#How to Track a Stolen Laptop

[kooyabooya]

ENTROPY

karina x m reader

14k words

“It’s a stupid bet, Karina.” 

Karina lifts an eyebrow, only at certain points in conversation where she thinks your opinion is highly invalid. 

“No, it isn’t. You didn’t even let me properly explain,” she tells you, “All I want is a favor. Not a bet.” 

“It’s still asking a lot from me when I’m already dealing with your bullshit.” 

She sighs, leaning back on the counter. You’ve got a hand to your hip and an expression on your face that says: “fuck off six ways back to Sunday,” That’s how these usual briefings go, the quick dump or fill-in of whatever the fuck is worth sharing in each others’ lives. 

Instead, she raises her hands up in surrender, lips pulled inward. “Fine. Would it be better for me to come back to you on this sometime later?” 

“Can I suggest not having you bother me ever again?” 

A snort, then a cackle is what she gives. So, you roll your eyes because you know that it's always, always a tell-all for disaster. 

“Oh honey,” she says, patting your shoulder while you look over to see her running off to do her own thing, “You’re gonna be stuck with me for a long time. You just haven’t seen it yet.” 

–

To bring things up to speed: you didn’t know what the fuck you were thinking when you brought Karina along as your roommate. 

At first, things were great. 

The living styles were well complimented. Separate rooms, similar schedules, the usual activities you’ve done together for fun. Even the chores were assigned (though by second nature and good habits). This small space was well put to be a slice of home away from home whilst going through the ranks of college. 

She invited some of her friends and classmates over from time to time; some of which you had a partial interest in. Sometimes you’re out with Karina’s setups, other times she’s the one that’s out and about while you were holding the fort down. For the most part, life was easy having your best friend since middle school hang around with you. 

Still, no issues to mention whatsoever. 

But then- 

“Do you have a minute?” 

It’s 8 pm on a Saturday and Karina’s coming to you for her regular yaps and endless rants since the girl just talks and talks and talks. 

You curse at yourself at times for always being the listener.

“Yeah,” you say, closing your laptop on the kitchen island when she rounds the corner, coming to your side. “I don’t have anything, so I’ve always got time.” 

You’re hoping that it isn’t anything out of the ordinary; from the looks of things, all signs seem to point that way. She’s in her sports shorts with one of your (stolen) t-shirts - the collar cut off highlighting her shoulder - hair tied up and in glasses, you automatically assume that she isn’t going anywhere. 

“Remember when I brought up that thing?” 

“What thing?” 

Then it hits you: that thing. 

You had your fingers crossed that she would forget about asking you for whatever she needed you for. Sucks that she had a good memory - not only that, you’ve made yourself reliable for her so many times before; turning her down was simply an impossibility. 

Not all heroes wear capes, sadly. 

Karina slaps your shoulder, easily seeing through your mask of sarcasm. 

“Don’t act dumb, genius. That ‘thing’ was just coming along with me for once.” 

Her brows furrowed, the corners of her lips tracking back across her cheeks. You can’t say no let alone ignore the poor girl. 

“You know me with outings,” you reason, sensible. In most cases like these, Karina comes to you out of others to bring up her issues, her dilemmas; her self-inquisitions, as she would like to call them from time to time. And usually, they’re straightforward. This should be an easy cakewalk. “I’m all for it, but what’s the point when you force me to be more sociable when you’re dragging me around?” 

“Because maybe you’re the biggest pussy I’ve had the misfortune of being with.” Karina huffs, arms crossed and face left in distress. She examines you so closely under her microscope that it’s borderline invasive - but you don’t tell her that. So you twine your fingers in between each other and return the laser-focused stare she’s giving you, taunting almost along the lines of - look, if you’re gonna be convincing, you gotta do better than that. 

All she does is throw a shoulder shrug, awkwardly -  dropping them so fast that you’re putting everything in your willpower to not notice the subtle bounce of her chest. 

Her palm faces up toward the ceiling, hoping for a response. You purse your lips out to spite her. She has to deal with your bullshit head-on, tragically. 

“It’s always the work, gym, eat, sleep, do more work at home, and repeat. All the fucking time. So bland and-” 

You tilt your head the more her insults fill your ears. 

“You disgustingly piss me off.” 

Her fingers press on your forehead when you give the subtle eye smile and smirk combination, finally pushed over the edge now she doesn’t want anything to do with you. She paces around the kitchen and you can see her eyes dart over at the corner. 

She won’t leave you alone. 

Not until she gets what she wants. 

Besides, you’ve learned that Karina isn’t very good at persuading people to do something. Though eventually- 

“Why didn’t you just say you’re inviting me to go out for a night?” You ask, knowing that the bluntness is one of the few ways to bring Karina back around once she’s done with her tantalizing tangents. “You wouldn’t be here going crazy if you just told me-” 

“Because you’re the one who can’t seem to get it through your thick-ass skull in the first place!” She exclaims, first underneath her shirt that reveals some of the skin on her waist, the ends of her panties now apparent the more her boxer shorts keep slacking off her hips. You can’t afford to stare. You know you can’t. 

The recurring cycle of interest: keeps coming back to haunt you. 

You concluded or accepted the fact years ago that Karina was never meant to be yours. Yet- she would always come to you whenever she had boy problems or wanted your opinion on what she should wear or do with every single one of her crushes she ever had throughout her life, hiding the fact that you wanted to be one of them at some point. 

All those wet dreams, fantasies, the fake situations of romance you’ve deluded yourself into - those kinds of things had to be channeled into something else to fill the space. 

You’ve kept it cool. Sometimes, in between the bleeding weeks, where she’s roaming around the house in the shortest pair of shorts, the tightest of tank tops, the curves way more present when she’s light on the balls of her feet, you eventually broke and resorted to that trusty old lotion and sock combo behind the door to your room. 

With a girl dressed like that, and those tits filling up your brain- 

(You’d be committing perjury holding yourself back for as long as you did.) 

“Okay, for the last time,” says Karina, hands stacked and her feet crossed. “All I ask is for you to just get out of the apartment for once, and have some fun. Is that hard?” 

You shake your head. “No, of course it isn’t.” 

Karina nods, content. She takes off her glasses and puts it on the marble counter, her pretty lashes batting with those violet-black eyes of hers. “There. That wasn’t so difficult, was it?” 

And there she goes, tapping your forearm while you nod in agreement; does a little hop in place like some cute bunny, her shirt loose and flowing and moving everywhere. She’s such a fucking bitch. So shameless. This girl’s attitude will be the death of you. 

She’s shaking her fists up in the air, doing some cha-cha move. The shirt isn’t doing her justice for her fucking breasts. 

Then she leans in, close. Her breath grazes your face and neck. She scrunches her nose while you’re ‘shooing’ her away; aware of the message and her point. Karina then steps back, tying a knot to her shirt, making her figure a lot more apparent. By some crazy form of timing, you turn your body towards her, freezing in place while the shirt molds around her chest, her waist - you’re clenching your jaw and gritting your teeth behind your lips since you wonder if she’s doing it on purpose. 

The imagination. The possibilities. 

“C’mon,” Karina says, reaching for your hand and tugging it, tilting her head up and angrily pouting. For fucks sake, the slightest resistance of pull makes those mounds bounce in place. You’re sick and twisted; she’s the sole reason to blame. “I want you to be my plus one.” 

“Had I not already said yes?” You’re asking, swearing under your breath. The ‘plus one’ role is a direct translation to ‘hey, i’m going to get fucked up tonight, and i want you to be there on standby to carry me home or even dd, okay?’. You remember from past experiences that it also means that being with her is a dice roll of what kind of Karina you have to deal with: the kissy Karina, the pissed-off Karina, the Karina with the ‘carry me home with the eyes that say fuck me until I can’t walk’ attitude. 

Sigh and roll your eyes back, it’s burned into your memory anyway. 

Putting it in layman’s terms wasn’t gonna cut it. Being honest isn’t gonna change her mind. You could get the King of England to threaten her for a price on her head and she’ll still find a way to get it overturned. 

As nicely as you’d want to be, it can only hold for so long. 

Karina isn’t the kind of person to throw you into the fire right away -no, she’s smarter than that. 

“You did,” she says, shaking her head side to side, moving her shoulders along since you’ve put her in a good mood. You’re trying to decode the action to the expression, connecting the dots possible if she’s fucking around or being genuine. Give into the preaching and encouragement that if you did go with her you’d have your fun with someone like her carrying half her energy - okay, you have a type; nothing wrong with that, but still. “Why? Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts already?” 

You have a hand up along with your mouth open; Karina’s a bit dense to think pragmatically. 

“What’s it gonna take with you to get off of your lazy ass and live life? When was the last time you and I went out together and did some dumb shit? That was when you had that thing with- who was that one girl? Winter? Or was it Giselle?” Karina carries on, trailing off with you walking not far from her. 

She pulls the hair tie out of her head - after what it seems to be five minutes since putting it on - her head moves to let the messy locks flow and pool behind her back, stretching her arms out before turning left and into her room. You stop at the doorway when she turns around, arms braced to the frame, smirking. 

“You said you weren’t doing anything, right? And you don’t have work until next week, right? So that automatically means that you’re free for the weekend?” 

“Well, yeah. Don’t forget that you went out with me and Ningning for that boring ass movie. So please, if you stop giving me shit for this, can I at least get ready before we head out?” 

Karina groans. “Ugh, why are you so fucking difficult to work with? I’ve set you up with three of my friends so far and only one of them has gotten close to getting in bed with you.” 

“Maybe I’m complicated,” you say back, turning the other cheek and thinking about that specific time not that long ago when she gave you the double thumbs up before being dragged by Winter onto the dance floor at that club near the school. 

“Complicated people don’t put their hands behind their back and let the girl get all touchy with them,” she teases, stopping in the middle of your doorway, shirt off and all she’s got is that jet black bra with the thinnest straps you’ve ever seen on her collarbones, but she doesn’t stop there: “Might I add that you wanted to try your luck into dating again and- hey. I know that kiss with Winter was the best one you’ve had in a while.” 

Karina smiles at your confused expression, hitting a pressure point. You’ve folded for girls before. She was there for some part of the fun. It’s a weakness; playing to your ideal characteristics and all she has to do is play the matchmaker and watch the magic happen. She got close. Almost. The support was unwavering, but you’re still searching. 

You don’t take long to get yourself situated, putting on whatever essentials you felt was right. Karina took a little bit more time to get ready. You know how she is: every part of her outfit has to be thought-out and well-layered if means of raising the ‘down to get fucked’ meter up past the 100-point scale. Sometimes it takes five minutes, other times it takes hours. 

She walks out of the hallway in a simple outfit. A grey tank top and baggy jeans that nearly cover her feet. Her brown leather jacket was the finishing touch draped around her arm, wrist, and fingers shining in her typical jewelry. 

The makeup was light too, a soft blush applied but the main culprit was her lips - and man, they have no right being that plump. 

“You’re staring.” 

A blink and a smirk here. An eyebrow raised soon after: “Are you saying I’m being rude?” 

“No.” 

It doesn’t register in your mind that she’s all up in your space the next second, holding your breath when she looks up to your chin. 

“Is there something that you want to tell me?” 

“Karina-” 

“C’mon, you’ve thought about me that way at least once-” 

“Fucks sake Karina, you’re delusional. I would never. ” 

She nods with a devilish grin, tilting her chin up, humming. You’re breathing out of your nostrils when she backs away, heading over to the door to put on her shoes. Everything that this woman does makes you reconsider the consequences (but hey, you’ve imagined what it would be like for her to wake up in your bed, wear your clothes she won’t think of returning unless you fuck that bratty attitude off her tongue.) A woman like her who can do it all, and you’re holding her jacket once you and her step out of the apartment and close the door. 

Most people would give their praise and high regard for putting up with her for this long because you’ve held out longer than anyone would have imagined. 

You’ve dealt with her energy all these years, the countless shenanigans that you have gone through with her since high school, and occasions where she shouldn’t have dragged you in but still did anyway. There’s a tolerance that one can only take so much of with Karina, and you always fail at that. (Always.) 

She’s too good to be real. 

Later, she’s on the phone, calling and texting her other friends that she planned on meeting up with, waiting out in the front yard while you’re keeping her close - like what a natural bodyguard would do with their assignment. 

“Are you wearing my jacket?” asks Karina, pinching at the pelt. “I was gonna use that for later.” 

“I look better in it,” you muse. “But I’ll give it back to you later when it gets colder.” 

“I’m gonna need it later for my look.” 

“That look you have right now is gonna get you fucked.” 

Karina gives you the same tilt of her head; this time, there’s a slight twinkle in her eyes that looks like the lightbulb just went off in her head. You’ve lit the match within her or signed someone off to their demise waiting for them in the next hour or so. 

She bites down her smile, her ego inflated. “Guess we can put that as a separate bet between us, then.” 

–

Well. 

Fuck.

You realize right away that going out didn’t seem to be a bad idea after all. 

Plus, it’s only been roughly two hours since Karina convinced you to help her out and tag along so now you’re here: a half-full cup of her go-to and watching the sight of everyone having their fun with one other person or in a group. She, on the other hand, has a guy with her - breaking down the awkward wall and playing the act of softening up with the blaring music. 

It’s a steady groove, music flows in her body so elegantly. 

The ambiance alone pounds your eardrums, eyes occasionally getting blinded by the flashing lights coming from the DJ’s stage, dancing her heart away and letting loose because it’s the weekend. She’s not the only one, too. Her little entourage surrounds her, dancing along and giving their attention to Karina - each one of them attractive and dazzling to look at. Karina was never one for the limelight, but once she’s got something going, it never leaves her. 

You can catch yourself getting sucked in the moment you laid your eyes back on her. 

The law of attraction: embodied by Karina. A phenomenon that you’ve learned happens on a weekend basis. Everyone that knows or has met her for the first time, is automatically influenced by her which doesn’t take much for that to happen. Some are joining in for the vibe, while others are trying to lean into her ear and get her attention that way, let their bodies do the talking, and see if she’s willing. 

Bad news, this girl is. You’re treading dangerous waters carefully. 

Moment by moment, every single guy who tries to approach Karina retreat in dejection and defeat. You can see it in their heads hanging in shame, the slanted lips, some make a last-ditch effort to bring her back to the bar for another drink, only to be stopped with the simple raised hand of hers, friends coming along as reinforcements to stop the inquisitions. 

Her eyes lock on to you, watching from afar. Like a lighthouse; a signal and a haven for her to find comfort in. She motions you to come to the dance floor; and to that, you raise your glass in earnest, insisting that where you are right now is fine. 

You keep staring, sipping. 

She’s fixed up her top again to where the curves are much more present than usual. 

So you decide to down your bearings, hoping that the thought of Karina could be swallowed down with ease; her damned smile, head tilts,  the swaying of her body (along with bouncing in some places without a care in the world) to the upbeat tunes until she’ll decide she can’t do it anymore. 

At some point, she’ll have to come get you to join. 

And you’ve accepted that it will happen sooner or later. 

Your shoulder gets bumped by one of the people making their way through on accident, diverting your attention for a second. Then- 

Karina’s out of your line of sight. 

Next thing you know- 

She taps your shoulder, tugging on your shirt. 

“Hey-” 

The words you were going to say were: ‘hey, what gives?’ or ‘something wrong?’; but for some reason, you’re left in a stun lock - a trance. There’s also another thing that you realize right away when she has her arms slithering around your middle and up your shoulders. 

She looks around as you track her head movements, checking for something - ensuring that the coast is clear - you can start to get an idea of what she’s trying to do. Your brows furrow, thrown off by Karina’s stoic expression. It’s impossible to see or understand what’s going through her head, but she nicks her head back towards the dance floor, and you instantly get the message. 

“Need you in here, now,” she mouths, but you tilt your head down to hear her repeat it. She then pulls onto the floor while you’re also surveying the crowd, seeing if there was anything fishy. 

Karina guides your hands around her waist, noticing her fingers twitch as they graze your forearm, hinting that something was off. You’ve been near her before, but not like this. She then bumps into a few people standing behind her, prompting you to pull her back towards you - pressing her body, hand now to your neck, chin resting on top of her head- 

You can deduce that this is not her usual self - the reverberating bass pounding into your bodies and hers serving as this sort of proxy to dance more and think less. 

She scratches the ends of your hair right above the nape, irises burning into your face. You assume that this was the favor that she was talking about: going to the club with her and having a good time? Why the fuck did she have to make it sound so complicated in the first place?

“Stay close to me, okay? There’s this guy that’s been trailing us since we got here. I just need some time - help me out, please.” 

You look over your shoulder, Karina centers herself with her hands cupped around your neck, peering over as well. The strobe light blinds your vision for a second before turning back. “Wait, how can you be sure?” 

“Trust me,” she tells you, expression flat, serious. “You’ve got a good sixth sense about these kinds of things anyway, you’ll know.” 

“But-” 

“Isn’t that the guy you mentioned just now-” 

Karina’s quick to get a finger between your lips, darts her eyes out then onto you. The indication alone confirms all of your suspicions. You can’t even see the poor guy, not when the flashing lights are giving you nothing but snapshots amongst the silhouettes and shapes in the dark. “Look, be cool. You’re safe with me. If he gets close I’ll get in–” 

“No wait- it’s fine. Just leave him alone,” she butts in, leaning her head against your chest so she can hide her face. “This is already good, okay? You did great.” 

You cradle the side of her head when she looks up, tongue caught between her teeth slightly. “No, I want to see what was his deal-” 

“Can you shut the fuck up already?” 

“Karina, I-” 

She pulls your head into hers: locking lips, derailing your train of thought. 

You make a sound in her mouth in response to the confusion, but it stops the bickering you two were doing a few seconds ago. She could feel you pull away, but leans her head up back for more, claiming your lips through the kiss; you swear that you and her aren’t that drunk yet. 

It shuts you up, alright. A moment of reprieve that doesn’t give you any time to think because fuck, this girl is making you second guess every single choice you’ve made in your life up till this point, wondering if you’re ever going to take your golden chance or give Karina an earful when you and her get back home later. 

Your fingers dig into the dips of her lower back, her hands on your cheeks, overloading your senses with her lips, giving you hard teeth and a swiping tongue - no time to think or catch up. 

The rest of the world fades out from your head, nothing between you and Karina putting everything on the line in terms of her feelings - almost like the roles had been reversed with her struggling to believe you had a thing for her and you letting your actions do all the talking.

You’re not thinking about the amount of regret you’ll have once all of this is over. Friends just don’t kiss each other out of the blue. No. Karina fed you the false belief that you’d do anything she’d ask you to do, which is why you’re doing this with her. You think this is all a dream, but you sense everything; that diminishes the present thought right away. 

You’ll give as much passion back to Karina, because it’s what you would do for her regardless:

Follow her lead, and listen to what she says; there’s always something with her that you’re blindly agreeing to. 

Karina pulls away for a moment to breathe, next thing you know her tongue slips past against yours, and your grip on her body becomes a lot less pleasant since she’s unleashed that craving hidden within. 

You touch her teeth, smiling. Her forehead gently rubs against yours, breaking the kiss, when you notice it in your peripheral: 

A girl with a hand to her mouth.

One girl next to her with her hand wound up in her hair, in complete shock. 

The third girl behind the two nodded in approval with a sly smirk. 

Yeji, Ryujin, and Yujin: Karina’s other cute little trio, watching their lovely friends finally have their moment together. 

You look back at Karina, rubbing her bottom lip with her finger, internalizing the taste of you. 

Then the realization settles in. 

“That guy backed away from us,” she tells you, “but I gotta say, you’ve outdone yourself.” 

You glance over to see Karina’s trio watch as said guy turns his back into the crowd, retreating away. 

“What’s the matter? Speechless?” she asks again, finger happily dancing along your skin, and your hands aren’t moving off her body. You’ve never been shy with her, except this one time: right now. 

“Never with you,” you answer, matching her smug expression. “Never.” 

Karina hides her true intention again for a second, knowing that it’ll wither away the more she acts like this. Right, she can say one thing, though her actions are so easy to read from the minute she’s invaded your personal space. 

This girl is bad news in everything.

So you hold your gaze with her, wondering, connecting the dots. Speculating how long she’s been planning for this to happen, to be like every other guy that’s ever tried to get her in their bed or between those legs. Even so, she knows you’re not simple to break, and that’s where she’s got you. “I knew you had to be sure somehow, just didn’t think you’d go this far.” 

“Desperate times, desperate measures.” Karina eyes cross slightly as she stares at you, thumb grazing along your chin. “You were taking too long for my liking.” 

Liking? Surely not. 

There’s no possible way she could-

“What the hell does that mean?” You ask, staring back, tongue tip between your teeth. Your breathing starts to shallow. 

Karina leans into the side of your head, amidst the noise of the speakers and funneling her voice well in your ear canal. “It doesn’t make sense to me, you know. How we’ve known each other for this long, and we haven’t thought of even trying it at least once.” 

She knows where she’s going with this - all those times you’ve ogled at her hoping that she wouldn’t notice - or all of those times where you’ve talked about everything that had to involve life at any given point. You’d hoped that you dodge the question for a little longer. 

Karina’s friends managed to crack it out of you a while back, remembering it well. Her touch on your body has gone gentler, never breaking her gaze on you.

“How come you and I have never hooked up with each other?” 

You freeze. Feel the warmth spread across your cheeks; it’s an immediate catch, and you were praying silently that this was a dream. 

Exposed. Is what you are. 

Though Karina doesn’t falter here. Her eyes shimmer in the dim lighting. Wistful. You’re giving her enough time to figure out where your head was leveled at; like she would understand whether you wanted this or not. 

“Honestly, we could’ve.” You admit, with a sharp inhale. Hoping that the answer alone is enough for her sake. “Like- god, it would’ve been so easy. I wanted-” 

“Is it because you and I are just friends? That’s complete bullshit if that’s what you’re sticking with. I’ve seen you look at me that way before, or with my back turned; goes to show that you don’t have what it takes to get what you want, but I do.” 

You pull her close, and that gets her flustered. 

