing hips against the wall. “You’re going to get us caught.”

It’s one of the rare days when you’ve found a safe house, even rarer that it’s just you and Logan alone for once. One look at his face and you already knew what was running through that adamantium skull of his, dragging you away to the nearest closet where you’ve been for god knows how long—the concept of time always seems to leave you wherever Logan’s talented mouth is involved.

You’re biting at your hand to muffle your moans but it’s still not enough, free hand tangled in his graying strands as an anchor. You can see his eyes roll back at the feeling, sloppily kissing up your pussy.

“God I wanna hear you,” he moans. “I’d give anything to fuckin’ hear you baby, but you’ve gotta behave for me. Don’t want anyone else seein’ this.”

The scene is something straight out of a porno—your legs hooked over his shoulders as he eats your cunt feverishly, the filthy sounds he makes with each movement, your hips desperately chasing his mouth—you wish this could never end.

70s Logan

✦By far the most selfish, he eats you out for his pleasure alone. He doesn’t give a damn if you’re crawling away, he will pull you back and lock his lips around your clit until you’re damn near thrashing in his arms, grinding against the mattress because that's just how hard he is. He won’t apologize for making you pass out, nor will he stay the night, but if he likes you enough you might find a card on your nightstand with his number hastily scribbled onto it.

When you decided to bring tall, dark, and grumpy home you didn’t expect it to end with tears running down your face, practically begging for a reprieve that won’t come. His hands lock together, forcing you still as he eats you out, not giving a damn about how pathetic you sound.

“Quit fuckin’ squirming,” he grunts, nosing at your pussy. “Lemme enjoy this.”

The man is talented, that’s a fact. Knows just how to push your buttons in all the right ways, but the problem is that he’s pushed your buttons nearly three times already and you’re almost certain his beard is going to give you the worst rash you’ve ever had.

But damn it if he isn’t responsible for some of the best orgasms you’ve ever had.

“Logan, fuck—lemme take a break,” you’re begging at this point, slapping at his shoulders when he doesn’t let up. Your breath catches in your chest when he smacks your thigh roughly in response, smiling against your pussy when he feels you clench in response.

“Don’t tell me you’re not enjoying yourself,” he mocks, showing just how true his words ring when his fingers rub circles against your clit.

You swear you can feel any coherent thoughts leak out of your ears, focused solely on coming. It’s embarrassing how well he plays your body like a fine tuned instrument, but you can’t bring yourself to care when you’re squirting a mess onto your mattress.

“There we go, ain’t that a sight?” He laughs, pulling you closer towards his face. “Now, be a good little slut and behave while I enjoy my meal, okay?”

Old Man Logan

✦#1 munch and it’s not even close. When his job leaves him tired and his body is sore he finds comfort between your legs, it’s the only time he can turn his brain off and drown himself in you. He’s so fucking starved that he’ll genuinely get lost in his own headspace and ignore your thrashing and whining just to wring another orgasm from your tired body. Kisses your labia and mutters how she's such a pretty pussy as you're trying to catch your breath.

Logan didn't even bother to shed his clothes, making a beeline directly to you the moment he stepped inside your shared home. Dirt still settled on his skin, his head nestled into the crook of your neck as your bodies sway within the closed off kitchen. "Missed me, huh?" you ask, his sigh answer plenty. "Always miss you princess," he whispers, pulling you closer. He lifts you up with warning, sitting you down on the countertop, kneeling between your dangling legs. His beard tickles your bare skin, pulling you close enough to place a kiss onto your pussy, right over the fabric of your panties. "Fuck," you sigh. "You really missed me." His smile is infectious, nuzzling against your fabric-covered core. He kisses you through it for a while before peeling off the moistened garment, thumbs reaching to stroke your pussy. The sight makes your skin hot, hands tangled in his hair. "Been waiting all fuckin' day for this," he moans, spreading you apart and indulging in your juices. "Can tell you were waiting for me too." You feel your body melt with every touch, Logan's hands an anchor as he makes out with your heat, nose bumping against your clit with each movement.

Worst Logan

✦Still trying to wrap his head around you wanting to be with him, but goddamn if he isn’t grateful. Reverent, like a sinner at an alter. Your word is law, likes it when you pull him by the hair and show him where you need it, loves it when you tell him how good he’s doing, presses himself further into your pussy when you’re ready to come. It's all about you and he wouldn't have it any other way.

You lovingly stroke his hair, back arching when he kisses your clit oh so gently.

“Lemme take a look at you,” you ask, and the sight of him is enough to make you come.

Face red, blushing so hard it reaches his chest, eyes so glazed over with lust his pupils leave nothing but small rings of green in his eyes. You cradle his face and the weight of his head falls into them immediately, chasing your touch.

“Gonna make me feel good, aren’t you?” You ask, and he nods his head, kissing your palm.

“Lemme taste you baby,” he whispers. “Swear to god I’ll make you feel good.”

“Never doubted you for a second Logan,” you whisper back, tugging his head back to your soaked cunt. He breathes in your scent, fucking groans at the sight of your pussy before he descends on it, noisily showing you just how much he meant his words.

“Fuckin’ delicious baby, so fuckin’ wet,” he moans. “Can’t get enough of you.”

He only gets louder when you pull him forward by the hair, rough hands leaving a mark where his fingers grip your skin.

[badathumanemotions]

Hey, would you be able to write a nsfw fic with spencer but maybe where a few of the team members decide to play poker at Rossi’s and it turns into strip poker with like a bit of truth or dare and you end up sat on Spencer’s lap with like barely any clothes on or smt. And then like later they end up having to share a room at rossi’s and then yk..

High Stakes

Spencer Reid x Fem Reader MDNI Master List Category: Smut CW: Strip Poker, Half Naked Lap Sitting, Grinding, Dry Humping, Oral Sex, Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Creampie, Face Fucking, Dirty Talk. WC: 5,799 I have no idea how to play poker. (Not Proof Read)

"Alright, who's up for a round of poker?" Derek Morgan announced, his eyes scanning the table.

You looked around at the weary but smiling faces of your teammates. After a long, successful case, dinner at Rossi's had been the perfect way to unwind. The aroma of his homemade lasagna still lingered in the air, mingling with the sweetness of their dessert.

"I think I'll pass," Aaron said, pushing back his chair with a stretch. "It's been a long day. I'd love to join you all, but I better get home to Haley and Jack." His eyes crinkled at the mention of his wife and son.

Rossi nodded, understanding. "Alright, I'll walk you out." They disappeared into the hallway, leaving the rest of the team to rearrange the furniture in the den.

You felt a hand on your shoulder. "You in?" Emily Prentiss asked, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

You nodded, trying to hide your nerves. "Sure, I'm in. It's been a while since I played, but I'll give it a shot."

The table was soon set up with cards, chips, and drinks. You took a seat next to Spencer, who was already shuffling the deck with a focused intensity that was a little unnerving.

"Okay, everyone," Rossi called out as he re-entered the room. "Let's get this game started." He took his place at the table, his eyes showing a hint of fatigue. "But remember, I'm only playing a couple of hands. It's been a long day and I need my beauty sleep." His comment was met with laughter from the others.

The first hand of poker began, with Spencer dealing the cards with a swiftness that spoke of his years of experience playing the game. His eyes darted around the table, reading the subtle tells of his teammates. You took a deep breath and picked up your cards, feeling the smooth edges against your fingertips.

As the hand unfolded, the banter grew more playful, the stakes rising with each round of betting. You watched as Derek Morgan's face remained unreadable, his poker face firmly in place. Meanwhile, JJ's occasional glances at her cards betrayed her excitement, while Garcia's fidgeting with her chips was a clear sign she was bluffing.

Spencer's eyes narrowed slightly as he studied his cards, his mind racing through probabilities and possible outcomes. When it came down to the showdown, he laid out a full house with a smug smile. "Well, well, well," he said, collecting his winnings. "It seems like Lady Luck is on my side tonight."

The room buzzed with good-natured groans and teasing. "How does he do it?" JJ jokes, shaking her head.

A couple more rounds went by, the tension rising as the pot grew. Each of you played strategically, the air filled with anticipation and the clinking of chips. Prentiss leaned back in her chair, her arms folded as she studied the table.

Finally, after one particularly intense round, Rossi rubbed his eyes and yawned. "Alright, I think I've had enough fun for one night. I'm going to call it quits and head upstairs." He glanced around the table. "If anyone wants to crash here tonight, the guest rooms are all yours. No need to drive home if you're feeling too tired."

The team bid him good night, their eyes lingering on the chips and cards as they continued to play. With Rossi's departure, the atmosphere grew slightly more competitive. You felt a thrill as the game went on, the camaraderie of the team mixing with the cutthroat nature of poker.

Morgan leaned back in his chair, a devilish grin spread across his face. "You know what would make this night even better?" he suggested, raising an eyebrow.

"What's that?" Prentiss asked, her interest piqued.

Morgan's grin widened. "How about we spice things up a bit?" He suggested, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Strip poker, anyone?"

The room fell silent for a beat before bursting into laughter. You felt your cheeks heat up, surprised by the proposal. Prentiss's smile grew wicked. "Now that's a twist," she said, her gaze flickering to JJ.

JJ caught your eye and noticed your hesitance. She leaned forward, placing a reassuring hand on the table. "You know, we can always play truth or dare instead," she suggested, her voice low and soothing. "It's less… risky."

Morgan's smile grew. "How about both?" he proposed, raising the stakes. "You can opt to either take a piece of clothing off or complete a truth or dare from the group." The room buzzed with excitement and a little trepidation. You swallowed hard, trying to decide if you were ready for this.

Garcia squealed with delight. "I'm in!" she exclaimed, her cheeks already pink.

You took a deep breath, the adrenaline starting to pump through your veins. The thought of playing strip poker was a bit intimidating, but the alternative rule of truth or dare had its own thrill. You found yourself nodding in agreement. "Alright, why not? Strip poker with a twist it is."

The game continued, the stakes now higher in more ways than one. Garcia was the first to go, losing a shoe to a bad bluff. She giggled, tossing it aside and taking a shot of tequila.

JJ's eyes widened slightly as she had to remove her sweater, revealing a tight tank top underneath. The room was getting warmer, and not just from the heat of the game. The tension grew palpable as each player weighed their options: fold and risk embarrassment, or push on and hope for the win.

You felt your heart race as the game continued. With each round, the pile of clothing on the floor grew. Before you knew it, you were down to your last few pieces of clothing.

The next hand was dealt, and you picked up your cards with trembling hands. You had a good hand, but the idea of losing was now more than just about the game. You studied the faces around the table, looking for signs of who might be bluffing.

Morgan leaned in, his gaze intense. "You're looking a little flushed, Y/N," he teased. "Is it the game or the thought of what's next?"

You couldn't help but laugh nervously, feeling the heat in your cheeks spread down your neck. The game had indeed taken a turn, and you found yourself in a situation you never would have imagined when you accepted the dinner invitation. You had continued playing, the excitement and the thrill of the game keeping you in your seat until you were down to just your bra, skirt, and panties.

The hand began, and you focused on your cards. You had a decent hand, but not a sure win. The betting went around the table, each person raising the stakes. You looked around, trying to read their faces, their body language, looking for any hint of what they might be hiding.

As the final round of bets were placed, you felt the weight of the moment. If you won this hand, you could keep your skirt on. If not, well, the thought sent a shiver down your spine. You placed your bet, trying to keep your voice steady.

Morgan called, his smile never wavering. Prentiss folded, a knowing look in her eye. Spencer studied you closely, his cards held tight to his chest. Garcia bobbed in her chair, her curiosity and excitement palpable.

As the tension grew, so did the distraction of your state of undress. You noticed Spencer's eyes darting to your chest every few seconds, the effort he was making not to stare becoming more and more obvious. You couldn't help but feel a thrill of power at the sight of him so flustered. The others had also caught on. They knew Spencer's intense focus was split, and they hoped to use his distraction to their advantage.

The final card was flipped, and you watched in horror as Morgan revealed his winning hand. The room erupted in cheers and whistles, your heart sinking as you realized you had lost your last piece of lower body clothing. With a dramatic flourish, you stood and dropped your skirt to the floor.

Spencer's eyes traced down your legs, his cheeks reddening when he realized he'd been caught staring. He quickly looked away. The room fell silent for a moment before the laughter and clapping began again.

Others had invoked the truth or dare clause here and there, but you hadn't yet. Each time someone chose dare, it seemed to push the boundaries a little further. Garcia had to sing a karaoke song, JJ had to do a sexy dance, and Prentiss had to tell a steamy secret from her past. Each moment had been met with laughter and cheers, but you couldn't shake the feeling that the real fun was just getting started.

The next hand was dealt, and your heart pounded in your chest as you realized you had nothing. You didn't want to remove your bra, so you knew what you had to do. You took a deep breath and announced, "Dare." The room grew quiet, all eyes on you.

Morgan's grin grew wicked. "I dare Y/N to sit on Spencer's lap for the rest of the night." A chorus of laughter and cheers erupted around the table. Spencer's eyes widened in shock, his cheeks burning.

You felt your own cheeks rouge at the suggestion, your heart skipping a beat. Being that close to Spencer, especially in your current state of half-dress, was both thrilling and terrifying. But the excitement of the game and the desire to keep playing overrode your nerves. You nodded, trying to appear nonchalant. "Fine."

Spencer's body moved back before he even had time to process the words. His chair scraped against the wooden floor, creating a sharp sound that echoed in the tension-filled room. He looked up at you, his eyes wide, his expression a mix of surprise and something else that you couldn't quite decipher.

You took a deep breath and slid onto his lap with more confidence than you felt. His body was tense beneath you, his muscles rigid as he held himself perfectly still. You could feel the heat from his body, the warmth of his skin seeping through his shirt and into you. Your heart was racing so fast it felt like it might leap out of your chest.

The others smirked as they shuffled the cards for the next round. They could see the electric tension between you and Spencer, and it only added to the excitement of the game. Prentiss began to deal, her eyes glinting with amusement as she took in the situation.

The next few rounds, Spencer's focus was undeniably scattered. His usual poker face was nowhere to be seen, replaced by a constant battle to not look at you sitting on his lap. His hands fumbled with his cards, and his bets were erratic. It didn't take long before the team noticed and capitalized on his distraction.

"Looks like someone's lost their mojo," Prentiss teased, placing her cards on the table with a smirk. You tried to ignore the smug looks from the others, focusing instead on the way Spencer's breath hitched every time you shifted slightly.

The next hand was dealt, and you could see the determination in Spencer's eyes as he picked up his cards. This time, you noticed the way his thumb brushed against your bare skin as he held his cards, and the electricity that shot through you was anything but calming.

