#I'm writing this on my phone so apologies if there's any typos
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yuri-is-online · 9 months ago
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Hi hi so can we have an expansion of middle school Floyd completely being his unfiltered self around yuu (maybe even octotrio going like "Oh please don't believe that merculture is like this" because middle school Floyd is embarrassing them in front of their crush) PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE
Hmmm
So Floyd says morays are cowards right, but my experiences with little kids tell me that they don't always have the best sense of self-preservation. I picture little Floyd as one of those kids on crack. He thinks this human is cute! Especially because they don't have the sense to be afraid of him at all and are calling him cute, that's real funny. What if he just takes a big chomp outta ya, will you still think he's cute? As for the embarrassment, well...
Azul
It comes from how blunt little Floyd is.
He's got even less patience for Azul's plans than big Floyd does, and the complete inability to see the value of waiting for the pay off. He's actively getting angry at him and throwing temper tantrums every time Azul tries to smooth things over with Yuu.
"No you can't get the ability to breathe underwater from kissing a mermaid Floyd is making that up. And no not all merfolk are obsessed with legs that's just a him thing-"
"Nah Azul really likes your legs and pretty much everything you do with them!" Little Floyd is loud enough that other people than just you are looking at him in confusion (Azul is convinced it is overwhelming judgment) because he's choking on a mixture of spit and air because how did he pick up on that already?!? Azul thinks he's so subtle when he admires you, he's got to be so you don't think he's weird.
He can't wait for this to be over, he can handle being made fun of by the twins now since they've got a good rapport and he can give as good as he gets but little Floyd is like a sea otter with a clam, he just won't let this go because he thinks octopus courtship is boring and he's not above saying that. Outloud. In front of you.
Jade
It's from how willing he is to throw Jade under the bus.
Floyd knows Jade pretty well, even if it's a younger version of him so he knows just how down bad stupid Jade is within 15 seconds and he is determined to "help."
Said help is mostly just humming a very specific song while swimming around you in circles and doing little tricks to "set the mood." Or asking you what you think about Jade when he thinks he's out of earshot, something he's never once been since little Floyd got summoned.
He thought this would be fun, Floyd is always so delightfully unpredictable and now there's two of him! But instead of bothering Azul he's decided to torture Jade and ruin his carefully cultivated image instead. He sort of gets why Azul was so determined to get rid of all his childhood photos now, you're never going to look at him the same after this.
When his efforts don't work because Jade is too much of a coward little Floyd starts just telling you a bunch of stuff they got up to as kids in an effort to embarras him. It clearly works from how quick Jade is to shove him to the side but you're polite enough to keep the laughter to a minimum. For the most part
Floyd
It comes from how much of a coward he is.
Floyd is waiting for the right time to speak with you, when he's extra sure that you feel the same as he does. When he knows you'll accept everything he wants to give you and more.
But no. Little him has to say everything that comes into his mind. "Are your legs soft? Why are you leaking seawater? Do all humans really only have ten toes and can I count them-"
If you find this funny, I think it might depress him somewhat. He wants you to see all the ways he's smart and not brush him off as an unserious joke. If you think it's cute, well that's a mix of emotions. He doesn't want you to see him as cute now, but it's ok if you find morays cute, and even nicer if you find baby morays cute. That thought alone perks him up.
Until little Floyd starts telling Yuu he thinks they're cute. Then he gets possessive and starts competing with himself like a looser. Probably by picking Yuu up and carrying them away since his legs are longer and he can get away faster.
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nervouseden · 8 months ago
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God Among Men.
Pairing: Avenger!Bucky Barnes x GN!Reader
Summary: After a stressful mission, your super soldier boyfriend needs you... This is literal trash. I apologize.
Warnings: SMUT. Brief mention of religious stuff. Worshipping. Misuse of religious terms. Collar and leash (it's really only mentioned like once or twice). Gender neutral reader. Blowjob. Face fucking. Finger sucking. Bucky Barnes (he's a warning). Metal arm (kink). A tad bit of hair pulling. Rough blowjob. Reader isn't the best at communicating. Praise. Some brief degradation. Voice kink (because who couldn't love that sweet baritone?). Brief mention of Shuri and Wakanda. Sir kink. Tears. Choking (from bj). Deep throating. Dom Bucky. Sub reader. Bucky's kinda rough. But also super sweet and concerned. Use of safe signal(?) like a safe word but nonverbal. Brief after care. Loosely Implied fingering/penetration afterwards. Like zero plot. Porn without Plot/Plot? What plot? Mildly dubious consent (not really, but I just want to be safe with my warnings!)
Please comment if you think I missed anything!
A/N: This is like my second or third time writing actual smut, please give me grace— Also I had this idea while sleep deprived and I'm currently stuck in artists/writers block so it's probably not my best work. But, I tried. This was written on my phone and not proofread, so I do apologize for any and all mistakes/typos.
A/N #2: I have absolutely nothing against any religions or religious people, and this is not meant to offend or target anybody in any way, shape, or form!
I do not own any characters mentioned in this story or the gif.
Dividers by @cafekitsune
18+!!! MINORS AND PEARL CLUTCHERS PLEASE DNI!!!
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You were never a very religious person, having loose beliefs that you didn't necessarily align with anything specific, and you were fine with that, but that all changed one day, and in the way you least expected it. The day you first hooked up with Sgt. James Buchanan Barnes, or, as you knew him, Bucky, your best friend. You swear that night you might've been to Heaven, or Valhalla, or maybe even reached Nirvana, but whatever it was, it was caused by the super soldier Avenger fucking you into oblivion, with a godly body and otherworldly skills. Not only does he look like some mythical god, but he has the skills and the strength of one too. A god among men.
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Bucky is a complicated man; He doesn't talk much, but once you get him going, he could talk to you for hours. He is tall and broad, dark and brooding, with a glare that could kill, but also sweet and soft, caring and considerate, with a smile that makes you weak in the knees... So, when your relationship evolved into something sexual, it wasn't a surprise when his prowess matched his godly looks. His quick wit matched by his skilled tongue. Strong hands matched with his (surprisingly) nimble fingers. He's also a kinky mother fucker.
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Today, after Bucky got back from a rough, week long mission, apparently most of the team getting their asses kicked, you found yourself on your knees in front of him, naked, wearing nothing back a black leather collar and a silver chainlink leash, your head resting on his lap as he gently pets your cheek with his flesh hand.
"Doll," Bucky's voice is low, lower than usual, and it sends shockwaves of desire coursing through you, shocking your core.
"Yes, sir?" Your voice is soft, quiet, and shaky, a mix of nervousness, arousal, and hours of teasing from this man, this god, making you weak, your voice a minute version of it's usual sound, making Bucky chuckle.
You look up at him through heavy eyelids, your eyes raking up his body hungrily; He's wearing black sweatpants, no shirt, and you're not entirely sure about boxers. His long hair is tousled, the dark locks resting on his broad shoulders, the otherworldly muscles rippling under his skin covered in scars, his normally bright blue eyes darkened to an almost eerie tungsten blue. He's a literal god. The epitome of divinity.
"You've been so good~" Bucky practically purrs, and you already feel your abdomen tightening. "But not good enough."
Well shit.
You're definitely not getting what you want tonight.
"Talk to me, Kätzchen. Tell me what you're thinkin' about." You hesitate, but you know better than to directly disobey.
"I..." You look down, biting your lip. "I was thinking about you... H-How beautiful you are, James..."
Bucky smirks. This wasn't what he was expecting. "Oh?"
You simply nod. "Do elaborate, Kätzchen." Bucky quirks a brow, and you fight the urge to squirm in embarrassment.
"Y-You..." You sigh, deciding to bite the bullet. What's the worst that could happen? He laughs at you and uses it against you? That'd suck... but it would be a lot worse if you didn't speak. Those are always back. You don't want another spanking...and definitely not the crop. Yeah, no, that'd be bad. Better spit it out.
"You're fuckin' beautiful..." You practically whimper, and Bucky smirks.
"I know you've got more than that, sweetness." Bucky teases, and you know he's right. He's always right... It's unfair. How can a man possibly be so attractive and smart? You're starting to think he might actually be a higher power. "C'mon, doll, don't make me hit it outta ya."
Shit. That's a threat. "You're... You're a god among men, Sir... Divinity in itself... Crafted from the finest of marbles known to man... I want to submit everything I have to you."