Both of your hands are on her face, leaning on her, stopping right at the lips, watch her eyelids flutter in anticipation. The thrumming of your heartbeat pounds between your eardrums, until she looks at you dead in the eyes, sliding her hand lower and lower, quirks her eyebrows once her fingers lay land over your pants. 

Your throat bobs, swallowing on nothing. The lightbulb sets off in her head. 

“Would you look at that? Oh my. Honey, you’re just like the rest of them. Try to deny it all you want, but you can’t get the thought of using my body to get yourself off. And guess what? I’d let you.” 

She’s got a key charm in being forward. And you find it to be so fucking sexy; saying things like that with no care for who hears, keeping it blunt and straight to the point; she could talk her way out of a speeding ticket and she really could. Karina was simply being herself, you could point the culprit in the alcohol or maybe her friends, but you’re still caught in her crosshairs and the window of escape is closing fast. 

You don’t do anything to resist the pair of hands at your neck and the seat of your pants - or the fact that she’s yanking your head back to meet hers and you hear all her friends squeal at the mere sight of Karina getting her chance. Everything about this is sensational, a new thing to adapt and learn by the minute. 

Here, when she lets you pull away: “You can do better than that, sweetie. Tell. Me.”

You’ll tell her everything that she wants to hear: how you’ve had a crush on her since high school, how you’ve managed to stay by her side after all these years, the fact that you couldn’t jeopardize what you already had. Besides, the risk of losing her as a lover and a friend was too much to bear, that she isn’t the kind of girl to have sex with because you love her and that will be the end of it all. 

Sooner than later, you’ll tell her that. So to suffice, you say: “I could’ve, believe me. We just never did.” 

From that alone, Karina shakes her head, neither rejecting nor accepting. Her wrists slack behind your neck, bring her waist closer until you’re able to lace your fingers around your arm. You’re nervous at what might be going through her head right now, gnawing your inner lip to keep your mind occupied. 

She looks you dead in the eyes, a twinkle behind them: full of inspiration, desire, hunger, want. 

You kiss her again, because you believe that’s the only thing right to do. “How bout this,” she says, giddy and sultry, “Why don’t we find this out for ourselves?” 

–

This wasn’t the first time you’ve been in this position. 

And certainly, it won’t be the last, either. 

You’ve put up with Karina’s bullshit for as long as you could remember: from carrying her on your back after a long night out to those times of sleeping on the couch since she complained her bed was too stiff and decided to use yours. You can think of one instance of every emotion she has, nothing but fun memories in those moments. 

However, you’ve never been like this with her. 

Until tonight. 

You catch yourself failing miserably in keeping your guard up with Karina. Not when she’s taking every red light as her chance to kiss you in the car, her hand sliding under your shirt and grazing your pants shamelessly. Not when you’ve pressed her tits up against the elevator door and flipped her around kissing you once more so that the camera guy can see, hear her giggle and hum at this new and improved version of you that she’s created. 

It’s all a rush for her, the way you can’t let go of her past the door, pin her hips against the kitchen counter, peel off the layers of clothes starting with her jacket, grasp her breast held captive by the tight holds of her tank top. You raise her on the marble so that she can match your height - make her feel taller, build that ego up, give her the false impression that she’s the one having fun.

Most definitely on the fact that you’ve got her tank top off in record time, gawking at the immeasurable amount of skin along those luscious valleys you’ve classified as her breasts. 

Karina’s head goes sideways, inquisitive. She sees you have your sights set on the prize, all within arms reach. “That’s cute, you’ve been eyeing these babies ever since I moved in, god you’re not that hard to whirl around.” You have your fun at her neck while her fingers are working fast at your pants, sliding her hand underneath the elastic of your boxers- 

“Jesus baby,” she husks, appalled with the curl of your fingers along the length. She thought the bulge earlier was already apparent enough - oh how wrong she was, looking down at the newly claimed prize. “Since when the fuck were you hiding this from me? This is not the same cock I hear you jerk yourself off with now and then-” 

“Just one of my few surprises,” you cut her off, jolting your hips forward when the grip around your girth gets a tad bit tighter. “Believe me when I say this, you ain’t seen nothing yet.” 

Karina wets her lip, biting. 

She’s getting used to the new feeling of this. Of you. Her small hand holds you in place, trying to find the right words to describe or end with. You’re trying to see how far she would go - how much could she take; then, she drives another nail into the coffin: “Fuck. You’re like- really big.” 

You grin, since that’s got enough weight in the words to inflate your confidence through the roof. She twists her hand around while you’re peppering her face with your lips, over and over and over, until she’s completely broken you down and all signs seem to be pointing in that direction. 

You hear her hum in approval, sighing in relief, whisper these praises laced with your name. And when she says your name, genuinely, it comes off in a moment of seriousness - hallowed even. 

She’ll make you plummet into the depths of hell, or raise you to the golden pearly gates above; no matter the difference, you’re falling for one of two ways with her. 

It’s also putting you in a bad position because you know her experiences, what she wants, the mere basics of it. You pull her hips as she twists her hand by reflex, like it has a mind of its own, pumping your length. 

You hate how good she is at working you up. The wonders in sleight of hand: where to curl her fingers, how fast she should handle the strokes, the press of her thumb down on your tip, studying it while trying to figure out where to even start. 

“It’s not even fair at this point,” she tells you, sly smirking while you see her eyes fall halfway, softly laughing as she sees your knees buckle and hit the cabinet beneath her because you can’t respond properly. “You’re gonna take care of me so well. Using this to fuck my brains out.” 

Her smile goes even wider when your head falls back involuntarily, giving Karina the window to leave some marks of her own across your chest. 

Her ankles rest at the back of your thighs, leaning forward to get her other hand on your throbbing shaft, paying attention to your balls, weaving them between her fingers, dividing and conquering to no avail, to turn your mind into a puddle. 

“It’s gonna look so pretty in my ass,” Karina whispers into your ear, leaving more kisses behind, making you feel like you’re on cloud nine. “I bet I could make you cum with just my mouth, my hands. Maybe I’ll give you a tease, spread my legs and let you slip inside right here, since you’re so fucking hard that you could knock me out with this cock, hm?” 

Oh, what in the actual fuck- 

Right out of the gates, this girl is forcing you to be head over heels - to submit and bend to her will; she knows what to preach, her words alone fulfilling every single fantasy you have in the book, to take what’s hers and feed you that overpowering urge above all: to simply ruin her.

Unpredictability is something that Karina takes pride in: going slow at one point, then faster the next, dragging and shortening your breath in every stroke until the pressure becomes too much. 

She nods at her handiwork, sliding off the counter and pulling you by the dick across the apartment. That alone makes you snap and pin her - grab her by the arm and spin her around - press and bend her body over on the couch for a quick second. 

You pull her by the hair and shift her head; forcing her to lean up for a kiss. Flush your hips with hers where the weight of you might make her crumble right away. 

You almost feel bad about it, but that thought gets quickly diminished, because Karina knows how much she can handle. She wants to be taken rough, split apart, worship her body like it's some new testament you’ll reflect on in adoration, have her cunt fucked so thoroughly by you that she’ll come crawling back craving for more. 

“How long have you been waiting for this?” Karina grins into your cheek, running her hand up over yours greedily grasping at her tit. “All those slutty things I kept telling you, seems like you wanted some of the fun as well, huh?” 

Okay, she’s not wrong at all. You’ll bank that on the fact that she has most definitely heard you jerk yourself off at night, or the fact you’ve seen her walk out the shower naked but pretend to look the other way. With all those stories of her escapades, part of you wanted to join along now and then. 

So you give her mercy and lift yourself off from her, watch her glance over her shoulder when you’re following her to your room, fingers to the latch of her bra, the garment slipping off and falling to the floor. Her back is hypnotic to look at, and you find yourself chasing after her for another go. 

“This is gonna be bad for you,” she giggles, holding her by the door frame while your hands have a mind of their own, freely roaming across the canvas of her perfect body, sliding up and down and feeling the untouched territory yet to be claimed. “Can’t even stay away from me even for two seconds.” 

She sticks her ass out, dips her head down when you get a hold of her mound, the flesh alone having its little weight to it, graze your thumb over her nipples, pinch it, kiss the back of her neck, and leave another mark. You are going to take your sweet time with her; use your teeth, your mouth, your cock. Anything and everything in your arsenal to make Karina yours. 

It starts with the letdown. Now, we’re at a shuffle - a waltz, a sloppy waltz - until Karina spins herself around while you settle at the edge of your bed, hike up to your hips, rest them there, forearms on shoulders, kissing you once more. 

A gentle moan slips out of her mouth when you finally start indulging yourself in her fabulous tits. Seeing out the amount of fun you are going to have: licking, kissing, biting along the perfect skin. Your mind can’t seem to register the fact that your hands were made for holding them; the fit alone, it feels so nice. 

Fuck, it’s even better once you realize she’s so responsive to the touch. That alone prompts you to add oil to the fire and drop the intimate act for something more primal, hungrier. She does this little shimmy with her upper body, moving her breasts around for your mouth to be caught in between them like two mushy pillows molding around your face. 

Her hand slips under and grips around you again, the friction causing you to bite down on her skin. A fair trade at least - a two-way system - you touch her, she touches you. 

“God, I think I know why you held yourself back with me for this long,” her words heavy and just coherent enough to understand, “maybe I convinced myself that I couldn’t handle you.” 

You laugh into her breasts, her hand on the back of your head, tugging while she hears the hums. 

She sighs, relieved. Like there’s a weight finally off her shoulders. “Why didn’t we do this sooner?” One second later, she pushes your head away, jaw slack, eyes clouded with lust, drunk on the taste of her skin, your hand sliding lower and lower from her waist, the warm surface getting even hotter when you reach her panties, grazing the lace. 

“It’s unreal, I don’t even have to tell you to say anything-” she sucks in a breath at the feeling of your fingers soaking up her slick, swipe your thumb upwards across her clit. “You win baby. I’ll let you have your way. I promise.” She tilts your head up for a kiss, grining her hips down, forcing the groan from you down her throat. “I can give you everything you ever dreamed of having.” 

You don’t even know where to fucking start. 

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” you say, hitting the tip of your nose against hers; get a light-hearted laugh out. “I’ll make you regret them.” 

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you tell me what’s going through your head right now? With me on top? I’m all ears.” 

It’s even worse when you see her hand slithering down from her tits. Lower. Lower. The influence already affects you when she brings your hand around your cock, slowly tugging along as she treats herself to such a sight. 

That said sight of Karina playing with herself; sighing, murmuring, tilting her head slightly as her breath shudders at the sound of you groaning whilst doing the same thing with yourself. You see the damage, the marks, the places where you’ll leave more bruises than before. 

You just have to- fucking- look. You have her in such a state that you have never imagined yourself being in, and now that’s realized right in front of your eyes. 

So you tell her exactly how you’ll fuck her. What position she likes the most, where does she want you to take her, how much you’ll twist her mind into becoming more desperate for you and your cock, when you’ll make her cum, rail that poor cunt of hers until she’s sobbing in the filthiest fucking mess possible. 

“I’d be sinning,” you tell her, admittedly. “If I didn’t say that you’ve never imagined me fucking your tits unlike now. Better yet-” 

“And let me guess, you were hoping to God that there was at least somebody out there who could fulfill that desire for you, right?” Karina interrupts, hand still in between her legs, watching you shamelessly jerk yourself off. She sighs, “So original. I think you deserve more than that.” 

Uhm- well- okay, yeah. 

“What, too weird?” You ask right after, breathless, your shaft throbbing around your fingers a tad early for your taste. “Ouch. I get it. It’s fine.” 

“No, no, no,” Karina sighs, licking her lips. Her eyes shine through yours, a supernova unraveling. “I think we can settle with this. You fix me, I fix you. Deal?” 

Who’s to say that there was a chance Karina had the same vision as you? 

–

It’s a freeze-frame moment when the realization hits you for the first time. 

You’re seeing, but still having a tough time believing:

The sight of your cock being swallowed up by her tits, tongue laving at the tip, her hands compressing her chest inwards so that she can hold you there - focus on her lips and listen to the soft moans all lovely and adoring. Your poor cock: leaking with precum mixed with spit and when it’s all slicked up, you’ll put her on her back and make her press her breasts together, slip right back inside the heat and press into the friction. A gift from the heavens, you think. God, you’ll praise and worship them for as long as you live. 

“Shit,” you barely manage, rasping, like it’s some epiphany, as if this was new for her. “Karina, that’s incredible.” 

Her eyes dart at you, lashes flickering. The subtlety alone is near cute, even when her fingers dig into the skin of her tits, pinching at the nipples, tongue hanging out as some of the spit starts to drip over into the cleavage. 

She lowers her mouth right above the tip, seals it around your thick cockhead lightly. “Really?” 

You clench your jaw a little tighter, “God,” you huff, tensing up your hips for the thrust, fucking into the pressure, stare as she moves her tits downward to meet in the middle. “Fuck, yes.” 

“Don’t you suppose that this is good for me as well?” She then asks, dazed. 

“Why- fuck. Why the fuck are you asking me?” You rasp, tone gentle the next second. “Judging how hard you’re pressing, I hope that you won’t let that go to your head.” Karina’s face lights up with excitement, tilts her head down into your hand, smirking as she hears the stable breathing. Her brown eyes - like her tits - are soft, easy; her plump bottom lip sweeps the head of your cock once again. 

She hums as she stares. Chuckles at the mere buck of your hips. Cute. 

“Hmmm, maybe I will,” she accepts. 

You scoff, mixed with relief and with disbelief because Karina’s tits are fucking unreal and to top it all off she’s sucking you off while your cock is held captive between them; though you’re stuck in a hypnosis and that’s the only sensible reaction of Karina that you could give her. “Karina,” you’re seething, “Jesus, Karina-” 

She moves her chest in this side-to-side motion, wiggling her tits like it’s some shameless dance move, proposing. “What’s the matter, baby? All that waiting and you can’t hold it together?” She asks, arms moving inward with her elbows at the bottom line - her drool dribbling down her tongue and into her cleavage in this messy waterfall. “You wanna cum in between my fucking tits, hm? Right in the middle? Paint them white over these red marks you kissed all over-” 

The sound ripping from your throat is an indication of the first layer of your inner wall being broken down. It’s just for show, but she’s taking it literally. She has a knack for talking filthy. Here you are losing it. Her hand holds you by the base and pumps you - rubs your balls for good measure, pushing, soothing, encouraging - and Karina’s eyes shimmer while her mouth shifts, something more shrewd, vicious. 

“You fit so well here,” she gasps, “God, I wonder how it’ll feel when you stuff up my tiny pussy-” 

Your head falls back and you’re swearing. Clenching your fists while your elbows start to slide back. 

“Karina,” you say again, because it’s easier to speak than think. “I’m- I’m,” 

Her lips pout, shaking her head, disappointed. “No. Don’t,” she sighs, “Don’t you dare,” she says next, “please, I want it inside, inside me - in my pretty little pussy, make me feel good, so full, want your - mmm,” you see her eyes close, biting her lip at the idea, whining, “you’ve dreamt of cumming inside me - breeding me, knocking me up for fun-” 

This girl is something else - good on you to match up to her craziness - and you’re biting your lip along with her as well, watching her hand slip under to her clit while she holds your dick between her tits, thighs shaking as she spreads - it’s ingrained into your head, the sight of it. She wants you to breed her, or whatever is remotely close to cumming on her - and Karina will keep on asking for your input of all these things she’s projecting, leave it up to interpretation before acting on it. You’ve never thought you’d see yourself be like this, let alone have Karina act this way all for you. You’ll keep pondering about it long after you’ve had your fill - or her having her fill - it could go both ways for all you know. 

Still. The girl keeps moving. 

“Oh my fuck,” you slip out, different sayings all preaching the same message, “that feels so fucking incredible,” which isn’t enough to describe the present state of things nor does it fulfill the bare minimum of everything either but for Karina’s ego and with her smirk - because that’s how it always was, just feels right. 

“You’ve never said anything about it, but you’re obsessed,” Karina taunts. “This mouth, these tits, they’re all for you - you could have me any way you want,” she keeps her hands moving while her head sways from one end to the other, sighing as her tongue stops at her teeth. “Look at you. I’ve never seen you so desperate to fuck a slut like me and claim her like she’s yours.” 

She presses inward with her tits. You feel your shaft swell even harder. A lift up, then a drop. Repeat. You’re tensing every muscle in your waist as hard as you can. 

“So?” You ask weakly, huffing. “So what, okay- shit. You-” 

Next thing you do is pick up right where you left off. Thrusting into her tits and feel your pace fluctuate to the point that it’s gotten so dirty as you’d imagine fucking her cunt could get, hips smacking skin on skin, into the softness of her breasts, wet sounds and gasps let out through every slap. 

“Right there, cum,” she mutters, irises foggy, straight out of your wet dreams, leaning her neck forward with her jaw hung open so that you can fuck yourself straight into her mouth, look down at your wobbling hips - throbbing and twitching as she drinks in the sight of you nearing that edge. “Fuck my tits like that, cum all over them, wanna feel, wanna hear how much you want me.” 

You say her name, or at least try to. The sound incoherent, broken, and apologetic; just downright humbling. The best thing you can do is make good on your part. Your cock is so deep in between her tits, the messy slick and warmth enveloping you wholly; fingers doing the little adjustments, a rough measure of how her pussy will wreck your dick later - dragging her breasts across the sensitive edges, the lightest touch of her fingers at the top, flicking the underside. It’s too much, too fast, too- 

“God, Karina-” 

“Oooh,” she beams, ecstatic. “Oh my god.” 

Soon you feel yourself spilling everything in the tightest spot of her breasts, mouth slacking as she watches in awe of your cock tensing and erupting your release all over the skin of her chest, her throat. Her chest heaves along with the pulsing, shaking her tits soon after, gently pumping out the remnants of white, squeezing. It’s unholy what she’s doing, eyes glassy and spit slathered across the space, face flushed and chin dripping with your cum; and she lowers herself to where your shaft is in line with her face, pursing her lips - like some money shot - full and getting an appetizer of what’s to come. You ghost your hand to the back of her head, cautiously - the hand between her legs treats to her clit, the other wrapped around your shaft and smacking your dick on her cheek, so it’s a definite premonition come to life: her on her knees and dreamily staring at your dick while she’s soaking up your white hot mess. 

“Aww, well that’s too bad. Couldn’t hold it at the first go. Shame on you,” mutters Karina, grinning and letting out a soft pitiful laugh. 

“You’re fucking insane.” 

“And what are you gonna do about it?” she asks, patting your ass in comfort. She massages her tits right in front of you, the webbing of cum spread across the inner parts of her mounds, in the gap of the heavy curves. “I can’t believe you- God, you came so fucking much.” 

You keep on staring while you’re fighting for the last bits of consciousness left - like if you hit the canvas in a boxing match, and your coach helped you up with counting: one, two, three, four, up, up, up, up; you’ll try to focus on the breathing, take your time, continue to blink while the rest of the world fades out from your vision and all that’s there in the middle is Karina’s sluttiest form fully culminated. That’s all you see: the right angles and curves of her breasts, well sculpted and detailed that you’ll keep observing in reverence. It’s so much to process, the first glance at the scene of the crime, all over Karina, unreal and cute and just- perfect. You’re not dreaming, the nerves in your body overloaded with stimulation to properly conclude that Karina was purely made as a vessel to take limitless loads of cum in and all over her outright beautiful body. 

“Well-” You sigh heavily, a weight lifted off your shoulders. “I’m kinda- ugh. Yeah.” 

But Karina still has you on the palms of her hands, deciding what’s enough on her terms. 

Because one second later, she spreads your legs more and slides her tongue up from your balls and upwards against the underside, then to the tip. She giggles at the feeling of you snapping to attention from the contact, and you sharply inhale at the sensation, ready for more. 

“You should know that you have to deal with me the right way,” adds Karina. “This was just the start.” She then glances down to her fingertips, picking up the cum smeared all over her chest and licks it up, eyes fixated on you with interest while alternating the treatment of her lips to her fingers, to your cock. “Still speechless about my performance?” 

You roll your eyes, flaring your nostrils. “Do you do this with every guy you get in bed with?” 

Karina laughs at that, batting her lashes. “Not really. But if you’re gonna shut me up, make sure it’s with your cock.” 

Her brows light up in excitement when rake your fingers into her hair, pull her back, at the point where she surprisingly gasps. You flick her hand away from your cock, notice her mouth drop lower, expecting you to do as she says: plug one hole up for the time being. 

You don’t do that, though. Your mouth finds hers and it fills the space for the moment. 

A moment where the intimacy reaches the sweetest. In all the right ways, you’re defying her wishes through actions rather than words. Karina forces a high-pitched hum down your throat, clashing her teeth into your face, catching your lip in the midst, pulling. You’re sure she wants to see you hurt - she’s already done that - two can play at that game. 

Your hands slot themselves at the slides of her face, gripping, eager mouth keeping you focused on the task at hand, and it’s second nature when her arms wrap around your neck, lifting her up from the floor. She won’t stop giggling, laughing; the noises a spell of their own, cursing you - an unsaid promise that you’ll give to her even when you’re flipping her around back on the mattress. 

The weight of you two creaks the springs when Karina rolls herself over and finds herself on top of you. You feel her slick folds glide up your leg, the stickiness mixing in with your skin and tainting. Her conquest doesn’t stop there, until she settles the heat over your cock, grinding, the ache alone enough to make you writhe in wanting. 

She flips her head over to one side, breaking the kiss, falling back down for more. Her eyes and yours are both out of focus, panting heavily. She’s fucking unbelievable, a red herring that you had all the wrong ideas for, finally seeing the truest form of her nature being awakened. 

You say something remotely close to your thoughts. 

She looks at you, astounded. 

Sighs. 

You feel her hand cradle your head tenderly. 

Meets your forehead with hers and smiles. 

Tracing a finger to your jaw, pinching the skin soothingly. 

“You’re going to ruin me,” Karina whispers, kissing your cheek. “I hoped it was you to be the last one I try my luck with.” 

You close your eyes because it’s the truth.

Your hand shoots up for the headboard behind you, gripping. She helps grab the other arm and pins them together, captures your lips once more and it’s too intoxicating to fight against. She continues to grind her hips against yours, feel the heat of her cunt and her folds glide above you.