You tried to keep your focus on the cards in your hand, but Spencer's proximity was making it near impossible. His breath was warm against your neck, and you could feel his heart beating rapidly beneath you. You thought you had been careful hiding your cards, but apparently, not that careful.

"You're holding your cards too tight," he whispered into your ear, his voice low and gentle. "It's giving you away." You felt a shiver run down your spine, and you couldn't help but lean into him slightly. His scent filled your nose and it made your head swim.

You took a deep breath and tried to loosen your grip, his words sinking in. The whispers continued, his breath warm against your neck as he pointed out small tells from the others at the table. His voice was a comforting rumble, guiding you through the game.

Slowly, the closeness didn't feel so awkward. In fact, there was a strange sense of comfort in having him so near. You found yourself leaning into him slightly, his arm wrapping around your waist in a protective embrace.

As the game went on, Spencer's whispers grew more frequent. He noticed every little detail about the others' playing styles, sharing his insights with you in hushed tones. "Look at how Garcia's thumb is pressing down on her chips," he murmured. "She's bluffing." His voice was low and calming, his words of advice a secret shared between the two of you.

You followed his lead, and slowly, you saw your luck begin to change. You won a couple hands, the pile of chips in front of you growing. The warmth of his body, the steady beat of his heart, and the gentle guidance of his whispers had a surprising effect on you. You felt more relaxed, more confident. The daring glances and smiles you exchanged with him grew more frequent, hinting at the thrill you both felt.

Then it happened. As you readjusted yourself higher on his lap for better comfort, you felt it. The unmistakable pressure of Spencer's erection against your backside. A blush crept up your neck, and you froze for a moment, unsure of what to do. His breath hitched, and you knew he was just as aware of it as you were. The room's temperature seemed to rise a few degrees.

You wondered how long he had been like that and how you hadn't noticed it before. His arm tightened around your waist, and you felt a low groan in his chest. You felt yourself start to get wet, the heat and the thrill of the moment making your body react despite the situation. You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself.

Without realizing it, your hips had begun to slightly rock against him, the friction sending waves of pleasure through your body. You could feel his cock growing harder with every movement. The others at the table were too engrossed in the game to notice, but you were acutely aware of every little sound and sensation.

Spencer's breathing grew shallower. His hips made the tiniest of movements, pushing back into you in a silent bid for more. You bit your lip, trying to keep your breathing steady, but it was getting harder by the second.

The game continued around you, but the world had narrowed down to just the two of you. Each time his hips rocked against yours, it sent a jolt of desire through your body. You could feel your own breath quickening, your chest rising and falling more noticeably with every shallow breath.

You tried to keep your poker face, focusing on the cards in your hand, but it was difficult when you could feel his hardness pressing into you. Spencer's whispers grew softer, his voice a gentle rumble that made your skin tingle.

Suddenly, Garcia broke the spell, standing up from the table with a dramatic yawn. "Alright, I think I've had enough for tonight," she announced, her cheeks still flushed from the alcohol. "I'm going to crash in one of the guest rooms."

Her declaration created a domino effect. One by one, the others began to nod in agreement. The energy of the game dissipated as they all started to collect their scattered clothing. You felt a strange mix of relief and disappointment as Spencer's arm loosened around your waist.

Reluctantly, you slid off Spencer's lap and began to gather your clothes from the floor. The fabric felt cold against your skin, which was now sensitive from his warmth. You couldn't help but feel the loss of his touch as you dressed, the excitement of the moment fading into a confusing mix of arousal and awkwardness.

"Thank you for a… memorable game," Spencer said, his voice strained as he stood up. His eyes darted around the room, avoiding yours.

You tried to ignore the wetness between your legs as you helped the others clean up, focusing on the mundane task of gathering the cards and chips. Your body was still humming with the tension that had built up during the daring rounds of poker. The room felt too small, too hot, as you tried to act like nothing had changed.

The group chattered about who would take which guest room, the conversation light and easy. Yet, you couldn't help but feel the weight of the moment lingering in the air. The way Spencer's arm had felt around your waist, his erection pressing into you, was etched into your mind.

"Dibs on Morgan!" Garcia exclaimed, slapping a hand on Derek's arm playfully.

You laughed along with everyone else, trying to shake off the lingering tension.

"Alright, let's all head upstairs," Prentiss suggested, breaking the spell. "Three guest rooms, and we're all adults here."

You nodded, eager to escape the charged atmosphere, and followed the group up the stairs. You felt Spencer's gaze on you, and you couldn't help but wonder if he was thinking the same things you were.

Without a word, Emily and JJ claimed the first room they saw. Garcia and Morgan didn't waste any time either, disappearing into the room across the hall. That left you and Spencer, the silence between you heavy with unspoken tension as you both stared at the last guest room at the end of the hallway.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. Spencer's eyes darted to the room before meeting yours. "Looks like we're sharing," he murmured, his voice low and filled with a hint of something that was definitely not disappointment.

With a sudden burst of courage, you grabbed his hand, your pulse quickening. He looked surprised but didn't resist as you led him to the last open guest room.

Once you closed the door, you pushed Spencer to sit at the edge of the bed, his eyes widening as you straddled his lap. His arms instinctively wrapped around your waist, holding you in place.

"Do you want this?" you whispered, your breath hot against his ear. His eyes searched yours for any sign of hesitation or doubt, but all he saw was the same hunger reflected in his own.

"God yes," he replied, crashing his lips against yours with a fervour that stole your breath. The heat between you was undeniable as your bodies collided, his hands gripping your hips tightly. The kiss was deep and hungry, his tongue delving into your mouth as if he could devour you whole.

You grind against his lap, happy to feel that he was still semi-hard. His grip on you tightened, and you could feel his cock growing harder with every movement of your hips. The feeling was intoxicating, and you couldn't help but moan into his mouth.

Breaking the kiss, you leaned back, panting heavily. Spencer's eyes followed your every move as you stood up and began to strip away your clothing, until you were left in your underwear.

You sat back down onto his lap, this time with a sense of purpose, your legs straddling his. He groaned into your neck, his hands roaming over your bare skin as you kissed along his jawline. His touch was gentle yet firm, leaving a trail of heat wherever he went.

Spencer's fingers slid up the outside of your thighs, his touch feather-light, sending shivers of anticipation through you. His grip tightened as they reached your ass, cupping you firmly. He pulled you closer, aligning your hips with his, and you gasped as his erection pressed against you.

You rocked back and forth, the friction building between your bodies. His breath was hot against your neck, his kisses leaving a trail of fire along your collarbone. You wrapped your arms around him, your nails digging into his shoulders as the pressure grew.

Suddenly, the angle was just right. Your clit rubbed against his erection with just the right amount of friction, and you felt yourself teetering on the edge. The sensation was intense, your eyes rolling back in your head as you bit back a moan.

With every grind, you grew closer to the edge, your breath coming in short gasps. Your nails dug into his shoulders, your body trembling with the effort to stay in control. Then, with a final, desperate thrust, you climaxed, your body shuddering in his embrace.

Spencer watched you, his eyes hooded with lust. He could feel your wetness soaking through the fabric of your panties, and it was all he could do to keep from tearing them off.

With a surprising show of strength, Spencer picked you up, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. You gasped as he laid you gently on the bed, his body hovering over yours. He paused for a moment, his gaze searching yours for any sign of hesitation, but all he found was desire mirrored back at him.

His hands traced the line of your underwear, his thumbs hooking under the waistband. Slowly, so painfully slow, he began to lower your panties. You watched as he pulled them down, revealing your wetness to the cool air of the room. Instead of tossing them aside, he folded the damp fabric and tucked it into his back pocket with a smirk.

He spread your legs wide, taking in the sight of you with a hunger that made you blush even deeper. His eyes roamed over your bare skin, lingering on your most sensitive spots. He leaned in, his breath hot against your folds, and you shivered.

Without further teasing, Spencer's tongue darted out, licking a slow path up your slit. You gasped, your hips bucking involuntarily. He took his time, savouring the taste of you. His tongue was soft and insistent, lapping at your clit and dipping into your entrance.

You grabbed fistfuls of the bed sheets, your back arching off the mattress as he worked you into a frenzy. The feeling of his mouth on you was heavenly, his skilled tongue flicking and pressing in just the right places. You were so close, your body tightening in anticipation of another orgasm.

But just as you were about to tip over the edge again, Spencer paused, leaving you panting and desperate. He slid a finger into your wetness, and you could feel him smiling against your skin as he found your g-spot with ease. The addition of his fingers sent a new wave of pleasure crashing through you, making your legs quiver.

As his tongue danced over your clit, his fingers began to move inside you in a rhythm that was both torturous and heavenly. He knew exactly how to hit that spot, his movements measured and precise, as if he had studied your body's every response. You moaned, your body begging for more as he continued to explore you with his mouth.

Spencer's mouth grew more urgent, his tongue lapping and sucking on your clit messily. He was too desperate to care about the wet sounds he was making, too lost in the taste of you to be self-conscious. His teeth grazed your sensitive flesh, and you gasped, your nails digging into his scalp as you held him in place.

He could feel your orgasm building, the way your muscles tightened around his fingers. With one final, deliberate thrust, he pushed you over the edge, his tongue never leaving your clit as you came hard against his mouth.

As your body trembled with the aftershocks of pleasure, you felt a surge of energy rather than exhaustion. The orgasm had been so intense that it seemed to have recharged you. Without warning, you sprang up from the bed, a mischievous grin playing on your lips as you turned to face Spencer.

You reached behind your back and unhooked your bra, letting it fall to the floor. Spencer's eyes widened, his gaze drinking in the sight of your breasts. Your nipples harden in the cool air.

Standing before him, you began to strip Spencer of his clothes. Once down to his last article of clothing you knelt before Spencer, your eyes never leaving his as you gripped the waistband of his boxers. His eyes darkened with anticipation as you began to pull them down his legs, revealing his cock, which stood at full attention. Your heart raced as you took in the sight of him, the anticipation of what was to come making your own body respond in kind.

You reached out and gently touched his cock, feeling the heat and hardness of it. Spencer's breath hitched, his eyes fluttering shut as you explored his length with curious fingers. The tip was wet with pre-cum, and you couldn't resist leaning in to taste him. Your tongue flicked out, a soft and tentative touch that made him jerk in surprise.

Encouraged, you took him fully into your mouth, his length stretching your lips wide. You could feel his hands tighten in your hair as you began to suck, your mouth moving in a steady rhythm. Spencer moaned, his hips forward to meet your eager mouth. You took him deeper, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat, making you gag slightly.

You paused for a moment to adjust, then took him as far as you could, holding yourself there and swallowing around his tip. The sensation was overwhelming for Spencer, his eyes rolling back in his head. His hips bucked slightly, pushing himself deeper into your mouth, and you could feel his muscles tightening beneath your fingertips.

Finally, you pulled off of him, licking your lips to catch the last drops of his arousal. Looking him in the eye, you whispered, "Use me." It was a simple request, but it held a world of meaning. You wanted him to take control, to show you the full extent of his power over you.

Without hesitation, Spencer grabbed the hair at the back of your head and guided his cock back into your mouth. You moaned around him. He began to move his hips, fucking into your mouth with a gentle rhythm that grew more urgent with every passing stroke. His grip on your hair tightened.

Your eyes peered up at him, watering slightly from the effort to keep up with his pace. You could see the desire in his gaze, the way his pupils had blown wide with lust. It was a heady feeling, knowing you had this powerful, intelligent man at your mercy, reduced to a trembling mess by your touch.

But Spencer had other plans. He pulled out of your mouth with a soft groan, his hand still tangled in your hair. "Not yet," he murmured, his voice husky. "I want to feel you first."

With surprising strength, he offered you a hand and pulled you up from the floor. Your legs were shaky, but he held you steady. You climbed onto the bed, feeling the cool sheets beneath your knees. You positioned yourself on all fours, the soft mattress sinking slightly with your weight.

You dropped from your hands to your elbows, arching your back and sticking your ass up in the air. You couldn't help but wiggle your hips back and forth, a silent invitation to Spencer.

He moaned at the sight, his eyes glazed over with desire. He scrambled onto the bed behind you. His hand reached out to cup your ass cheeks, the heat of his palms searing into your skin.

Spencer spread your pussy lips apart with his thumbs, revealing the glistening wetness that leaked from your swollen entrance. His groan was low and guttural, a sound that sent a thrill of pleasure through your body. His thumbs traced slow circles around your opening, teasing your sensitive flesh.

With agonizing slowness, you felt the tip of his cock nudge against you. He pushed in gently, the head of his erection parting your folds. You gasped, your muscles clenching around the unyielding intrusion. Spencer waited, giving you a moment to adjust.

Inch by inch, he filled you up, his cock stretching you deliciously. You could feel every ridge and vein, his length sliding deep within you until you were fully impaled. He didn't move for a moment, letting you get used to the feeling of being so completely filled.

Then, once he felt you relax, Spencer set a punishing rhythm, his hips slamming against your ass. The room was filled with the sound of skin on skin, the rhythmic slapping echoing off the walls.

You whimpered, your eyes squeezed shut as you tried to process the sensation. It was intense, overwhelming, but you didn't want it to stop. Spencer's hands gripped your hips tightly, guiding you back onto him with each thrust.

The scent of sex and desire filled the room as he claimed you, the sound of skin slapping against skin mixing with the wetness of your pussy. Each time he pushed into you, your nipples scraped against the soft cotton of the bed sheets. The friction was maddening, making your already sensitive breasts feel like they were on fire.

Spencer's hands moved to your waist, his fingers digging into your flesh as he adjusted his angle. He threw his weight into each thrust, the force of his hips pushing you further into the bed with every movement.

Then he slid one hand down your body, his fingertips skimming over your stomach and pausing when they reached the apex of your thighs. He found your clit, swollen and sensitive from his earlier attention, and began to rub it in gentle circles.

The combination of his deep strokes and the pressure on your clit was too much. You felt yourself climbing again, the pleasure building to a crescendo. You began to moan, the sound muffled by the pillow you had buried your face in.

Spencer leaned over, his breath hot against your ear. "Do you like that?" he whispered. "Do you like it when I fuck you like this?" He grunts out.

You nodded, too lost in the haze of pleasure to form coherent words. His whispers grew more explicit, describing every little sensation he felt, every way your body was responding to his. "You're so tight, so wet for me," he continues. "Your pussy is squeezing my cock so tight."

With each thrust, he whispered about his desire for you, how long he had fantasized about this moment. "I've wanted to fuck you like this for so long," he groaned. "To feel you this way, to hear you like this." His words were like a drug, leaving you craving more.

"Remember when you were on my lap downstairs?" Spencer panted, his hips never slowing. "How badly I wanted to rip your panties off and bury my cock inside you?"

You moaned, his words painting a vivid picture in your mind. The thought of him wanting you that badly, of him fighting his urges while everyone else played the game, was an aphrodisiac.