Bucky simply smirks.
Uh oh.
"Is that so, Kätzchen?" You swallow hard, nodding, watching his eyes stare into yours with an intensity that could burn you to the ground. Yup. Definitely a god.
"Y-Yes, Sir... I... You are my god, James..." Oops. Normally Bucky doesn't take kindly to being called his name during scenes, but for some reason, he just smirks and lets it slide. That's different.
"I want my body to be your altar, your temple, your church... I am your devotee..." You whisper softly, your voice shaky and almost nervous, scared, although you're unsure what you're scared of.
"Darling..." Bucky growls, his pupils dilated so much you can barely see the ring of blue, his vibranium hand clenching on lap, his breathing picking up, that beautiful, chiseled chest rising and falling faster by the second, sweat starting to bead on his skin... You did that?
"You have such pretty lips, yet such nasty words..."
Bucky's Vibranium hand moves to the back of your neck suddenly, grabbing you by the nape of it, pushing your face into his clothed crotch, allowing you to feel the feverish heat, the wet spot on his sweats, and the rock that is his cock. "I'm not gonna last long if you keep sayin' shit like that, doll."
You whimper. Loudly. Pathetically. Lewdly. What the fuck else are you supposed to do? You just mentally brought THE Sargeant James Barnes to his knees from just a few sentences, you don't know whether to be terrified or proud... But, either way, you're not given much time to decipher how you feel, as Bucky starts to rub the side of your cheek against his strained length, the rough cotton of his sweatpants irritating your sweat shined cheeks.
"You're gonna be a good little devotee. You're gonna listen, you're gonna do as told, and you're gonna take what I give you, like a good cock slut."
Bucky's voice is a deep, dangerous growl, the sound rumbling through his chest, rolling down his abdomen and vibrating through him and into you, shooting electricity through your body, your nerves immediately on fire, your thighs quaking, your mind reeling into the abyss of lust.
"Aren't you, Kätzchen?" Bucky says with a groan, looking at you expectantly, a dark smirk on his face.
"Y-Yes, Sir... I will... I'll b-be good..." You whimper out, look up at him with doe eyes, fighting the urge to look down as he slides his sweatpants to his ankles, tossing them aside.
Bucky gently cups your chin with his vibranium hand, the dark metal shining in the dimly lit room as he puts his thumb against your lips, grinning at the feeling. "Open."
You immediately do as told, parting your lips, slowly swirling your warm tongue around his thumb as he slides the cool metal into your mouth, causing Bucky to groan sorry... It's moments like these when Bucky is most grateful to Shuri for creating touch sensors in the arm, allowing him to feel everything you do to his Vibranium arm... Wakandan technology truly is incredible.
"That's a good little whore..." Bucky groans as he uses his thumb in your mouth to tilt your head down, your eyes widening as they meet the sight of Bucky's cock.
Huh. He wasn't wearing any boxers.
"Let this be your first sacrament, devotee." Bucky chuckled.
Long. Impressive. Intimidating. Yet another reason you're starting to think he might actually be a god. No matter how many times you see it, swallow it, and take it, it's always just as intimidating as the first time. His cock is tall, curving slightly as it goes up, getting redder until it gets to the almost purple tip, your hand barely able to wrap around the girth, one large vein going from the shaft to the tip, where creamy pre-cum is beading. You might as well be salivating...and shaking in fear.
"C'mon, doll, I know you can take it." Bucky purred, wrapping his vibranium hand in your hair, guiding your face to rub against his length. It's almost humiliating. But it's also beyond arousing.
"Yes, sir." You mutter softly, licking your lips, raising your head when Bucky loosens his grip on your hair. You spit on the head of Bucky's cock, causing it to twitch where it stands, before gently wrapping your mouth around the tip, your tongue swirling around the tip, teasing the slit, causing Bucky to groan.
"Your god is losing patience, Kätzchen." Bucky growls, before tightening his vibranium hand in your hair, violently pushing your head down his cock, his length forcefully sliding down your velvety throat, only stopping when your nose is flush with his pelvic bone, groaning as he revels in the feeling, hissing as his head falls back in pleasure. "Shiiiit— So warm, Kätzchen...like fuckin' silk, doll..."
To nobody's surprise, you choke, choke hard, coughing around Bucky's member, who simply enjoys the way your throat constricts when you do so. Tears quickly form, as you try to focus on relaxing your throat and taking deep breaths in through your nose, but are quickly cut off as Bucky pulls your hair back, sliding your mouth off his length before pushing your head back down.
"Fuckin' perfect... gorgeous little devotee..." Bucky groans, starting to roll his hips as he continues to roughly guide your head up and down his cock, face fucking you as you cry and choke. Yup. You definitely fucked up calling him James.
Bucky had been tense since he texted you from the Quinjet, so when he starts to throb in your mouth rather than usual, you're not necessarily surprised, that mission really took a toll on him. You hollow your cheeks, and start gently scraping your teeth against Bucky's length as he continues to thrust into your face, his balls slapping against your chin with every snap of his strong hips.
"That's it, Kätzchen, worship me, your fuckin' god-"
Fuck, you were dizzy.
Your eyes start to roll back, head feeling fuzzy, your body seeming heavier, the restricted intake of oxygen starting to get to you, as more tears fall, but being the absolute bitch you are for Bucky, you're determined to make him cum before taking a breather.
"C'mon, babydoll, I'm so close... Lemme cum in your pretty little mouth... Let me desecrate the perfect altar that is you..." He groans, his hips snapping harder, shuddering at your teeth scraping his skin, only to be soothed by your hollowed cheeks and hot throat.
Your vision was starting to get fuzzy around the edges, but you still didn't communicate your need to breathe... Instead, you move your hands up to cup his heavy balls, massaging them roughly as you suck harder at his length.
That was all it took.
"Fuck!"
Bucky growls, the sound dark and primal, sending jolts of pleasure to your deprived body, his flesh hand joining his vibranium one in your hair, holding you uncomfortably flush to his skin as his cock throbs, pulsing rapidly as rope after rope of hot cum spills down your throat, your hands still massaging his balls as they empty into you, your muscles working overtime to swallow it all... Since being with him, you found that super soldiers have loads like damn fire hydrants. Not that you're complaining. Usually.
"Baby... Ughhh—" You had expected Bucky to pull you off his cock once he finished, but he didn't, instead he held you flat to his pelvis, basking in the feeling of your hot, velvet throat surrounding him, groaning and growling in pleasure.
You couldn't do it. Your vision was completely blurred, tears still falling, your feelings like concrete, sweat pouring down you, your mind fogged like shower glass. You take your right hand, tapping your index, middle, and ring finger on his thigh three consecutive times.
He immediately pulls your head off his length, pulling you up to his lap as you cough and suck in heavy breaths.
"Doll? Doll, are you alright? Did I hurt you?" Bucky asks hurriedly, his vibranium hand holding you close to him and rubbing your back, while his flesh hand gently holds your face. "Darling, can you hear me? Are you okay?"
It takes you a few moments to process his words, as they sounded more like mumbles from underwater at first. But, as your vision cleared, your tears stopped, the fogginess left your mind, and your breathing started regulating, you finally registered his words and nodded yes. "Y-Yeah... I- I'm fine..." You murmur with a raspy voice, your throat scratchy from the rough blowjob.
Bucky sighed in relief, brushing away your tears with his flesh hand, peppering kisses on your face. "Alright..." He didn't sound too convinced, worried he hurt you, but decided to focus on cleaning you up and caring for you.
He grabbed the pack of baby wipes from the table next to the chair you two are on, taking one out, gently wiping your flushed face clean of the saliva, sweat, cum, and tears. He then opened a bottle of water, gently holding it to your lips. "Have some water, baby." He murmurs as he helps you take small sips, putting it down after about ¼ of the bottle is gone.
"There you go, Kätzchen...You did so good, I'm so damn proud of you, love." Bucky praised softly, pulling you closer to his chest and rocking side to side gently.
"Th-Thank you..." You murmur quietly, your voice still a little raspy, as you tuck your head in Bucky's neck, your sweat covered bodies moulding together, as Bucky's flesh hand slowly creeps down to your sex. "Time for your reward."