The teasing is insufferable, feeling her warmth wash you over. 

“I’ve waited long enough.” 

The words are at the tip of your tongue, but they won’t come out. 

“I’ve always wanted it to be you,” she carries on, softly laughing as you’re crumbling underneath her weight. “And now, you- and this cock, is mine. Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine.” 

She dips your cock in, sinking, slowly, the inches getting swallowed up in increments. You moan in response, kissing her collarbone. You’ve imagined what it would be like, prayed that one day you’d get the glorious chance to be inside this wonderful heat. It’s something else, like a long reward that you’ve sought out for but it's the fact that Karina’s tight cunt is practically making you choke where you could die and be happy with it. 

“Jesus fuck,” you groan, the fibers in your body tensing. She just sighs, hoists her hips up, and sinks back down again. 

She does it again - and again, and again. The movement alone; painstakingly slow and increasing with every passing second. Her hips seizing yours in place and fucking you like that’s all she’s meant for; like this opportunity was a once-in-a-lifetime moment and she’s going to take every advantage of it. As if she feared you telling her to forget everything about tonight and move on like it’s normal. 

“It’s not even fair, the way you make me feel,” sighs Karina, yielding to the pleasure, head dipping down. “I should’ve known - fuck, I really should’ve known. Why didn’t we do this sooner?” 

Your hips match hers in a dance, unable to answer. Unwilling to, actually. 

Because you’d rather save the words for later and live in the present, her body consuming you at a rate that shouldn’t be humanly possible. The way she rides on top of you, head and shoulders and arms invading every corner of your being, reigning fire. It’s so fucking good - her cunt, the warmth, the feeling, it’s impossible to think straight and there’s a part of you in the corner of your mind that’s jumping for joy. Walls tearing down from within, freeing you. 

If you’re not careful, it’ll be even worse when you’re guzzling your cum into her tight pussy before she even has had the chance to fuck your cock properly. She’s holding you hostage, bounding your hands with hers - a beautiful punishment to undertake. The moans and sighs alternate, complimenting one another as she continues to jut her hips forward and back - back and forward. “I hate you,” she’s saying, “I hate how you had the fucking guts to not let me try.” 

God, it really is pathetic for you. Karina figuratively digging her fingers into every nook and cranny of your brain, making you want - want to lose it, to be desperate, to be the version of you that’s capable enough to go beat-for-beat with her. The groove of your index and thumb settle at her waist, picking up the pace, use the drag of her cunt across your cock, but Karina grasps your jaw, mouthing an ‘ah, ah, ah’ as a consequence for your eagerness. 

Slamming her ass back down, she chokes an utterance out of you, “Fucking- Karina-” 

And Karina hums, letting her lower half do the work. “What’s wrong?” she asks, all innocent and sweet that doesn’t cover her sinful act. Perfectly calculated in her head of how she’s working you up. “What are you gonna do? Fuck me?” 

She took the words right out of your mouth. 

She finally managed to break you. 

You’re not nice about it, either: breaking the little restraint from her hands, hooking your arms underneath her shoulders, turn her over and yank her hips back to yours. 

The gasps. You want more. 

Karina tests the waters again when she breaks free from your grasp, forcing you to push her down on the mattress by the head, claw your fingers into her scalp, raise her up to flush her waist and hold her mouth open, taking account of the newly formed arch in her back - the perfect fucking bell curve. 

She sighs again. Not in shock, no. In relief. Satisfied, ecstatic, excited, as if she’s finally getting what she wants - for you to have enough and put her in her place. “God, yes. Fuck yes. Fucking do it. Do it! C’mon-” 

You slip yourself inside and shut her up for a second, feel her walls clamp around your throbbing member. “Like this?” You ask, snarling into her ear cuff, pulling her by the hair where she won’t even complain about the pain. “Want me to be like this with you from now on?” 

“You have no idea,” Karina says, nodding frantically, the arch of her hips moving backward against you. “How much I needed this from you.” 

Pushing your buttons and limits is what she does best. 

So you grab her by the throat, give a sloppy placement of your mouth at the corner of her lips, forcing her to look up and back. The angle where your cock is embedded rips her apart at the first slam. You’re going to fuck her. You’re going to fuck her ruthlessly. Fuck her cunt so bad like you’ve always wanted to the day she accidentally flashed herself at you and the image of her figure burned into your memory. 

She keens when you bottom out completely, filling her up to the brim with your cock. Stokes coming along easier and easier as the claps of skin start to reverberate around the walls of your bedroom -  thrusting up into her cunt and not giving a fuck about the rest. 

Karina tugs at your hair, finding a place to hold herself together, hips stilling and moving and eventually freezing. You’re up to the plate now, dishing out the real work far better than her. 

You are going to break her. Pound her ass. Bounce her cunt all over your dick, listen to how her breaths shudder and choke in the stale air with every upstroke. Your mind is working double time - trying to figure out how much she can take, where are her sensitive spots and capitalize on the weak points. 

The hints are in her body, you take that into account. She takes in every inch with her cunt, eyes fluttering shut, sighing in complete adoration. Willing to let you pour every ounce of your being onto her; these feelings, these frustrations. A place where you can let your imaginations run wild, her body a sacred temple built to ruin, in all of the harmonious sounds that come out of her mouth, occasional screams to let you know what you’re doing is right. 

When she cradles the side of your head again, staring forward at the mirror placed behind your bed along the wall, she grins, watching you place a kiss along her throat, leaning her head back to deepen the angle, runs a hand over yours, treating itself to one of her tits. “Baby, you can never have enough of me.” 

That earns her a firm grasp of your arms, pulling her closer. She shouldn’t even be able to speak, let alone have this much fun. You push her down back on the bed, hands sliding down her waist, stopping at the indent of her hips, dragging your cock out and yanking her ass back in. “Do you ever fuck your girls like this?” 

“Are you always this talkative during sex?” 

“Not exactly,” her breath hitches when you bend over the swell of her ass, swipe your finger above her clit to tease. “I’m eager- ah, eager to see,” she bites down her moan when you spread her sopping pussy lips apart, feel her leak even more on your cock, “how far you’d go-” 

You’re getting there, that’s for sure. 

Now you’re wondering what else you can do with her hips up and knees spread wide. 

“Stay right there,” you say, pressing a hand down her spine to deepen the arch, her ass getting bigger at your waist, palm full of fine skin, “and let’s see.” 

Her fast shriek registers a second after you smack the surface, the sound mimicking the crack of lightning. 

You slap her ass, impale yourself back in, watch as your cock disappears from your view. 

Karina’s face dives into the sheets, muffling her scream. 

“Big mistake,” you growl, seeking your fingers into the roots of her hair, snatching. You spank her again. 

And again. 

And again. 

The punishment and reward: you smack her ass, fuck into her, feel her body blossom with heat and flushed with crimson; handfuls of sheets or pillows or anything that’s within reach. Her cunt gushes even more, the throaty moans hiccuping as her body convulses more because of the blowback, and she’s still smiling.

“God- oh my God,” Karina pants, fingers back between her legs as she throws her ass back now, completing the motion. “So forceful.” 

You cup the sides of her waist, press your fingers over the blotches of red, skin rippling each passing second your hips flush with hers. The sounds of the smacks and the gentle creaks of the bed are already erotic enough that the spanking in between is just the cherry on top. 

All that Karina has to do in this situation is to simply ride out the wave of pleasure, body slightly jaded through every firm impact of your cock weaving itself inside her cunt, the vice closing in every millisecond. 

“-so good. You’re so good,” spits Karina, eyes cinched shut; a sharp inhale when you reach that spot, body seizing. “K-keep using my cunt, just like that- wanna feel your dick ruck up inside-” 

You’re grasping at her neck, deepening the angle. You want to melt into her, to feel everything. To fill her mind up with nothing but just you. 

“You did this to me,” you grit, pulling her back on your cock; listen to her stutters for an answer. “This is all on you.” 

But she giggles, head swiveling forward and face first into the pillows, but her wailing still breaks through. She comes back up for air soon after. Whatever she can get, “The plan, baby,” she’s telling you, “It was all part of the plan. Always.” 

That twists your mind in more ways than one. Her mouth, her hands, her body, all within arm's reach. You grasp at her tit again, drive your cock back into her cunt, her moans inching up an octave, and the shimmer coming out of the corner of Karina’s eye gives you all the more reason to keep going. 

“I’ll break you until you’ve had enough,” she breathes out, and her face contorts to something remotely pained, “please, for the love of fuck- don’t stop bouncing my pussy on your- fuck!” 

It hits you when you’ve finally worked Karina to stop talking. Breathless. Heaving. You sigh out of rapture, the feeling washing over you like you got dunked in water. A new enlightenment fully realized - the full manifestation of her creation, and now she’s on the receiving end of it.  

You give her two more firm strokes inside her; drag yourself out and rub your tip over her folds. She wiggles her ass in response, tempting you. Having another fill as her cunt clenches your cock once more, slick soaking up your skin until the friction is almost seamless, siphoning every part of your being just for her. 

This angle is dangerous: the way her stomach is nearly flat, you find your bearings above her, pushing in, too deep, holding her by the hips, anchoring, knees apart and at an angle where they would be if she was kneeling on a pew. Instead, you grab one leg, then the other - get your palms full of her waist in supplication as the undersides of the peak of her thighs meet yours, curves rippling on impact, thrust your cock into her open cunt where you’re rubbing all of the spots at once, gliding in so easily where the pace alone really sets itself into place. Her hand tends to one of her tits, hopelessly keeping it in place while you’re hooking her back for that arch and cementing the motion as your own. The time of teasing and playfulness is over, as you’re chasing to make the aches in her body a problem and sever all the nerves in her system until you can visibly see her limbs shudder - fuck out a complaint from her lips to make you stop and not act so greedy about it; but then your mouth is back on her again, hoping to sedate her thoughts as you let your lower half keep up the work. 

Then you sigh something between the space of the lips, an undertone: “You like this, love?” 

A nod is the only response she can give you, mouth parted and unable to coherently say anything in particular, so grab her chin. 

She’s getting there. You know. You can tell. 

“This pretty little cunt, all for me, no?” 

Karina mouths a ‘fuck’, biting her lip immediately after. 

“I’ll use you in whatever way I want.” 

Her hand swoops over and presses your forehead against hers, whining in pure euphoria.

“Let me hear you,” you urge, hand moving up so you can close her mouth, lighten up on the pressure so that she speaks a bit more freely. “I want you to say it.” 

Karina locks onto your eyes, searching for the right words in your head, and you know she will- 

Because Karina knows that she’ll be good for you. Your perfect little fucktoy. A personal slut who’ll always let you have and you know this well enough since it’s taken you this long to finally see it. “Oh baby it’s all yours, it’s all yours, it’s all yours. I promise- I promise that it’s all yours and it’s no one else’s- I promise it’s only yours just keep fucking-” 

To say that your ego was inflated would be an understatement. But man, words can not describe how much you wanted her to scream it out at the top of her lungs. 

Your groaning matches hers in volume, the bedframe not too far off to scrape across the hardwood. You’re pretty sure that the springs will bounce along with your bodies as well. 

“So pretty,” you praise, kissing her. “I’m gonna have this cunt all to myself. Whenever. Wherever-” 

Karina’s head lolls back and up, clutching onto your neck for added support. Heaving as you’re fucking the air out of her and makes her voice have this raspy tone attached to it: “That’s cute. You won’t have to look very far now that there’ll be one room for us to share.” 

You pause, blinking. Your finger moves a wisp of her hair away from her face, her eyes widening and fulll with sparkles. Never in a million years, you’d find yourself to be in this position - inside of Karina - but here we are. No need to move fast when you’ve done the hard stuff already. 

“So what,” you say, picking up a stable pace in her cunt, saving the dissipating control where you can. What’s there to be left said when it’s already shown? “It’s bad news for you because I’m gonna have you every chance I can get.” 

“You wanna let the whole world know how rough you’re fucking me? Be my guest,” she tells you, palm braced to your waist and moving her hips in this body-roll motion, biting her lip as the entity of sin returns in her mind, taking over. 

“I’m too good for you,” continues Karina, light-hearted and giddy, as if she’s not trying to milk every bit of you into her fucking pussy. “And here I thought I knew everything about you.” 

She’s right about that. Fortunately, this is more than just a dream. This is reality. You have endless memories with her as it is, and you’re positive that you’re excited to create more of them with her. 

“I guess you could say this is one more secret kept away.” 

A hand to your face, gentle. Loving. “My handsome boy.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“You are.” Karina breathes with an airy laugh, voice getting hazier. Cock drunk and fucked out of her mind. It’s working. “So hot.” 

“Gonna talk?” 

“Fuck-” she then sighs, hissing, and the smirk fades from her face, something more warm, languid, laid back. Her mind is gone. “Fuck.” 

You nod and give her a smirk of approval. Proud of your latest curation. The girl that everyone wants, only wants you. The beauty in that exclusivity lifts a weight off your head, and you’re far inclined to accept it head-on. 

“How bad do you want me?” You ask, biting down a kiss to push some life into her. Tears welled up at the corners, letting her feel every inch where you could take it. 

“I should be asking you, how far are you gonna hold out for me?” Karina purrs. “I’ll give you what you want if you let go first.” She tells you, pulling her body upwards and shifting the limbs around before you find yourself sliding back into her where the angle is at her cunt’s hottest point. A spot where you’d never turn back on. 

The pressing of the crease at her knees, legs pushed up high. Your cock is so embedded and consumed by her pussy that you’re having trouble staying upright. 

She then says this mantra - a phrase said differently but its message is very clear: “I’m all yours,” she wails, “I’ll always be yours if you let me- fuck! Only let me have this cock all to myself.” 

It’s happened multiple times before in your life: being wrapped around her finger. But this- this takes the meaning to a whole new level. Her body claims you as its own and you’ll surrender to that discovery for as long as you walk on this earth. 

The strokes keep going, the mindnumbing sensation coming to its fated end - that blissful release and last bits of pent-up feelings of Karina; her cunt a glove, sheathing your cock perfectly with every thrust, clenching around your girth to pump you out. 

You’ve already laid the cards on the table a long time ago or- even now, when she’s seen you in the most vulnerable state, fucking into the mattress so deeply and loudly that you’re not even worried about the potential noise complaint coming from the neighbors. 

She’s calling out your name. Just your name. Nobody else’s. Telling you how to keep fucking her. Hard. Fuck her poor little cunt until you’ve dumped every last bit of your load in her and fill her until she’s leaking out white between her legs. 

“Baby, I can feel you throbbing. Are you gonna cum? Gonna cum so fucking much- Please, I want it. I need it. Just- fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-” 

She loses first. 

And my lord, she’s fucking wrecked. 

You bottom her out and hold her hips in place, cunt quivering and her toes curl and feet in the air, moving with what little mobility they have left because you’re pressing down the underside of her thighs, yelping and wailing and screaming to the point she might break the fucking glass on mirror and windows. 

“Baby. Baby, I can’t fucking move- you son of a bi-” 

Karina’s pussy squelches around your cock, a new layer of slick added to the mix of spit and precum. You pull out halfway and rub her clit at an inhuman rate, feel her liquid sputter out, hit some parts of your body, squirting. 

She’s squirting even more when you’re slapping the head of your cock across her pussy lips, watch her body spazz out and tense up almost like she’s having a seizure or going into shock, blabbering complete nonsense and you’re kissing her harshly on the fine column of her throat. 

You could care less, because all you just want to do is fuck Karina, feel the glide of her cunt become even smoother than before. Read into how her body responds to yours and the mess just gets even more filthier. The sounds- God, the fucking sounds. It’s a perfect harmony. 

The pace steadies with the beat of your heart, thrusting your cock into her cunt and keep her figure moving until she’s able to gather her thoughts, finding the right words along the teeth to where she says: “cum in me, fuck your cum into me,” and the sobs compliments her heaving. “Please, I want it. Give it to me. I wanna be full-” 

It lights a fire under your ass, every ounce of your being finally collapsing. 

You’re managing where you can; burying yourself in the deepest depth of Karina’s pussy, cumming in the hottest point - and the senses and nerves in your body are contracting and expanding in all the right places- 

Your body and Karina’s: finally becoming one. 

Your cock and lips are the sole sources of connection to her as she coos at the multitudes of cum filling her pussy up. 

The embodiment of perfection. The tightness. So snug. You can feel it. Every fiber of your being let out through your release and her small little hole - holding your cock through the pulsing, legs frozen as your arms slither to Karina’s back, exhaling so hard that you’re certain one of your lungs might break. 

“That’s fucking amazing, baby. Oh, baby, keep giving me your cum - I need- I need it, ah. God-” 

You could feel your vision start to blur in and out of blackness, her whimpers and soft moans a gentle sonata, soothing through your high as her fingers grazing across your skin is enough contact to course electricity through you. And you rest your head against hers, taking asylum in the space above her shoulder, hips slowing and breath racked with exhaustion. Her hand rubs against your lower back, massaging the last bits of cum deep while the rest of her body goes limp, sweat glistening all over her skin as if she got baptized, finally blessed with the afterglow. 

“So much cum,” she’s saying, over and over, a prayer in itself, “There’s so much cum in me.” 

You release the restraints of your hands from her body, pulling on her side until her legs start to tangle with yours, cock still wrapped around her pussy, unable to leave or pull out. Her thumb swipes across your eyebrow, tapping the temple. Internalizing the events that occurred just now, reeling away from the pure emotions and the mere point of it all. 

At last, you and her are both drained. Like you’ve gone twelve rounds with her. You’re willing to go one more, because she’ll want that too. 

You’re then combing Karina’s hair down, patting the back of her head while she leans into your chest cavity and showers your collarbones with kisses. She nestles her face deeper when you bring her closer, swooping the sheets from beneath until it covers both of you. 

It’s comforting. This new home. 

It’s everything. 

“Don’t sleep yet,” you whisper to her, kissing her forehead while her eyelids flutter lazily. 

Her head tilts. There’s a slight shake on the ends of her fingertips; she brings them close to her face. You gaze down to see her mouth try to form a few letters - a word - only say nothing at the end of it. 

“It was always you,” she breathes, the projection alone a new belief to instill. Your face shifts to something confused, thrown off. But you’ve repeated and reciprocated the same thing even though most of it was unrequited. “Part of me was worried for like- the longest time, and now-” 

You hush her, her body sinking more into your touch, the warmth encapsulating her like a cocoon. The aches soon settle in and you let the pillowed conversations flow to a more interesting topic. 

–

When the next morning comes around, your mind is doing its best job to make you succumb to the inner machinations of your visions. The effects of the alcohol still present - which explains the partial dizziness, though your memory is kept intact. Most of it feels a bit smudged, like the faint image of a mirage of some haven out in the blistering heat of the desert. Soon your eyes are filled with the endless plane of the ceiling above, and you feel a whole lot lighter- 

The weight pressing down on your arm was no more. 

You arch your back, feel the limited mobility in your lower half, and inhale deeply. 

A prop of your elbow betters your view; realizing the sheets were off your body, your legs slightly spread apart, feel the shocking tingle of nails scratch along your skin, crotch surprisingly warm - not to mention wet. 

Karina looks up with a neat pop off the head of your cock, an airy laugh passing through her lips, slides her tongue up the length before she carries on with bobbing her head between your legs, cock hardening in the heat of her mouth. 

“Jesus fuck-” 

You feel her hand wrap around you, grinning, biting down a patch of skin near the base. She pumps you once, maybe twice, and tilts her face sideways when she sees your jaw slack and lips salivating. 

Well. It's one hell of a way to say good morning. 

“Aw, did I scare you? Well, you better enjoy this because I won’t be waking you up like this unless I feel like it.” 

That’s how all things go, unfortunately. The ways Karina wants you to do these favors of hers.

Except now-

You can bet your ass that you’ll love every fucking second of it. 

[vaquerolvr]

Hi!!! I loved ur thing with Soap as ur boyfriend texts and was wondering if you could do it with Ghost too ❤️❤️❤️

and her lips are like the galaxy’s edge

synopsis: texts with ghost as your bf

headcanons at the bottom

cw: kinda slut-shaming?? british food

an: i am finally back and have my laptop back!! here’s the ghost version that i’ve been promising for forever lol. title is from arabella - arctic monkeys.

masterlist

⊹ takes forever to respond to messages

he goes hours without looking at his phone. everyone knows to call him if it’s urgent because otherwise he WILL just ignore it.

⊹ likes relaxing in weird places

you’ve found him taking a nap in the bathtub before. would cram himself into a cabinet if he could.

⊹ is the dad that acts like he hates pets but secretly loves them

refuses to call any pets by their names, only referring to them as “fatass,” stinky,” or his favorite: “freeloader.” you’ll catch him cuddling them on occasion. he denies it even if you have photo evidence.

⊹ “he’s cat-coded” “he’s dog-coded” you are all wrong!! he’s a lizard

runs cold, always has the heat on even in the middle of summer. you can’t even sneakily turn it down, he materializes behind you. it’s like he has a sixth sense for when you’re near the thermometer. habitual blanket stealer at night, you’ll wake up trembling and look over to find him peacefully sleeping in his pile of stolen blankets.

⊹ hates getting sick

kind of a germaphobe. will put on a literal hazmat suit to tend to you when you get sick. acts like a medieval peasant dying from the plague whenever he gets sick.

⊹ that stereotype about british people having awful food? it’s him

while soap is the type to burn the kitchen down while cooking, simon is the type who creates a chemical weapon on accident. doesn’t know how to use spices or seasoning, everything he makes is either way too salty or tastes like cardboard.

⊹ big football fan, he’s surprisingly into it

unfortunately he’s a manchester united fan. likes spending weekend mornings relaxing while watching a match with you. it lasts all of five minutes before he gets annoyed and starts ranting about how shit all the players are. gets into hours-long arguments with soap over it (soap isn’t even into football he just likes pissing simon off)

⊹ gets so jealous over fictional crushes (ironically)

will sulk and give you the silent treatment whenever you call an actor hot while watching a movie with him. if you have any figurines of your faves, you’ll often catch him glaring at them as if they’ve personally wronged him.