As Spencer whispered about how he had imagined watching you bounce on his cock in the middle of the poker game, your orgasm crashed over you. You couldn't hold back the moan that tore from your throat as your pussy clenched around him, the muscles spasming with pleasure.

It was wet and messy, your juices coating his cock with each withdrawal, only to be pushed back in with a slick sound on his next thrust. Your thighs were sticky with your arousal, and the scent of sex grew stronger.

You felt your body tightening around him, your pussy pulsing with each stroke. Your orgasm was still fresh, but the relentless pace Spencer had set had you spiraling towards another peak. His breath was hot and ragged against your ear, his whispers of filthy confessions only fuelling the fire within you.

As Spencer spoke of his fantasies, his hand never ceased its torment of your clit. The pleasure grew unbearable, your body a live wire. Then, as if on cue, another orgasm washes over you, making your legs shake uncontrollably. You cry out, your voice a high-pitched whine.

His thrusts grew erratic, his own need for release becoming apparent. You felt your pussy flutter around his cock, the walls tightening and releasing in time with your racing heartbeat. It was this feeling, the tightness and the warmth of you, that pushed Spencer over the edge.

With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself as deep inside you as he could go. You felt his cock twitching, and then the warm flood of his cum filled your pussy. He groaned your name, his hips jerking as he emptied himself into you, his orgasm intense and uncontrollable. The sensation was intoxicating.

Panting, you both collapsed onto the bed, your bodies entangled in a mess of limbs. You clung to him, your chest rising and falling in time with his, your breaths mingling in the quiet room. Spencer's arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close as if afraid to let go. You felt his heart racing beneath your cheek. You were both thoroughly exhausted, the passionate frenzy leaving you drained yet content.

After a moment, you lifted your head and met his gaze. His eyes searched yours, seeking reassurance, a silent question hanging in the air. You offered a soft smile, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. The tension dissipated, replaced by a gentle warmth.

As your breathing evened out, you leaned in to capture his mouth in a slow, sensual kiss. The taste of yourself still lingered on his lips. Spencer's arms tightened around you, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss.

Your hands roamed his body, tracing the contours of his chest and shoulders, the feel of his skin smooth and warm beneath your fingertips. He mirrored your movements, his touch gentle and exploratory, as if committing every inch of you to memory.

Spencer's lips trailed down your neck, peppering kisses that sent shivers down your spine. You nuzzled closer to him, your breathing slowing as the weight of sleep began to claim you. "With how loud we were, we're definitely sneaking out before the others wake up, right?" you whispered against his skin.

He chuckled, the vibration running through you. "Right," he murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion. You could feel his smile against your shoulder. His hand traced lazy circles on your back, the gentle pressure lulling you closer to slumber.

[innerfare]

You’re Jealous

 Summary: You get jealous of someone else in his life.

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Ace, Sabo, Law, and Kid

Genre: Slight Angst // Fluff

CW: None // SFW

——— 

Luffy: He never told you Boa Hancock was in love with him, and when you find out, you have to remove yourself from the situation before you have an emotional outburst and start something with the Pirate Empress. The problem is, you don’t even know which emotion will spill out of you. Finding out the world’s most beautiful woman, and a powerful Warlord, no less, is desperate to marry Luffy is a whirlwind, to say the least. Luffy can seem clueless at times, but his emotional intelligence is through the roof, and he picks up on what has you upset almost straight away. He knows to give you some space, and when he senses you’re ready, he approaches you with a handful of wildflowers he picked. He doesn’t really say much, just pulls you into a hug, presses a few kisses into your cheek and temple, and says in your ear, “you’re my girl.” 

Zoro: He didn’t mention Perona was also at Mihawk’s castle for those two years until a few months after the crew gets together. He tells a story that features her, and you realize there was a woman keeping him company. Your heart drops into your stomach. Zoro insists he didn’t mention her because he didn’t think she was relevant; the only thing Perona did those two years was annoy him. He’s actually the one who won’t let it go, not you (even though you are pretty jealous). Whereas you’d prefer not to talk about it, Zoro is wracked with guilt because he’d never considered the whole thing in a relationship context. Him fretting constantly over it actually heals your jealousy because you realize you’ve never seen him panic over the prospect of hurting anyone else’s feelings. 

Sanji: Even with a third eye, Pudding is stunning. And Sanji almost married her. It was before you two were together, but listening to the stories from Whole Cake, hearing how close he came to marrying another woman, knowing she really did fall in love with his kind heart and wonderful cooking, turns you into a little green monster. You know you shouldn’t feel jealous of a woman you’ve never met before, a woman Sanji chose not to marry, but you can’t help it. Sanji is completely shocked that you would feel jealous over his relationship (if it could even be called that) with Pudding, though after thinking about it some more, he does realize why you might be jealous that he had a fiancé. His solution is to bring you a bouquet of roses and walk you through the dark details of his life, telling you things he’s never outright told anyone, so you understand the special place you have in his life. 

Ace: He collects people without trying, and often times, without realizing, either. Ace thinks he’s just making friends, but you see the way the women he laughs and shares drinks with are drawn to him like plants to the sun. He promises them freedom and adventure (and he has a very nice laugh), and you can see how it excites them. You don’t really mind it, knowing Ace well enough to see the way he holds those women at arm’s length, even if he seems close with them (such is the magic of Fire First Ace). But Yamato makes you jealous. It’s not hearing the way they laughed together but hearing the way they fought that gets to you. You know how Ace lives to fight and even just roughhouse, you know how he’s a rough and tumble guy, and you worry you’re not tough enough. Should you be punching his arm when he makes a joke? Should you be trying to trip him out on deck? What should you be doing? When you finally come clean with Ace about what’s been bothering you, he actually laughs. “If I wanted to be with someone who gives me hell, I’d be sleeping in Marco’s cabin every night. Besides,” he says, scooping you up in his arms, “I like being able to manhandle you.” 

Sabo: Sabo is a flirt, and you knew that going into your relationship. It actually doesn’t bother you when he flashes that charming smile of his at someone else or swoops in to save a damsel in distress (a speciality of his) and even serves to entertain, especially on the rare occasions his flirtations are rebuked. What does bother you, though, is his tight relationship with Koala. You know it’s ridiculous to be envious, you know Koala would sooner saw off her arm than kiss the man she considers her irksome big brother, but they’ve known each other since they were little kids, and Koala has been through so much with Sabo that the pair have such a close bond. It’s not the angry kind of jealousy that bubbles up in you when Koala mentions something about Sabo’s past that she assumes you know but you don’t, just the sad kind that you try to keep to yourself. Surprisingly, Sabo notices, though you don’t realize until he hugs you from behind and mumbles in your ear that he’s glad you’re the only one who knows he has a skincare routine, his silly words diffusing your mood and acting as the exact affirmation you needed. If it’s not enough, though, he’ll happily prove his loyalty to you by challenging Koala to a karate match, though.  

Law: Dr. Law and Dr. Robin sure do get along well- so well, in fact, you can’t help but wonder if they are better suited to each other than you and him. Even if they didn’t have such good chemistry, it would be impossible not to feel a touch of jealousy toward the archeologist. She’s intelligent, beautiful, fiercely loyal, a member of the Straw Hats, and has an impressive bounty that she earned even before she became a pirate. Needless to say, you find yourself brooding when the Robin brings him a beer and sits down beside him to discuss the immune systems of fishmen, a topic both are rather interested in. Of course, you’re interested in that, too, thus the reason Law realizes something is wrong when you don’t participate in the conversation. He ends up excusing the two of you and taking you to bed, worrying you had too much to drink, the thought you may be jealous never once occurring to him. You end up not saying anything (many thing in your relationship with Law being unspoken) and just sleeping it off, the fact that he excused the two of you proof enough of his loyalty. 

Kid: He doesn’t ever talk about his first love, Victoria. In fact, you didn’t even know she existed until Killer got drunk one night and began speaking of his dearly departed. What he didn’t mention was that Kid, too, had been in love with her. It only comes up the next night when you mention it to Wire, who mentions it was the death of his first love, Victoria, that put Kid on the war path and united the first four members of the Kid Pirates. Realizing Wire messed up, Heat chimes in to say, “he’d do the same for you.” But you’re not convinced, mainly because Kid never told you any of this. It tears you apart, leaves you tossing and turning for nights on end, until you finally burst into Kid’s workshop one night ranting about how he doesn’t trust you and holds you at arm’s length. “Heat says you’d do the same for me, but-” Kid cuts you off and says, “I wouldn’t do the same, I’d do worse. Much, much worse.” And from the wicked gleam in his eye, you’re inclined to believe him. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[tojisun]

(quietly) oh god thinking about kyle falling in love with his new neighbour.

How he was just going to crack open a window to let the breeze in only to stop at the sight of his neighbour and her daughter dancing in the rain, twin smiles tugging at their lips as they hop around in their front lawn, feet digging into the muddy parts of their grass garden, letting the water splash out.

Laughter trickles from the two, and it tickles Kyle’s ears, filling him up with such longing he can’t even put a proper name to it.

She is the single mother who moved from another country.

Why she settled in this little suburb, Kyle doesn’t know but he’s thankful of her because there are times when he forgets about many things—himself, for one; the touch of soft blankets and the feel of warm water, for another—but somehow he always finds himself snapping back to his body at seeing her.

At hearing her.

She is beautiful. She is beyond beautiful. She is—

God, how can anyone have that much fortitude and strength and love? How can anyone see the world so optimistically; so full of wonder?

“Oh, you,” she’d murmured, shy, when Kyle had told her of his thoughts, and he watched as her eyelashes brushed against her cheeks at her quiet chuckle.

Kyle’s throat had gone parched—he has never felt this type of yearning before; one that makes him full even when he’s yet to eat anything. One that lulls him to a quiet sleep like his mind and his body have finally found their centre of gravity; like they’re no longer unyielding nor unforgiving. But kind.

Filling. Wondrous.

“It’s because of my little duckling,” she continued, eyes crinkling in her delight. She turned to her snoozing daughter. “I would have been lost without my darling Pen.”

She looked at Kyle then, smiling like he wasn’t just a kind stranger. Like he wasn’t just a nobody.

Kyle stares at the them now, his lips quivering as he watches them dance and splash and giggle to each other. Their laughter sounds like chimes. Like twinkling bells. Like what home sounds.

Kyle stares at them now, wondering if he could ever be part of their family.

(He already is. Have been, for a while now.

Penelope adores Kyle. So much so that she would not stop asking you when could she play agIn with the kind man next door.

She tells you that Kyle is so patient—not in those words, but she tells you that Kyle always asks more about her stories, and asks her who are her friends and which of her collection of toys is her favourite.

And Pen is still too young to understand the word ‘patience’ but she tells you how Kyle is nothing but.

How he never once rejects her tea time invitation, even if the tea is just bottled sweet tea and grocery store cupcakes that you were able buy that week.

How he never once asks why she doesn’t know how to tie her shoelaces, and instead teaches her time and time again. That he never gets snappy even if she keeps forgetting.

She even recounts to you how excited she had been when Kyle showed up for the dad-daughter dance hosted at her school. He’d asked for your permission then, going shy as he stuttered out his, “But I don’t want to impose and you can say no, I swear, and we can just ignore this and—”

“Kyle,” you murmured, your eyes prickling with tears. “I’d be honoured if you were there for Pen.”

He said something to you then. It was a slip of his tongue, clearly something he didn’t want you to hear, and you honoured his wishes but when a man like Kyle—

No.

When Kyle says, “I wish I can be there f’r you too.” What is the natural reaction if not to let him know that he can?

That you want him too?)

(Penny likes Mr. Kyle.

He talks funny, like the many others in this new country.

Mama said it’s not nice to say that Mr. Kyle talks funny but Mr. Kyle is not angry. He just laughs with Penny, and says she should hear his best friend, Mr. Johnny, talk.

Penny is told Mr. Johnny sings more than he talks. Penny giggles at the idea of it.

Penny likes Mr. Kyle.

He is warm and he always has toffee in his pocket for Penny.

He also laughs loud, like the one from the belly, and she thinks that his laugh fills their house with how loud it is. Mama said that Mr. Kyle laughs loud so that the monsters under Penny’s bed would leave. Penny cried and said many thanks to Mr. Kyle after that.

Penny likes Mr. Kyle.

He…

He makes mama happy.

Not the way Penny makes mama happy. No one can make mama more happy than Penny could! But he buys her flowers and donuts and- and books! Adults are so weird.

Books are no fun.

Sometimes she wished Mr. Kyle can be her real dad.)

[sweetestcaptainhughes]

“Don’t touch me. We’re fighting.”

Quinn pleaseeee 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

I'm gonna put a warning on this because I like it so I don't feel like rewriting it. Warning: shitty relationship with father.

Drabble Masterlist

"Don't touch me. We're fighting."

Quinn didn't seem to care that you were pissed. But pissed didn't even describe the soreness in your jaw from clenching it so tight or the fact that your body temperature was elevated or that all you wanted to do was scream. Glancing over as he stood on the other side of the kitchen island, his face was as it always was calm, his thoughts were probably collected while your brain was firing off things to add to the fire if needed, he looked like he was in control of his body while yours was being controlled by the rage inside you. Looking at Quinn only pissed you off more so you just looked away.

After a minute, you decided it was best to walk away and cool off before you said something you'd regret. Quinn on the other hand, wasn't done fighting he wanted you to understand his point of view and he didn't wanna wait till morning. As you made your way down the hall you could hear Quinn's footsteps behind you.

"Wait Y/N, Let me explain." He went to gently touch your arm in hopes that you would stop walking away from him.

He got his wish, you turned around talking through your teeth you grunted. "Don't touch me. We're fighting."

Quinn has never pulled away from you so quickly before. Even with how angry you were at him it still hurt you how fast he pulled away. Quinn was looking at the floor, for the first time showing emotion since your fight started. "I was just trying to help."

All you could do is sigh. "By telling my father off?" you question defeat clear in your voice. "Quinn I've been over this with you, my family isn't like your family. You can't just voice your opinions to my dad, especially if it's you disagreeing with him or his choices."

Quinn looked up at you finally, he frowned his eyebrows in annoyance but you knew it wasn't at you. "Well I am mad at him. He shouldn't be allowed to talk down to you and blame you for not getting along with your stepmom when all she does is talk down to you. I couldn't sit there and let her talk down to you at dinner. Okay. And I guess I'm sorry for how it came up, but I am not sorry for standing up for you."

"Quinn I know you were trying to stand up for me. But I don't need you or anyone to stand up for me, especially against my family. Okay?" you ask waiting for him to acknowledge you.