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playerninth · 4 months ago
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P.S I LIKE YOU (TOO) ⪧ DAY 13 OF PIWONTOBER
non idol!jiung x fem!reader (smut mdni)
彡 – everything transpired after a single drunken mistake—you and your best friend getting inspired after watching: ‘to all the boys i’ve loved before’ one friday night after midterm week had dragged on. except, you weren’t lara jean covey. and no one’s exactly a peter kavinsky in your life. all you’ve got is a last chance to retake your econ class for the second time, and an undeniably attractive guy as a project partner. a thought you wouldn’t express out loud. but what if he accidentally receives your drunk written love letter detailing just how much you thought of it so?
author's note: the way this thing had a billion revisions before reaching this stage... anyway, although i'm incredibly late TT i'm still very excited to share with you guys yet another jiung fic!! also, i can't forget to mention how amazing @kisseobie and @sxfterhearts are for hosting piwontober & bringing the p1ece community together♡ it's my first time joining these sort of events, and i had a lot of fun writing! + apologies for any typos! :(
word count: 7.9k
warnings: smut, blackmail, make up sex, face-sitting, seven minutes in heaven
comments are welcome♡ i'd love to hear your thoughts!
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despite being drunk out of your mind to the point you've written that piece of tangible regret, you remember the same night all too well—the clock ticks past after hours as the mingling whiff of alcohol and a box of left over pizza hangs in the air. you were surprised you've managed to drag yourself all the way to the weekend, remnants of grueling exams left unspoken between you and your best friend whom you share a dorm room with. midterms weren't really worth mentioning when you could drown in gossip and delude about your hypothetical boyfriends.
from random guys in class, to boybands, and above all: celebrities in cheesy romcoms you've rewatched an abnormal amount. that certain night's choice was a classic between you and your best friend: 'to all the boys i've loved before.'
except, you weren't lara jean covey. and no one's exactly a peter kavinsky in your life. yet, hell breaks loose when you receive a text from choi jiung one fated morning that had you unleash a piercing shriek, and thankfully, had locked yourself in a stall at an empty bathroom in the middle of your university campus.
not like that makes things any better than they already are.
enclosed within the four cramped walls of the bathroom stall was a feeling you'd never forget—the continuous drip of the leaking faucet and silence amplified the thudding beat of your heart. the screen of your phone glowing faintly as you stare at the message you've left on read for the past five minutes: a photo jiung had sent of the letter you've written that certain night after getting wrongfully inspired from lara jean's dilemma. unfortunately detailing an exaggerated confession on your unfiltered thoughts of jiung being totally attractive. hot, even. a running commentary on everything you wouldn’t express out loud.
this fiasco would probably cost you a couple of months avoiding a bottle of soju, because how are you going to dodge yourself out of this one? especially when his follow up message adds further salt to the wound—the envelope clearly stating your full name and address in bold, inked letters.
the seconds stretch out as the cramped stall started feeling a bit stuffier, your shaky fingers hovering over the keyboard in contemplation. you’d normally block him and just fail the damn class if it were like any other instance, except… it was your last chance to retake this subject. you couldn’t afford another fuck up.
[9:07] jiung: this letter’s handwriting strangely matches the one on your notes
[9:09] jiung: before you try to deny anything
all you ever wanted at that moment was to strangle yourself... because a love letter so vulnerable like that has no place being in a pile of notes, and to be given to your partner for a class project. when you thought handing him the material would be the end of it (after being utterly sick of his self-centered work ethic), but the universe had plans otherwise.
[9:13] y/n: it wasn’t something you’re supposed to see
[9:14] jiung: but i did
[9:16] y/n: i was drunk, okay? can we please forget about it?
[9:18] jiung: and people say drunk words are sober thoughts
[9:20] y/n: do i look like i care about stupid bullshit like that rn
[9:22] jiung: oh
[9:22] jiung: so you don’t care if people other than me see this letter?
[9:23] y/n: what
[9:24] y/n: you can’t just use that against me??
[9:26] jiung: let’s see how well this thing means so much to you then
[9:27] y/n: ???
and when you thought you’d never see the pulsating, message bubble as he types as such a dreadful thing, your nerves suspended in the most excruciating minutes. 9:28, 9:29… 9:30...
[9:31] jiung: main library, 2pm, this friday. oct 13
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that was, a distant week ago. you figured you should probably show up this time, all in the name of having the existence of the letter stay between the two of you. even if it meant having to deal with the growing habit of waking up in the middle of the night from the anxiety crawling upon your thoughts. until once and for all, the day came.
your feet felt rather heavier that day, dragging your mopey figure through the winding halls of the university. the halloween spirit on campus feeling far too suffocating, the orange and black streamers hanging from the ceilings a mere blur. other people were buzzing about the upcoming university halloween party at the end of the month, yet all you ever wished was that you were some random skull decor perched at a corner, undisturbed. and that you weren't nearing the doors to the main library, a sight that you loathed with your whole being.
and there he was, choi jiung. the guy wreaking havoc in your life. okay, well—maybe not that actively, but he's been a constant force you're trying to push toward the back of your mind ever since you made such a stupid mistake, to the point you don’t even know how you could redeem yourself.
“hey,”
“hey.” you're surprised you even managed to croak out a reply, finding yourself unable to maintain eye contact with him for more than two seconds–pathetically.
you were about to claim the seat in front of him before he raises a familiar envelope nestled within his fingers, and you wasted absolutely no time at the chance. snatching the thing with vigor just to rip it to smithereens, earning a few glares from other people in the library. you couldn't care less.
jiung lets out a laugh underneath his breath, adorably irritating so, as he watches fragments of the letter fall before him like confetti. you finally settled on a seat across him, and the further time dragged on, the more it seemed to prove your written letter right.
he was undeniably magnetic, from the way his clothes drape over his shoulders, his bangs framing his face with its stark black—the waft of his perfume despite the distance. your gaze can't help itself from shifting over to his fingers with every turn of a page, almost as if he was the perfect distraction.
and that tie sitting on his collar, really? what was his major again? you couldn't be bothered to muse over whether or not academia fashion was a staple for whatever program he was taking, especially when you couldn't blame him. 'cause he truly held a sort of charm that makes you wanna ravish him right then and there. that you had to remind yourself: time and place, his glasses beginning to lean crooked subtly to the side before his finger pushed it further up his nose bridge. ultimately turning back to you—who already had eyes on him, locked.
jiung speaks, faintly registered in your currently preoccupied head. honestly, the only qualm you carry against him is that he wants to get things done, his way. which is partly the reason why this partner project has gotten awry, his ego clashing a horrible amount with your stubbornness. guess not everyone can have it after all.
of course you had to have it figured out eventually. even if it had to cost you biting down your tongue from spewing possible scathing remarks with his every word. due to the fact that any moment you tried to challenge his ideas, he'd quote all the lines he could possibly remember from your embarrassing letter. and it was only the librarian's stare pinning you down from grabbing jiung by the hair out of annoyance, because the both of you were causing quite a bit of disturbance.
“you know, i can't deny that little love letter of yours was kinda cute.” he leans forward, loving the way your face morphs into irritation.
“cute? you think it's cute that i accidentally confessed about—” you caught yourself, clearing your throat before rolling your eyes at him. “i mean, whatever. just concentrate.”
“hey, hey. finish it. about what? your quote on quote, suppressed feelings for me?” god, you so badly wanted to slap that smirk out of his face.
you could only manage to groan, running a hand through your hair. “no! i mean my deep annoyance at your inability to take me seriously, to take this project seriously!”
“excuse me, could you keep it down? this is a library.” you immediately turn towards the librarian, clutching a hand over your mouth at the realization that you might've… raised your voice a little too loud.
“sorry,” you muttered, eyes fixated on your notes sprawled over the table. “we were just—”
“working very loudly?” the librarian cut you off, and the worst part is–jiung still had the audacity to look at you with much mischief in his eyes. and that stupid smirk. “if you can’t keep quiet, i'm kindly asking you to leave.”
and that was… the last of what you've heard once you began gathering your things out of embarrassment, jiung trailing behind you like a lost puppy as you pretend you don't even know who he is, walking towards the nearest exit.