⊹ this man is a VIRGIN!!!!

you’re literally the first person he’s ever dated and probably the only person he’s ever kissed (unless you count that one time he got drunk with soap-) also he’s fully lying, he keeps track of the exact number of people he’s killed.

dividers from @/saradika-graphics :)

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || Ch. 33]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s while Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

chapter masterlist

Words: 4.4k

ao3 link

|| Trigger Warning: Graphic Descriptions Body Horror & Death Regarding Unnamed Children ||

All your life you have heard that there is a beauty in chaos, and while you do agree with this, you also find there is a beauty in organization. 

You like taking all the chaos and putting it into categories. You like sorting the details and finding the mysteries that need to be unraveled. You think it must be similar to how clever people feel when they solve a riddle or a puzzle, but you aren’t running in circles with philosophical thoughts - you are analyzing what is already available and coming to a conclusion. 

It is still all chaos, because everything is always chaos, but it is organized into a way that makes sense. 

And Matt’s stolen duffel bag, when first unzipped and inspected, was full of chaos. 

You, Foggy, and Karen quickly got to work looking over the different papers and forming different stacks based upon agreed parameters. 

It became clear Matt’s guess that he had found some sort of laboratory was correct. The papers all appeared to be results of different medical tests, though at first glance, the three of you could not decipher for what.

But deciphering wasn’t needed at that moment, so it didn’t matter, and once everything was spread neatly across the dining table, the next step of your beloved process began. 

Foggy gave each pile a designation and then the three of you began labeling each paper in the top corner. 

A1. A2. A3. A4. 

B1. B2. B3. B4. 

All your analyzing would be useless if you couldn’t source your data, and it was quickly clear your little group all shared the same brain cell when it came to this idea.

While you worked at the table, Matt and Jessica sat on the floor by the couches, marking up a map. You caught snippets of the conversation - this bit of evidence was heard in that alley, to get to a certain tunnel system you had to go through such and such warehouse. It was fascinating to know that Matt had memorized nearly every square inch of Hell’s Kitchen - even the parts you didn’t know existed - and it was equally amazing that Jessica knew just as much. 

After hearing them talk, it left you wondering if Frank had the same knowledge, but you would leave that question for another time. He had been assigned to the two thumb drives that had been in the duffel bag. You had furiously taken mental notes as he had grumpily explained to Matt the little devices couldn’t just be plugged into a computer. They could have malware on them or trigger tracking or something equally devious and needed to be inserted into a clean laptop that couldn’t connect to the internet. That way, if the laptop tried to send a signal or became a brick, there would be nothing lost. 

Since neither you nor Matt happened to have a spare laptop laying around, Frank went to go procure one. 

That was about half an hour ago and now you are well into your third Foggy-assigned task - highlighting any identifying information in yellow. There’s nothing easy like names or addresses listed out, but you noticed a pattern for patient labels and have determined there are at least five. 

As you jot down that Patient 031517DVA also appears on page D4 in your notebook, you find you are enjoying yourself. This isn’t exactly what you imagined when Matt talked about inviting everyone over to review what he had found, but you think it is nice. Knowing that Matt isn’t out there running around without any sort of plan soothes your nerves and seeing that he is putting in the time and thought into his next actions makes you trust he knows what he is doing. 

No one wants a shady underground lab in their neighborhood, but you need to make sure they are actually shady first and not some weird fringe group researching an unknown breed of sewer rat.

The effort going into helping Matt with this task makes your fondness of Foggy, Karen, and Frank grow even more - and gives you a fondness for Jessica. Everyone is serious about their task, and extremely thorough, and you want them to see you in the same light. You know this is not a game and you refuse to let your part in the research be the weak link. 

As you go to the next row of numbers to examine, you catch some movement in the corner of your eye. You turn your head and watch with a soft smile as your daughter emerges from Matt’s bedroom, clad in her mouse-onesie pajamas. Her sleep mask is pulled down around her neck and she looks upset, but she’s not crying, so you don’t jump to run to her. You let her make her own decisions as she sleepily looks between you and her father and you can’t help but to mentally crow a bit as she starts shuffling towards you, her little mouse-tail trailing behind her. 

Everyone’s attention is on you as Minnie lifts up her arms to be picked up once she’s within a foot of you. You dutifully scoop her up and put her on your lap, fixing her hood and mouse-ears as you do. 

“Is everything okay, sweetheart? Did something wake you up?”

She nods, then flops herself against your chest, mumbling out, “There’s monsters.” 

You begin to gently rub her back, hoping to soothe her worries as you confirm, “there’s monsters?”

Again, her head bobs up and down before she nuzzles into your neck, trying to hide herself. Across the room, Matt is up and making his way towards you, but it is Foggy who speaks up next. 

“Are they silly monsters or scary monsters?”

You smile at the question as Minnie ponders it - her little lips purse against your neck and you feel her breath against your skin as she silently repeats the words. She decides on ‘scary’ - replying in a timid voice as Matt takes his place behind you, sliding his hands onto your shoulders.

“Do you want me to help you tell them to go away?” you ask, having packed your bottle of Monster Repellent for just this cause. Little fists clutch tightly at your shirt as Mouse shakes her head and you give a soft hum in thought. “Do you want Daddy to go scare them off?”

You are sure Matt would run outside to chase away a stray cat or hungry raccoon if his princess wished for it, but she shakes her head against you, so you guess Matt will be staying inside. 

“How about we make the monsters silly instead of scary?” is Karen’s suggestion, and like the others, it falls flat. 

You consider offering to read some stories, but Matt startles you from your thoughts by sliding his hands down your arms to get to his daughter. He gently urges her to let go of you before transferring her to his arms and bundling her close. She absolutely clings to him, looking so tiny against his broad shoulders.

“I got this,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper before he turns and starts making his way back to the bedroom. As you watch him walk away, he buries his nose into her hood, and he begins to rock with each step. The itty bitty fist you can still see tightens around his t-shirt and your heart yearns to follow your family, but you know this is a Daddy-Daughter moment and you need to stay seated. 

You were worried about Minnie getting scared over sleeping in a new place - there’s so many new and different noises but you trust Matt to help her interpet everything. He’s already done such an amazing job of it in day-to-day life and you know he’ll explain away all her monsters and let her know she is safe. 

Considering the company she is starting to keep she is probably the safest little girl in New York. No monsters would dare to lurk in her shadows less they want to face the wrath of the Devil.

You know that this little group you are becoming a part of would join you in jumping in front of a bullet for your daughter and you are pretty sure even her newest best friend - Max the Dog - would not hesitate to bare his teeth if someone upset her. 

She deserves nothing less and it makes your heart soar that she is so thoroughly adored. 

Now that her research partner is on another important assignment, Jessica gets up off the floor and strolls over to the table, “anything interesting?”

“Maybe if we were scientists instead of lawyers,” Foggy replies warily, dropping his pink highlighter in favor of nursing his beer, “and knew what any of these numbers meant. We’re going to spend all night looking up these test numbers and hoping they are real. I mean, look at this,” he motions to the paper he is currently working on. “What the hell is D22S1045? And why is the result 15?”

Jessica takes one look at the paper before scrunching up her nose and blandly stating, “It’s a DNA marker. Haven’t you ever seen a paternity test?”

Foggy’s face goes slack for a moment before he is huffing, “Not since college when we had to study paternity suits, and they looked nothing like this! They were like dots we had to match, not numbers!” He uses his beer to point to you, “did yours look like this?”

Your cheeks heat up at the question and you duck your head, hating all the attention is on you with such a personal question. “No. No, mine didn’t…we just received a letter with the results. Not the data.”

“So, they are doing DNA and blood tests?” Karen asks, taking over the conversation and directing it back to Jessica. “And comparing them with each other. Could they be looking for relationships between them?” 

“I’m not a fucking doctor,” is the reply she gets, but Jessica picks up the paper to examine it more closely either way. “But none of these match. The numbers have to be the same for a parental match, but that might not be what they are looking for. Just because it looks like a paternity test doesn’t mean it is one. DNA markers are used in a lot of shit.”

“It might not be human,” you add quietly. “Matt said the lab smelled of human blood, but we don’t know that these tests are on humans. There’s no dates on these, so they could be years old.”

Karen whips out her phone and is typing away before you are done talking, “What was that DNA marker, Fog?”

Foggy repeats the string of numbers and letters and you watch Karen’s eyes scan her screen.

“It’s human,” she states after a long, tense moment. The scowl Jessica gives is near legendary.

“Great, so we have a bunch of assholes in abandoned tunnels running tests on people.”

“That sounds both sanitary and humane,” Foggy grumbles before throwing back the rest of his beer. 

“OSHA and FDA approved,” you add sarcastically and that earns you a smile from Karen. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear before she guides you all back on track.

“We still have no idea what they are looking for, though. This could be cancer research for all we know - we are still at square one.”

“One point five,” Foggy argues, “we confirmed it’s human.”

“We don’t know what the tests are looking for,” Karen repeats, ignoring him, “and I don’t think looking up the significance of each DNA marker is going to do us much good. Can you and Matt go back to the lab and look around?”

As the clear recipient of the question, Jessica huffs then turns away from the table and goes right to the bottle of Macallan Matt keeps on top of his fridge. She pops off the lid, taking a long drink of it before answering. 

“That was the plan, but I’m betting it’s going to be sprayed with bleach after knowing Devil-boy was poking around. It’s not like we will get much, not that there was shit to get beforehand.”

“So, we have no who, no why, and no where,” Foggy points out. “We are doing great.”

The joy you had gotten from trying to organize the chaos of paperwork evaporates and you sink down into your chair a little. Would continuing to highlight and document be useful or was this all for naught? The rational part of your brain told you to keep going, because it was better to have it done and not need it then to need it later and it still be a mess of paperwork.

“We’ve just started, Fog, of course we have nothing,” Karen says, rolling her eyes a bit as she does. “Did you expect them to write their plans in gel pens and leave them lying around?”

“I mean, that would be useful.”

You roll your lip between your teeth, thinking that Karen is right. You don’t have much, and you’ve only just started - of course things look pessimistic. While Karen and Foggy begin to banter back and forth about the use of gel pens in a professional setting and Jessica finishes off Matt’s whisky, you let your mind wander around the facts of the case. 

Someone is out there running medical tests in a gross underground lab, probably trying to hide what they are doing. To do a lot of tests, they probably needed lab equipment, and a few years ago you would have said to follow that trail, but with all the advancements in technology, a machine to run DNA tests on probably only cost a few hundred dollars and was compact enough to move easily. Generators could keep people off the grid and there were enough tunnels under the city that years could be spent exploring them. Everything they would need could be ordered offline, and thus, was untraceable to you.

The only solid clues you had were what Matt had come home with, so you needed to keep digging there and hope that the thumb drives would contain something more useful. 

So, you pick yourself back up, grab your highlighter, and get back to work. 

Soon enough, Foggy and Karen pick their highlighters back up as well, and Jessica takes up a spot on the couch, putting her feet up and getting out her phone to tap at. The mood is much more somber, but you feel the same determination to find answers that is in you coming off of everyone else as well. 

You don’t pay attention to the passage of time, but it is not long after you grab the final stack of papers to comb through that Matt slips out of the bedroom and closes the door behind him. 

He starts towards the dining table only to stop by the couch, tilting his head towards Jessica, “That bottle was a gift from Foggy’s dad.”

“Boo-hoo, cry me a fucking river, Murdock.”

Despite the venom in Jessica’s voice, Matt chuckles and finishes making his way to you. 

His hands once again find your shoulders and he begins rubbing them, digging his thumbs into just the right spot as he begins his Minnie-update.

“Someone with a really nice sound system is having a horror movie marathon. She was actually hearing monsters.”

“My poor baby,” you instantly coo, your heart breaking for your little one. “Did you tell her it was just a movie?”

Matt hums in affirmation, “That doesn’t help with the noise, though. We walked through turning things off and found something to work as white noise. It’s still hard for her to do it with new sounds, especially so tired, but she’s a quick learner.”

“How long did it take you to learn all that stuff,” Foggy asks, interest clear in his eyes. Karen puts her pen down as well so she can get the gossip. 

“I don’t know, years? It didn’t come naturally to me like it does with her - I would train for hours to be able to pinpoint something, but she can do it pretty easily. I mean, she can’t tell me exact distance because she’s four and doesn’t know what that means, but she can point and say if it’s close or far.” You can feel Matt practically puff up with Pride over his baby girl. “She’s learning inorganic versus organic sounds now. She can tell if a loud banging is someone hitting something or if something just fell over. The other day she told me it was the wind making the window shake, because she couldn’t hear any other noises around the window.”

You smile at the story, having a feeling Matt is going to start going on about all the declarations Minnie had made during the storm and you don’t mind at all. 

“So, she’s as good as you?” Karen teases and you know Matt is just beaming.

“Better. She can actually read a sign.”

Foggy barks with laughter while you and Karen have to cover your mouths to not giggle. 

Once it subsides, you tilt your head back so you can look up at your daughter’s oh so loving father, bumping against his abdomen as you do, “is she down?” 

He gives another positive hum, “In a nice deep sleep. Frank’s on his way back up and I wanted her out before he got here.”

You don’t know if that is from Matt wanting to rejoin the group to know what is on the thumb drives or if it is from him not wanting Minnie to get excited over Frank, but you are thankful she’s conked out either way. The thought of her hearing all your discussions about what lurks in the darkness of the city makes your stomach turn. 

She doesn’t need more monsters to imagine. 

You thank Matt while reaching up to rub one of his arms - letting yourself give him a small bit of affection. You ignore the look Karen is giving you in favor of making sure Matt is all caught up.

“I take it you heard everything?”

He sighs deeply through his nose, and you take that as a ‘yes’. He confirms with his words. 

“Human testing with government trained agents isn’t what I was hoping we would find.”

“I was personally hoping for research on the mutant alligators in the sewers,” Foggy says as he gets up to go towards the kitchen, probably for another beer. “You know the ones they flush down the toilets.” 

“That’s a myth, Fog.”

“Look, with everything else that goes on in the world - weird aliens and giant green men - let me believe in my sewer gators, Murdock. They make me happy.”

“With everything that Stark and Roxon dumped in the waters, I wouldn’t be surprised,” Karen muses, resting her chin in her hand, “I mean, Matt got superpowers from something getting in his eyes. If a rat ate something that was contaminated, it could have gotten super senses as well.” 

You raise your brows up at the idea, a smile coming to your face, “a crime fighting rat?”

“A crime fighting rat that is a ninja,” Foggy chimes, a wide grin on his face and it sends you into giggles.

“How would a rat even learn martial arts?” Matt counters, “There’s not a rodent karate school he could spy on.”

“I don’t know Matt, how did you learn ka-ra-te,” Foggy emphasizes the word to make it sound more mystical. “He would learn from a secret ninja rat clan.”

“What the fuck are you guys talking about?” Jessica asks, looking over her shoulder at the dining table, disgust and confusion clear on her face. 

You and Karen erupt into more laughter while Foggy just grins like he won the world cup as he returns to his seat. Matt gives your shoulders a firm squeeze before letting go and pulling away. He disappears into the narrow passage that is his hallway, and you hear the front door open. Heavy boots signal Frank’s reappearance, and when he and Matt come back around the corner, you offer a small smile. 

The Punisher holds up a clunky looking laptop, straight from your middle school years, “Got it.”

“Does that thing even work?” Foggy asks, eyes narrowing in scrutiny. You trust Frank, but the question is valid - if you saw that in a Goodwill, you would doubt it would even turn on. 

“Of course it works,” Frank scoffs as he delivers the device to Karen. She instantly opens it up to get it started. “Old body, new hardware. Got it built just for this type of shit.” 

Foggy’s lips twitch and you wonder if he wants to say something but is holding his tongue. Jessica joins the table as Matt once again returns to standing behind you. His hands find your shoulders like they are drawn to them, and you wonder if he can’t help but want to touch you. It makes you feel special and wanted and your belly stirs with a certain type of warmth. 

Everyone’s focus is on Karen as she works - the laptop boots up and she fiddles with the first thumb drive until it is ready to be inserted. It feels like you all are holding your breath as she finally plugs it in. You expect there to be a password, but apparently there is not, as she just clicks away.

“There’s two files,” she narrates. “One labeled 082616DUK and one labeled 121417BNY.” 

You instantly recognize the first designation and push your notebook towards Karen, trying to not sound eager as you tell her, “The DUK one is in our files. Can we look at that first?” 

Her face lights up at the prospect of a connection and selects the requested file, “There’s five pictures. Hold on, let me bring them u- Oh my God.”

The little color in her face drains as a horrified expression takes over and her hand shoots up to cover her mouth. You and Froggy scramble up out of your seats while Frank and Jessica crowd around Karen to look at the screen. Matt stays where he is, tilting his head just slightly. 

When you see what is in the file, you wish you had stayed under Matt’s hands. 

The neatly severed head of a boy stares back at you with blank milky eyes, sitting on an examine table. His hair has been shaved away and there is an incision line around his skull that makes it clear someone has probably removed his brain. His mouth is open in a silent scream, showing off that he still had his baby teeth and that someone has taken his tongue. 

You want to throw up and you want to turn away, but you can’t. You can’t look away from this poor child who someone has so thoroughly defiled. Who had done this to this boy and why? You wanted to shake them and scream and demand to know what could possibly possess someone to do this to a baby? Because this was someone’s baby - someone’s little boy - and someone had taken him and ruined him. 

You don’t know how she manages it, but Karen brings up the next image and it fills you with just as much disgust and anger. 

It is that of a tiny hand with its fingers forcibly splayed, stuck with pins to keep it that way. The tips are bulbous and round, different to anything you’ve seen on a human before, and between each digit, there was a thin stretch of skin connecting them, much like the webbing of a duck’s foot. Like the head, the hand has been surgically removed from the rest of the body, and it isn’t hard to determine they go to the same person. 

The next image is of the head again but turned to be facing the left and pre-removal of the tongue, as the appendage is pulled and stretched from the mouth with a pair of forceps. The muscle is an odd shade of purple and coated with some sort of liquidy-white residue, but that is not what is unique about it. The boy’s tongue doesn’t just peek out of his mouth - it extends across the table almost three feet, if the tape measurer under it is to be believed. 

You need to turn away after that and to no surprise, Matt is instantly by your side, wrapping you up in his arms and guiding your head to his neck. “He’s just a baby,” you whisper in horror as you cling to him, not understanding how someone could be so cruel. Even if he had died naturally, there was no reason to treat him like that in death. 

“Did they…” Froggy starts, his voice low and quivering and you don’t know if it's from rage or grief, “Did they make him a frog? Did they mix this kid with a fucking frog?”

“No,” Frank replies, not hiding how he is feeling at all. The fury is clear in his voice. “They did it because he was like that.”

“What’s the other file?” Jessica demands and part of you doesn’t want to know. You bury yourself more into Matt and you listen to Karen click away at the track pad. 

Matt’s arms tighten around you and you can’t imagine what he is thinking. No one has said out loud what the images show, and he has not asked - but he must know it isn’t good. He’s gone tense under you, like he’s ready to jump into action and rip someone apart with his hands. 

And you want him to. You want Matt to find whoever did this and make them pay. You want him to punish those who hurt the child in the photos, the people who ran tests on him. 

You want to help Matt find who did this and for him to make sure they can never hurt anyone ever again.

“She’s…she’s got a beak.” Karen says slowly after a few moments, and you can’t bear to look at another autopsy photo. You hide yourself more against Matt, not at all ashamed of your choice.

“She’s Enhanced,” is Jessica’s reply, almost blank with stifled emotion.

“She’s a kid. They are hunting Enhanced kids.” 

“Why?” Foggy questions, sounding wet, like he’s starting to tear up. You don’t blame him in any way. “Why would they do that?”

Under you, the Devil finally speaks, his voice low and eerily calm, “it doesn’t matter why. We are going to find them, and we are going to stop them.” 

---

:) :) :)

---

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[jeridandridge]

Riders On The Storm

Agent Rio Vidal tracks down a serial killer that is taking out an old cult one by one and soon learns things are not as they seem.

CW: Cults, mentions of murder, Evanora Harkness being Evanora Harkness, smut/Fingering.

It started in Salem, Massachusetts a year ago. An old woman killed in her home, nothing stolen, door not kicked in. The next town over two other ladies were killed the same way. The crime scene photographer said it felt like shooting for Architectural Digest rather than a crime. Then another city in the middle of nowhere midwest America. Then another and another up and down the map just before the west coast.

Rio Vidal was called to the scene of the fifth murder just outside of Denver Colorado where a note was left. No prints, no blood, no hair. Nothing. The note read SO CLOSE, PRETTY LADY.

She’s been sucked into the mind of this killer ever since. Long nights were spent sitting in bed reading old police reports and files until her vision was blurry, most notably files of a cult that was called the Salem Seven by the news channels. Looking into every single member Rio knows that logically there should be one more victim. The cults leader, Evanora Harkness, was the only one left and in a nursing facility for patients with dementia just outside of Phoenix.

This is how Rio Vidal finds herself in a stifling motel room in the desert. Her white button up sticks to her back as she extends a hand to hit the button of the rusty air conditioner sticking out of the window, the stale smell of cigarettes evident as the fan buzzes to life pushing out the cool air. This assignment wasn’t even close to her first murder case, but it surely was the only case that’s ever taken up so much of her brain while both awake and asleep ever since she stepped foot in Salem where this all started.

Sitting on the creaky bed in one of her gas station purchase shirts and socks the water droplets falling from her hair are welcome in the sticky room as she sits with her laptop open. She scrolls through the documents and notes she’s taken of all the cult members, all the way down to their kids and some grandkids that are alive in the country. Out of the seven, there are very few. The one that peaks her interest most is the devil herself: Evanora Harkness.

The leader was known for her cruel punishments both physical and mental towards her members, often citing the Bible for her reasonings. Within the files of eyewitness accounts of the horrors that took place in the woods in Massachusetts, was the murder of her own child. There had been one news clipping that shared a photo of the seventeen year old Agatha, wearing a long sleeved sweater and skirt, sitting amongst the women of the cult with a tight lipped smile. A smile that screamed loud to Rio. Her body was never found, only ash was amongst the debris of the stake and fire pit along with bones that were never a DNA match.