"No. I'm sorry because how can you let them tell you that you aren't as far in your career as you should be as if they helped at all with the cost of college. Or the fact that all they did all dinner was telling you everything you were doing wrong with your life?" His tone was accusing and you found yourself taking a step back, your body was exhausted and all you wanted to was get out of this ichy dress and go to bed.

"I don't wanna have this conversation tonight." you begged.

"I just don't understand why do you even keep him around Y/N!"

"Okay since you seem to not be able to understand why I let them talk that way to you let me explain it to you so we never have to talk about this again got it?" you ask waiting for Quinn to nod his head before you continue. "Look my dad might be a piece of shit, but guess what he's my piece of shit father not anyone else's. Everyone always ask me for years 'Y/N if I were you, I'd cut him off why don't you.' For a long time I didn't have an answer for them but as I got older I do and it's this. Because he might be a piece of shit but without him I wouldn't be standing here physically because he is physically half of me. And I know you have lovely parents Quinn and brothers. But not everyone does and I am terrifed that if I do cut him out all the way vs seeing him three times a year like I do now. That one day I will get a call and he will be dead and I will have regret for not at least having him in some capactiy in my life. So because of that fear of regret because I know many people who have it now since their parents passed. I keep him around and if you can't understand that fine, not everyone does."

Taking a step closer to Quinn you add, "but whether you agree or not, you don't get to judge me for the choices I've made when it comes to the relationship between my father and I. Because that is exactly what it is." Pointing to yourself. "It's MY relationship not yours and you also don't get to make it more shaky then it already is by yelling at him in the middle of the steakhouse."

Quinn and you aren't sure how long you stood in your apartment hallway, it could of been seconds it could of been minutes. At some point Quinn looked at you and said "agree to disagree." All you did was nod and you both said true to your word you never talked about your father and your relationship ever again.

[stayconnecteed]

🪐˓⠀˚⠀i guess i'm in love⠀@⠀kim seungmin.

this is just a cute birthday fic based on the love of my life @skzms and her seungmin's drabble 'seungmin in love', which i totally recommend before you read this. i hope you like it, may, and that i made justice to your words!! i listened to i guess i'm in love by clinton kane while writing this. the beginning of the plot is based on a personal experience! i wish it had ended that way tho askjdhkasjd

SEE MORE.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀4k words. ⠀⠀general mlist.⠀⠀join taglist.

You had never mustered the courage to talk to a boy until university made you come out of your shell. The morning you had stepped into the lecture hall for the first time, ready to listen to the dean of your faculty give the introductory talk, you had sat alone in one of the front rows, hanging on every word, your heart racing. You didn't know anyone, and you preferred to focus on the speech, waiting for some extrovert to adopt you, rather than take the first step.

You had always been shy, and you felt a sense of panic at the thought that you might end up alone for the whole degree, but you were incapable of approaching a stranger and starting a conversation. Your fear was a prison and the guardian of an anxiety that swirled in your chest, the number one reason why you had hidden in the same table in the library during all your free hours, and also the consequence of too many bad experiences in the past. 

But then you had met Seungmin.

You hadn't spoken, at least not at first. You hadn't even realised he existed. He was just another classmate in the core subjects shared by all those who studied the same course as you. He smiled softly at the jokes of the teachers he liked, became more serious in the most difficult lectures, and tried not to show his anger when the typical annoying repeat student made their trademark rancid comment. You hadn’t even known his name.

Eventually, you found yourself waiting for those little reactions. Like you, he also showed up ten minutes before the first class started, he also sat alone, and he also came to school with his headphones on, drowning out all the noise in the corridors with the playlist he had made for himself at the beginning of the course. He would arrive with his dark blue backpack slung over one of his broad shoulders, and a book in his hand ーthe same one he would read for a while before the professor arrived. You found yourself smiling as you watched him, writing down the titles of his readings, looking forward to the classes you shared with him.

And then you saw him appear for the first time in the library. You were at one of the more secluded tables, your back to the wall, your laptop a shield protecting you from the other people in the room. And he had slipped quietly in, his ears covered by the black headphones, leaving his backpack on the table in front of yours. For a moment you had stood still, your fingers hovering over the keyboard, the word on your document half-typed, your breath caught in your throat. And then you looked away, and went on with your work. It was stupid to react like that for someone you didn't know.

But the next day your little dance was repeated, sitting opposite each other, in complete silence, a calm and concentrated reflection. As if there was a mirror between the two tables. And the next day, and the next... Until it became a habit. You would leave class a little late because you knew it would take him longer to collect his belongings, and you'd follow each other's shadows with your gazes through the corridors until you reached the library. He would hold the door, and you would smile at him. And when you left him the book you'd used to find out information about a homework topic, he'd return the soft curve in his lips, showing his braces without an ounce of insecurity.

Despite all your little interactions, you hadn't really made any move. The day you realised that there was another girl waiting for him at the end of your class, a more outgoing and prettier one, the kind who always gave the right answers to the teacher. She was asking him if he could explain to her the latest topic discussed in class over a latte in the building's cafeteria. You felt like you intruded, so you left. But that had been the same day you went to the library alone, and you had to open the door for yourself. You missed his smile. And you realised that he was worth every tremor in your hands, only if it meant taking the first step with him.

The next day, you mustered the courage to talk to a boy. To that boy. You approached him before class, sitting one line forward of him, taking a deep breath of air and exhaled it as you tried to keep your nerves under control, your eyes closed. With your pulse racing you had turned, resting your fingertips on his desk, and caught his attention by waving softly. He had looked up from the intertwined sentences of his book, closing it as soon as he saw it was you addressing him, and you enjoyed a few more seconds of your bubble, his brownish gaze all over you, before bursting it.

Your words were quick and breathy, stammering over coffees and shared hours, your gaze anywhere in the class but on his face. Yet he responded calmly, a mask of stillness in contrast to the chaos of emotions spiralling inside him, and you only interrupted the conversation when the teacher began the lesson, Seungmin's gaze returning to your figure every few seconds. That was the first free hour you disrupted your way to the library and accompanied, shoulder to shoulder, your quiet classmate to the cafeteria.

You heard him order an iced americano with syrup, greeting the lady behind the counter with rehearsed confidence, and waiting, tracing his gaze across the profile of your face, for you to say what you wanted. Then he guided you to one of the tables at the back, and let you sit on the bench with its back against the wall. Almost as if, somehow, he knew that it was what you preferred. For a moment  you wanted to get your hopes up, to think that he thought of you as much as you thought of him, but it didn't actually make any sense. So you sighed, and set your bag down beside you, intertwining your fingers in a nervous gesture.

You had been the one to propose the plan, and suddenly you realised that you had been so sure he would say no that you hadn't planned any further.

You wandered your gaze in silence, steadily, slowly, trying not to meet his at any point, your shyness forcing stitches of thread on your lips, unable to utter a word, until the waitress appeared with her tray and your drinks, and Seungmin's raspy ‘thank you’ broke through your bubble. You uttered your own, no sound coming out of your throat, and flashed the start of a smile when he managed to continue a conversation that hadn't existed until then, asking how you had adjusted to the lectures, to college.

And then you let loose like a torrent. The stuttering edges of your lips tightened, answering in short words how your university experience was going, daring even to lock your eyes with his when you returned the question, wanting to hear him speak. And as he told a story similar to yours, albeit with many more friends than you had, you reached your trembling hands towards your cup, taking it and sipping a small amount of coffee.

You tried not to let it show, but the bitterness was enveloping your taste buds in a flavour you were not used to. Your eyebrows furrowed as you winced, swallowing the thick liquid in one gulp, avoiding triggering your gag reflex, and you looked back at Seungmin, who was watching you with a hard stare. He tilted his head, almost like a dog would, and picked up the cup you had just set down on its plate, wetting his lips to taste it. He opened his eyes slightly, muttering a soft, “This is not what you ordered,” and got up to go reclaim it.

You felt the heat rise up your neck and settle on your cheeks, unable to believe what had just happened, and watched from your warm seat as the boy spoke to the woman he had greeted earlier, how she was surprised and certainly apologetic due to the confusion, and the whole process of making from scratch what you had ordered in the first place. It was Seungmin's gentle smile when she returned, treating the porcelain with extreme care so as not to spill the contents, that made you suppress the apology you had thought of saying. Perhaps he had decided that it was his responsibility, that the barista had mistaken the order, but he had done it because he had wanted to. You could read it on his face.

“Thank you so much,” you said, brushing his skin with your fingers as you took the new mug, closing your eyes to smell the sweet, thick hot chocolate you loved so much. “You didn't have to.”

Winter was beginning, and with it the need to drown yourself in cosy blankets, at-home plans and movie classics that had become your favourites over time. So you told Seungmin when you opened your eyes and realised that he was watching you, trying not to retreat into the shyness that had been with you for so long. You were ready to get out of your comfort bubble once and for all, and having a conversation with someone who in your thoughts was no longer a stranger seemed like the natural option.

After that, it was relatively easy. The words flowed between you, asking each other about your lives and replying with more questions, exchanging anecdotes, dropping little jokes that elicited laughter, lost in each other's gaze. As easy as breathing, the minutes passing by on the clock without even being aware of it, learning to read a new language, through what you told each other. Opinions and experiences, comments and compliments, engaged in a dance that only you knew, until the alarm on your phone started ringing, and you realised you were late.

You apologised with hurried syllables, quickly packing up, waving goodbye, heading hastily towards the counter to pay for your drink. You were surprised when the woman indicated that Seungmin had already taken care of it, and you looked back for a few seconds to give him a beaming smile. He mirrored it, leaning against the table you had been sitting at, and waved his fingers in response. It was when you got into the bus, on the way to the restaurant where you had agreed to meet your sister, that you realised you hadn't asked him for his phone number.

Apparently, you weren't the only one to think so.

The morning after your disaster of a first conversation, you arrived early. You sat in the third row, the fourth seat, just like you always did. And you doodled in your notebook, deep in thought, until you heard someone clearing their throat next to you. You looked up, smiling when Seungmin made an exaggerated gesture of wanting to sit next to you, and managed not to burst out laughing at his antics when the teacher came through the door to start the class.

And it was when you were barely able to keep your eyes open, the teacher's voice lulling you into a light sleep, that you noticed the tip of Seungmin's finger brushing your arm. You turned, ignoring the shiver that ran down your spine, and instead of questioning what he wanted, you found a sheet of paper folded over the pen that had slipped from your hand. You opened it discreetly, glancing at Seungmin out of the corner of your eye, curious, and didn't bother to suppress the smile that curved your lips as you read a tight “What's your phone number?”.

You wrote it down quickly, going over each digit twice to make sure there could be no confusion, and slid it across the table for Seungmin to tuck it away. You nodded goodbye to him as the bell rang, and you had to part ways, him going to the opposite side of the corridor, to another class. You grabbed your bag, and sighed, not so keen to attend your remaining lecture. At least until at least twenty minutes into it your phone screen lit up, receiving a new notification.

Unknown number: Hey, is it true that Mr Choi’s classes are soo boring?

Unknown number: Or my contact in his classes has shamelessly lied to me?

The contact in Professor Choi's class was you, because you had complained the day before about him, and the unknown number had to be Seungmin. You put the phone under the table, hoping the teacher wouldn't notice and begin to dislike you, and typed in the answer:

You: Mmm, you shouldn’t trust your contact.

You: They wouldn’t be boring if you were here.

Seungmin 🫶🏼: Naah, I bet my classes wouldn’t be boring if my contact could attend them.

You: You can't use my sentence with me.

You: That's like cheating.

Seungmin 🫶🏼: Would it be cheating if I bribe you with a cup of hot chocolate?

You: Whatever you say, lover boy.

You tried to imagine Seungmin's reaction, your subconscious tricking you with images of him blushing in the middle of class, and left the phone in your bag. That interaction had made your day.

From then on, you could only continue to develop your friendship, intertwing yourselves like a tangled vine, unable to separate from each other. The Christmas holidays had distanced you a bit, each enjoying a few weeks of relaxation with your family, but the study period leading up to the exam season brought you back together at that table in the library, exchanging complicit glances and helping each other take breaks when the stress got too much. He was the perfect study partner, and it was reflected in your grades, none of which dropped below a C.

At the end of finals, in those days before the second semester started, Seungmin had invited you to one of the pubs his friends had shown him. He had told you that they hadn't gone because he didn't want them to say anything stupid in front of you, but you hadn't missed them. With a glass in his hand, he had followed you to the dance floor every time you had asked, neck flushed and shy eyes when he saw the alcohol had disinhibited you enough to move your hips freely. It had been a memorable night. And when it struck three in the morning, he was the one who escorted you to your flat, just to make sure you got there safely, and you were the one who begged him to stay with you.

The second semester began with many hours of late arrivals to class 一something you hated, but which was certainly more bearable in his company.

You would gather as soon as you arrived to the faculty on one of the benches by the entrance, he sitting comfortably with his ankle on his thigh, you with your knees against your chest, jumping from conversation to conversation until the bell started ringing, startling you, and you would run up the stairs together, to get to class before the teacher. You learned to cope with it because somehow the stress of being late was compensated by the way Seungmin would touch you so he wouldn't lose you in the corridors. Always behind you, like a guard dog, guiding you to your class with his hand resting on the small of your back, making sure you got in before he wandered off into the crowd in search of his own, in case you didn't share it.

And in the free hours you got to know his friends, or at least some of them. The first time was in a class that was cancelled at the last minute, on your way to the library, when you saw Seungmin's silhouette in the cafeteria, his broad shoulders framing the back of the chair. You greeted the short boy and the one with the narrow eyes with a shy smile, before asking them if they would let you sit next to Seungmin.

You had seen the knowingly smirks, and also their suspicious gazes, but they had made you feel like a long time friend of theirs, so you shaked the creepy feeling out of your body. You stayed silent most of the conversation, listening to their jokes and anecdotes, smiling upon the fact that they treated Seungmin like a brother 一teasing him to death. And from then on you always found a free seat by his side in your gatherings.

Your confidence with them, with Changbin and Jeongin, solidified at about the same time as you accepted that Seungmin just saw you as one of the group, and you tried to stop getting your hopes up. Throughout the semester, you began to participate in conversations with his friends, gaining confidence, and even participating more in class, socialising with classmates and getting to know some girls with whom you thought a friendship could develop. You noticed Seungmin was becoming a bit distant, but with your Friday movie nights and your weekly coffee (hot chocolate for you, he made sure they didn't mess it up again), you assumed he had simply decided that he had other priorities.

At least until the beginning of sophomore year, the night of Minho's birthday celebration. That october night, you had arrived late to the restaurant where the group had decided to hang out in, and the place where you normally sat, to Seungmin's right, was occupied by a freckle-faced blond you had seen around the dorm on some occasion. You greeted Seungmin with a quick kiss on the cheek, a high five with Jeongin, and went straight to the birthday boy, to congratulate him with a hug.