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maybe choi jiung really is a constant force in your life. despite the day at the library being the last time you’d spend with him until presentations came tomorrow, it felt as if he never really left your mind. constantly drifting like a cloud over your head, lingering. and you so desperately wanted to bury him as a distant memory. busying yourself with other major projects, going out with friends, and the main event that the everyone’s been buzzing about for weeks: the awaited university halloween party.
it worked to distract you for the most part, lost within the crowd sprawled over the expanse of the green field, now only a crackle of grass beneath your heels. lights flickered along with the thump of the music’s bass. you watched the collective silhouette of people dressed in costumes, either tipsy out of their mind or buzz undying. you’d probably be seen with a red cup full of alcohol in hand, if you hadn’t sworn to yourself that you wouldn’t be touching a bottle of soju until a few months time. remnants of your little disaster from not too long ago trying to haunt you.
and so you turned to the cold air nipping at your bare skin, which you have to thank your skimpy little black dress for. the racy outfit you’d put together in an excuse to dress up as a witch, seductively at that. you partly regret bringing your witch hat with you despite contemplating about it a while ago, having to deal with the thing repeatedly slipping over your eyes. making a simple task of opening your phone to a flood of text messages, a challenge. after a couple of foiled attempts, you managed to get the gist—and that your friends are waiting for you at some frat house to join an after party.
the main event endlessly unfolds despite midnight fastly approaching. dragging your feet towards the front part of the crowd where it pulsed with much more energy, hopefully making your way towards the right direction of the area near the frat house. the music echoed like it wanted you to stay for a while, lose yourself to the beat as you tried to keep your witch hat tilted upright. not until another drag of the hat back up had your eyes flickering towards the dj manning the booth. keeping the night alive as lights hung overhead, casting a glow behind his figure and perfectly accentuating his side profile. yet the more your gaze traced the curve of his nose, the tousle of his hair as he let himself move to the rhythm.
for a split second the lights confirmed your suspicion, except you didn’t want to say anything. say his name, his everything, crawling back to your mind. you’d even forgotten why you were trying to erase him from your thoughts. maybe, just maybe… it wouldn’t be too bad to keep your eyes rested on him this time around. and it wasn’t as if you could turn away if you tried regardless.
there was something about catching sight of this side of him you never knew he had. at that moment, it felt like it was only the both of you existing in a bubble of your own. there was quite a distance between his position at the makeshift stage and yours below; nevertheless, the sparkle within his eyes didn’t go unnoticed. and in that moment nothing else mattered, the difficulty of trying to tear your stare away from him weighing over you.
no, no, no. not again. not this time.
the after party at the frat house, right.
reality comes crashing in once more, blinking rapidly as you tried to bump your way through the crowd. glancing everywhere you could to seek refuge, any way out, somewhere. mind racing with a mantra, “forget him forget him forget about him,” suppressing everything you’ve ever thought of the moment you laid eyes on him. chalking it up to the fact that it was probably your unrequited feelings for him hitting you like a brick. but… it wasn’t like you were ever serious about him, weren’t you?
your feet felt heavy trying to keep him out of reach, away from the taunt of his presence. the further you tried to push through what seems to be the edge of the field had you jostled within the crowd, and it didn’t help the flashing lights began disorienting your vision. you hastily fish your phone out, scrolling for past messages to double check the location of the frat house. except you realized, you weren’t really sure where to go from here.
your chest tightens. trying to take in sharper breaths as the mass of people were closing in around you, trying to push more, yet was met with more resistance. the smell of alcohol and loud noise started swallowing you, panic rushing through your veins. this is bad. this is really really bad.
and all of a sudden you heard a faint call, your ears picking it up with its subtlety. it was a brief echo through the music, until you heard it once more.
“y/n! over here!”
you swiftly whip your head around to scan the blur of faces, pulse quickening—at last, your gaze landing on someone familiar.
“i’ve been looking for you for ages.” he pants, trying to catch his breath from approaching you through the tight crowd. yoon keeho, although clad in a rather comical vampire costume, brought you a sense of relief.
“you okay? you look…”
“yeah, i’m just…. i got a bit lost.” you admit, lacing your fingers through your hair after finally taking off your witch hat.
keeho lets out a laugh beneath his breath, earning a piercing glare from you before extending a hand out to point. “you’re better off at the after party with me, everyone else is here so… it isn’t too crowded there yet.”
you hum, clutching your purse before following as keeho steps towards the way out. “come on,”
and at that, the both of you slip away from the field with its chaos, music fading far beyond the distance.
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within the frat house lingered the scent of alcohol from a previous round of beer pong. it was dimly lit, but you’ll know empty red cups are strewn around from its hollow crunch beneath accidental steps. the door trickled bit by bit with newcomers, the party outside eventually simmering down to a hum, occasionally cut with bursts of laughter and constant conversation. thank god keeho had found you.
yet that was a while ago. you couldn’t decipher the exact time but it seemed way past midnight. it was a stark contrast to the huddle of people buzzing in excitement, your figure amongst them in a circle on the floor. it was probably, what�� like the third or fourth round of seven minutes in heaven? the poor closet door slams open to another couple exiting, far too all over each other than you’d like to witness.
it was like that for the past thirty minutes, having to sit through rounds of people shutting themselves within the closet as you were forced to hear thumps against the wall hear and there—and you’d rather not find out what had gone on. the soju bottle in the middle of your formed circle felt like a threat as it waits to be spun, yet you couldn’t manage to grasp out of the situation from keeho’s grip on your wrist.
“you’re not leaving until the bottle points to you.” his fingers tighten his hold, his other hand bringing a drink up to his lips.
"keeho, i don’t know these people!” you whisper-shouted, narrowing your brows at him.
and it wasn’t helping that it was proving especially difficult to take him seriously with the vampire get up he had on. "that’s the thrill about it? and when i thought you’ll live up to your words when you told me you’ll get out of your comfort zone right after high school.”
it was probably your over-ambitioned self talking back then. “we’re only juniors. we have plenty of time.”
"plenty of time? you only have a year, y/n”
you didn’t bother responding, yet he’s still trying his best to provoke a reaction out of you. “no one really stands out to me right now among these strangers if i’m going to be honest. but… maybe you’ll find someone that’s your type—”
"keeho, how many times do i have to tell you that i really don’t give a fuck about anyone else here right now.”
"yeah, that! fuck.” he drags the end of his sentence in such an overly teasing tone, flashing him a look like he just said something so outrageous, because indeed it was...
"mess around a little bit, you know. get frisky in that closet or something.”
"seven minutes isn’t enough for that.”
“yeah, you would know.”
you were on the verge of landing a smack over his shoulder when a chorus of gasps erupted, drawing your attention.
and just your luck, the bottle points to you.
all you could muster was a defeated sigh, waiting for the soju bottle to spin once more to select the stranger you’d be stuck with in that closet for an excruciating seven minutes. except it never came, and only a hand reaches out to snap you out of your thoughts.
“shall we?” oh. it was that same voice you wished you weren’t at all familiar with, looking above the shadow looming over you. akin to a moth towards a flame. and it’s just a matter of figuring out who’s who between the two of you.
choi jiung, wearing a smirk that tugged on his lips that you almost wanted to slap off him, like always. you did—well, slap his hand away from your face, rolling your eyes before rising and rushing towards the closet door as he follows.
you almost missed keeho’s words, “is that…” a comment faint in volume when he recalls the day you told him all about your ‘jiung fiasco’ during a phone call.
you drowned in silence inside the closet, not even bothering to turn the light on. figures slumped against the wooden walls across each other. you hugged your knees to your chest, hyper aware of how cramped the space was and your paralyzing fear of having your legs accidentally brush against his.
all you could hear was the frantic hammer of your heartbeat within your chest, sighing in relief that he couldn’t see the flush creeping over your expression. him, well… the most you could make out from the dimness was the stupid mask you hadn’t realized he put back on.
“take that damn ghostface mask off before i punch it out of your face.”
oh, and you regret saying that, 'cause he truly took the mask off, “as you wish.”
he looked so unbelievably hot. annoyingly disproportionate to his simple costume of black fabric draped over his figure, accentuating the broadness of his shoulders just right. along with his hair falling over his eyes and—no. not another monologue of being down bad. enough.
silence hung in the air once more, not like it ever left, but the noise from outside seemed to have drained away and all it was in the moment were you and jiung, paused.
"so, what’s up with… the situation lately?” he speaks up, breaking the silence.
"you know…” you find yourself trailing off, voice small.
"know what?"
“the letter,” you finished his sentence, fragility within your words. “i never meant for you to see it.”