As she sits on the bed she rubs her eyes, rubbing away the tiredness and the queasy feeling in her stomach that always presented itself when she read more about this monster. Getting up she pulls on a pair of jeans and takes a final glance across the room making sure the safe near the mini fridge is closed before she leaves the room, key to her rental car on her finger. Stepping outside her skin pebbles at the chill of the air, the desert night fully settled in as scorpions and other creatures buzz around her. Driving on the dirt to the main road she drives for about ten minutes with nothing but moonlight and the occasional street lamp guiding her way. On the side of the road sits a diner and a bar right next to each other. She chooses the bar.

Few cars are parked out front and the music is loud for a Thursday night. Stepping into the dim bar the smell of stale beer and fried bar food hits her nose as laughs and cheers from a rowdy group of men carry on at a pool table. Sitting at the bar underneath a neon sign Rio orders a beer with a nod to the woman running the place, sighing when the cold froth from the bottle hits her lips. Sitting on the leather stool she shifts looking over her shoulder, feeling as if eyes were on her. Sure enough, she spots a figure walking towards her.

Dark unruly hair glides off her shoulders, the kind of frizz and waves that come from the heat and lack of caring. Rio is interested in the almost familiar face. Soft cheeks and a smile that doesn’t quite reach the eyes greet her. And that’s when Rio’s mind snaps into gear.

“I’m Agnes,” the woman settles in on the stool next to Rio. “You’re new here.” She states casually, fingers coming up to play with the ends of wiry hair.

Rio plays it cool even if her heart is hammering against her ribcage. She’d spent countless hours working on this case, perhaps she finally lost it.

“Just passing through.” She breathes out, letting her shoulders slump a bit.

That gets a soft laugh out of Agnes. Or Agatha.

“Most people do.” She flags down the bartender. “I’ll have the same as her, Lilia.”

The older woman behind the bar sets a napkin and the bottle down with a smile. “Here, sweetie.” She gives them both a wink before going off.

“You a regular here I’m guessing?” She finally really looks at the woman.

She finds Agnes already looking at her with nothing but calm, calculated thoughts behind her eyes.

“You could say that. I’m more interested in you,” Agnes smiles resting her elbow on the bar, torso shifting to face Rio.

“Oh I’m not that interesting, Agnes.”

Tipping her bottle back Rio thinks back to her time at the academy and her early days. She could handle being this close to someone like Agnes. Someone else that’s probably on the run from her demons, someone that looks like she has a shaky past.

“Bull. I know an interesting person when I see one.” Agnes challenges with a hearty laugh, “And I see you.”

“Te veo,” Rio sighs. Extending her hand out she looks at Agnes. “Rio.”

This is where Rio breaks every protocol in the book. In the smoky, small town bar in Arizona she pieces together things quickly. She’s flirting with a serial killer.

It happens like she’s outside of her body, not in control but warm and happy to go along with the stranger. Rio pays for the drinks, Agnes shoots Lilia a smile and a wave, and their fingers are interlocked as they leave the bar walking through the gravel to the rental car that’s far too sterile to be passed off as her own.

“I don’t usually do this.” Rio hums as she thinks to the state of her room. Her laptop and notebooks are locked in the safe, her gun is in the nightstand, all her toiletries are in the bathroom stacked up on the sink. Nothing suspecting there.

“I don’t either. Not for a long time anyway.”

Agnes’ eyes never leave Rio as her hand rests on her Jean clad thigh. The door clicks open and Rio’s shoving the keycard into her pocket as Agnes is pressed against her back, lips on her neck as they move together into the room. Rio turns in Agnes’ hold practically pushing her against the door. Lifting her hands she pulls Agnes into a kiss that tastes like wheat from the beer and relief. Stroking her cheeks with her thumbs she pulls back meeting soft eyes, the only imperfection being a smudge of mascara in the corner. Moving her hand up slowly her fingers lightly trace the broach near Agnes’ throat, the silhouette all too familiar to the agent from the many reports and crime scene photos.

Without saying a word Agnes grabs her wrist causing Rio to gasp before her mouth is covered again, a warm tongue finding its way between her lips. Hands and feet fumble and gasps are the only sound that can be heard with the buzz of the ac unit in the small space. Agnes pulls at the hem of the tshirt, and the highly trained agent lets her. She sucks in a breath when the air of the room hits her skin, and in return she pushes Agnes to the bed making the woman smirk.

This is a game Rio is unfamiliar with but is all too happy to be playing. When she landed that morning she hadn’t expected to be so close to an answer, so close to solving her case. So entwined with it. Agnes is rid of her shirt, the broach attached to it hitting the floor with a thud. Agnes growls against soft lips as she tries to rid Rio of her jeans to no avail.

Smirking Rio’s fingers glide up pale shoulders pulling purple bra straps down. “Of all the places in the country,” she hums, more to herself than to Agnes, letting her lips trail her collar bone and shoulders. Slender, skilled fingers pop the button of Agnes’ pants revealing matching purple lace.

“You always take this long to tease a girl?” Agnes gasps.

Rio grins leaning in once more to kiss her sternum, the thunder of her heartbeat vibrating against her lips.

“Only when I’m committing the moment to memory.”

The skilled agent dips her fingers into the waistband of the lace finding warmth and dampness against coarse hair. Curling her middle finger between wet folds Rio holds eye contact with Agnes knowing this will be the only time they do this, whether the other woman knows it or not. Tomorrow, she’d have to do her job. But tonight, she’d pleasure the woman that was never dealt a fair hand in life. As Agnes gasps its Rio who returns the favor covering her gasp with a filthy kiss. Fingers curl as her palm presses against the other woman’s clit, Agnes moans into the small space rocking her hips to meet the agents long, deep thrusts.

Hours go by in the small motel room in the middle of nowhere. Rio stopped keeping track of their orgasms after five, and now finds herself on her back with Agnes’ head on her shoulder, skin slick and chilled from the air as fingers move up and down her hip. The silence is comfortable, not demanding anything as they lay there tangled together on the paper thin comforter. As Rio floats on the cusp of sleep, she hears Agnes whisper just before she succumbs to her exhaustion.

“My name is Agatha. I’m the one you’ve been hunting.” She gently brushes Rio’s cheek with the back of her fingers, eyes not leaving the woman’s relaxed features. Soft, kiss swollen lips are parted and a light snore escapes her. “You’re not very subtle but you’re beautiful that’s for sure.”

In the morning the agent wakes to the buzz of the air conditioner and the warmth of the blanket covering her sore body. Stretching Rio lets out a breath, eyes blinking open as she sits up with a small wince. She was delightfully sore between her legs and her thighs and torso were covered in a sunset of pink love bites. Gently tracing the bruise just below her breast, she feels almost upset that Agatha was gone. Sitting up, she sees the safe door ajar and a piece of paper sticking out of it. Getting up she moves quickly on stiff legs looking everything over. Her gun was there, so was her laptop and notebooks. The crumpled piece of notebook paper that had been sticking out has a single line written in Rio’s green ink.

Come and find me, pretty lady.

Part 2

[taylitruther]

Maggie reflects on it all, after the dust settles from the whole ordeal with Blackpoole and the Davids. Should she have recognized them, her husband’s team of career criminals? She had never seen their faces, true. For her, they had always been names on pages and reports. She wasn’t the one chasing them down, that was her husband.

He was the one that got to gallivant across the world, tracking down stolen IYS insured art based on info she provided him. Tracking art cases Maggie had handpicked because she thought Nate would enjoy the chase.

Some common themes came up, because Nate always seems to enjoy those chases. A lone wolf thief who has a penchant for tricky grabs. A retrieval specialist who never seems to keep the items himself for long so you’ve gotta get him in the act. Even a hacker a few times who seems to try to take just to see if he can. And of course, a grifter who seems to be popping up anywhere and everywhere, especially where IYS art is.

And then Sam got sick, and Maggie took a leave of absence and took care of him while Nate threw himself into the job. He was gone longer, going on riskier missions. And that grifter had kept popping up.

And then her son died, and everything went to shit. She went back to work but her husband lost it, quit his job, became a raging alcoholic. She has to serve him with divorce papers. She wondered if he was going to go chase that grifter, Sophie, with all his newfound free time.

Even now, even after running into him and learning about his team, she doesn’t really know what to think about him and Sophie.

Then she starts to wonder how different their lives would be, if her birth control hadn’t failed. If Sam had never been born in the first place, rather than dying too young. They had always wanted kids, but getting pregnant when she had had put her behind on the organizational ladder, left her husband to be promoted to a position to be a field investigator before her.

Would they have gone across Europe together? Chased these people, who have become her former husband’s new family?

Without Sam’s death Nate probably wouldn’t have changed sides. But now that she’s seen the injustice, she sees why he did. She did, for a while. She even entertained the idea for a moment, just one moment, of joining them. Would she and Nate have seen those injustices, changed sides themselves? Joined a crew?

Would she have that family too?

Maggie Collins takes a long sip of her wine in her empty apartment with her laptop open in front of her. No use wondering about the past. She closes out of Facebook, saddened by looking at the old, happy memories. She drains her wine, and opens up a job application she has bookmarked for a traveling art appraisal job.

There’s really nothing left for her in LA.

[run-clever-boy]

Stolen Glances Pt.2 - Ian Malcolm

Professor! Ian Malcolm x Student of Professor!Fem!Reader

Summary: You experience your first classes taught by Dr. Malcolm and invest in some conversations outside of class. It starts with a private discussion over coffee, who knows what is next?

You walked out of your room briskly, all of your books balanced neatly in your hands. You were finally ready for your first class of the day. The spring semester always felt longer than it was, but you were actually very excited for the classes you got to take.

You were particularly anxious for a certain chaotic elective. After meeting the extremely charismatic chaotician and professor at dinner a week ago, you had caught yourself revisiting the conversations you had with him that night. No one could quite hold a mathematics debate with you except for him, including your father who taught the subject since you can remember.

You started on your walk to your very much anticipated “Application of Chaos Theory” class as you slung your book bag over your shoulder. The walk to the STEM building wasn’t far. You lived on campus with your father due to him being a professor himself. It wasn’t the easiest living arrangement, meaning you couldn’t get ANYTHING past your father, but it made it easier to pay the bills.

You walked into the building, mind running rampant with scenarios playing of how this class would go. Just then, you heard a very familiar baritone voice.

“Welcome! Welcome! Take a, uh, seat please. Wherever you, uh, like is fine!”

You see at the front most and bottom point of the amphitheater-style classroom, the man your mind hasn’t stopped blabbing about, Dr. Ian Malcolm. You walk partly down the rows of seats and sit a couple rows behind the front and pull out your laptop and some other supplies. You look down at the bottom of the theater and lock eyes with the professor. He gives you a small smile and a sly wink and your mind turns to putty. You shrink down in your chair to hide yourself and your blush.

He turns and begins to start writing on the chalkboard as the last of the students trickle into the room. He writes formulas you have seen dozens of times and turns to address the class.

“You have all seen these formulas repeatedly, yes?” He asks the room. Students murmur in agreement.

He turns and takes the small cylinder of chalk and makes a large ‘X’ over the formulas you had studied.

“All of this is, uh, great on paper. However…” He emphasizes “this will get you nowhere when you talk about factors you, uh, can’t, um, control.”

Every student murmurs to themselves or others students. He got everyone’s attention in the blink of an eye.

How could you resist?

“Welcome to chaos theory”

~~~▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄~~~

The lesson goes by quicker than you thought. You were absolutely enthralled. You hung on to every word he spoke, leaning in and succumbing to the magnetic force that Dr. Malcolm radiated. His suave movements and characteristic charisma you have known to expect came in spades throughout his lecture.

As you leave to exit the lecture hall, a familiar voice calls from behind you.

“Ms. Y/L/N? I have a query with you”

The smooth voice stops your footsteps dead in their tracks as you turn on your heels to face to professor.

“And what would that be Dr. Malcolm?”

”We both know you are well versed in my, uh, field of study.” He pauses, “so why were you not asking the questions you wanted to ask?”

You were confused on parts of the lecture and had a couple of theoretical objections and questions, but how would he have even noticed that?

“I guess I would chalk it up to good old fashion social anxiety” you chuckle off your nerves “not necessarily uncommon in shy mathematicians, though you may be the one exception sir.”

He heartily laughs at that comment, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

“Would perhaps a time outside of peer settings allow you to ask the questions you want? Over coffee perhaps?”

Your cheeks burn before you even register what he is asking. Thoughts go racing through your mind at the implications of his comment. Your paused silence elicits another response from the leather clad professor standing in front of you.

“Your father is a close colleague, not that this is a favor to him, but you have pretty similar character. I trust in your potential, y/n”

His voice dripped like honey as he sauntered toward you, drawing your attention to him and not to his initial question.

“Oh, I mean I do appreciate the opportunity-“ you hesitate, sincerely considering turning him down. It’s not even as if chaos theory was your field of study. However, your mind betrays you. “Sure, I’d love to. Where and when?”

~~~▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄~~~

Your heart was racing as you straightened your shirt in the mirror of your room. Nervousness sets fire throughout your body. You grab your keys off the hook on the wall and start driving to the quaint coffee shop he suggested.

You walk in the small sitting space decorated with vines and would furniture. The contrasting figure in black leather leaning against the coffee bar caught your attention. His smirk rises as the barista hands a cup of hot coffee over and you see his shuttle wink along with his faint “thank you, doll” directed at the barista. The tall professor turns and recognizes you at the door with a smile. You smile back shyly and walk up to the counter to order your own coffee.

You walk toward the table Ian chose as you wait for your coffee. He greets you with an enthusiastic half-smile half-smirk and gestures for you to sit.

“So, out of curiosity, what is, uh, your coffee of choice?” He asks, leaning on his arm that rests on the table.

“As a college student with teachers for parents, I take whatever I can afford” You laugh. He chuckled in response and nodding understandingly.

“I survived many days off of vending machine coffee and ramen noodles” He replies.

This pattern continues throughout the little meeting. In between few questions about chaos theory, Ian asked about the goings on in your life. He shared many college stories and his rise to fame in a career few select. You shared past roommate drama and how you decided on the path of mathematics. Through many stories you were laughing until your sides hurt, realizing that this man truly made your usually shy smile reach your eyes. 1 hour passed, then 2, then 3. Before you know it, it’s almost dinner time and everyone who was in the coffee shop when you entered has been replaced by new patrons.

“Oh dear” Ian exclaimed. “I’ve kept you far too long.. here” He grabs a napkin and a pen and scribbles something down on it. He hands his number to you and you stare at it, before pocketing the note. “In case we need anymore meetings, though I would appreciate just the company” His voice takes on that low sultry tone and he winks subtly before rising from his chair as you do the same. Your heart flutters and you quickly shoot him a text to give him your number in return. You see the reply pop up on your screen and blanch pale as the blood relocates in your body.

Thank you, doll ;)

You both exit and he offers to walk you to your car but you quickly object, needing to get some air. He politely nods, shakes your hands and places a quick kiss to the top of it before walking to his convertible and driving away.

You finally reach your car and release your breath as you go limp in your seat. Your heartbeat races, color returns to your face with a vengeance and it hits you all at once. You frantically think how this could’ve happened to you, how this little meeting exploded the slight murmur of your heart into a massive flutter.

You can think about nobody else, but him.

Little did you know, he couldn’t think of anyone else but you.

@stevenuniversetrashgoblin @snoopyreadstoday @juniperwoodwell @kentahoe @ofmenanduhhhwellmen @dxrkheavensworld

[dedeinthewild]

Hiiii could you do Ralf Aron x photographer reader where he likes her and she’s oblivious please?

ralf aron x reader, flirty mates

“I mean, it’s kind of impressive. Watching Ralf flirt with you so obviously while you continue to be completely oblivious.”

summary : It's always down to a banter when it comes to these two, and it's a nice show to watch

The adrenaline of racing had captivated countless people, with its way of showcasing the magic of four wheels, the deafening noise, and that unique sense of security that only watching the speedometer needle push past the limits could provide. But for Ralf, adrenaline wasn’t everything.

He loved driving, pushing his car through the corners of circuits, meeting the people who supported him while he stood there in his black racing suit, helmet in hand. But deep down, what he enjoyed most was simply sitting on the pit wall, a cup of stolen tea from the motorhome in hand.

There was a slight breeze in Portugal at that time of year, as the sun began to set over Portimão. The remaining cars on track were wrapping up the final laps of a productive test day. Ever since leaving the chaotic world of formula racing, Ralf had much more time to spend with his family, and even on race weekends, he allowed himself these moments—losing himself in watching the cars go by without saying a word.

"That noise is so annoying," he said, hopping down from his perch on the pit wall and making his way toward her, resting his hands on her shoulders.

She was sitting on the curb, legs crossed beneath her, her ridiculous green sneakers clashing against the red line marking the edge of the pit lane. Green was also the color of her hoodie, with some phrase on the back he didn’t bother to read. Its oversized hood could probably fit four people under the rain—along with the camera she was currently holding, scrolling through the day’s shots.

"So, how does it feel to be the second-most photogenic person on the team?" she teased, already knowing that Ralf was only here to distract her, just so she’d do exactly what he wanted after a day like this. Pull out her laptop, go through the pictures, and eventually find some ridiculous detail in one of them that they’d laugh about until it was completely forgotten.

"Bold of you to assume you’re first," he shot back, sitting down beside her and resting his chin on her shoulder as she clicked through the images, producing the very noise that had apparently annoyed him moments ago.

"Well, you always said so."

"Accurate," Ralf shrugged, his gaze shifting to his GT3 Evo parked in the garage in front of them. A couple of mechanics were wiping off the bug splatters on the windshield and checking the tire pressure before removing them for the next day’s Pirelli tests.

"Your hair looks so bad. God."

"Excuse me? That’s so random and rude," Ralf chuckled, peeling off his black team hoodie and folding it neatly before placing it on the stool he had just vacated. The concrete curb seemed like a better place to sit—with her.

"You used to have the best curls back at Prema. Now you look like a burnout dad of three," she teased, finally tearing her gaze away from the camera screen to meet his blue eyes, mischief twinkling in hers.

One side of her hair was tucked behind her ear, while the other fell freely over her shoulder, framing her soft, delicate features.

"I really need to work on my decision-making skills when it comes to the people I spend time with," he mused, resting his forearms on his knees as he watched the last of the crew finishing up, the cars tucked away in their respective garages, everything set for tomorrow’s tests.

"Nah. Seems pretty solid to me."

Ralf had always loved messing around with her like this. They shared the same humor, spoke the same language, and nothing entertained him more than when she was exactly like this—unfiltered, sharp-tongued, with no effort to hide behind professionalism or shyness.

"So, what are you doing after this?" he asked, bumping her shoulder lightly with his.

"I downloaded Challengers, so I think it’s gonna be an ice cream and movie kind of night," she smiled, turning off her camera and setting it down with the rest of her gear while Ralf absentmindedly rolled a piece of melted tire rubber between his fingers, one of many scattered across the pit lane. "Why?"

"Because I’ve decided you’re coming to dinner with me."

"Oh, have you? Again?" she laughed, resting her chin on her knees and tilting her head slightly as she looked at him.

"Figured I’d save you the trouble of pretending you were going to say no."

Casually, he placed the piece of tire rubber in her palm—a gesture that, for the two of them, probably held more meaning than a bouquet of pale tulips ever could.

"Wow. Very generous of you."

She joked, catching the scent of the team members who had stayed behind to eat at the track—plates filled with meat and sides whose aroma blended seamlessly with the ever-present smell of fuel that lingered in the air.

All day, she had been thinking about this moment—when it would just be the two of them. And she wasn’t ashamed to admit it, nor to acknowledge that she would do anything to make her realize what was really happening between them. Because it had long since gone beyond just a driver-photographer relationship.

And he was so sure of it that every conversation they had turned into an excuse for him to flirt shamelessly, watching her laugh and banter right back—but never quite catching on to what he was really getting at.

And even if it was a little frustrating, it was part of her socially awkward charm.

And he loved it in a way only he could.

"I don’t get how you still have energy after waking up that early," she muttered, accepting his outstretched hand as he helped her up from the curb, cracking her neck slightly as she looked at him with those big, tired eyes.

"It’s the adrenaline. Keeps me going. You, on the other hand, look like you need a nap," he teased, grabbing her gear before heading toward his garage to pick up his backpack from that morning.

"Excuse me, I’ve been on my feet all day. Lugging cameras around, chasing after you—" she shot back, gesturing dramatically as she followed him inside.

She was joking, of course—there was no other way she would have rather spent her day. Running around, arguing with stewards who were convinced her media pass was fake just because she had accidentally misspelled her credentials.

“You say that like you don’t love it, and like you don’t love me, which you still have to admit,” said the Estonian, throwing her a bracelet that he had kept for her after they were taken to the circuit that morning, even though it was the merch of one of his opponents.

“Not happening, Aron,” she replied, catching it in mid-air and putting it on her wrist, noticing the number and name of Conrad Laursen on it, appreciating how Ralf had kept it for her even though he would’ve much preferred for her to wear one of his. She lifted her gaze, seeing him folding the fireproofs and placing them on a shelf to his right, with the beginnings of a beard growing on his chin and his eyes looking more gray than blue lately.

“You’ll break one day,” he told her, stealing the water bottle from her hands.

As they walked along the pit lane, heading towards the paddock exit and then to the parking lot where the drivers’ cars were, he slid two fingers behind her hoodie, tickling the spot on her neck between her shoulders, making her hunch slightly.

“What?” she asked.

“Just making sure you’re still nice and cozy, so that you don’t annoy me with the a/c.”

“You’re unbelievable,” she shook her head, spotting the boy's Mercedes among the few cars still around, taking her bag off her shoulder and getting ready to place it on the back seats along with his stuff. It was a routine that had been going on forever, since he had made the unfortunate decision to ask her if she wanted a ride when he saw her hunched over her camera, trying to keep it safe from the downpour at Imola when he had gone to watch his brother Paul race.