You had spent the whole week crocheting cute fruit-shaped hats for his cats, just because a joke you two had, and Minho's genuine reaction had been to take you in his arms and turn you around, both of you giggling. You remembered that he had told you he couldn't wait to get home to try them on his babies, and you had commented that it was a crime for him to be all lonely on the table on such a special day. With the excuse, you had sat next to each other, leaning like two old oaks so that you could hear each other over the music, your knees touching and his arm over your chair.

At one point, after all the group had gathered, when you had followed Minho's unfocused gaze at Seungmin, his eyes gave off such a hard acrimony that you thought you had done something awfully wrong.

You tried to talk to him about it the next day, when you woke up in your bed, but he wasn't by your side. Seungmin, who normally would be curled up against one of your pillows, had actually slept on the sofa instead, and when you asked him why over breakfast, you got no answer. You could see him building up anger and complex emotions inside, unable to utter a word, trying to decide what to do, before desist and wish you a good morning, leaving you on the kitchen. The absence of that trust you thought you shared broke your heart.

And yet, that very same night he showed up at the university party night that Jeongin had proposed 一Thursdays were his favourite days to go out. He appeared at the pub without even looking at you, as if it pained him to see you, deliberately sitting at the other end of the table. The second time since the two of you had met that you weren't next to each other.

At that moment you ordered the first drink. And they just kept on coming.

You tried not to care. For a few hours, you managed to make it happen. But when that boy approached you, with the soft look Seungmin always gave you, with the same wide smile he reserved for you, you decided that willing to lie to yourself, at least you should get something out of it. So when he pressed his hips to yours, you let him, and when he put his arms around your waist, you allowed it. You rested your head on his shoulder, knowing that his body didn't feel next to yours the way Seungmin's did, and as you felt him slide his hand down the back of your neck, you smiled, kissing him back just as eagerly.

But the spell melted on your fingers as you parted, and you found all the details in his face that made him so different from Seungmin. So you apologised to him, again and again as you escaped his embrace, wandering around the dance floor until you collided with Changbin. He gave you a bright smile, asking you how you were doing with Wonwoo, but the pout that formed on your lips made him react, taking you by your shoulders and interrogating you about the guy, Wonwoo, if he had crossed a line with you. All you managed to do was deny, before asking him to take you home.

It was a terrible night. For you, and for him, who nursed you back to sleep.

And it was also terrible to wake up, when you realised you were alone in your flat. Alone, tangled in your sheets, and the alarm clock ringing, reminding you that you had a schedule to follow, and you had to go to class.

Seungmin was not on your self proclaimed bench when you arrived, though you sat down to wait for him anyway. And when the bell rang you walked up the stairs, slowly, like a soul wandering the corridors of the faculty, ignoring the professor's disapproving face when you interrupted his speech by opening the door. You paid no attention to his words, sittimg down and doodling on your notebook, enduring as best you could the hour that lasted, leaving as soon as you could.

But then you saw him. With his blue backpack slung over his shoulder, and the brown sweatshirt you had stolen from him some chilly afternoons. And you made eye contact with him, but continued on your way. You couldn't face him. All you could think about was the way he had ignored you, as you heard his footsteps, and how you had kissed another boy just because it looked like him. You went down the stairs, the necessity to get out of there bubbling in your chest, wlaking through the doors of the building. You knew he was behind you, but you wanted to be able to ignore him too.

Until you heard him.

“I love you,” he whispered, and you stopped in your tracks, paralysed. He then repeated it, this time louder. “I love you, I’m so sorry but I love you.”

Your breath got caught in your throat as you turned around slowly, utterly convinced that it was your imagination. But his kicked out expression was a reflection of how you felt, brows furrowed upwards, the waterline of his pretty eyes covered by a bubble of unreleased tears, tortured by his absence. And his cheeks were coloured red, flushed with the shame that let you know it was true. Still, he was looking at you with a devotion you were able to clearly see now, like you hung the stars in the sky. All you had once imagined was true, and he was there, waiting for your response.

So you approached him, a shy smile curving your lips, and rested your hands on his shoulders, nodding.

“I love you too,” you murmured, lips moving against his, his breathe hitching. And kissed him. Eyes closed, feeling a sigh slipping in between your mouths, caressing his cheeks with your thumbs while he took you by your waist. And you kept smiling, your chest exploding in relief, savouring him like it would be the last time you would see him.

“I love you too, you jerk,” your repeated, resting your forehead on his.

© stayconnecteed 2024 ★ do not copy, translate, repost or share this work as yours on other platforms ! consider leaving a comment or reblogging.

[multific]

Two Pieces of a Puzzle

Simon "Ghost Riley x Reader

Summary: You are sent on a mission with the infamous LT, but you might have just as many talents as he does, if not more.

When you found yourself on a mission with a military man, Lieutenant Ghost, you knew you were in for a treat. 

He was a tall, rugged man with an attitude and a sharp wit that kept you on your toes. 

As you set out on your mission, you were quick to realize that you were in for an adventure unlike any other.

The Lieutenant was a seasoned soldier, and his experience showed in every move he made. 

He led you with precision and confidence, never hesitating to make tough decisions or take risks when necessary. 

You found yourself in awe of his leadership skills and his ability to think quickly on his feet.

He was impressive, you weren't going to lie about that.

As you navigated through the treacherous terrain of the dense forest and faced unexpected challenges, Ghost remained calm and collected, always finding a way to overcome whatever obstacles stood in your way.

A rescue mission.

The children and wife of an important politician were kidnapped and you received intel that they were in a hidden house in the middle of a dense forest up in the mountains. 

Of course, your way to the forest was an entire mission on it's own, but you heard the tales of the infamous Ghost.

His determination was infectious, and you found yourself pushing harder and digging deeper than you ever thought possible.

Every second you spent with him, you felt your movements sharpen.

It was inspirational.

But it wasn't just Ghost's military prowess that impressed you. 

On no.

The mystery. 

The secrets he held inside himself.

The mask.

That damned mask.

He also had a wicked sense of humour that kept your spirits high even in the darkest of moments. His jokes and witty remarks never failed to bring a smile to your face, even when the situation seemed dire. 

His jokes, even if they were tired and mostly military-related, did help your mood a lot. 

Despite the dangers you faced and the odds stacked against you, Ghost never wavered in his commitment to completing the mission. 

His unwavering dedication inspired me to do the same, and together we forged ahead, determined to succeed no matter what.

You got to the house, just the two of you, hiding behind trees as you assessed the situation.

"You take the back door, I take the front." he said.

"With all due respect, Sir, I believe Captain was clear, you get me here, I get in and them out. I'm called Shadow for a reason." you smirked and put your gun down.

Your time to shine.

You were a specialist in kidnapping and hostage situations. They always got you as you were quiet on your feet and you always got to the point fast. 

You always rescued the person or people and no one ever saw you coming.

In the end, your mission was a success.

As always.

The happy family was back together as you and Ghost walked back into base.

"That was impressive." you heard him say.

"Thank you, Sir. I do live to impress." you said with a smile.

As you celebrated our victory, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the opportunity to work alongside such a remarkable man. 

And as you parted ways, you knew that you would always carry with you the lessons from your time together on that unforgettable mission.

Or so you thought.

You would say you were tipsy, others would call it drunk.

Ghost called it sexy.

You loved to see how his scary mask fell from his face. How his walls crumbled as you climbed into his lap and kissed him.

It was dark in the alley you followed him for a smoke.

He sat down on the steps and you followed suit.

"How did you do that? How did you get in and out without anyone seeing you?"

"The same way you got us through that block on the road or how you made me crawl on my stomach under a car so they wouldn't see us enter the woods. Skills, Sir. Years of training and skill."

It might have been your fault that you leaned in too close.

It might have been him when he looked at your lips. You weren't sure. But you were sure about one thing.

The way he kissed you spoke volumes.

He was touch starved and scared at the same time. 

But you did like the thrill of it.

And also because you were the same.

You two fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. 

Taglist: 

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou 

@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum

@asgards-princess-of-mischief @fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen 

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, OR TO STEAL ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[desi2go]

Chaotic duo

pairing: Seungmin x reader

warning: best friends to lovers trope! fluff

Author's note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY SEUNGMIN <3

Seungmin and you had been best friends for as long as anyone could remember. From the moment you met in kindergarten, your bond had been instant—an unbreakable alliance fueled by a shared love of adventure, mischief, and an inability to sit still. Where one went, the other followed, and together, you became legends in your small town.

The first time you met was in the sandbox. Seungmin, with wild curls and a mischievous glint in his eyes, was building an elaborate castle. You, fiery and bold, with a pixie cut you insisted on because "long hair gets in the way of running," stomped right through it. Seungmin’s jaw dropped, and you had smiled, wide and unapologetic.

“You’re supposed to guard your castle, dummy,” you said with a big smirk.

Seungmin burst out laughing. “Wanna help me build a new one?”

From that moment, you two were inseparable—and utterly impossible to control.

As kids, you were the kind who put frogs in the teacher’s desk or replaced your school principal’s office chair with a whoopee cushion. Your greatest feat was sneaking into the local grocery store and rearranging all the items on the shelves so cereal was in the freezer and ice cream in the dry goods aisle. The townspeople shook their heads, half exasperated, half entertained, because no one couldn hate Seungmin and you. Together, you were the heart and soul of the town’s chaotic charm.

You weren’t malicious, just... menaces. You lit up every room you entered, your laughter infectious, and even when you were grounded for weeks, you still found ways to send secret notes to each other, plotting your next adventure.

Years passed, and the pranks only grew bolder. In middle school, you stole the mascot costume and replaced the halftime cheer with a ridiculous dance routine you made up on the spot. In high school, you snuck into prom, even though neither of you was on the planning committee, and switched the formal playlist with a collection of ridiculous 90s pop songs. The seniors were mortified.

Yet, even as you two caused chaos together, there was something else between you. Something neither of you wanted to admit.

Your friendship was so natural, so easy, that the idea of anything more felt terrifying. You were always the one who would punch Seungmin’s arm when he teased you, and Seungmin was the one who’d toss an arm around your shoulders whenever you were feeling down, pulling you into his side like you belonged there. You were perfect as you were—or at least that’s what you kept telling yourselfs.

But over time, things changed.

By the time you hit your early twenties, the teasing started to take on a different tone. Seungmin would get quiet, almost protective, whenever you went on dates with guys, though he’d never admit it. And you would grow jealous, prickly, every time Seungmin talked about a girl who caught his eye. You told yourselves it was nothing—just the awkwardness of growing up.

It started small.

You spent more time just talking. Late nights on your’s porch, staring at the stars, laughing about old memories, and dreaming about what came next. Seungmin would catch himself staring at you, wondering when your eyes had started to light up his world in a way no prank ever could. You found yourself lingering a little longer when he hugged you, the warmth of him becoming more than just comfort—it was something you craved.

Then came The Party.

The whole town had been buzzing for weeks about it—a summer bash at the lake, a chance for everyone to relax, drink, and dance. Seungmin and you, naturally, had come up with a scheme to make it memorable. You had spent the better part of a week planning how to replace the DJ’s playlist with an embarrassing collection of cheesy love songs and make all the floats in the lake mysteriously disappear.

But this time, something felt different. As you stood together by the bonfire, you leaning against his shoulder, your laughter bright against the crackling firelight, Seungmin felt the weight of all those unspoken words pressing against his chest.

Your’s hair were a mess, your cheeks flushed from the thrill of the night, and he thought you had never looked more beautiful.

Without thinking, he said, “You know, we’re gonna have to top that next year.”

You looked over at him, your grin wide. “Oh, I’ve already got ideas.”

But your voice was softer than usual. The banter didn’t have its usual bite. You turned to him fully, your eyes searching his.

You swallowed hard. The air between you was charged, full of unspoken feelings. You felt like you were standing on the edge of something enormous, terrifying, and exhilarating all at once. “Seungmin... I think—”

“I love you.”

The words came out before he could stop them. Seungmin's eyes widened as he realized what he’d just said. You froze, your breath catching.

“I... I mean, I—” He stammered nervously, trying to take it back, but it was too late. The truth was out there, hanging between you like a storm cloud ready to burst.

You blinked, then did what you always did when faced with something huge: you laughed. But it wasn’t your usual laugh. It was softer, more vulnerable. “Took you long enough.”

Seungmin’s heart stopped beating all at once. “What?”

You grinned, reaching out to poke his arm like you always did. “I’ve loved you since the day I stomped on your sandcastle, idiot.”

He blinked, then broke into a wide, disbelieving smile. “Well, this changes things.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, no kidding.”

Then, before either of you could second-guess it, Seungmin leaned in and kissed you. It wasn’t perfect. It was messy and a little too eager, but it was you.

Full of energy, passion, and chaos. The kind of kiss that said, this is what we’ve been waiting for all along.

From that day forward, you were still the same old Seungmin and you. Still a menace to the town, still plotting your next big prank. But now, you did it all with an extra spark between you—the kind of spark that turned chaos into love.

[delusion-mostly]

Regina George x Reader

Part 1/32 (yeah I know, right?)

Warnings: angst if you squint, name calling, suggestive wording

I wrote this a while ago, if you think I need to add anything else for this one, lmk!

Word count: 1,265

"What the hell are you doing on my ice, George? The hockey team already released the team list, we can't accept anyone else. Either way, we don't like drama."

"Actually, I'm not on the ice," Regina gives you a dirty look, pointing at the fact that she is right outside the ice, not on it, "and ew, this does not sound appealing. You look like a fridge wearing a knockoff dollar-store sports jersey. This also looks a bit rough." she makes a gesture at your outfit, and size.

Well, she was right. The school had a small budget for the women's team, and you tower over her. Your shoulder pads add to the size, you really are built like a fridge at the moment.

"Then what are you here for? To call me another slur?" You take your helmet off and lean your head down on your stick, smirking, "here for a good time?"

Regina fake gags, "Absolutely no. Gross. Quit speaking," she gives another dirty look, "I saw the poster that you needed a manager for the team. I can't play any sports and everything is so fucking lame. I can at least see fights here." She shrugs

"And why do you of all people want to be involved in anything  that doesn't involve pretty pink glitter and being a massive bitch?" Putting emphasis in the 'B' in bitch, you poke Regina with your stick.

"If I didn't have to I wouldn't," she shoves the stick off of her shoulder, "but my therapist is making me. I can't let last year consume me, and I have to be helpful or whatever."

You look at the clock and put your helmet back on then glide across the ground, your skates leaving gashes in the ice. Regina stands by the opening into the rink, dumbfounded that someone had just walked away from her. The clock makes a loud buzzing noise and pucks fly into the net and scatter the ice around it.