"you’re mad because i found out about it? y/n it’s just a letter—”
"to you, jiung. for me it was my vulnerable thoughts out in the open. t-too personal.”
your voice began to break, the air feeling heavier by the minute. the absence of sound failed to muffle the thud within your pulse. further amplified when he rests his hand over yours perched atop your knee, his touch noticeably warm. you didn’t pull away.
"right, i’m sorry. i understand, i shouldn’t have said that.”
“it’s okay. it was a mistake of mine and—i kinda… made it feel weird between us because of that.” jiung’s lips part in search of words, though you couldn’t see. his fingers tried fiddling with yours, an attempt to ease your tentative tone.
"weird how?”
"you know, ‘cause…”
"hm?”
"shut up,” fuck. you weren’t supposed to let that slip out of your lips, far too affected from how effortlessly attractive he sounded from a single, minor hum. and he didn’t even mean for it to come across like that. “sorry i, just. i can’t face you right now.”
"take your time, y/n”
yet how can you think straight when he says your name like that? the softness his voice held, the gentle tone making your heart skip a beat without fail.
"i was just caught off guard when you… did the whole blackmail thing. i’d—i thought you would just laugh it off or whatever.” you scoff lightly.
"i wouldn’t ever mock you like that. i mean, i kinda did… joke around with you at the library but! i meant it, lightheartedly.”
"mhm.” his fingers remain fidgeting with yours, your eyes drifting downwards. “i just, wanted some space. it was humiliating for me, okay?”
and then it hit jiung with a click. he might’ve went too far with the whole blackmail thing. “i get that. i never meant for you to feel that way, i just… wanted a chance to talk to you further. and spend maybe... a bit more time together.” he clarified, eventually lacing his fingers with yours, closely.
"but deep down i kinda knew you wouldn’t like, rat me out to whoever. it’s part of why i came to like you—sorry i… i know you don’t like me back and i keep talking about my feelings for you and—”
"i never said i didn’t like you back.”
"huh?”
"tell me, when did i ever tell you i don’t like you?”
the question looped within your mind. except all that there ever was is a cloud of uncertainty, his intentions slipping through your grasp like sand. what does he even mean?
"jiung, you’re confusing me.”
then all of a sudden you watch as he bursts into laughter, and you hastily grab his ghostface mask from a corner to playfully smack it against his head.
"you’re so unbelievably dense.”
you click your tongue, shoulders slumping in defeat. "it’s always been a problem of mine, i just don’t know how to handle my feelings.”
the next few words came out almost in a whisper, despite feeling your most vulnerable. “it’s probably why i… don’t have much experience with… this kinda stuff, unlike my friends.”
his fingers ceased playing with yours, now taking both of your hands in his, enveloped around yours like it were meant to be like that. warm.
“you don’t have to deal with this alone, y/n”
the moment wound down once more at the silence that fell.
"okay, look. i’ll just say it once and for all.” his tone is firm, almost commanding you to lift your gaze up at him. “i really, really like you. and i want to be with you. can we start over? please?”
you didn’t know what to respond at that instance. held frozen in place, but the rush of emotion through your nerves acted otherwise. all at once, it came washing over you like a wave.
"jiung?” you call out to him, as there goes another one of his hums. “you mean it?”
"of course i do.” he’s kneeling before you now, so damn close, it felt like your heart’s going to jump out of your chest. your pulse picks up, racing, as his other hand remains interlocked with yours and the other sneaks to caress your cheek.
jiung’s inching closer with every passing second, the air thick with anticipation as if it wasn’t already so stuffy from the cramped space. your eyes flutter shut while the only thing you could sense is the warmth of his breath against your lips. tilting your head subtly to the side, was that how they did it in the romcoms? failing to realize that you’re beginning to clutch his hand in yours harder that—“seven minutes is up!”
the closet door swings open without warning, your hands flying to push jiung away as his back meets the wall with a slight thud, watching the light stream into the cramped space. all over too soon.
yet it was just the catalyst to your eager desire; unable to take your hands off each other the moment you stepped foot outside of the closet. more like it was jiung getting rather handsy, his palm warm over the small of your back. even unabashedly pulling you closer to his side once you sink back down with the rest of the huddled group playing seven minutes. you’ve no reason to stay here anymore.
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it came fleeting rather quickly, one moment he had you by the hand out of the door to that damned frat house, traversing through the empty, wasted field and towards the direction of the university dormitories. from the slightest ounce of privacy that touched your fingertips, you started yearning for more. as you reached the floor to your room, jiung wastes no time trapping you against the corridor wall, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.
“can i?” he mumbles against your skin, rather sensitive. and you would think he’s incapable of holding back a little kiss during the heat of the moment. except he still asks, lips beginning to ghost over you, bare.
"you don’t look like you could wait for—hngh, anything else.” you struggle underneath his grip, his hands fastening your wrists against the wall as he pushes against you impossibly closer. “i wanna hear you say yes.”
he follows, trailing further up that his nose subtly bumps on your cheek. you feel like you’re turning insane, the more time dragged on and he keeps holding back.
“please jiung, want you all over me…” you whine, a bit more when he finally presses a soft kiss over your flushed cheeks. he looked irresistible, pulling away to stare down at you with his eyes; glossed with hunger.
“even better.” and this time he inches closer once more, his lips hovering over yours tentatively, waiting for you to bridge the gap. and so you did, kissing him back with as much fervor. completely forgetting about the fact that this was the first time you’ve properly made out with someone, and you weren’t even quite sure if you’re doing it right.
it were as if jiung had a sort of sixth-sense, holding you gently by your jaw as your lips weave into a searing kiss, wet by the second as his tongue peeks out. sliding over your bottom lip. “i got you, relax.” he utters, the rumble of his voice traveling straight to your core.
jiung pulls away for a brief moment of oxygen, crashing his lips back to yours. sliding his tongue into your mouth this time ‘round, and you melt against him—weak in the knees as he rolls his wet muscle sinfully against yours.
“can’t get enough of you already,” it was a mystery how he manages to slip a few words here and there, from your pathetic state struggling to keep up with his desperate pace. proving truth to his words when the swirl of his tongue was followed by suckling on your own, that all you could do was mewl, you poor little thing.
it was dangerously risqué, anyone could simply walk into the sight of your sorry state, falling apart fully if it weren’t for jiung holding you up. keeping you upright despite the evident wobble in your knees as he continued to ravage you wantonly, done with his assault on your tongue that he’s moved to subtly bite on your bottom lip, bruised.
"mhmm.” you shudder, swallowing in a moan when he turns to the shell of your ear instead, tracing it sensitive, his spit cold once the air hit. and so he sucks, like he obsessively does, feeling every gentle flick of his tongue rush straight to your core.
you’re already so embarrassingly wet despite still being fully clothed, and his hands had done nothing but to remain over your cheek all this time. his nails raked against the thin fabric of your skimpy dress, mind turned to mush as the only thought you could render was that he needed to touch you right now. futher, more… more than you could ever fathom to beg for him out in the open.
“jiung…” you whimper, right against his ear. feeling his pants get uncomfortably tight that he just has to redirect his energy into smothering you, littering wet, hot, open-mouthed kisses on the expanse of your sensitive neck.
“yes baby?” it took him quite a while to respond, the petname sending a flutter in your chest. he tries to hold himself back before he began to litter nibbles over your skin.
his fingertips are a prickle over your body, finding yourself struggling to respond. mind blank, and you couldn’t even remember why you called out to him in the first place.
“mhmm,”
"you’re already so, horny. aren’t you?”
he’s met yet another smack to the shoulder, probably the nth time from yours this evening.
"don’t say it like that!” you tried leaning impossibly closer, your tone much less than a whisper.
nonetheless, jiung’s brain was equally as foggy, the impact of your hit disregarded. from his point of view, it was unbeknownst that your mind was swirling with how to break the looming silence. the only thing that had his attention in a headlock was the intoxicating sight of you, looking up at him, eyes glossed over in feral desire
your lips adorably bruised, proud of his insatiable work from earlier. your cheeks flushed and brows frustratingly knitted together. it was as if you’re wordlessly begging for him to kneel before you. in fact he would, right at the first syllable of anything you’d utter. and right past that was a sight behold, the swell of your breast, cleavage peeking underneath your outfit.
fuck, he needs you, mind driven towards delirium from his longing to touch. within the warmth from the palm of his hand, undoubtedly even better if he had his mouth on them, loving it wet. he needed you. so. so. badly.