Ralf had short nails, and although he didn’t care much for his hands, they were soft, so his touch was pleasant, and the way he seemed to caress her skin with each step made him smile.

They kept joking, teasing each other, adding that extra bit of spice to every race weekend, every trip they took together, and even during the days when FaceTime wasn’t an obstacle for them to joke around like they did in person. The last time, she had called him while she was about to do the laundry, staying at her parents’ house during the off-season when she wasn’t traveling. She had no idea what settings to use for washing the team’s technical fabric shirts. He had answered, laughed, and helped her while she was drawing a lion with one of his brother’s kids, who kept pulling his hair like the main character from Ratatouille did with the chef.

“I still hope that one day you’ll let me drive,” he said, watching her as she sat next to him while he drove towards the restaurant he had chosen for the evening. He told her that probably a former colleague of his, Juri, would be there, having come specifically to visit him.

“You got the hang of it last time?” he asked, looking at how she was holding her arms on her thighs, playing with the myriad of bracelets around her wrists.

“I’m just scared you’ll kill us both.”

“You have to stop, I’m serious,” Ralf replied, knowing full well that she loved the way he drove, and recalling all the times she had fallen asleep in any seat of the car, like she would have done right then if only her stomach weren’t practically begging her for food.

The restaurant was one of those picturesque places with vibrant tiles, bright colors, and people who, at the slightest musical note, would throw themselves into beautiful dances among the wooden tables, with blue napkins waving in the air, filled with the scent of cinnamon and smiles. In one corner, there was a well-stocked buffet, behind which were two big men handing out plates to the guests and welcoming those sitting at nearby tables, including the two drivers and the girl. Ralf guided her towards the buffet, with one hand on her arm, while Juri followed them, looking at them with a sly grin on his face as he got lost among slices of spiced meat, cheese, and toasted bread.

“You wound me,” he told her, watching her steal the plate from his hands, brushing it with his cold fingers.

“Good,” she replied, biting into a piece of toasted bread spread with a to-die-for herb cream.

“Do you two ever stop?” Juri asked, standing next to the girl, contemplating what to pick as he bit his upper lip.

“Nope,” Ralf answered, taking a tart from the photographer’s plate while she checked an email on her phone, scrolling through the words and barely mouthing them with her pink lips, focused like she rarely was at that moment.

“Wouldn’t be nearly as fun,” the Estonian laughed, looking at his colleague.

“It’s painful to watch,” Juri said, shaking his head.

“I agree with him,” she smiled, putting the phone back into the back pocket of her pants and lifting her gaze to the one driving the GT3 Evo.

“Then stop watching,” the other one replied, pretending he hadn’t heard her, wrapping an arm around Juri’s shoulders as they made their way to their table, hungry and amused by the thought of teasing them.

“Yeah, right. This is basically free entertainment.”

“Glad we could amuse you,” she said, fist-bumping Aron, who had sat down with his back to the wall, leaving her the seat in front of the window, knowing she loved looking out, watching the people walking along the sidewalks, chatting.

“I mean, it’s kind of impressive. Watching Ralf flirt with you so obviously while you continue to be completely oblivious.”

She stopped chewing for a second, looking at him with furrowed brows while Ralf poured water for the three of them.

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, look at him. The man is practically screaming it.”

The photographer bit the inside of her cheek, as she always did when she noticed a detail she desperately wanted to capture behind her camera lens, or when she lost the cap of her lens and thought about how she could find another without spending all her money in a foreign country. And maybe there was a detail she wanted to engrain in her mind right then. It was Ralf’s face at the words of his friend. The way he looked at her, holding the fork in his hand with a soft smile, not afraid to show her that Juri was right, and that it only took that moment of realization on her part for their teasing to become part of the everyday routine of something more.

“Oh? Do tell,” Ralf said, keeping the atmosphere playful.

“The extra attention, the teasing, the dramatic gestures, the fact that you’re literally his right-hand man…”

“That means nothing,” she said, trying to disguise the thoughts that were running through her mind at that moment. And she caught the detail, keeping it in her pocket like the note she had found that morning with her coffee when she arrived at the circuit.

“I’d take pictures of you every day if I had the talent, see you after the first session,” with a small Polaroid of her smiling as she held her camera, winking to see better in the afternoon sun of Portimão. And the detail was that, instead of wearing Conrad’s bracelet like that evening, she had a small “R” drawn on the back of her hand, the last clue of the playful evening they had spent two days before that dinner. He had insisted on giving her something of his, and since he was in pajamas and only had his balaclava, he decided to do something small and silly, almost like something a high school boy would do. Was he really sure that she was oblivious? Or was he simply afraid that he wouldn’t be taken seriously about his feelings?

this is kinda cute (ever aron brothers fic is cute in my really humble opinion)... however, not proofread and there might be a few errors🍀

[hellsite-detective]

I was wondering if you could help me find this post pls

i was takin' a look at my backlog, seein' what i had missed, when i came across a particular case. seemed like it'd be a rather simple one... if it weren't for the fact that the Tumblr Authorities had stolen the image attached to the case file. i figured i had to have accidentally asked them to do this, so i took a look at my [insert noir metaphor for the Settings menu here] to see what was up. but of course, i couldn't find anythin' of the sort. so, figurin' it had to be a problem with how i was viewin' the case file, i decided to open it up on my laptop. and, wouldn't you know it, it loaded perfectly fine there! what a wonderful runaround this site has given me!

either way, once i could finally see the image, i tracked it down no problem! hopefully one day we can get to the bottom of what not-jason's real name actually is. personally, my money is on Mason...

Post Case: Closed

[cardentist]

"haha Wow can you Believe how crazy it is that jay outed tim's medical records?"

Hoody:

1: stole tim's records from when he was 8 years old, which meant that he had to Specifically and Intentionally track them down To steal them. from his house? Maybe, we certainly see him breaking into tim's house plenty. (though why would tim even still have those)

2: baited jay both in person and online implying that tim was lying to him (reminder, the last guy who lied to jay about his intentions tried to kill him with a gun and turned out to have tried to murder all of his friends. and tim himself had watched jay sleep, been in videos threatening him right before jay's apartment burned down, and tried to physically attack him.)

3: intentionally planted the records in a scary tunnel under the abandoned burned down mental hospital and lead jay there by the nose, going so far to write how much of liar tim is in big bold sharpie on the files themselves.

4: after all of this happened hoodie's immediate next step was to break into tim's house, steal his medication, and intentionally set off and film tim having a seizure and post it on the internet.

Hoodie leaked tim's medical records, he specifically and Intentionally baited jay into finding and documenting them because it proved that tim was lying about the slender haunting only starting recently for him.

and it's important to note that jay's response wasn't to get angry with tim, it was to Blame Himself and express empathy for tim.

it's Also worth noting that the majority of the records were redacted (including tim's Name), which is a point in favor of both jay And hoodie (hoodie still cares about tim, even if he's angry at him and willing to hurt him to push him towards what he thinks needs to be done).

moreover, jay's censored tim's last name before (several times, actually), just like he's censored amy and jessica's phone numbers. I think it's safe to assume that part of the reason why jay filmed it was because those details Were redacted (that and, of course, evidence keeps disappearing from his house and from his laptop. which means if he forgets about them and they're stolen then they're just gone- if there isn't some other record of them online, of course).

my point being, it burns my ass that people blame jay for this and hold it against him like it's the worst thing that he could've done, without ever holding it against hoodie.

I feel like this is a cross section of fans only holding characters accountable for what other characters get mad about (tim was Right to be angry at jay for it, but he didn't call out hoodie. probably because there'd be no point, he can't exactly hold him responsible. likewise jay Deliberately didn't get mad at tim about what he did as masky, at least not openly, so fans tend to not understand his perspective)

And fans holding jay to a different standard than they do other characters in general. whether it's because most of his personal information is on his twitter (secondary material people are less likely to go through, especially while watching), because his voice acting tends to be less emotionally charged (it was probably just that troy's acting was a little awkward, but I personally like to read him as autistic), Or because he's just generally not as cool.

either way, people tend to hold jay accountable for things they let tim and hoody off the hook for. and it's kind of Really insane in this case.

[justgivemethephd]

17.03.2025

Happy Monday everyone!

It’s crazy how much a weekend of rotting can do to heal the soul. I feel a lot better than I did last week, and I’m ready to tackle the road ahead of me!

Perhaps the most important thing on the agenda: my upgrade! I’m doing my presentation tomorrow, and I have to say I’m feeling quite nervous. I’ve been practicing over and over again, but it just never feels like enough. I’m trying to be positive tho! Everyone in my lab is being incredibly supportive, and I’m so grateful for them. I might give a quick update tomorrow on how it went, or wait until the end of the week depending on how I feel.

Other than that, I have some experiments to look forward to later in the week, some more stats practice and coding exercises. I’m also hoping I can start catching up on some of the literature I lost when my laptop got stolen. Perhaps I can put in some extra hours in the evening, just to make sure I get back on track quickly.

I wish everyone a peaceful and productive week! Make sure to stay hydrated.

—————

🎧 - Dead Skin Mask by Slayer

🎮 - Sims 4

📖 - A Court Of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J. Maas

[yuna542]

Connected (OT8 x reader)

Part 20<-

Part 21

Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader/Chan x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Warnings: ANGST, Jealousy, Arguing, Intimidating Chan, Swearing

Word Count: 4k

Note: You wanted Angst, you get Angst… Thought about the time Chan talked about his anger issues and felt so much better because I have the same problem. Currently working on my own anger issues. So I made it into a Part for the Story. Let me know what you think. Requests are open. Comments, Likes and Reblogs are always a blessing <3

On your first day of your new job as the personal manager of Stray Kids, you didn't expect to be standing in front of the man you made out with last night in a club. But it soon becomes clear that the Stray Kids don't just want you as their manager. Will this passionate arrangement end your career?

The first tour dates couldn't have gone better.

The atmosphere during the show was incredible and the fans loved the comeback and everything you had prepared for them. Traveling from city to city across the world was completely new for you and getting to know all the different cultures and people was so exciting that you often thought you were only dreaming it all.

Even though there was an immense amount of responsibility on your shoulders that completely took your breath away at times, there were always the Kids that brought you back to your feet and showed you how lucky you were to be able to experience this together with them.

But one thing was still ahead of you and you broke out in a cold sweat just thinking about it.

The first big concert in Japan was coming up and it was extremely important for JYP Entertainment and Stray Kids that everything worked out there. The gig turned out to be more complicated than expected, but if the show went smoothly, you had some contracts secured for the future.

On the plane to Japan, you were sitting between Hyunjin and Chan and had been working on your Ipad for a couple of hours to make sure everything went smoothly for the next concerts in Japan and Australia.

Chan had his headphones on and was already working on new tracks on his laptop, while Hyunjin's head was leaning against your shoulder and he was scrolling through social media on his phone or writing on Bubble with Stays.

"Pretty, look at this!" he commented, holding up his phone to snap a selfie.

"Let's tell our Stays we'll be in Japan soon."

While Hyunjin looked like the main character straight out of a romantic Kdrama even with the oversize hoodie and baggy jeans, you looked more like you just woke up with your hair pulled up into a messy bun, wearing one of Felix's washed out blue shirts and some old short leggings.

"No don’t! I look horrible," you pouted as he pointed the selfie camera at you and you tried to tidy a few strands of hair on your head.

Additionally, you were without makeup. You didn't have time to get ready in the morning, and with the guys, you could always just be who you were. You knew exactly that they liked you even without makeup, nice clothes and done hair.

You realised that at the latest when they had stared at you with open mouths when you first came shuffling into the living room with sweatpants, a worn hoodie and no makeup.

Jisung and Jeongin had fought over where you should sit, and Chan had almost drooled when he had noticed that you had secretly stolen one of his sweatpants. They were much more comfortable and smelled pleasantly of him.

Felix had almost forced his shirt on you, loving how his clothes clung to your curves. You kept catching yourself smelling Felix's things. It made you breathe a sigh of relief right away, like a warm summer day.

Hyunjin looked at you and grabbed your face with one hand to stare directly into your eyes. As he did so, the tip of his nose touched yours and he looked more serious than ever.

"There's nothing about you that's horrible. You look stunning. Whether in a dress or a dirty shirt."

"Dirty?" you asked a little indistinctly as he squeezed your cheeks.

He pointed to a spot on your collar that was actually discolored a little black.

"Shit," you cursed, trying to get the stain off, but it didn't work. You had probably been playing with the pen too much while you were engrossed in your work.

You heard Hyunjin chuckle softly. He raised his cell phone and just as you looked up, he pressed the shutter button.

"Hey!" you snapped at him as he pulled the phone away before you could grab it.

He looked at the picture and laughed louder.

"You look so cute!" he giggled, turning away so you couldn't see.

"Show me already!" you snapped at him as you missed again to grab his hand.

That's when he finally turned the screen and you could see the two of you in the picture. Hyunjin looked perfect, as always. He had his temple leaning against yours and you were looking into the camera with big round eyes, a puzzled pout on your pink lips.

In fact, the picture wasn't that bad. You looked cute together, but you would never admit that. Chan looked up from his laptop and regarded the picture with a smile.

"That turned out well! You look like a scared kitten" he laughed, and that's when you saw Hyunjin uploading it to Bubble. Sighing, you let yourself fall back into the seat and felt Hyunjin put an arm around you and pull you against him. You leaned your head against his and watched him scroll through the comments and responses from Stays.

The responses were positive through and through. Many wrote how cute you looked and a whole lot of people wrote how beautiful they thought you were, that you were made for the Stray Kids and you blushed when Hyunjin teased you about it. The love you got from the fans was incredible. Soon you were swept to TikTok and watched videos while cuddling.

You laughed at funny edits and compilations where recordings of you and the Kids were cut together. Meanwhile, there were tons of shipping videos where intimate moments between you and the guys were recorded and put together.

Whether it was during the video shoots in the background, like the making of the teaser where you saw too late that Jeongin and you could be seen in the background while you were very close taking care of his nosebleed. Just in time, Hyunjin had turned off the camera and so your kiss was no longer filmed.

But your laughter died in your throat when a video popped up that also made Hyunjin squint his eyes.

At first you recognized the building by the little café with the green doors. It was only a few minutes walk from JYPE, so Chan usually got the coffee for you from there that you loved so much.

You all got lost there all the time during breaks or after work because it was tucked away in an alley and the boys were also very rarely recognised there.

That’s why it was even stranger that someone had filmed this very café.

Spellbound, you stared at the screen as it zoomed in until you could make out indistinct outlines behind the shop windows.

On the video you saw the outlines of a man and a smaller woman with blond hair. Even though the quality was really bad and you couldn't make out very much except for a few pixels, you knew who the girl was.

You had personally hired the stylist before the tour. She was Australian, had an excellent resume and was doing an excellent job so far.

She was really pretty and had quickly made friends with Chan. Her charm had not escaped you either. Even though it stung your chest every time you saw them chatting together, you never let on.

You couldn't. After all, you had a job to do.

There was wild speculation in the comments whether that was actually Bang Chan on the video, with a 'mystery' girl.

You could only see him from behind, but you knew immediately that it was him.

He wore the same jacket on the video as he did yesterday in the studio, and his posture was so familiar to you that there was no doubt in your mind.

In the video, the two were standing behind the window of the café and had obviously taken a break yesterday to get coffee. You had seen them leave the JYP building, but you hadn't given it a second thought because you were up to your neck in work.

Now your heart was tightened into a knot and stung uncomfortably in your chest when you saw Mina in the video giving Chan her bright smile. They were talking boisterously and despite the blurry image, due to the enormous zoom, you could see how beautiful she was.

Her blonde hair fell in waves over her shoulders and shone like liquid gold in the light.

You glanced briefly at Chan, but he was engrossed in his work and didn't notice anything.

What happened next in the video burst the knot in your chest, leaving painful shards that cut you from the inside out.

You looked closer at the screen, Hyunjins hands shivered and they actually kissed. There was no doubt about it.

You couldn't stand the video a second longer and jumped up from your seat. Hyunjin immediately turned off his phone and looked after you in panic as you excused yourself and disappeared into the bathroom.

He had also seen it for the first time and couldn't quite believe what had just happened.

Only when you saw your pale face in the mirror did your heart seem to start beating again. And it hammered painfully in time with your breathing.

It shouldn't affect you. No you shouldn't care. You were the manager and nothing more, you should be aware of that. Chan had explained to you what the arrangement was about. It was not a firm commitment and you had no right to feel that way. But then why did tears come to your eyes? Silently you sobbed into your hand, which you pressed forcefully over your mouth so that no one would hear you.

Your breathing panicked as you tried to calm yourself, but the pain in your chest bored deeper into your flesh with each breath.

It took a few breaths before you could get your body back to work normally. You winced violently as someone knocked on the door.

"Y/N? Are you in there?" you heard Hyunjin ask.

Hectically, you ripped paper from the dispenser and tried to wipe the tears from your cheeks.

"Yes. I'm in here," you said in a shaky voice, trying not to sound too nasal. You cleared your throat hard and could hear him leaning his head against the door.

"How are you?"

With both thumbs, you brushed away remaining tears from under your eyes and took a deep breath. Then you opened the door with a jerk and put on a smile as soon as you looked Hyunjin in the eye.

"Everything's fine."

Concern gleamed in his eyes, and in wonder he watched you push past him. But you didn't run back to your place next to Chan.

Instead, you ran to Han and Minho who were sitting further back. As soon as you got near them, they made room and Han tapped the seat between them.

"Finally you join us, honey!"

You dropped down between them, trying not to show how much the video was bothering you. Automatically Minho put a hand on your knee and let his thumb circle over your thigh while he dozed off with his eyes closed.

"I wanted to see how you were doing back here," you said with a smile, watching Hyunjin walk back with a petrified look on his face.

"We're better now," Han purred, pressing a kiss to your neck, nibbling on your skin playfully until you giggled and pushed him away because it tickled.

Minho's hand was tight against your inner thigh, and though he didn't open his eyes, he gave you such a sense of security that you dared to breathe a sigh of relief. It wasn't until you landed that you remembered one thing that made you grind your teeth.

At the airport you would meet the rest of the team, which meant Mina too....

You wanted to throw up the moment you spotted her between the Secruity and the rest of the staff. Of course, the airport was littered with fans and press and the typical commotion began to break out around you as soon as the first people recognized Stray Kids.

You were led through the airport, accompanied by lightning storms, shouts and crowds. It was overwhelming every time, but right now you had completely different worries.

Your gaze automatically followed Chan, who hurried past the people with his eyes downcast. When you recognized Mina's blond mop of hair in front of him, you clenched both hands into fists and no longer heard all the chaos around you.

The guys all ran one after the other through a narrow aisle kept clear by security, waving to the fans and into the hundreds of cameras. Mina was about to let Chan through, since he was the last of the guys in front of you, but he put a hand on her back and let her pass safely down the aisle in front of him.

Your environment drifted into the background and although it was typical of Chan to be concerned about the welfare of others, tears were already pushing their way into the corners of your eyes again.

The video played continuously in your mind and you feared suffocation if you had to watch his hand touching her back for a second longer.

It took what felt like an eternity until you were out of the airport and reached the shuttle buses.

There, one by one, everyone climbed into the cars and when you reached the door, Chan, of all people, held the door open for you and offered you a hand so you could get in. Your eyes met for a moment and that broke the last fortitude, that was left in your body.

His warm amber eyes radiated the confidence that always gave you security, no matter how stressful it was. But right now, you couldn't think of anything but the pain you felt when you saw Mina and him kissing.

Despite the many cell phone cameras pointed at you, you ignored his hand and ran to the nearest bus where Seungmin and Felix were just getting on.

Jeongin reacted immediately and took your seat. Chan, on the other hand, looked after you in confusion and remained standing until Han called out to him to get on.

By the time you reached the hotel, you felt so sick that you had to lean against the reception desk while you waited for the room cards. You noticed Chan's inquiring gaze on you, you dodged his glare every time he tried to make contact. With the four room cards, you went back to the guys in the lobby and distributed them among them. There, too, you ignored Chan's hand when he tried to take a card for himself and Changbin.

But you couldn't even bear to stand near him.

So you sidestepped him and gave it directly to Changbin. Hyunjin and I.N went first to their room and were soon followed by Seungmin and Han. Without another word, you slipped into the next elevator while the rest were still chatting.

But before the door could close, an arm slid between the thick doors and Chan slipped in at the last moment. As soon as the elevator started moving, he turned to you.

"What's wrong?"

You could feel how much it bothered him that you ignored him, but even now you didn't dare look at him.

"Nothing." you replied dryly.

The soft elevator music punctuated your anger, which began to bubble with the stinging feeling in your chest.

"That's not true. You've been ignoring me since the flight. What have I done?"

You watched the rising numbers on the display, the details of what floor you were on, as if it was the most interesting thing you had ever seen.

"I'm sure you didn't do anything wrong."

The sentence came out a bit sharper than you wanted and when he remained silent and just stared at you, as if he would get any answer that way, you made the mistake of looking at him for a moment.

Immediately he recognized the sadness mixed with anger in your eyes.

"Talk to me, Y/N! You know you can trust me with anything and if I did something, please tell me!"

The elevator finally stopped on the right floor and just before the doors opened you snorted in annoyance.

"Why don't you ask Mina to talk to you? I'm sure she'd be interested."

You regretted the words as soon as they were spoken, but your head was full of blinding anger. Anger at yourself for acting so childish and not being able to do anything about it. Anger at the blonde girl and especially anger at Chan.

You quickly jumped out of the elevator and just wanted to leave. After only a few steps, Chan grabbed your wrist and pulled you back, making you look at him.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, by now with a darker tone and his piercing look sent a shiver down your spine.

"It's nothing!" it escaped you louder than you meant to, and you pried your hand from his grasp.

Chan looked more and more confused, and before you could whirl around again to leave, he was holding you by the arm again, pressing you against the red wallpaper of the hallway. It took your breath away as he leaned over you, his eyes flickering with rage.

"Then why are you treating me like this? You always keep everything bottled up. It's exhausting. Why don't you trust me?" he asked, sounding hurt. The grip on your arm was so tight it hurt, but he didn't seem to notice. He clenched his teeth hard and his jaw twitched.