"Well, George, you gotta work up the food chain here," you get a smug look on your face, "Practice is over! We don't have to get the pucks tonight. Our lovely new manager Miss Regina George will get it for us. Won't you?" you skate up to the blonde, whose eyes sit wide.

The team leaves to the locker room before leaving the building as Regina nods. She could not believe that someone had actually spoken to her like that. You ask her shoe size, go to the locker room, and come out with a pair of skates. They are blue and gold, and old. Like, really old looking. The blade is sharp but the leather is worn and creased. You intentionally grabbed the oldest pair that would fit her. Queen Bee George wouldn't own the ice like she did the rest of the school. You drop the skates in front of Regina.

"You expect me to know how the hell to put these on?"

"Are you ACTUALLY kidding me right now George?" You don't get an answer, so you sit down in front of Regina, "wow you aren't. I will do this one time, and one time only." You hold up a one on your hand and Regina nods.

You lace the skates while Regina complains about how tight they are, then you describe why they had to be so tight, she finds some way to complain about your reasoning too. You lead her on to the ice, she isn't an awful skater, although she falls once. You teach her how to collect the pucks by scooting the net around the ice, then take her to the locker room.

"I really need to get out of these clothes, but as the captain it's my job to tell you what your jobs are. So I hope you don't mind," You start taking off your jersey, "so basically you will make sure the locker room and ice stays clean. You'll scrape the ice, make sure it's clean and pretty, get our stuff on the bus for away games, basic shit." you peel the outer layers of your gear off.

"So I don't have to drive the zimbabwe or whatever?" Regina asks, relief washing over her as she looks at you.

"No you will not be driving a whole ass country, honey," You look dumbfounded, "The custodial staff or our coach are the only ones who operate the ZAMBONI. And quit looking. I can't tell if you're jealous or you want me." You smirk over at Regina as she quickly rotates her head away from your direction.

You finish changing, she glances over at you one more time while your back muscles flex, pulling a shirt over your head. You throw on a pair of faded jeans and a red flannel. You pull your phone out and hand it to Regina on the contacts page.

"This by no means is asking you to ever speak to me outside of anything hockey related, or even hockey related, actually. Never text me," you smile and take the phone back from Regina, "this is just so I can add you to the team group chat."

Regina is left speechless, she has never ever been disrespected like that.

"You literally just met me, what the fuck is your problem? I will not let my year be ruined by your rude ass." Regina scoffs.

"My problem, Regina, is that my name was in that little book of yours. Right next to the words 'body count higher than points scored' and 'hockey lez'," you sit and stare at Regina, "I do not want to talk to you outside of this sport, and I will talk to you as little as I can here. I appreciate that you are getting better and working on your behavior after last years events, but this does not change the fact that words are mean. It didn't hurt, but I don't make company with assholes."

You walk out to your car, a 2015 Subaru Forester. You don't notice Regina's highly recognizable Jeep in the parking lot, and see her walk out of the building. She keeps walking past the parking lot, sprinkles of rain splattering the ground around her. You are an asshole, but not that big of one. You speed out of the lot and pull up next to Regina, who is walking down the side walk with her hot pink hood over her head, and roll your window down.

"Why are you walking? It's raining and you have a nice Jeep. This is ridiculous George." You shout.

"I still don't trust myself driving alone after the accident in case my back locks up, I like the rain, I'm fine." Regina keeps her head forward.

"Are you sure? As captain it is my obligation to make sure everyone get's home safe."

"Oh my God, you have already said you hate me, would you MOVE ON you fucking lesbo." Regina yells.

"Great choice of words when you are trying to better yourself Regina." You clench your jaw, roll your window up, and speed off.

This was going to be one great year, you can just feel it.

[talesfromawannabejournalist]

Demon in Disguise

Here it is @kittenfangirl20, hope you enjoy part 1

Adam sighed as he waited for Lilith to make her appearance in the embassy. Adam was summoned by a letter from the Queen herself requesting an audience with the first man himself. Though Sera, the woman he looked at as a mother as she looked at him as her son, warned him against this meeting. However, Adam's will be strong, and he wishes to know what the snake wants. It didn't help that tensions were rising what with the sinners starting to rise. Adam's knee slightly bounced from underneath the table as he crossed his arms over his chest. Though he'd never admit it to anyone other than himself it always sent a shiver down his side whenever it was only just the two of them. Suddenly the doors opened and in walked Lilith all with the grace of a queen, and the slithering motions of a serpent. Her amethyst pierced Adam's soul as they locked onto him.

Lilith: Ah Adam just the man, or first man, I've been meaning to see, how are you? Doing good? Heaven sure does seem to be treating you good.

Lilith stated while her gaze turned directly on Adam's chubby belly. Adam scowled already wanting this meeting to end.

Adam: Cut the crap and just say what you want Lilith

Lilith: Very well, I've come here for a proposal. I understand that Heaven is getting quite antsy as of late due to my people beginning to rise up. I also understand that they are looking for solutions, well I have one that will solve everything.

Adam: And that is?

Lilith: I remove myself from my title as queen, Hell's military, leave Hell, and be given a spot in Heaven.

Adam was silent for a moment until he laughed out loud even banging his fist against the table.

Adam: Ok, and what makes you think that anyone in their right mind would allow you to stay? Not to mention me ever giving you free range of upstairs.

Lilith: You are still close with Sera, correct? Then she can help forward this deal. I also have something that you want more than anything

Adam: And what might that be?

Lilith: Lucifer's child

Adam: ...what?

Lilith: I'm sure that your little...birth defect is still present even as an angel, yes?

Adam glared at her wording but slowly nodded. Not long after Adam's creation his creator, God helped shift his body so that he then had both parts of a man and a woman. Though he didn't know why he did it, he didn't hate his body in any way, despite Lilith doing her hardest to make him back in the garden.

Lilith: I'll collect Lucifer's seed and have it implanted in your womb then you'll finally have the precious baby that you always wanted with your dear guardian angel.

Adam: ...Lucifer is alright with all of, this? You leaving him and me being impregnated with his sperm?

Lilith: But of course, after all, he does want what's best for our subjects, not to mention that if there is less interaction in Heaven ten the less, he'll have to see you. Plus, with you not only in Heaven but also supported by

Adam didn't know what to say, on the one hand, he'd finally get his dream of being a mother. He loved all his children when they were on Earth and loved being their father even when...the incident occurred and afterward. However, ever since Eden, he wanted to be with Lucifer, his Luci, his sweet angel, and have a family with him. On the other hand, it hurt him to his core that this was the only way. But...the pros outweighed the cons and on the plus side not only would he get his dream, but he'd also finally be putting a stop to any uprising from the denizens of Hell since the fire was only filled with Lilith there leading the charge.

It seemed Lilith could tell what his decision was and smirked.

Adam: alright Lilith, I accept your deal.

[hellinistical]

fem! reader x rafayel. royal! au. sea horror! au. heavy angst. minor and major character death. slow burn. romance. fluff. explicit smut. trauma. religious themes. gore; hinted torture, cannibalism, decapitation, self-cannibalism. violence. wc: 4796 | status: on-going

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II: GOLD STRUCK

The wagon wheels were obviously wobbly, the axles needing immediate tightening, not that anyone would care to repair them, though. The rainy season was in full effect, and the roads were the sky’s first victim. A dog chased after a squirrel, it’s barking annoying the merchant nearby. He cursed the dog and his bloodline. 

“To hell with Linkon! To hell with this damned town!” His broom thwacked at the wood sign on his stall. “When I catch you, you damned dog, why, you’ll be roasted with your litter!”

“Oh Mr. Heggins, relax! It’s just a dog!” “Just a dog? Why you- you let him out, didn’t you, Caleb? I should get you fired from the mines for this!”

Caleb laughed, crow's feet forming by his eyes as he smiled big. His hands held orchids. He had picked them from his mother's garden earlier that morning, meticulously picking the best ones without her knowing. In his pocket, a small box rested.

Mr. Heggins eyes note the flowers and the small lump in his pocket. 

“Today's the day, eh?”

Caleb nodded, his cheeks tinging with red. 

“Yes, sir. I plan to ask tonight.”

“Ah, before the king's carriages come? Bad timing, no?”

“No, sir.”

It's quiet for a moment before the old man speaks up. 

“And out of everyone you could have, you chose the L/n's daughter.” He lets out a pitiful chuckle. “I won't question it, but to each their own.” 

As the old man walked off, Caleb hummed, his hand going to his pocket, patting it affectionately as he walked on through the streets.

He grabbed some pumpkin bread, the honey, and roasted almonds on it making it smell heavenly. 

He collected some gifts. A doll, a kite, perfumes, and a watch. 

And then he headed off towards Linkon's hill village. 

*** Hot water splashed onto the weathered wood floorboards, the basin full to the brim. Sprigs of lavender, rosemary, and orange slices floated on the water, and Mrs. L/n poured fresh milk into the tub. 

“Is this really necessary?” Y/n huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m not getting in there- I won’t even be selected.” “Yes, you are. And I’m tired of you not listening to me.” “Mother- owowowowowowow!” 

The older woman grabbed her ear, pinching it lightly as she pulled her daughter towards the tub. Y/n held onto the wall, protesting. “I’m not going in there you; put milk in there! It’ll feel weird!” “Take the damn bath, child! Eva! Call your sisters and come here!”

“Coming, Mother!”

In moments, Y/n’s sisters came into the room. Eva smiled cheekily. “Today’s the day~!” “Like hell it is.” She shot back, wriggling in her mother’s grip. “You all act like you want me to get picked! Does Gran even know what you’re doing? Ma?” Her mother looked away, her hands going to the clasp on the back of Y/n’s dress. She undid it quickly, and the fabric pooled at her feet, ignoring her question.

“Strip out of your garments- Gods, you reek- is this wool? Y/n! You messed with the sheep again!” “I did not! I was with the ram- hey!” She placed her hand on the back of her head, the sting from her mother’s popping strong.

Lucy laughed, her chubby hands taking the stripped clothes to the wash.

“You’ve all gone mad. I hope you know that.” It comes out as a grumble, but she goes into the tub. But as soon as she stepped in, she complained. “The water’s freezing!” “That’s what you get for talking so long.” Her mother quipped. Her face sours as an orange slice touches her knee.

Raising her leg, Eva takes it, scrubbing it down as her mother starts to work on her hair. She hisses, her scalp tender as it gets scrubbed as well. 

“The weather is lovely, isn’t it?” “Just dandy.”

“What time is it?” “Half after 12, mother.” “Lord! We need to hurry then.” “Did you always have such a strawberry complexion, sister?” Y/n kicks water at her sister. “Quiet, you-”

She’s interrupted by her mother pouring a bucket of water over her head. Her hair gets thrown in her face, and she swallows some soapy, milky water, sputtering and coughing.

“Both of you, quiet. I’ll be damned if our good name is tarnished because you both decide to act like Neanderthals.

Y/n coughed out some more water. “I think calling me a Neanderthal isn’t fair- but Eva on the other hand- Oh my fucki- can you stop getting soap in my eyes?!”

“Language!”

***

Y/n shivers as she steps out of the basin, her arms crossed, knees turned, and locked. 

Some of the rosemary was tangled in her hair, but she paid it no mind.

Wrapping a towel around her body, Eva grabbed a comb, getting to work on untangling the knots and rosemary in her hair.

“This is ridiculous.”

“You would still get picked if you were covered in cow shit, so cease your bitching,” her mother shot back, not missing a beat as she scrubbed her daughter’s hair with renewed vigor.

Y/n's mouth dropped open, and she groaned. “You’re impossible!”

But her mother only raised an eyebrow. “And yet, here you are, complaining like always.”

Lucy waddled into the room, her small arms bundled up with a light blue chemise gown, the fabric soft and worn from years of storage. The short sleeves were cuffed, and though the dress had once been elegant, it was now out of date- the gaudy stitching showing the era it was from. Y/n’s eyes widened in horror as she realized what Lucy was holding.

“You can’t seriously expect me to—” Y/n began, her voice rising in protest.

But before she could finish, her mother yanked the towel off her body with practiced efficiency. “Of course not,” Mrs. L/n replied, her tone calm and unwavering. “Not until you’ve been plucked.”

Eva stepped forward, smirking as she handed her mother a razor, her grin mischievous. Y/n stared at it, her lips parting in disbelief. “Oh, come on...”

Mrs. L/n motioned for the sisters to leave. Eva, Lucy, and the others filed out, whispering and giggling amongst themselves as they shut the door behind them, leaving the room unusually still. The bright daylight streaming through the window seemed too cheerful for what was about to happen.

Y/n sighed heavily and sat on the small stool, arms wrapped around herself in half-hearted defiance. Her mother wordlessly knelt beside her, taking the razor and beginning the task of smoothing over her skin with slow, deliberate strokes.

For a few moments, the only sound in the room was the quiet scrape of the blade against her skin, the soft splash of water, and the occasional sigh from Y/n. It was a silence filled with things left unsaid, the weight of what was coming pressing on both of them.

Y/n looked down at her hands, picking at a loose thread on the towel. "I still don't think this is going to work. They'll want someone else," she murmured, not meeting her mother's eyes.

Her mother didn't respond immediately, her hands steady as she worked. Finally, she spoke, her voice softer than before. "It’s not about what they want, Y/n. It’s about what you’re worth. Remember, the better you do, the better we all do."

“Why do you want me to get picked so badly?” Y/n asked quietly, her voice trembling despite her attempts to sound nonchalant. “You know I’ll mess up.”

Mrs. L/n paused mid-stroke, her hands hovering for a moment before continuing, the razor gently gliding over her daughter's skin. She didn't meet Y/n’s gaze, but her words were firm.

“I don’t want you to go. What gave you that idea?”

Y/n blinked, caught off guard by the blunt response. Her throat tightened, but she said nothing, the silence suddenly heavy between them. 

Her mother’s eyes were fixed on her task, but the strain in her voice betrayed her emotions. “You think I want to see you paraded around like livestock? Gods know I don’t.” She set the razor aside for a moment, finally looking up at Y/n. “But if you’re chosen… at least you’ll be safe.”

Y/n swallowed hard, not knowing what to say. For once, she had no sharp retort.

"...They'll smell the farm on me," Y/n tried to joke, a small smirk tugging at her lips. "And it's not like the town doesn't have a reputation for me."

Mrs. L/n froze, her brow furrowing before she snapped, "Y/n M/n L/n. You will stop talking this instant!" She threw her hands up in exasperation, the razor clattering against the basin. “Ugh, by the Gods, you will jinx yourself, and no amount of rosemary will be able to fix it!”

Y/n bit her lip, stifling a laugh despite the tension in the air. She knew her mother meant well, but the whole situation still felt so surreal—so out of place for someone like her.

There was a knock on the door. Y/n's head snapped toward it, her brows knitting in confusion. Her father’s voice called through the wooden frame, calm and warm as always. 