"did you drink?” your voice was delicate, snapping him out of his trance.
“no.” and he was saying the truth. no sip of alcohol carried the same effect of his drunken want over your everything.
this time you took initiative, interlocking fingers with his as you dragged him towards your dorm room. every step you took in the hall felt electric, finding yourself fumbling with the key through the door as jiung’s hand teasingly dips past your waist.
at last pulling him inside, closing the door with a slam as you resume ravishing each other’s lips. you’re too dizzy at this point, his forehead pressing against yours as tries to keep you close. and with every step backwards goes a wet peck, bodies trailing toward your bed until your legs hit the edge.
and so he pushes you, gently, attempting to hold yourself up with your elbows toward the headboard. not until jiung grabs you by your thighs, nails digging over the plush—from that he abruptly yanks you back toward him and earns a surprised mewl.
“don’t go anywhere.”
“jiung, ‘m not.” yet he doesn’t answer anymore, resting his arms on either side of your head. you’ll never catch him without his lips on you, searching, sucking less than harshly that he might as well leave a mark. every nibble and flick of his tongue had you writhing beneath, and you couldn’t help but spread your legs open. hoping he’d take the hint.
he’s turning you breathless, with every press of his lips over your skin igniting such flame in your tummy.
“touch me jiung, please,” you finally cry out, driven crazy when your cunt’s clenching around nothing, wet yet untouched.
“where baby?” jiung rises from busying himself with your neck, only realizing just how much effect he had on you now that he’s gotten a proper view.
you lay there, helpless beneath his figure with your hair disheveled. lips parted from panting, chest heaving up and down.
“here,” you replied, out of breath. turning your head to the side abashed, that you couldn’t even grasp the fact that you’d reach this point. jiung meets your hands, letting you guide his hold toward your clothed breasts.
he couldn’t help a subtle smile tug on his lips, “you’re so damn cute,” jiung teases, swiftly pressing a kiss on your exposed cheek. “i’ll make you feel good, alright?”
please, you’d probably whine out, if you weren’t wallowing so much in the shame of drawing his touch right over your breasts. even so, he’s eager to pry you apart, relishing in the fact that despite your inexperience, you still push through, for him—communicating what you truly wanted.
and it left him with the inclination to fulfill it.
jiung groped your sensitive mounds through the fabric, turning your breathing ragged by the minute. god, you’re already so sensitive, and with every fleeting touch of his hands against your breasts, went to travel straight down to your cunt. sopping wet as you pushed your thighs together in an attempt to relieve the sticky feeling of your panties. proving useless. he then slips his fingers beneath the edge of your dress, thankfully strapless. right atop your chest, pulling it down until he’s met with the sight of your lacey little bra. “pretty,”
and yet he doesn’t show a single trace of rush carried in his actions, feeling you up to build the thrill, groping. “jiung...” you beg, reaching out to his wrist.
“patience,” he sounded curt, but the way he gently fondles your clothed breasts said otherwise.
right when he’s dragged as much of your dress down as he can, jiung catches you off guard—promptly sliding his hands beneath your bra that had your breath hitching. the warmth of his palms flush against your nipples, already perky, yearning for his touch.
jiung just has you pliant beneath him as the vulgar scene unfolds, tenderly groping, fondling your tits along with occasional pinches to your sensitive buds and making you mewl without fail. turns him on so so much, seeing you exposed so adorably that you had let go of all sense left within your body.
it didn’t take too long for him to come to a point, he couldn’t help himself anymore. the erotic sight of your desperate state rutting your clothed cunny up against his torso, helplessly. jiung finally hikes your bra up, your breasts spilling out of a fabric in such a way he can’t resist salivating over your vulnerable image.
and so he wastes no time. if you weren’t so lost within such a sensual trance that had your eyes fixated on the ceiling, you might’ve gotten the chance to catch jiung’s expression, his eyes completely glazed over. hungrily, he encloses his lips around your nipple, the warm wetness of his tongue swirling and flicking against the bud with abandon.
you swore your cunt begins to clench around nothing as he continued his work on you, skin erupting in goosebumps as he relentlessly sucks on the bud; lewd sounds filling the expanse of your dorm room. he doesn’t let your other breast get neglected, fondling its plush with the sporadic flick of his thumb over the bud over and over. ultimately urging you to hump against him suffocated in lust that’s taken over your whole being.
“ahh… jiung—” all you could manage to sputter out were pathetic whimpers, head thrown back as you sink into the mattress. his actions were a medley of flicking his hot tongue on to the other bud, switching, towards rapid kitten licks with his lips fully enclosed around it. eventually withdrawing with a short pop from the messy slick of his drool. once more diving back in to continue his feral abuse on your sensitive nipple. “feeling good?”
and you couldn’t even manage to choke out a reply even if you wanted to, drowning in suffocating desire. jiung pulls away, the hunger in him still begging to get satiated, his cock hard in his pants. a string of spit between your bud and his lip, glistening as it snapped.
anticipation overtakes you once more as he gently pushes your breasts together, flushed before craning back in to tongue over your swollen nipples, moving his head side to side in a frenzy. and you’re just so far gone, the warmth of his tongue licking over your buds with each turn. your already helpless state reduced to a mess, only able to splutter out hoarse moans. and he hasn’t even touched your needy cunt yet.
you had to pry him away from you, it was enough—more than enough before jiung manages to drive you towards an orgasm from merely stimulating your tits, having enough of embarrassing yourself in front of him. you’re not about to cum this early on, clothes barely taken off. you entwine your fingers through his hair, and just when he lets you breathe does he really see what he’s made of you.
sure, he looked disheveled as well, spit by the side of his lip. except you’re far worse, legs trembling from the growing wetness from your center, eyes lidded in a struggle to keep them open. blissed out of your mind and still, all you’ve ever wanted to see was jiung ravaging you like an animal.
“wanna take this all off, jiung…” he’s watchful, hooked on your voice that’s starting to turn a pitch higher than before.
“want more,”
lust bubbles within his chest, listening as you wish despite your struggle finishing sentences out of daze. “want to feel good with you,” your fingers try to reach beyond jiung’s chest, not making it far down but hoping he’d take the hint. swearing that the further you went without relief from your uncomfortable, sticky panties, the more you’ll spiral insane.
you began pulling the rest of your dress down in a hurry when jiung stops you. meeting your eyes glossed over as if you’re on the verge of tearing up from the pleasure, quite so. flashing him a puzzled look.
“i don’t have a condom with me.” he finally brings it up, fingers slowly tracing the curve of your wrist.
“me too…” you replied, sullen. jiung feeling guilty from discreetly thinking you looked adorable from the pout on your face.
at that moment you saw the instantaneous spark of idea carried in his eyes. any other day, you’d probably shoot him a glare, but now you couldn’t bring yourself to do so. especially when he’s had you wrapped around his finger, vulnerable and exposed, feeling your nerves ignite from the tension.
“you can sit on my face baby.”
“what?”
“sit on my face.”
he repeats it so matter-of-factly that it left you completely speechless, in a struggle to find the right words in response.
“jiung, i– it’s my first time and—”
“i know” his tone is reassuring, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “and i want you to know that i got you.” you could only conjure a feeble whine. ‘cause what does he mean with the fact that the two of you were just bickering a few weeks ago, and now he wants you to smother his face with your cunt.
“think of it as payback.” he spoke, his voice holding a honeyed warmth.
“use me however you want, after all, i’ve caused you enough problems with that letter.”