His eyes were fixed on yours and you feared you had forgotten how to speak. His broad shoulders completely shielded you from the outside world and he made no move to let you go.

Tears now burned dangerously at the corners of your eyes and you swallowed painfully to push them back.

"It's all right," you tried to say in a strained voice, but gradually he seemed to catch on. Your words slowly got through to him and that's when you felt his grip on your arms loosen.

"You know about the kiss?" he asked quietly, suddenly dejected.

"It's all over the internet. You've been filmed."

His hands flew into his hair and he briefly turned his back to you as he groaned loudly:

"Fucking hell..."

You still pressed your hands tightly against the wall, not daring to move from the spot.

"Don't worry you won't be recognized. You can only speculate..." you said and that's when he turned back to you.

That he might be recognized was the least of his worries at the moment. He looked sad and there was something else in his eyes that you couldn't put your finger on.

"She just kissed me suddenly. I didn't want to..." he began, but you shook your head and stared at the floor.

His justifications were so much worse than being silent.

"It's okay Chan. You don't have to explain anything to me. You can do whatever you want," you replied a little more quietly as an older couple came out of one of the hotel rooms and eyed you curiously.

You took a few steps away from the wall and only when the people were gone did Chan reply:

"Oh yeah, so it doesn't bother you?"

"What do you want me to say?" you shouted in his face, your voice rolling over. Tears burned at the corners of your eyes and your lower lip quivered dangerously. Gradually, you didn't care if he saw you crying. The pain in your chest was too deep and every second you argued, you got progressively worse.

Chan threw his hands in the air and you had never seen him so loud and frantic before.

"That you're angry with me. That you hate me or just punch me. But don't say it's okay! You always do."

"I don't have the right to say anything Chan!"

"Why?"

His eyes were full of pain and you could see your own anger reflected in them.

"Because I'm not your girlfriend."

The sentence hung in the air like thick smog poisoning the atmosphere and Chan just stared.

You couldn't bear to look at his perplexed face for a second longer and turned to flee. You just wanted to bury yourself in your bed until the next flight and never have to speak again.

"So you don't care?" you heard Chan shout behind you. By now you couldn't hold back the tears and they streamed freely down your cheeks. You were already embarrassed about what a wreck you were, but inside it was tearing you apart.

Chan meant so much to you and now arguing with him like this was eating you up. When you didn't respond, he shouted emphatically:

"Y/N! Look me in the eye and say you don't care! Then I'll leave you alone."

So you turned around after all. When he saw your face flooded with tears, he froze and would have loved to run to you to pull you into his arms. He regretted all of his words and hated himself for his anger issues that he never wanted to take them out on you.

He didn't know you were crying, and seeing you with swollen eyes and wet cheeks, your body now finally shaken by bloodcurdling sobs, was a sight he never wanted to see or trigger.

He felt terribly guilty, but no words escaped his lips.

"I do," you murmured, wrapping your arms around your body.

"What?"

His voice was brittle and his eyes red. He was on the verge of breaking down. Only extreme tension kept him from becoming a blubbering mess.

"I care about it! I care about you, idiot! I hate seeing you with her! I hate even more how it makes me feel. It fucking hurts like hell and I know I have no right to feel this way, but I want to cry and lash out when I see her around you!" you sobbed and by now the entire hallway must have heard you.

"I shouldn't have let all this happen.... I knew you'd get hurt if you came near me."

His voice softened again and he took a step towards you.

"No. It was my choice. I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to the arrangement."

Chan shook his head, gritted his teeth, and wanted to touch you. Warningly, you raised a hand to keep him from coming closer. The intimidating anger in his eyes was burned into your memory and you wouldn't forget it anytime soon.

It was all too much for you, and if he took one more step toward you, you couldn't guarantee anything. Your emotions were caught in a whirlpool of rage, fear and sadness over which you no longer had any control.

"Stay away! Please don't come any closer!"

At your shaky voice, something inside him broke, but he immediately stopped and raised his hands to signal that he wouldn't hurt you.

"Chan, if I'm just a fucktoy to you, that's fine, but then tell me."

He furrowed his eyebrows and stared at you uncomprehendingly. The silence that followed was answer enough and you wanted to throw up, fall to the floor and choke on your own tears.

Why had you been so blind? He had made it clear from the beginning that it would never amount to a relationship with him or any of the others.

Your stupid feelings were all your fault.

"I understand..."

It was just a huff, and you had knocked on Hyunjin's hotel room faster than Chan could respond. He could only watch as the door opened and closed again behind you.

Chan slammed his fist against the wall and cursed loudly. He had ruined everything and driven away the person who meant so much to him. His biggest fear had become reality and it was all his fault.

Hyunjin pulled you into his arms without hesitation and just held you while your body was shaken by heart-wrenching sobs.

Together you sat down on the bed, where he hugged you tightly and never let go.

You didn't have to say what was going on. No words were necessary and you were grateful to him for that. He was just there, holding you, whispering soothing words and keeping you company until the tears subsided and you fell asleep exhausted in his arms.

->Part 22

——————————————————————-

© Yuna542 — 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

Taglist (closed):

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[tarousbaby]

NINE-TO-FIVE !

FUSHIGURO TOJI STORY

work colleagues trope !

kinktober day five!

squirting, public sex, verbal degredation, rough sex, very uncleanly sex, daddy kink, he spits in your mouth

masterlist <3

in your line of work, you'd only heard bad things about the sorcerer killer but after a particular boss had hired you both, you quickly found out all the secret pleasures he kept hidden.

word count: 2531

working with fushiguro toji, the sorcerer killer, was nothing like you had expected it to be. he was big, you knew he would be, but he wasn't aggressive which was the biggest surprise.

his larger than life body would loom behind you as the two of you walked, his thick palms brushing yours, and presence of his cursed energy hanging over you like a thick blanket. it was almost comforting in a way, to be protected so fiercely and casually at the same time.

your ability to track was impeccable, which made working with toji unbelievably easy for him. you found the target, he killed the target. the mutual exchange was easy, and you found yourself going from being a tag-a-long to being toji's partner in crime in a way.

business men soon realized, toji worked better with you, and you worked better with toji. they bought your servitude was a package, and the two of you would pool the money together.

but you weren't a fool. you knew just how dangerous he was, you witnessed it first hand regularly. the massive amounts of raw power he held in just his pinky finger was incredible. not even a level one jujutsu sorcerer could hold their own against him, maybe not even a special grade.

it was rare, considering he had no cursed energy, but not impossible. so, you were wary and did your research. you knew he was a zenin, you knew just the mention of his family name had targets trembling. and yet, he acted nothing like the zenins you'd met. nothing like naoya, at least.

he wasn't nice by any means, or respectful but he was better. he understood your cursed technique, respected it, and trusted you enough to get the job done. he let you get close, familiar, and in the rare occasion he managed to get hurt he'd come to you.

working with toji was amazing. large bounties, harder targets, the thrill of it all. so, when you get the email that you have a new target, you hop onto it immediately.

"there you are," toji drawls, slumped in a chair. his smirk is small, but you still catch it, sending one of your own smiles back. "thought you were about to back down on me."

the man, whatever pig that had hired you both, looks between you. he looks a little lost, but his lips are pressed tight. you hum, pulling out your chair. "wouldn't miss it for the world."

toji clicks his tongue, and leans back. "couldn't miss my face, right?"

you scoff. "you wish."

the man blinks, finger crossed in front of his mouth. he opens his mouth, beginning to speak when toji pushes up. "just give us a name, we don't need a debrief if we got her."

he stutters, looking over to you, brows furrowed. clearly, he hadn't done his research. you tilt your head, expression patient but expecting. he licks his lips, a drop of sweat clinging to his forehead. gross.

the man stutters through some name that toji jots down with a pen on the inside of his arm. then, he points to the door and you know it's your cue to go.

"i already have the rooms set up," you say, pulling out the keys to the hotel you'd just checked into. "only one room. wanted to save some money."

"fine with me," he says, and takes them from you.

he, in turn, offers, "wanna get something to eat?"

you grin. "definitely. i'm starving."

-

you sit in the damp hotel room, windows pulled open to try and air out the scent of mildew. your legs are crossed as you sit in the center of the bed, your laptops pushed in front of you, and multiple city hall files surrounding you. toji had oh so kindly stolen them before you'd returned.

you thumb through the man's criminal record, trying to see if there was a way you could frame the crime scene. most times, these people had a long extensive record which made it easy to blame their deaths on some petty revenge of some rival.

toji dropped a bag of greasy fast food into your lap, and you looked up, mouthing a quiet 'thank you'.

he hums, and rounds the bed, sitting on your side. his hand dips into the bag in your lap, and pulls out a few fries. "anything good?"

you shrug. "mostly small gang violence, nothing big. i still have another page though. there was some charges of assault and battery last year though."

toji rolls his eyes. "that ain't shit."

you nod, dog-earing a page and typing a few notes onto your file on your laptop. information was important to keep on hand. you bite your lip.

"get me a fry, will you?" you ask.

toji does, reaching into the bag again and pulling one out. he answers your silent command when you open your mouth, placing it between your teeth.

you bite down, but some salt spreads across your lips. toji's reaction is immediate, his thumb swiping away at the glistening dots, before flicking them off into the back. you ignore the way your gut burns.

-

toji heaves a little, flinging a severed limb back to the mangled mess that was your targets corpse. his black hair sticks to his forehead, a little bit of sweat accumulated on his brow.

"didn't know he'd have bodyguards," he muttered, lips twisted into a frown. "probably got a tip about us."

except you aren't really focusing on what he's saying. instead, you're focusing on the splashes of blood soaking into your shirt.

"ewww," you groan, waving your hands, "you got his blood everywhere!"

toji raises one unimpressed eyebrow, arms crossed. "is that seriously what you're going to complain about right now?"

"yes," you stress with a huff, "this was one of my favorites."

toji rolls his eyes, leaning against one of the walls. he looks back to the pile of corpses, and wonders, "should we keep the head? he didn't say whether we should or not."

"i don't know, and i don't care. you owe me a new shirt."

toji groans, running a hand through his hair. "get over it, you have plenty of money to buy a new one now."

"as if," you mumble, "i'm relying on the paychecks i get from you killing people."

he pushes himself off the wall, takes a few slow steps up to you, and takes your shirt by the ends. he inspects the blood, dabs at it with his thumb, before letting it go.

"just take it off," he says, "i'll get you the money for a new one."

"i can't just take it off," you say, "i'll get arrested for public nudity!"

toji looks around the dingey alley the two of you are in. there's no sounds, not even the faint sounds of music from the nearby club. there's one flickering streetlight a few blocks down. not a single soul in sight, or curse.

"there ain't no public to see."

"that's not the point," you grumble.

toji's patience is clearly wearing thinner, and you aren't quite sure what he's gonne do until he's pulling off his skintight black shirt and handing it to you.

you stand there, frozen. your eyes are glued to his body, unable to look away from his sculpture. his abs are hard, but you knew that through his outline. his muscles are even more chiseled up close, his pecs large and strong.

your mouth watered a little.

"are you going to change or not?" his rasp draws you out of your stupor, and you blink slowly before reaching for the shirt. you then look back to him, expecting him to turn around but he doesn't.

you swallow, long and hard. you take your shirt off, careful to not let the blood-splashed fabric touch your face. your skin prickles with goosebumps against the cold air. you did have a bra on, but it didn't do much to cover your skin.

as quickly as you could, you slip the shirt on. it wasn't nearly as tight on you. toji's eyes lift to your face, and he wipes the blood off his palm onto his sweatpants. then he reaches forward, and his hand comes to cup your hip.

you arch into his grip instinctively, pressing your chest to his without thinking. toji lets out a low chuckle, and his hand slips down and gives your ass a firm squeeze.

without thinking, you let out a startled gasp.

the smell of irony blood, and toji's natural musk fills your nose. toji's scent isn't bad by any means, just strong. your head buries into his chest as his other hand comes to the small of your back, pressing in and forcing your arch a little more.

"you're so desperate," he laughs, "pushing against me like a bitch in heat."

you glare up at him, but it quickly melts away upon seeing his smirk.

you knew very well how attractive toji was. beautiful had to be a genetic thing when it came to zenin's. his deep green eyes, his inky black hair, his pale cream skin.

there was always this push pull thing. you’d dip your toes into the water, see how far you could push him. you’d never thought you’d get this far, feel his hands dip down your back.

toji takes your jaw in one hand, and pulls you up for a searing kiss that makes your mouth ache. it’s messy, and wet, and you can smell the iron wafting off the blood on his hands.

it’s not what you’d imagined, and yet it still manages to be better to every daydream you’d ever had. nights spent, hands clamped between your thighs, coated in slick, imaging it was his thick muscle instead.

“fuck,” you murmur against his chest, breath hot.

“if you wish,” you can hear the amusement in his voice, but it’s nothing compared to the pure desperation in yours. you want him—no—you need him.

his thumb slips into your mouth, pulling your jaw open. you only have a moment to realize what he’s doing before he spits in your mouth and says, “swallow.”

you do, not really tasting it but wrinkling your nose anyway. his hand then shifts to your shoulder and forces you to your knees as he leans up against the stone of the wall behind you. you understand immediately.

you fumble with the strings of his sweatpants before looping your fingers under them and tugging them down along with his boxers.

he’s big, you’d be a fool to think he wasn’t, and your cunt gives a pathetic pulse. you’re soaking through your panties just thinking about it.

you spit into your hand, tojis saliva still on your tongue and use it to lube up your hand. slowly, you work your way up his shaft, your other hand reaching back to grip his thighs.

you give a small lick to his tip, feeling his muscle shudder and flex under your touch. you take his tip into your mouth, sucking softly before letting it go with a pop.

peppering kisses down his length, you reach the base, before licking one long stripe up and taking him into your mouth. he’s already unbearably hard.

you can feel him in the back of your throat, and his groans fill your ears. you begin to work your way up and down him, shifting your head and unlocking your jaw in order to take him fully. his hand comes to your hair, pulling at your hair, nails digging into your scalp.

he’s so big, it makes your head spin.

unsurprisingly, he takes your hand and begins to thrust into your throat. you try your hardest not to gag, tears pricking in your eyes and clinging to your lashes.

after a few minutes, he pulls off, a thin trail of spit connecting your puffy lips to his cock. he taps it on your lips with a chuckle, before aiming down and cumming with a moan over your neck and collarbone.

“need you,” you whine, “please, toji.”

he helps you up, but in a moments notice he’s picking you up, hands underneath your thighs. he pushes your back against the stone, and the cold prickly wall cuts into your back through the thin shirt.

he rubs at your pussy with his duck through your leggings, watching as the dark spot on your grey leggings grows and grows.

“such a filthy girl,” he mutters against the shell of your ear, pulling at the band of your legging and letting it snap back against your stomach. you whimper, biting down on your lip.

“want you in me.”

toji grins against your neck, and sucks a big bruise into your flesh. he licks up your neck, up to your jaw. then, he finally pulls down your leggings and pantie.

the cold air bites against your skin, raising goosebumps but the warmth of toji quickly envelopes you. his dick pushes between your lips, rubbing against your clit and eliciting small hiccups of moans from your throat.

“please!” you sob, cheeks flushing red. “i need to cum!”

he clicks his tongue. then, he shoves two thick fingers into your pussy, making you scream. your shriek echoes throughout the alley, but you regard for other people dissapears.

his fingers curl inside you quickly, trying to stretch you out as quickly as possible to give you what you want. his thumb rubs at your clit at the same time, his dick leaking precum over your thigh.

“c’mon, daddy, wanna feel you!”

you can see the switch happen in toji, watch as his eyes darken and his posture tenses.

toji rips his fingers out, drawing a whine from you. his face buries into your breasts, forehead resting against your collarbone.

his cock pushes into you, hitting your g-spot immediately. he was skilled, he’d fucked before. he knew how to make you cum and make you cum quick.

he fucks into you rapidly, and you’re practically bouncing onto his lap. your arms wrap around his neck, your head falling back as he lifts his head to suck more bruises into your skin.

you cum, in one short scream that has your entire body shaking with the aftershocks. “haah—oh fuck, toji, ‘m cumming, ‘m cumming!”

he groans, long and loud against your jaw. he presses a kiss to your lips to shut you up. you squirt, for the first time in what felt like forever, all over his abdomen.

tojis only fucking you for a few more seconds before you feel his cum spilling up inside you. you slump, body limp and struggling to keep locked around his body.

“fuck, you’re such a slut, you know that right?” toji laughs, wiping at the sweat on your neck.

“only for you,” you pant, as he lets you down. your legs wobble, like a baby deer first learning how to walk, but you manage to pull your clothes back up.

toji stares you down, then stares at his bloody clothes, then at the corpses. “we’re fucking disgusting.”

you grin, and pull him out of the alley. “yeah, but we knew that already.”

[lulublack90]

Prompt 31 - Final

@jegulus-microfic October 31, Word count 461

Previous part First part

Regulus could not believe his sort of luck. His room had been trashed beyond use, but nothing had been stolen. Luckily, he had his laptop and phone on him and his most expensive art supplies. A lot of his clothes were beyond repair, as were some of his favourite drawings, but the one he’d drawn of James was still safe. He’d been homeless again, but it had only been for about fifteen minutes, give or take, and now, now he was living in James’s spare room with an invitation to just stay on if he wanted to. He was over the moon. 

It turned out that Sirius and Remus only lived in the next flat over. His brother was sleeping on the other side of the wall from his old bedroom, and Regulus knew because, on his first night, he’d had to jump out of bed and grab his noise-cancelling headphones out of his bag. He shuddered at the thought of what he’d heard. He did not need to know what his brother sounded like in the throes of lovemaking. 

He was a bit worried about how much James would want in rent or towards the bills, as every time Regulus tried to broach the subject, James just waved him off and told him not to worry about it. He’d tried to give James money for the food shop he’d had delivered, but James had refused it. So Regulus paid him back the only way he knew how and made cake and cookies and brownies. James had joked that Regulus was trying to make him fat, but it didn’t stop him from eating half a tray of brownies by himself.

He’d been unsure if he was going to accept the invitation to stay with James indefinitely, but halfway through his first week at the flat, he’d been called into the office by Minerva. James had come with him without Regulus having to ask, and Minerva told him his room was habitable again, but she hadn't been able to track down the culprits of his break-in.

That was when Regulus asked that he be allowed to move out of the halls without incurring any fines, as he no longer felt safe there, especially when his room had so easily been broken in to. He was shocked that he’d managed to say it so clearly and demandingly, but James had hold of his hand, and it gave him the confidence he needed. They'd gone home and watched the final episode of the ghost hunter series and James had treated them to a takeaway.  

So here he was, living with the nicest person he’d ever met and having to hide the romantic feelings that gave him butterflies every time James walked into the room.     

Next part

[mikaelsonwife4life]

Theft of a Life

Shaggy, Daphne, Velma, Fred, and Scooby knew their lives weren't the same as they'd left but never dreamed how different they would be. They'd stolen five lives, but they didn't realize how hard it would be to have to live them.

Shaggy knew he wasn’t always the brightest bulb in the box but he’s pretty sure he wasn’t living his life. 

On his way into the house he’d lived in his entire life, he was hugged by a roughly ten-year-old girl. He’d froze long enough to watch the giggling strawberry blonde girl skip into his house. He’d never been particularly good with kids, that was Daphne’s area of expertise. He’s also pretty sure he’d have noticed if he’d grown up with a sister. 

Entering the house, Shaggy was hugged by his parents. Colton and Paula Rogers had very rarely shown affection and never towards him. What’s more, Paula, his mother who hated dirt, crouched down and gave Scooby a scratch behind the ear. 

“Oh, Shaggy,” Colton began to croon and the boy jerked slightly, his parents didn’t call him that, they hated the nickname, “I’m so proud. Another award for cabinet.” 

Shaggy’s eyes darted towards the cabinet Colton gestured towards. A dozen or so trophies for the culinary arts sat protected behind a glass wall. They all glittered in shades of bronze, silver, and gold, clearly taken care of. All displaying the name Shaggy Rogers or Norville Rogers. Shaggy had never seen such care towards something of his, not unless he took care of it. 

“Freshly shined them today,” Paula cheerfully commented, wrapping Shaggy in a hug, “Seriously, Shaggy, we’re very proud of you.”

“Yeah, um, thanks, mom,” Shaggy stumbled out, “I- um- I think I’m going to, like, head up to my room. Like, lots of homework.”

“Want a sandwich for the trip, son?” Colton reached across the counter and grabbed a wrapped sandwich out of a Subway bag. Shaggy barely managed to catch it when Colton tossed it. 

“Uh, yeah, thanks,” Shaggy awkwardly nodded and headed up the stairs, Scooby following a moment later after getting his own sandwich. 

Shaggy stopped when he opened the door. Before, Shaggy’s room had been meticulously clean and sparsely decorated but that wasn’t what greeted him. Posters of Gordon Ramsay and Bobby Flay were all over the room as well as various pictures. He took a step closer and could see his friends spread out across them. He and Daphne were at a club with her sisters and his in the background. He and Fred, sitting in the back of the Mystery Machine about a year ago. His arm tossed over Velma’s shoulder when he was eight as they sat amongst the puppies at the Knittingham Puppy farm. All four of them, and Scooby, at the lake with various friends and family in the background. They looked happy but Shaggy couldn’t remember any of it. 

His desk was covered in letters, a laptop sitting under it. He flicked through some of the names. Grandma Rogers, Meadow, Jimmy Proudwolf. His grandmother had been for four years. The only Meadow he knew was eight years older than him and he’d put her in prison two years ago. Jimmy Proudwolf and Shooby, he’d known them since he was a kid. 

Track trophies littered the shelves and dresser around his room. He was popular. Another photo sat on the dresser. Him in his track uniform, Daphne in her cheerleading one, Velma in a shirt that said ‘Crystal Cove Robotics Club’, and Fred in a soccer uniform. 

These were his people, some he recognized, some he didn’t. It was his life but he didn’t know any of it. 