“The boy is here, my loves.”

Y/n frowned. "Caleb? What’s he doing here?"

Mrs. L/n didn’t answer, her focus entirely on finishing the task at hand. She ignored Y/n’s questioning gaze and continued to move the razor carefully, finishing her legs before working up to her cunt.

"Never mind that," her mother finally said, her tone clipped. "We need to finish."

She turned toward the door, calling out in her usual brisk, commanding voice, “There’s a roast in the oven! Check it for me, please!”

“Aye, I will,” her father replied, the sound of his footsteps retreating down the hall.

Y/n slouched slightly on the stool, still puzzled. “He does know today is the collection, right?” Y/n asked, a hint of uncertainty creeping into her voice.

“Perhaps he’s wishing to bid you good luck. But it will have to wait,” her mother replied, still focused on her work.

“Oh.”

Y/n sighed, the thought lingering in her mind. It made sense enough. They had talked about their plans—what they would do if she didn’t get picked. Caleb would take his father’s horse, and they’d ride out of Linkon together. A smile tugged at her lips as she recalled the silly memory of him telling her the same thing every year. 

But she hadn’t seen him lately; he was always busy with family matters, tending to the farm, or preparing for whatever life awaited him. 

Once Y/n was dressed, she stood stiffly, adjusting the light blue gown that felt foreign against her skin. “I can feel every stitch, Mama.”

“It’s because your skin’s bare. It’s a good feeling. A good thing,” her mother replied, a hint of pride in her voice.

“I’ll get cold easier.”

“Oh please. You weren’t even furry,” her mother teased.

Y/n let out an unexpected laugh, the tension breaking for just a moment. But then the door swung open, and her father stepped in, whistling a cheerful tune.

“There she is. My darlings!” He kissed his wife and then pressed a warm kiss to Y/n’s cheek. He pauses. “You smell like the farm.”

Y/n shot a look at her mother. “Told you so.”

“He's messing with you,” her mother said, rolling her eyes.

Just then, Caleb ducked his head under the doorframe, a bright smile on his face. “Good evening, Mrs. L/n. I’ve brought gifts.”

“Gifts? You shouldn’t have!” her mother exclaimed, a warm smile spreading across her face.

“I wanted to,” Caleb said, his tone sincere.

“Oh, you sweet boy. Come, let’s go talk.” Mrs. L/n took Caleb’s hand, pulling him out of the washroom. 

As their eyes met, Caleb’s purple gaze sparkled with a kind of mischief that made Y/n’s heart race. She felt her cheeks heat up but managed to wave, a shy smile breaking through her earlier worries.

Once they left, Y/n found herself alone with her father in the warm, sunlit room. The air was thick with the lingering scents of lavender and rosemary, remnants of her mother’s frantic preparations. Mr. L/n glanced out the door, ensuring it was securely closed before turning to face her, his expression suddenly serious.

“Are you nervous, child?” he asked, his voice low and steady, a contrast to the bustling energy that had just filled the space.

“Nervous?” Y/n echoed, furrowing her brow in confusion. “About today?”

“Hm... no, can’t say I am.” She crossed her arms, trying to project confidence, but the truth was a tangle of emotions lay beneath her surface.

He studied her for a moment, the lines on his face deepening with concern. “You’re a horrible liar. That’s my fault. Should have taught you better.”

“Papa—”

“Listen. You’re no fool. You’ve got a good head on you,” he said, placing a hand on his chin, his thumb tracing the stubble there as he exhaled slowly, the weight of his thoughts pressing down like a storm cloud.

Y/n felt a knot tighten in her stomach, her heart racing as he continued. “That boy is going to propose. And you need to accept.”

Her eyes widened in shock, disbelief flashing across her face. “Huh?”

“That's how you don’t get picked,” he insisted, his tone firm yet gentle, as if trying to shield her from the harsh realities of their world.

“But—”

“Listen to me, child. You need to accept—today. Before it’s too late. Once you’re engaged, they can’t collect you.” 

“To Caleb?” she asked, her voice trembling with a mix of hope and uncertainty. The idea danced in her mind like a flickering flame, both enticing and frightening. Would it truly save her? 

“Yes!” he affirmed, leaning closer, his eyes locking onto hers with a fervent intensity. “You think we have luck when it comes to this sort of thing? We don’t,” Mr. L/n continued, his voice lowering even further as he leaned closer. “We should have married you to him months ago, but there was never an opportunity. We have the papers. You just need to have some witnesses—”

“You cheated the system?!” Y/n whisper-yelled, her eyes wide with a mix of disbelief and indignation.

“Of course I did!” he replied, a hint of pride breaking through his urgency. “I did it to protect you. You have no idea what they do to the girls they collect. We have to outsmart them.”

“I can’t marry Caleb! Are you crazy? I don’t even want to get married—” Y/n protested, her voice rising in disbelief.

“This isn’t about what you want! You love the boy; he loves you!” Mr. L/n countered, his frustration simmering beneath the surface.

“Yeah, but—” she started, her mind racing as she tried to find the right words.

“Listen to me,” he urged, his voice softening as he stepped closer. “This is about survival. The kingdom doesn’t care about your dreams or desires; they only see you as another name on a list. But if you’re engaged, they can’t touch you.”

Y/n took a deep breath, the reality of her situation weighing heavily on her chest. “What if Caleb doesn’t want this? What if he thinks I’m just using him?”

“Caleb knows—he's been helping orchestrate this!” Mr. L/n interjected, a mix of urgency and relief washing over him.

Y/n’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What do you mean he knows? How could you—?”

“I spoke to him. He understands the situation, Y/n. He’s been looking out for you, and he wants to keep you safe.” Her father’s voice softened, but the intensity of his words remained.

“Caleb is in on this?” she asked, her mind racing. The idea that Caleb had been part of this plan, that he had considered her fate alongside his own, sent her heart racing.

“Yes! He cares for you deeply, and he’s willing to do whatever it takes to protect you,” Mr. L/n explained, a hint of pride- and something else- in his voice.

She closed her eyes for a moment, envisioning Caleb’s kind smile and the playful banter they shared. Could he really be ready for something so serious? The thought of it both terrified and thrilled her. 

***

Caleb sat in the dingy dining room of the L/n household, his hand absently resting in his pocket. The scent of roasted meat wafted through the air, mingling with the musty smell of the worn furniture. Truthfully, the L/n farmland was rich and fruitful, bursting with potential, but the home itself felt shabby and neglected.

“Once we’re married, I can fix this place up…” he mumbled to himself, envisioning the changes he could make. The walls painted fresh, new furniture, perhaps even a small garden where Y/n could grow flowers. His heart swelled at the thought.

In the corner of the room, her sisters and mother were clustered together, giggling and gushing over the gifts he had brought—colorful ribbons, handmade trinkets, and sweets. Their excitement filled the air, but Caleb was lost in his own thoughts, barely noticing their chatter.

It wasn’t until Y/n emerged from the washroom, her father beside her, that he realized she was near. His heart skipped a beat as she stepped into the room, her vibrant orange hair catching the light. She looked radiant, even in the simple gown she wore, and a smile spread across his face as their eyes met.

“Good evenin', Y/n,” he greeted, warmth flooding his voice. “You look lovely.” 

Y/n’s cheeks flushed as she returned his smile, but there was an uncertainty in her gaze that made him wonder what was going through her mind. He wanted to ask about the selection ceremony, about her feelings, but for now, he simply stood there, hoping the moment would allow for the words to come.

“Er, hello, Caleb,” Y/n replied, her voice slightly shaky but warm.

He chuckled, a playful glint in his purple eyes. “You look like a strawberry.”

Eva snorted from the corner, unable to stifle her laughter. Y/n cleared her throat, determined to hold her ground. “Yes, well, thank you. They’re in season.”

“Are they now?” Caleb’s tone was teasing, and Y/n couldn’t help but smile despite the slight embarrassment. Strawberries weren’t in season, but he enjoyed the banter.

“They are,” she insisted, a spark lighting up her eyes.

“Then I trust you know where the ripe one is?” His gaze was warm, his smile contagious.

Y/n felt her cheeks flush deeper, but before she could respond, he gently took her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers. The touch sent a pleasant shiver down her spine. Together, they walked out of the house, the chatter of her family fading behind them.

As they stepped into the sunlit yard, the gentle breeze carried the scent of the sea, mingling with the earthy aromas of the farm. Caleb turned to her, his expression shifting to something more serious. “I’ve been thinking about what’s happening today…”

Y/n’s heart raced. She knew this was the moment to speak up, to share her fears and her father’s plan. But for now, she let the warmth of his hand and the softness of the afternoon settle around them, hoping to find the right words as they moved further from the house and deeper into the lush fields.

“Listen... I wanna marry you—” Caleb began, his tone earnest.

“Yes,” Y/n interrupted, her heart racing.

“What?” His expression shifted, surprise flashing across his face.

“Yes! I’ll marry you,” she declared, her excitement bubbling over.

“Let me finish,” he said, his brow furrowing slightly.

Y/n looked at him, confusion evident in her eyes.

Caleb’s smile faded, replaced by a serious expression. “Y/n. Don’t get me wrong. You’re a beautiful woman. And we’re good friends. But really, it’d be more of an exchange. I’ll marry you. But I want your father’s farm.”

Her eyes widened in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

“I mean it,” he pressed, his voice steady but tinged with urgency. “If we’re going to make this work, we need to secure the land. The L/n farm is rich, and with your hand in marriage, I’d have both a partner and a stake in something that could thrive.”

Y/n felt her heart drop. The warmth of the moment had evaporated, replaced by a chill of realization. “You want to marry me for the farm?” she asked, hurt creeping into her voice.

Caleb’s expression hardened, his jaw set. “You thought this wouldn’t have an exchange? Marriage is a contract. I keep you safe, I get the land.”

“I can’t give you what isn’t mine,” Y/n shot back, her voice rising in disbelief.

“Look, you’re inheriting the farm. Your father is old. When I marry you, I inherit the farm instead. You’ll still have your sheep and goats, but I want you to stay in the gardens with the flowers.” He stepped closer, his eyes earnest. “Think about it. I’ll spruce the place up, combine our land. We can make a name for ourselves!”

Y/n stared at him, the weight of his words settling heavily on her shoulders. “You’re talking about my life as if it’s just an asset, Caleb! What if I don’t want to be tied to the farm? What if I want to travel, to explore beyond Linkon?”

He paused, the intensity in his eyes faltering. “But this is our home! This is where our lives are. We can make it better together.”

Caleb’s expression softened momentarily, but he quickly masked it with determination. “I’m not trying to control you! I just see potential—”

“Potential for what? For you to fulfill your dreams at the expense of mine?” Y/n felt anger bubbling inside her. “You’re reducing our relationship to a business deal!”

“I’m trying to think practically!” he insisted, frustration creeping into his voice. “We live in a harsh world, Y/n. If you get chosen today, it could be the end of everything for us. I just want to protect you!.... I care about you. But this isn’t just about us. It’s about doing what’ll be best.”

Silence hung between them, heavy with unspoken words and emotions. Y/n looked at him.

...Why did it feel scripted?

She ignores the brief thought, letting it slip just as quickly as it had arrived. “I need time to think,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

“You don’t have time to think,” Caleb said suddenly, pulling a small box from his pocket. He opened it to reveal a simple yet elegant ring. “I got the ring. Just wear it.”

“You’re kidding,” Y/n replied, disbelief flooding her voice.

“I’m not,” he insisted, his gaze steady.

“Caleb—” she started, but he interrupted her.

“That farm is precious, and your family doesn’t even see it. Just marry me and let me help you.”

Y/n’s heart raced as she stared at the ring. “You can’t just expect me to decide everything right now! This is my life we’re talking about!”

“I know it is! But we’re out of time. If you don’t make a choice before the selection, you could end up as one of those girls, the ones that don't get anything good!”

The gravity of his words settled in her chest like a stone. She thought of the stories her grandmother had told her, the dark legends woven through the village about the gathering and the sacrifices. The idea of becoming one of those girls made her stomach churn.

“Caleb, this isn’t the way,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t want to feel like I’m being sold off or bartered for land.”

“But you wouldn’t be! You’d be marrying someone who loves you, who wants to protect you!” He took a step closer, desperation flickering in his eyes. “Please, just wear the ring. We can figure everything else out together.”

Scripted. It felt so scripted. But why?

Y/n felt torn, her heart battling against her mind. The prospect of safety and partnership clashed with her desire for freedom and choice. “I… I need to think about it,” she said, her voice trembling.

“Look, if you’re not gonna marry me, I can wait for Eva. Or I’ll marry Lorraine—”

“Eva? Lorraine? Excuse me? Them of all people?” Y/n shot back, incredulous. The idea felt like a slap. Lorraine was the village gossip, always getting into trouble and never taking anything seriously. And her sister? Absolutely.

Caleb shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. “I’m just saying, she wouldn’t mind. If you don’t want me, someone else will step in.”

“Right, because that’s how love works,” Y/n snapped, her frustration boiling over. “You can’t just jump from one sister to another like we’re some kind of game to you!”

“It’s not a game!” he argued, stepping closer, the tension thickening the air between them. “This is about survival, Y/n! Don’t you see? You can either have me fighting for you or risk being taken away, offered to the sea. I don’t want to lose you!”

Y/n’s heart raced as she considered his words again, the weight of the impending selection pressing down on her. The fear of the Dark Sea loomed larger than ever. “But I don’t want to feel trapped,” she said, her voice quieter now, almost pleading.

Caleb softened, his expression earnest. “You won’t be trapped with me. We can make it work, and build a life together. Just think about it—before it’s too late.”

As she looked into his eyes, Y/n felt a swirl of emotions—fear, anger, and- disgust? But the thought of marrying him out of desperation gnawed at her conscience. “I need more time- stop saying we don't have it."

“Time is the one thing we don’t have,” he replied, frustration creeping back into his voice. “Please, just wear the ring. Show me you’ll consider this. I can’t bear the thought of you being chosen—”

“Y/n! Come on, we’re waiting for you!” Eva’s voice called from the house, pulling her back to reality.

Caleb took her hand, his grip firm but gentle, as he slid the ring onto her finger. “Insurance. Just in case,” he said, his voice steady despite the uncertainty swirling around them.

Y/n blinked, her heart racing, but before she could respond, laughter echoed from inside the house. Her family had gathered, and when they saw Caleb placing the ring on her finger, their cheers erupted like a sudden storm.

“Oh, look at that!” her mother exclaimed, beaming. “My darling Y/n is engaged!”

Y/n’s eyes widened in shock. “No! Wait!” But the joyous noise drowned out her protests. Eva clapped her hands, and Lucy jumped up and down, her chubby cheeks flushed with excitement.