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well, it was the last you’ve coherently heard of him that night. especially when everything he tried to say came out muffled while he’s got quite literally a mouthful of your dripping pussy. the lewd scene unfolds within the privacy of your dorm room, relieved that your roommate hadn’t decided to return yet. and if you could still recall whether or not these walls were soundproof.
everything that unraveled was such a filthy sight. your black dress, bra, and panties with it’s notable patch of your arousal on the fabric—discarded in a pile somewhere on the floor. it was the least of your worries when you’re currently sitting snug over jiung’s face, cunny rubbing against his wet, warm tongue that had your knuckles clenched and holding onto the headboard for dear life.
making sense of how the hell you’d gotten yourself in this position, taking into account that it’s your first time delving into anything frisky. however, you were running on nothing else but raging horniness, maintaining your desperate rhythm as you ride his face. grinding your hips in haste, folds slick as you use his tongue to get off. just so damn erotic.
it was truly pushing you towards the edge faster than you’d like to admit. his tongue sliding in and out of your pulsing hole, lightning fast. slick kitten licking against your clit over and over, when it isn’t the tip of his nose bumping on your pleasured, swollen bud.
fuck, it was a far more tantalizing sight as you turned to look behind you. through your lashes, watching jiung’s obscene state—his pants dragged down, jerking himself off, fast. his hand gripping his cock just right, up and down, wishing it was your pulsing cunt squeezing his shaft right now.
he made it a point, the next time he gets to ravage you senseless, you’d be crying out having enough of his cock plowing into your hole.
now it was just you you you, using him like he insisted you did.
jiung begins to amp it up, eager to send you towards your high. his tongue simultaneously slipping in and out of your hole before dragging back up, flattened to flick at your clit—god, it felt insatiably good, the pace in which you roll your hips on his face grew faltered. thighs turning wobbly as you neared your climax.
“hahh—fuckkk… jiung, you… you make me feel so good,” you pant, breathlessly fucking yourself on his tongue.
the best he could do was to hum in reply, against your clit, the vibration feeling insanely good as it travels straight to your core. his other hand grips harshly on the plush of your thigh, nails raking over the skin. almost forming crescents, vulgar and indecent, yet it all felt too pleasurable.
“i’m close, ‘m so, so close~” you whine out, your tangled fingers in his hair tightening. earning another moan that vibrated over your swollen, needy clit. your other hand struggling to keep leverage on to the headboard.
at this point you’re far too deep in pleasure, desperate to cum as you chase your high. turning crazy from how it felt so so good to ride his face, tongue working you toward it, the squelch of your sticky arousal dripping down his chin. more, more, moreee—rolling your hips over his face like you’re in such a rut, and it seems to be the case.
suddenly—you trembled, writhing in convulse as it came crashing over you like a wave. a particular bump of the tip of his nose against your clit before his relentless suckling pushed you teetering toward the edge. and he so desperately wanted to cum with you at the same time, stroking his cock faster. collecting part of your slick dripping down his chin to wet his shaft. jiung feels your cunt begin to gush, his nails digging deeper crescents into the plush of your thigh because you visibly couldn't handle the shake of your knees from the pleasure. his tongue, never ceasing to flick and flatten as he drags it on to your clit. over and over, lapping up your sticky cum.
“ahh–mhmh, jiung~!” you tug on his hair, fingers laced as you tried to squirm away from his grip. “no more!” yet he's making it difficult for you to do so, both of his arms locking your thighs in place as he began his endless ordeal of licking up your release. s'too much, too much–yet felt too fucking good, rendering you overstimulated out of your mind, merciless.
and when you've finally freed yourself from his grip, you stumbled back on to your mattress, disoriented. it was a blur, feeling yourself momentarily lose balance, suddenly collapsing onto the sheets. jiung immediately rose to his elbows, reaching toward you despite his voice beginning to sound like a distant muffle. concern was greatly etched across his face, “y/n are you okay?” you hear him, and yet it resounded like a distant echo, seeing his concerned expression the last few seconds before your vision slips into darkness.
his composure falters at that instant. had he pushed you too hard? he gazed down on your figure, laying there seemingly peaceful despite your exhaustion. once again you're vulnerable beneath his eyes. to him, jiung takes it as another chance to take care of you, his eyes tracing every outline of your features. and the gentle heaving of your chest that reminded him that he has to prove you that you can trust him.
“tired... ung, i'm okay,” you manage to mumble, and he releases a sigh of relief. almost moving to touch you before he realizes that he's… made quite a mess of his own as well. making a quick trip to the bathroom to clean himself up, stumbling upon bits of your clothes strewn over the floor.
he found you alrewdy fast asleep when he came back. making it a point in his head to go easy on you next time–he wouldn't admit, but the way panic surged through his nerves once you collapsed got him shaken. but in a few minutes he's gotten you into your matching pajamas, tucked underneath a blanket as he slides beside you. he holds your body close to his chest, “night baby,” you couldn't hear him; nonetheless, he still wanted to whisper to you sweet, pressing chaste kisses atop your head.
jiung turns to your bedside table, almost reaching out to turn off your lampshade when he stops to see an abnormally neon yellow sticky note stuck on the wall above that read in bold ink: ‘presentation monday morning’
the presentation.
oh god, you both have to do the presentation tomorrow at 8am.
fuck.
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[1:47] kyo: y/n where’d you go???
[1:49] kyo: jiung’s not here too?
[2:05] kyo: alright damn
[2:06] kyo: i get it
255 notes · View notes
hoonieyun · 2 months ago
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score: love!
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you think he's ever used his brain..?
pairing: lee heeseung x reader "y/n" (slight jake x reader in this chapter)
warnings: LOTS of profanity, heeseung and reader get into an argument, characters alludes to violence lol, heeseung gets roasted a bit, yn and heeseung are being hard asses, always 18+
wc: 446
ignore the time stamps and typos lol (partly written! make sure to read the text to have full comprehension of the chapter)
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heeseung's contact pops up onto your phone screen just as you're continuing your conversation with your friends. after sending your friends a quick text, you reluctantly answer the call with a roll of your eyes.
"y/n?" heeseung asks, voice eager and low.
"can i help you?" you ask, voice flat and low.
"look i know i'm probably the last person you want to talk to right now-" heeseung begins. "yup so why are you calling me?" you interrupt and you can hear heeseung sigh on the other end of the phone, like he was trying to compose himself for this phone call that you definitely didn't want to be having right now.
"look, i'm just trying to apologize ok?" and based on his tone of voice, you felt like he was being sincere. "apologize..?" you ask, as if you didn't hear him properly the first time.
"yes... i know i was being an ass earlier at practice and even just a few minutes ago but..." heeseung begins explaining himself and although you couldn't see him, you know his face was wrinkled into the center of his face as he often furrowed his brows and scrunched his face when in a moment of frustration.
"what i said was rude and i think i only said it because i knew you were right and i was just upset. i was upset at myself and i know i shouldn't have let that affect our practice or how i speak to you. so i'm sorry..." heeseung says and you're silent on the other end of the phone.
disbelief was the only thing in your mind as you listened and now pondered on heeseng's words. you weren't expecting him to apologize and because you can admit when you were being rude, you could only do one thing.
"i get it... i was pretty harsh too and i shouldn't have doubled down on my behavior towards you especially when i knew you were already upset." you say, closing your eyes as you also reflect on your misbehavior.
"thanks for apologizing hee... and i'm also sorry." you say with a sigh and you swear you could almost hear the smile on heeseung's face when he says, "really?". he also accepts your apology and says, "thanks for understanding me yn. i'll try to understand you more... see you at practice tomorrow, yeah?" his voice tender.
"y-yeah. see you tomorrow." you say with a stutter as you end the call. confusing now in your mind as you try to recall the short conversation you just had with heeseung that you know will weight heavy on your heart later.
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masterlist - backhand - forehand
tennis commentator: well well well, the last 48 hours has been eventful for team heeyn. how do we think their next practice will go? who do you think is right between heeseung and yn? also... jake defending yn whenever he gets the chance... aww bestest best friend in the world.
copyright 2024 - present © hoonieyun all rights reserved
all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned.
taglist: @jiiyen @pshbites @rairaiblog @fgumi @heartheejake @silquids @who-tf-soddhi @manaah02 @vhuteryh @17ericas @firstclassjaylee
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gothcsz · 3 months ago
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𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒆 / Chapter XX.
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GIF by bestintheparsec
PAIRING: Javier Peña x Original Female Character
SUMMARY: The night of the ritual.
WORD COUNT: ~9.1k
RATING: 18+ Explicit topics such as sex, drugs, murder, the occult, religion, cannibalism and other triggering matters will be explored in this body of work. Minors DNI.
CHAPTER SPECIFIC TAGS: dead dove: do not eat!, kidnapping, mc is held hostage, allusions to SA (nothing explicit. will be explained later on), hallucinations, humiliation, wound care, hurt/no comfort, crime thriller vibes are vibing, demon worship, cult ritual, supernatural elements, non-consensual drug use, angst, whump, any typos/grammar mistakes are of my own doing and i apologize in advance, if i'm missing any other tags please let me know.