*****

Scooby Doo left the house to walk around outside but was shocked to see a group of doghouses had taken up most of the yard. Out of one padded Ruby. He hadn’t seen his younger sister in years. Not since Shaggy adopted him from the Knittingham Puppy Farm. His parents lay outside another, larger than most of the houses. He couldn’t remember them, he’d been too young when Shaggy adopted him. His other sisters and brothers and cousins lingered around the doghouses but it wasn’t until a puppy approached him that he was actually shocked. 

Scrappy Doo had tried to take over the world in his timeline but in this one, he was just a happy pup living his best life alongside his mother. 

“You’re not Uncle Scooby,” the pup had stated blandly, wide eyes peering up on Scooby. He wanted to growl or snap or something along those lines but this puppy was innocent of the crime that Scooby remembered. 

“Rof rourse ri ram,” Scooby answered, “Rho relse rould ri re?” The answer didn’t seem to satisfy Scrappy and he backed away with his ears flat. Scooby felt guilty but there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t replace the poor pup’s uncle. He wasn’t like he had been. He was too world weary, too changed from events of the past to be who the pup needed and remembered him to be. 

He wished he could be what Scrappy needed but he wasn’t. 

“Oh, Scooby,” his mother called and Scooby reluctantly walked over to her, “Are you alright? You seemed tired.” Scooby’s ear twitched at the way she talked, devoid of the lisp that had plagued him his entire life. He’d hoped it was a species thing but it was apparently just a him thing. 

“Ri’m rine,” Scooby lied, “Just ra rittle rired.” His mother, he couldn’t remember her name, stared at him for a moment but looked away. 

“Come back soon, ya here?” she commanded and Scooby nodded. 

“Rof rourse,” turning away, he missed the concerned looks on his parent’s faces, or as much as a dog could look. 

Scooby escaped back inside before one of his other relatives could talk to him. He would have loved to meet his family but that was when they were his. 

Scooby stared at the collection of dog bowls in one of the rooms. There were over ten of them, all filled with food. Toys and various other things littered the room along with pictures showcasing the Doo family’s growth. From when Paula and Colton had married, uniting their dogs. To the first litter of puppies, then Scooby’s, then the third. There was Ruby’s litter. Scooby’s heart pounded when he saw himself leaned over a golden retriever with their own puppies dotted around them. He had a family but he didn’t remember them. Scooby darted back to Shaggy’s room, narrowly dodging the little girl that he didn’t know but who was in many of his pictures growing up. 

Scooby bounced onto Shaggy’s bed and threw his head into his owner’s lap, fear of an entirely different kind than he’d ever felt pounded in him. He missed his life from before. Paula had never shown him any love but he’d never been confused. He’d never known his family, but he’d never doubted his life. He’d never had any pups but he’d still had Nova to dote on. 

His life hadn’t been perfect but it’d been his. 

*****

Velma made it inside before her parents did. But she almost wished she hadn’t. Velma’s parents had loved each other, that was something they made very clear. Even if they didn’t always show they loved her. 

This house didn’t show that. Velma could see only imprints of herself and her mother, a girl maybe two years younger than herself at their side. The pictures always missed her father. She wondered if he was dead in this future. 

That theory was disproved when she entered her room and saw herself and that little girl in a picture with him. His arms were wrapped around another woman, a younger woman’s, shoulder. She popped the picture out of the frame and flipped it over. Velma, Madelyn, Dad, and Sophia. She wondered which was her step-mother and which was the other girl. She wanted to say sister but she wasn’t the girl’s sister. 

Her room, which had always been messy and cluttered, was tidied up. Pictures lined the walls. Some of the people she knew and some of those she didn’t. Her computer was left logged on, something she’d never dared to do, too afraid that her mother would go through her files. 

The screensaver was the gang, all huddled up on the steps of Crystal Cove High. She remembered that picture. It was nearly two years ago, before they’d gotten involved with Mr. E and those pieces. She missed those days. 

When her mother came, she hurried down the steps but hung back. She wished she didn’t come down. Angie Dinkley was shuffling, muttering under her breath, as she clutched the neck of a beer bottle. Velma was horrified and hurried back to her room. She searched through her mail, still in the third of her desk. She found an address that didn’t belong to the one she lived at. 

She slipped down the stairs, snuck past her drunk mother, and out the front door. Two cars sat in the driveway, a Beetle and a little Honda. She wondered if one was hers but she couldn’t drive so it didn’t matter. 

The address was two streets down and four houses to the right. It wasn’t a long walk but Dale Dinkley still pulled her into his arms like it was, chastising her for leaving the house in such a short skirt as it set into the evening. Velma was surprised. Her parents had never cared much for what she’d worn but this version of her father did. She felt guilty for preferring him more but still missing her mother. 

“Hey, Sophia,” he’d called, “Velma’s joining us for dinner!” A short woman with dark hair, eyes, and skin peeked out of the kitchen with a wide grin. 

“Mm, Velma, you haven’t been over in a while. Madelyn is great but I love both my girls,” Sophia pulled Velma in a hug and the teenager awkwardly returned it, “I’m fixing your favorite. Go, settle in.” The woman let go of Velma, pointed towards the stairs, and hurried back to the kitchen. Velma liked Sophia, even if she didn’t like the thought of her parents divorced. But these weren’t her parents. This wasn’t her life. 

Velma’s trek to her room was short. The house and three bedrooms upstairs and Velma would have resorted to peeking in the rooms until she noticed the plaque that declared her name. 

This room was even less like the one she’d had before. Posters and pictures covered the walls. Famous scientists, a few bands, and a couple authors. Her bed was a twin, to make room for the full scientist lab that covered most of the room. Velma’s hands shook as she collapsed against the bed. She felt like screaming but her father and Sophia were down below, unaware that their daughter wasn’t theirs. 

*****

Daphne Blake’s home had been hers for fifteen generations. It had been built when Crystal Cove was founded, added onto over the years until it was the massive home it was today. Daphne had lived there her entire life with her five older sisters. The quads, Daisy, Dorothy, Delilah, and Dawn, and the eldest, Thalia. Her father had been born in the house itself but he never showed care for it or the history. 

Daphne’s mother and father seemed loving and doting but after Judy Reeves, Brad Chiles, and Fred- was that even his name now- left, Dawn made a sniping comment. 

“How can you be so happy?” Dawn had questioned, “They're taking control of your life. You’ll never know if Fred is even the one you wanted to be with.”

Daphne wanted to respond with a scathing comment, meant to harm, but Dawn’s eyes weren’t malicious but curious. 

“Fred’s my friend, he’s been my best friend for years,” Daphne had smiled, this was all she ever wanted. Her family’s acceptance. 

“But still,” Dawn had shrugged awkwardly, “It’s an arranged marriage, h-” Whatever Dawn had continued to say, Daphne could hear. The words echoed in her head. 

Arranged marriage. Maybe getting what she wanted hadn’t been the best. Her parents had arranged for her to marry Fred and as much as she loved, this wasn’t what she wanted. She’d have said yes a million times but knowing it was arranged caused a foul taste to enter her mouth. 

All the sudden her new life wasn’t a dream. Her sisters weren’t successful. They weren’t Dr. Blake, General Blake, famous model Dawn Blake, Nascar driver Dorothy Blake, and world renown astronaut Thalia Blake. Her and Fred’s relationship was forced by their parents and she couldn’t even remember if it had been natural in the beginning. 

“Daphne?” Dawn’s hand touched her shoulder and Daphne yanked back, her breath was erratic. She had to get away. This wasn’t her life. 

“I’m going to go lay down,” Daphne stammered and darted past her sisters, up the stairs, and into the room she’d lived in her entire life. The room didn’t look much different but the camera that sat atop her dresser had never been there before. The computer was open to a document that she'd never written. The bookshelf was filled with books she’d never bought. She yanked the closet door open. It was filled with clothes she’d never worn. Shoes she’d never stepped foot in and accessories she’d never modelled in front of the life-sized mirror she’d never gazed at herself in front of. 

These objects littered her room but she’d never see them, bought them, used them. Her life felt like theft. It wasn’t hers. She didn’t fit here. 

She missed her life with successful sisters, parents she couldn’t stand but had never forced her into marriage, and the relationship she could remember. She missed the simple things, like babysitting kids that didn’t belong to the Sheriff, who had never had any. She missed arguing with the sheriff and making up excuses that the teachers would never believe. 

It wasn’t the most honest life and in some ways it was worse. But it had been hers and not stolen from another version of her. 

*****

Fred Jones didn’t know what his name was. Fred Jones the first had never adopted him. Never heard him call him dad. He was just a student, like all the others that attended Crystal Cove High School. It took peeking into his wallet to realize his name was Herman Chiles-Reeves. It wasn’t the name he knew or recognized and it left an odd taste on his tongue when it left his mouth when he ordered coffee and the barista asked for his name. 

He didn’t like it. He preferred the warmth that spread through him when Daphne had laughed when saying his name to the cold feeling that permeated the room when the barista called it. He preferred the way it came garbled when Shaggy spoke through a mouthful of food to the way Judy had said when she called for dinner. He preferred the stern way Velma said it when he did something to the way Brad said when he asked about the friday night game. He preferred the way Scooby could never get it right, to the way that Fred Jones Senior had said it so matter factly. 

He hated his name but that wasn’t the only thing he hated in this life. 

His van was colorless. A white canvas that he lacked the paints to bring to life. He hated it. His van had been his pride and joy and now it was nothing more than a colorless vehicle that housed nothing of his family. There were no Scooby Snacks in the glove box or extra pairs of glasses in the console. There weren’t makeup canisters in the cup holders or hand held video games in the back seat. None of the personality that made the van alive. 

He drove to the wrong house before calling Daphne and being told to come to hers. She invited him in and he was shocked to see his real parents on the couch with Daphne’s. 

He was even more surprised when they were planning his and Daphne’s wedding. His parents didn’t like Daphne or her parents. It was too good to be true. And most things that were thought to be too good to be true, usually were. 

He was shocked when Daphne called him, telling him that their marriage was arranged. He could believe his parents had done but they were hard to hate. They had cheerful attitudes and claimed to be obstetricians. That handled babies on a daily basis and didn’t seem to have a bad bone in their bodies. But they agreed to the arrangement. 

Fred collapsed on his bed and immediately winced. It was a good bed, good quality. But he missed his old one, even if it was hard and lumpy. This one was too soft and the pillows too new. Mr. Trapples was missing from the spot he always kept him in. 

This was supposed to be his life, a better one, but he hated it. It wasn’t his and he didn’t know how to handle it. He hated this new life that the universe had granted him. 

*****

Mystery Incorporated didn’t graduate high school. They got their GEDs, painted the van, and hit the black top until they were far away from the town they didn’t know anymore. They hunted ghosts and goblins, ghouls and wraiths. Some were real and some weren’t but this was what they loved. Cramming themselves into a van and exploring the world, learning about the differences in the timelines. 

Shaggy sold the recipe for Scooby Snacks to a company but he liked making them himself better. Scooby did too. But that was the only thing they did in relation to the culinary arts. They were free souls. They enjoyed racing and teaching to being cooped up in the kitchen. 

Daphne’s career as a reporter never blossomed but that didn’t matter because she preferred life as a designer. Finding her own patterns within nature or having Velma help her create them on a computer. This was far better than writing for any newspaper could be. 

Velma didn’t work in chemistry but that was because she found her calling at NASA. It didn’t matter that she didn’t have a degree in chemistry. Not when she met big names and got to travel to space. No chemistry was nice, but NASA was where she thrived.  

Fred didn’t become an author but he made a name for himself as an engineer. Traps were his life. Words on a computer could never matter more than using his hands, nets, and wires to create something that words could only describe. 

It all happened from a van and occasional breaks from the others. But they never abandoned each other and never left for good. They’d all huddle up when night was cold. Or maybe they’d spread in a couple of hotel rooms when it got warm. They laughed and they cried but it was all together. 

This wasn’t the life their alternate selves would have wanted. But it was a life that Mystery Incorporated wanted. It wasn’t tied down by figures in this world that they couldn’t remember. They didn’t have to fake it through family reunions or pretend to remember events that their siblings raved about. This was the life they had created and it was the one they were happiest with. 

*****

A/N: This has been floating around in my brain for a long time. I would have loved like a season or even an episode after the Mystery Incorporated finale. Showcasing all the differences. Siblings from other continuities. Especially Fred. His name wouldn’t have been the same if he’d been raised by Brad and Judy. Just a peek into their lives that they didn’t remember. Them leaving Crystal Cove and hunting down mysteries.

[the-blind-assassin-12]

WIP whatever day it is

After a long and depressing drought I am finally making some progress with my writing again (those 300 word valentine's day drabbles shook the rust off!) so I can finally share some snippets!

Over the last *checks notes* 3.5 weeks *gulp, sorry!* I was tagged in wip posts by @sp00kymulderr @grogusmum and @maggiemayhemnj but had nothing at all to share, but I'm fixing that now! Thanks for the tags friends!

Going with one long snippet from Dagger - my very late entry in @jolapeno's Dearuary event that I am aiming to finish next:

It was true that you had become a jewel in CMI’s crown in regards to closing piracy cases and making sure that mining protocols for safety, productivity and loss prevention were being carried out. But there were still some who remembered  how you came to work at the bureau in the first place. There were still some who called you a poacher, a pirate, a backstabber. There were some who cherished any chance they got to remind you - or anyone who would listen - that you only had your job because you had been caught violating mining law on Bahkroma Green, and that you were hired as part of a dated program that sought to get inside the minds of the criminals they were tracking down. Of the twenty agents hired through that program, you were the only one who hadn’t returned to illegal activities, the only one who hadn’t somehow used your position to feed information to anyone on the outside. And some at the bureau said it was only a matter of time before you did the same. 

Which was why this report specifically could not wait for your arrival on Yonto. You didn’t want anyone catching wind that it involved Aurelac, the very gems you had once been guilty of stealing, and then hear that you had waited to file the report. That would look fishy. 

You cast another downwards glance at the bag of gems balanced on your leg as you set the laptop on the shuttle tray table. How did these… You licked your lips as blueish light streaked across the windows of the craft. How did these get here? 

Like any prospector, you’d know your first pull anywhere. You were looking at the fuck-nugget gems that you had scored over a decade ago, back when you were running with a pirate crew out in the Fringe. But I left these with Ezra. So how… 

Your computer finished booting up and you shook your head to clear your thoughts. Doesn’t matter right now. First, you needed to keep up appearances, which meant filing the report. But you needed to do it in a way that framed the incident as harmless so that it didn’t attract more attention from other agents. 

And to buy myself time to get to the bottom of this. 

Cracking your fingers, you opened a fresh report document, and then began typing. 

Field Report #0473 Sector: Lau  Planet/Moon: Lau Prime  CMI Respondent: Insp. Fagan  PB Registration #xxxx-7593 Date: 02/04/3096 Priority Level: Low 

Reason: Unauthorized raw materials (Aurelac pearls, grade C and lower) found at Central Mining owned site in Cobalt Bay. 

Observations: Glossoil miners contacted CMI when they came across four mid-sized, low quality Aurelac pearls that they claim appeared to be “left there on purpose”. I was escorted by the site manager to the pump station where they were found. It should be noted that the site manager and shift workers complied fully with the investigation.

There were indeed four pearls on the ground near the pump controls, however their placement did not seem intentional but random. The pearls were all extremely clouded, though smooth. Initial scans showed no prints on the gems or on any surface nearby. 

No damage was done to CM property or assets, and nothing has been reported as missing or stolen. 

Security footage of the area showed no trespassers. Black and white footage was clear, though did appear to glitch for <1 second, but no change in light, shadow or clarity was detected. 

Analysis: Based on my own observations, accounts given by crew that found the pearls, security footage and quality of the gems (black market/unregistered provenance) it is likely that the pearls were dropped by a crew member unknowingly. Given their low value, it is not, in this inspector’s opinion, a case that warrants further investigation at this time. 

Suggested Action: Continue to monitor security footage. Weekly check-in video calls with Cobalt Bay Refinery manager for three months. If three months pass without incident, discontinue check-in protocol. 

Additional Comments: None at this time. 

You read your write-up once more. It seemed innocuous and bland enough, but not too sparse. It would be sufficient for your boss, anyway, and that was really all that mattered. 

It would also be the first time that you had ever intentionally lied on a report. 

You knew without a doubt that the gems had been left at the Cobalt Bay facility on purpose, and you knew that purpose was to get your attention, not CMI’s. You knew the glitch in the security footage was cause for concern, or at the very least, further investigation. And you knew that these specific gems - worthless as they were - resurfacing meant that the only scenario in which you would abuse your station like your rivals at the bureau said you would was playing out. 

Ezra’s alive. 

Your heart slammed at your ribs. 

And I have to find him before they do.

-- --

I'm having fun with this one! It's going to be told through a combination of chat messages, field reports, letters (and possibly more!) and standard narration. The Prospect universe is always going to be one of my favorite sandboxes to play in, and I'm fully letting myself get carried away here.

[utopiastri]

Fic Writer Interview!!!

tagged by @1425fivefive (forever ago, whoops!) and @miamimaiden

(this was such a funny ask game bc i did mostly end up discussing my F1 fics but I also have a Number of musicals fics on my ao3 so those do also crop up in my answers lmao)

How many works do you have on AO3?

10 in total!!! 4 F1 fics so far though

What's your total AO3 word count?

62,635 apparently (mostly being driven by one of those aforementioned musicals fics lmao)

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

who actually texts people this much (3,076) (again. the musicals fic)

you must like me for me (646)

tell me 'bout the first time you saw me (508)

you're always on my team (464)

and i'll learn how to fly (253)

ok other than the obvious outlier at the top, i'm thrilled that my four F1 fics are the ones that have made it into the top 5 because they are undeniably the ones i'm proudest of right now

insane to me how many people have liked you're always on my team!!! i was a little nervous about posting my first chaptered fic in a while and i'm so happy it got such a lovely reception

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

yes!!! oh my god i love responding to comments as much as i love leaving comments myself!!!

the only thing with this is that i do find myself forgetting to actually put time aside in my day to do it!!! so sometimes, about two weeks after i read a comment and internally squealed about it, i'll go "oh FUCK i didn't reply that comment" and sprint to my laptop

so, uh, if you've ever received a late comment reply from me? now you know why lmao

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

oh god um. none of them? i guess the one abandoned fic on my ao3 account (a she-ra fic from 2018 lmao) has the angstiest ending by virtue of the fic not being finished and no resolution being reached lmao

but genuinely i don't think i could ever write a fic with an angsty ending!!! i think at best i could plot an angty ending??? or maybe write a drabble or something??? but honestly, i really struggle reading angsty endings so it would be a rogue move to write one lmao

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

ooooooo excellent question

honestly any of my finished F1 fics probably work but i think i'll go with you must like me for me! truly one of my favourite brands of happy ending is a reciprocated love confession and (not to spoil the fic lmao) that might be one of my favourite ones i've ever done!

Do you write crossovers?

nope!!!

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

oooo once upon a time i received a comment on that musicals fic, who actually texts people this much, that was fairly harsh on the writing??? the worst part was enough time had passed since i'd written the fic and i'd honestly reached the part of the writing cycle where i hated everything about it so i almost agreed with the commenter lmao

even today, i think the critique was accurate! but perhaps not a polite/kind thing to comment on someone's fic lmao

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

i'm trying to!!! i haven't posted any yet

i am terrible at describing things (including like. physical movement) so, so far, any smut i've attempted to write has been fairly dialogue-heavy!!! but honestly that's generally my taste in smut so i think this tracks

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

nope!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

that musicals texting fic has been translated somewhere on the internet! one of my friends in uni dug it up lmao

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

never co-written before! i am a huge fan of brainstorming fics with my friends though! either their fics or mine - i just love the collaboration of it all!!!

What's your all-time favorite ship?

god this is difficult!!! my taste in ships moves around all the time to be honest

ok for F1, it's fairly easy - landoscar do unfortunately possess my entire heart and there is very little i can do about that lmao

other than that? i do have to mention how much i still adore the les mis pairing enjolras/grantaire because i did spend a good portion of my teenage years thinking about them and only them lmao

and i spent many a year in steve/bucky from the mcu hell so i guess it's important that that goes on here too!

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

so many!!! in particular though, i would love to one day finish the first ever landoscar fic i ever worked on (the idea was that oscar and lando are friends with benefits but, through miscommunication shenanigans, have somehow never kissed lmao)

i think i'd just really enjoy the full circle moment of getting to finish that first wip!

What are your writing strengths?

dialogue!!! dialogue my beloved! my favourite thing i have ever written is the unreciprocated love confession scene in you must like me for me - writing a dramatic not-argument/discussion was just so tailored to my strengths of writing dialogue and not much else lmao

there's a reason i'm having so much fun with you're always on my team! and it's because what is a texting fic if not a fic made only of dialogue!!!

What are your writing weaknesses?

description!!!!!! tell me 'bout the first time you saw me was a delight to write but truly i don't know if i could do a first meeting fic again because trying to work out how a stranger would describe oscar piastri was a NIGHTMARE

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

as someone who can only speak english, i simply don't have a good enough understanding of any other language to do it without defaulting to like. terrible google translate

i think it can be fun to read though!!! it depends what effect the author is going for tbh

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

...glee (i wasn't even that into glee!!! my two best friends at the time were though so i wrote a couple things i thought they'd enjoy lmao)

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

galex!!! i don't know if i could do it but i really really want to one day - if only because my girlfriend's sister adores them and i think it would be fun to write something for her!

although i have also been pondering gax a lot with @jusst-you-race!!! so maybe i should throw gax in here too

What's your favorite fic you've written?

you must like me for me undoubtedly. it's the most complete fic i think i've ever written in that there's a clear plot with a clear resolution and, as i said earlier, that unreciprocated love confession/first kiss scene is genuinely my favourite thing i have written of anything ever!!!

it was also the first fic i'd posted in nearly 6 years!!! and i'm so glad i felt happy enough with it to share it because i've just had the most wonderful time in this fandom since doing so!!!

i cannot for the life of me remember who has done this so no pressure tagging @ipleadbritney and @jusst-you-race and anyone else who wants to do this!!!