“Caleb! You clever boy!” Eva gushed. “We knew you’d come through!”

“But you don’t understand—” Y/n started, but her voice was lost in the commotion.

“Come here, you two!” Mrs. L/n pulled Y/n into a tight embrace, tears of joy glimmering in her eyes. “I’m so proud of you, my sweet girl. You’re all grown up!”

Y/n felt the weight of her mother’s affection, but dread settled heavily in her chest. She glanced at Caleb, searching for a flicker of understanding, but he was caught up in the whirlwind of celebration, a victorious grin plastered across his face.

“Now we can start planning the wedding!” her mother continued, clapping her hands together. “This is wonderful news! The whole village will be thrilled!”

Y/n’s heart sank. The idea of a wedding felt like a chain, tightening around her, and the implications of her father’s words crashed over her again. Marrying Caleb was supposed to be a lifeline, a way to escape the selection—but something was off.

“Are you really happy about this?” she whispered to Caleb, who was now being congratulated by her father.

He turned, his expression earnest. “Of course I am. This is our chance. You’ll see.”

But Y/n could only nod, a forced smile on her lips, as the celebration continued around her. 

And in the distance, carriages were coming, adorned with the rain clouds. 

taglist: @0chemicalwaste0 copyright © 2024 Hellinistical all rights reserved. no part of this story may be reposted, edited, or reproduced without the author’s permission.

[imagineitdearies]

Hey I loved loved loved your fanfiction as I’m sure everyone here did but now I, going through withdrawals I can’t find anything similar or as good as yours. So I’m curious what your favourite bg3 fanfiction are?

Hey there!! Awww, thank you ☺️ I sort of got super focused on writing PS for a while there, so I can't say I know of all The GreatsTM in this fandom. I will share what I have enjoyed/am currently reading though (almost all of it involving Astarion), but anyone else should feel free to add your favs in the comments!!

As always, please check tags and read at your own discretion!

Finished ones I've enjoyed:

Seducere by Tlon ~ Astarion/nb!Tav ~ Astarion doesn’t need a reflection to know himself – two hundred years of servitude has shown him exactly what he’s good for. Odd that his new partner seems to disagree.

Nothing is safe by foxflowering ~ Wyll/Astarion ~ "Wyll's the sort of prince-type I would have once dreamed of marrying. When I was about thirteen."

Carving through the dark by skitter ~ Astarion/f!Tav ~ Wren and Astarion descend into the Underdark in search of a new purpose, and learn a few things along the way. Namely, that healing isn't linear and sometimes love takes the long way round.

Astarion Origin Party Nonsense by starkraving ~ Astarion/Karlach; Astarion/Cazador, sort of Astarion/Wyll? ~ A collection of things that ostensibly happen in the same little mental universe. Loosely based on the events of an Origin Astarion run and the various questions it inspired. (All but one in the series is finished so I'm counting it, lol!)

All Our Missing Parts by Viraaja ~ Astarion/Halsin ~ Halsin discovers Astarion was turned before his maturity and all the sacred elven rites that come along with it. Including the sex one.

Friday Nights by SadinaSaphrite ~ Astarion/Gale ~ Professor Gale Dakarios loses his research, his magic, and his lover Mystra all at once and only has himself to blame. When he goes to drown his sorrows, he meets a pale stranger with mysteries of his own.

visions of your love by LargeOctahedron, notyournoise ~ Shadowheart/f!Tav ~ Shadowheart is tired of doubting - of feeling her heart twist whenever she looks at Tav without knowing whether they feel the same. One night, tired of sitting and hoping Tav will approach, she tries to read their mind, only to find them in a rather compromising position.

WIPs I'm following:

Palmarosa by thespectaclesofthor ~ Astarion/Raphael ~ Astarion is stuck in the darkness once more, yearning for sunlight with every fibre of his being, while bitterly reflecting on all the things that were denied to him. Raphael knows Astarion's desperate, and comes to him with not one, but two horrid contract offers that Astarion loathes and dreads in equal measure - but the prize at the end of both are too good to turn down.

To Defy the Gods by ~ Shadowheart/Tav ~ Dark Justiciar. Mother Superior. Shar's Voice Made Flesh. Her Chosen. Shadowheart had emptied her heart of falsehoods, of the illusion of life and love, and accepted the inevitability of loss. Almost.

A Dog's Retreat by ~ Halsin & Astarion, past Astarion/Cazador ~ For most, it was just the end of the Absolute. For Astarion, it was the end of two hundred years of agony. And the transition is steep and slippery. Now, all he can do is hope that there are enough pieces of him left for him to pick up and somehow put back together. Too bad hope has never been Astarion’s poison of choice.

A Warm House, A Ruddy Fire by DepravedJJJSchmidt ~ trans!Astarion/Cazador, trans!Astarion/m!Tav ~ Mr. and Mrs. Cazador Szarr have an ideal marriage. Astarion doesn't know if he will be able to survive another year of it. (And I don't know if I'll survive another chapter tbh, but like a burning building I can't look away 😬)

Alright, that's all I can think of! I'm a bit distracted all over again thanks to the original novel I'm working on now, but hopefully you find something new on this list you end up enjoying 🩵 this fandom is full of so many talented people!!

[raihann1]

hello! I hope your doing well, I have a request for x-virus, toby, Tim, Brian, Ben and anyone else with a s/o who is a supernatural model but never tells them until they find their magazines?

Have a great day and or night!!

―୨୧⋆ ˚CREEPS WITH A MODEL S/O⋆.˚�� ࣪ ˖💋

NOTES: thanks you have a good day/night/afternoon aswell!! 𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚✶🩸☆🩸★🩸☆🩸★🩸✶ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚

X-Virus/Cody

He was rummaging through your stuff trying to find his protection gear when he found a crumpled magazine.

Lowkey does not gaf

"Its not irrelevant to my job 🤓"

He does think you look goregous though, kind of has to think on why you even want some lab rat like him.

Will ask you about it like this:

"Did you know the brain is about 75% water?"

"Oh and I also found your Model magazine."

🧍‍♀️

This man does. Not. Care. He loves you no matter what but he's not intrested in this bullshit!

MASKY/TIM

Uhm okay.

He's chill with it, he's more focused on his tasks but if your happy he's happy for you aswell! (I think)

Don't distract him by reminding him of what you wore on that magazine he will not pay attention and fuck up.

Do NOT ask this man for outfit suggestions he will tell you to throw on a t-shirt some pants and you would still look goregous.

Like no tim, you need outfit ideas 🙁

---------------------------------------

HOODIE/BRIAN

What?!

Why didn't you tell him?

Why? WHY?!

Okay so now he needs you to tell him EVERYTHING

he's invested like this is the next episode of some hot TV series.

Collects your magazines

Do not fear when he pulls up in a "love my s/o" shirt at a runway 💀

Of course he's more devoted in his job like Tim, but he's more carefree and likes to process everything so he'll show more genuine intrest!

AGAIN DO. NOT. ASK. FOR. OUTFIT. IDEAS.

this man will tell you the same damn thing 🙁

---------------------------------------

BEN DROWNED

Gasp WHAT?

Nvm he doesn't care 🙁

He just wants you to get your ass on a gaming chair and watch him rage at little kids who should be asleep.

Definitely keeps your magazine secured.

Deadass this guy will tape a picture of you on his pillow and talk to you and CRY. 💀

Will purposely make you feel bad by saying you could get better 💀 (he just wants you to get him some chips)

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚✶🩸☆🩸★🩸☆🩸★🩸✶ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚

[solar-sunnyside-up]

Hey, I’m sorry to dump this on ya but your blog gives me a lotta hope and I just wondered if you had anything to say to my current ails- I am but a very anxious teen and I am so scared. I see so many people talking of how the world “Will end in 2040” or how “damn the past was so much better because it was simpler” and I am lowkey starting to believe that. I’ve got a problem with romanticizing a past I wasn’t even a part of and I really don’t want to live in some awful dystopian future and I fear I’ve missed out on so much because of when I was born :( and how come no one can afford basic shit anymore? I don’t wanna have no money at all! I really would like to be happy in the future but with all the bullshit caused by social media and the lack of money it seems bleak. I’m sorry that this is such a negative ask but I am not doing so hot and was hoping you’d have an insight ? Don’t respond if you don’t wanna

Hey ya there sprout 🌱 it can be really tough out there!

Your feelings are valid, so valid in fact that those exact feelings are why Solarpunk as it currently exists is around! We've all been there!

Between the wages of the top 10% of ppl vs everyone else being greater then during the French revolution, the average citizen globally being worse off then when the great depression was happening, climate crisis after crisis, all while consuming endless bits of info both horrifying (ex Politics) and hopeful (ex Social Media activism) it's waaaay too much for anyone to bare alone! Much less constantly! That burden shouldn't be on any of us!! But since it is, I'm here to help at least lighten the load even if temporary.

The best thing to do when we feel like this is to stop. Find 5 minutes to be still. We are fight/flight/fawn creatures and we will only loop in our solutions without actual clear choices if we don't Chill Out. We're mammals our natural state is Chilling Out and Play.

Next, think about how cool the planet is and particularly how cool humans are?

How there's finger flutes on ceilings thousands of years old, smaller then average indicating that parents held their children up to draw on the ceilings.

Think about the invention of looms and spinning fibers! What other creature could do that? Think about the kids that could build Snowmans without aching fingers because of lovingly knit mittens.

We sing like whales do, like birds do, like wolves do, and we do it to share stories and ideas over food! It is the first things babies mimic! We have songs so old we no longer know their origin just that they came from love! We even have songs to herd cattle meaning music transcends just us but bleeds into our relationships with the planet!

That we have play behavior! Just like wolves and foxes and whales and octopus it is so built into our DNA to play its generally how we learn things! This ranges from agriculture (children tossing seeds around, blowing on dandelions!) To chores (parachute games > folding laundry, playing pretend > usually chores/job based) to hunting (tag! Hide and seek!)

Think about our interconnectiveness with the planet too, how we are guided by Honey guides to find abandoned hives to share in the spoils of bread and honey. How Sweetgrass needs us to flourish, how berries and nuts need us to spread across the land, how we fix other animals broken bones and beaks and help them return home when otherwise they wouldn't ever get home.

Now that you can remember we deserve to be here, that you deserve to be here. We can look at the current situation and bare it.

And we do that by doing small things. Jam out and listen to music while picking up litter on your block, go to a library and just hang out or research something you love, make seed Bombs and toss them I to abandoned lots, make silly cartoons. Whatever it is, it will be enough.

The weight of the world isn't ment for the individual no matter how much Capitalism and Elites will try and guilt you over their failures. That weight is ment for collective groups, but your job as a Person is to be happy where you can and to be kind so others can be happy. The last thing that I always keep in my heart is a quote from my fave author Ursula Le Guin:

Hang in there, a brighter tomorrow is gunna happen. I promise 🌻

[astrronomemes]

THAT '70S SHOW: STARTERS

a collection of my personal favorite quotes, phrases, and sayings from the 1998-2006 television sitcom, That '70s Show. change & alter as needed.

"Well, damn, [name], I can't control the weather!"

"If I could run across a beach into my own arms, I would."

"Yelling is the only part of being a father that I enjoy."

"What did you eat for breakfast? Carnation Instant Bitch?"

"Why do you think the Martians won't land here? Because they're green, and they know people are going to make fun of them."

"It's every little girl's dream to get married out of spite!"

"We keep our Christmas decorations down there! Baby Jesus was watching!"

"If this van's a-rockin'... we're in there, doing it."

"Well, I'd like to help, but not as much as I'd like not to."

"Anyone else feel like a rainbow?"

"My heart aches with pain. When I see you, I vomit. Die away from me."

"The beautiful cannot be held responsible for the havoc our looks create."

"My foot is shaking, it wants to kick his ass so bad!"

"Just once, I want the right thing and the topless thing to be the same thing!"

"If you don't get caught, everything is legal."

"I am not drunk! I am upset! ...And drunk."

"Where Zen ends, ass-kicking begins."

"Life is too short to spend it with people who annoy you."

"I'm a hot-looking, smooth-talking, frisky-ass son of a bitch."

"[Name], get in the car. We're going on a freaking date."

"When I go to the hospital, I like to not die."

"Crack a book, you lazy son of a bitch."

"If you really do love her, there's only one thing to do, man. You got to dump her, and live free."

"I'm going to go out, meet some boys, and crush their hearts one by one."

"I'm like ketchup. I go good on everything."

"I was never happy. I was just less pissed off."

"So that's what an adulteress is! I always thought it was a tiny adult."

"For your information, I'm already sorry I was ever born."

"What are you gonna put on your résumé? Dumbass?"

"I'd get up, but my back is still sore from that knife you stuck in it."

"I don't want to go outside! There are people out there!"

"I cannot be held responsible for the things that come out of my mouth!"

"Oh, no. Now I have to act normal."

"You can hit him in the groin with a banjo."

"Well, I've got to go to sleep, because I have a big day of misery ahead of me tomorrow."

"I don't need another friend. I've already got two."

"Seeing you work hard and take pride in what you do... I lost respect for you, man."

"I wanted to get you a card, but they don't have one for our specific situation. So, here — happy first communion."

"I could kill you without making a sound."

"I can't go outside. I'm allergic to pollen. And social situations."

[byreapersanss]

*Ya’ll don’t wanna know the STRUGGLE I had to get to this….gosh im tired and I don’t even like it help😢

*Anywho…. Me and @doodlesphxre ‘s Reaper is gonna get married yallllll🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊

Headcanons (Some already listed in art above but I will list them again)

༒︎ Reaper has ADHD, Anxiety, possible depression, dementia (forgot to put in art), abandonment issues, and used to do self-harm.

༒︎ Reapers pronouns are : dea/death/deaths/deaths/deathself

༒︎ Cannot regulate or express emotions properly or at all. So dea prefers to show gratitude, affection, and appreciation by using gifts.

༒︎ Adores collecting shiny things and bringing them back to Geno ༒︎ Dea is Transmasc

༒︎ Doesn’t like physical touch from just anyone, but will only let a very small portion of people to touch dea. At least with permission and/or informed of incoming touch

༒︎ Adores cooking, but can’t cook a lot

༒︎ Will often shut down if dea doesn’t know the answer to something or if being yelled at

༒︎ Doesn’t like loud noises and will avoid if possible

༒︎ Hands & Legs have a black fade from the years working and using death touch

༒︎ Married to Geno & Life/Reapertale Toriel, dea loves them both very much and often brings them gifts

༒︎ Outfit got redesigned by Life as a gift

༒︎ Has horrible insomnia due to taking large amounts of coffee for work (still loves coffee)

༒︎ If dea even manages to sleep, dea would not like to be woken up early (would be cranky)

Reaper!Sans belong to @renrink

Redesign/Headcanons belong to me