DISCLAIMER/WARNINGS: The Javier Peña referenced in this body of work is solely based off of the character that appears in Netflix’s Narcos and not the actual person. Very canon divergent and I will tweak things as I see fit to compliment the narrative of this story. While efforts have been made to be accurate in terms of canon timeline, a lot of details will be fictionalized.
A/N: i’m going to hold y’all’s hand when i say this... i am putting paloma through it 😓 i was initially going to just bang everything out and post it in one big chapter, but as i was writing... i just felt like it would be better if we let the suspense of it all do its thing and end with a cliffhanger. i am a sucker for ‘em, even if they’re so frustrating (in the best way possible) 😭 i hope that all the lore revolving the cult has been concise and strong enough to hold up during the ending bit of this. i wish i could say things are going to get better from here but they’re not… they’re actually going to get worse 🤠 as always, feel free to drop any type of feedback/support on this blog or on ao3. i'd really appreciate it 🖤
♰  read on ao3. ♰
♰  playlist | pinterest | series masterlist ♰
When ten minutes pass, Javier brushes it off. She’s probably just caught up in something. It’s nothing to worry about.
But when twenty minutes roll by, that’s when the unease creeps in. He starts pacing the living room, fighting the urge for a cigarette, glancing at the clock.
Where is she?
By the time half an hour has come and gone, he’s dialing the library, wondering why Paloma hasn’t come home yet. The phone rings and rings, but no one picks up. His stomach tightens, and he wills himself to remain calm. She’s probably fine.
At the hour mark, Javier’s behind the wheel, speeding into town. Maybe she’s still upset from the argument they had earlier, and instead of coming home, she went to Tammy’s.
But when Tammy tells him she hasn’t heard from Paloma for a few days now, a knot twists in his chest.
Panic threatens to take hold, but he pushes it down. He can’t let it consume him—not yet. Not until he has a real reason to worry.
But she has that damn habit of disappearing to sulk in random places when she’s upset. And that habit is gnawing at him now.
He drives to every spot he can think of, the abandoned tracks, the clearing behind the cemetery, the creek—but there’s no sign of her.
That terrible feeling grows, heavy and unshakable. He marches into the sheriff’s department, jaw set, not caring who sees the frantic look in his eyes.
He storms the file room, ripping through boxes. His hands tremble as he plucks out the file he’s searching for.
“Fuck!” He curses under his breath, jaw tightening as the photo of Paloma’s mother stares back at him.
Now, he has a reason to panic.
He should have known when he first laid eyes on it. The familiarity of her features—her eyes, her hair, her smile; it was all too close to Paloma. Too close to ignore. But he had, all because his mind was completely elsewhere at the time. Now look where that got him.
It’s like a scene from a horror film, where everything snaps into place too late.
The recent victims; brunettes in their mid-twenties with similar features, similar backgrounds—they resembled her.
The staged chamber, the gore, the man who killed himself.
All of it was leading to this, tying up the gruesome mystery with a neat little bow, like a gift Javier wishes he could burn. They had been played—manipulated, distracted from seeing the bigger picture.
Whoever orchestrated this whole thing has been after his girl from the very beginning.
He fights the urge to smash his fist into the nearest wall, to tear down every shelf in the room in a fit of blind rage.
But what would that solve? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Rage won’t lead him to her. Fear won’t undo what’s already been set in motion. All he can do is cling to hope, even if it’s slipping through his fingers.
The ultimate goal of this fucked-up cult—their twisted mission—is to birth the flesh reincarnate of their so-called, bullshit deity.
His blood runs cold at the thought of Paloma being used in some horrific ritual, being touched, violated, forced into madness.
He’s shaking, on the verge of a panic attack, his heart slamming against his ribcage like it’s trying to escape. But he forces himself to breathe—slow, deep, steady breaths, locking the perturbation away. 
Javier puts out an APB, his voice tight as he details her car, her appearance. Every word feels surreal, like it’s not really him saying it, like he’s watching someone else’s nightmare play out.
Romeo’s going to hear this, and he’s going to have to explain how they missed all the signs, how Paloma has been in danger this whole time.
The weight of it presses down on him like a thousand pounds of guilt.
Gathering what he needs and delegating some of the overnight officers at the station, he frantically drives to the Leighton house.
He’s already chain-smoked half a pack. That nasty habit he’s been trying to shake is clinging to him. The file in his hands feels too light for the bomb he’s about to drop.
How the fuck is he supposed to do this? How do you tell someone their wife’s past is tangled in a nightmare, and that their daughter—a woman they both love—is at the heart of it? How do you stay composed when you’re barely holding yourself together?
“Where the fuck is my daughter?”
Javier’s barely set foot out of his truck when Romeo’s fists twist in his shirt, shoving him hard against the vehicle.
The impact rattles through him, but all he can see is the wild, desperate look in the sheriff’s eyes—a terror that matches his own but runs even deeper, cutting into every line on his face.
“Romeo, listen to me!” Javier’s voice is authoritative, that familiar guarded wall of stoicism building as his trademark defense mechanism to the absolute anxiety that’s gnawing away at his body. “This is gonna be hard to hear—I’m barely making sense of it myself—but I need you to listen if we’re going to figure this shit out.”
Romeo’s grip tightens, then slowly loosens, and Javier seizes the moment, shoving the older man back, no longer giving a fuck about keeping the peace.
He yanks the folded photo from his jacket pocket and holds it up, letting him get a clear look. “Tell me. Is this Paloma’s mother?”
Romeo’s gaze flits to the photograph, and the recognition that floods his face is immediate.
His fingers snatch the photo from Javier, and his expression cracks, aging him in just a matter of seconds. “Where did you get this?” His voice is barely a whisper, “What the fuck is going on?”
Javier’s own dread deepens. “From the old files,” he says, voice hollow. “The ones from the original group. She’s connected to all of this. They both are.”
He takes a breath, then begins to explain everything he knows. He lays it out, bit by bit—the tangled web of what Paloma had uncovered, the twisted threads that pointed to this cult, the fake leads that had kept them chasing shadows. Every word feels like glass in his throat.
Confusion, fear, anger—every emotion etched on Romeo’s face makes Javier feel like he’s the one who has failed. 
“Did you know about any of this?” he asks, though he already knows the answer from the lost look in Romeo’s eyes.
His mouth opens, then closes. He seems to gather himself, shoulders dropping under a weight he’s only just begun to grasp. “None. When I met Abby… she was just a woman startin’ over. She’d moved into a small house near the church. Said her parents had passed and she needed a fresh start. Picked a random town—that’s how she ended up here.” The sheriff’s gaze drifts to a place Javier can’t reach, caught in the bittersweet memory of his late wife. 
“Paloma said she found this out by going through her mom’s things,” he says carefully, each word a stone dropping into his gut. “But I don’t think she was telling me everything.”
Silence stretches between them, heavy and loaded as they lock eyes in an unspoken understanding.
They need answers, and every second they waste is another second Paloma could be slipping further away.
“Before we make accusations,” Javier says, forcing himself to stay grounded, “we need to dig through their belongings. There has to be something there—a lead, a hint—something that’ll tell us who’s behind this.”
“But you already know who it is, don’t you?”
Javier’s eyes darken, and his jaw locks as one name barrels into his mind, clear and hateful: August.
The red flags he had dismissed, convinced they were just a byproduct of his hate for the guy, now stand out like beacons.
He meets Romeo’s gaze, a grim certainty settling into his features. “I believe it’s Augustus Dixon and his group.”
Romeo’s face twists with anger, and he grits out, “Motherfucker—” His fists clench, his whole body radiating fury.
“Be pissed off later. We’ve got a job to do.”
They stalk up the stairs, both men moving with purpose—Romeo heads for his wife’s things while Javier makes his way into Paloma’s room.
It feels surreal, even wrong, to be rummaging through her life like this. The last time he’d been in this position, it was in Jessica’s room, and even then he could see the resemblance her space shared with Paloma’s—but he’d never thought he’d be here, seeing his girl as a victim.
His fingers skim over a leather-bound book tucked away on the top shelf in her closet, hidden behind a jewelry box. It’s as if she’d placed it there purposefully, stowed away out of reach.
When he pulls it down, he realizes it’s a scrapbook brimming with photographs and clippings.
Inside, he finds images of Calmana, surrounded by groups of men and women, all dressed in matching, traditional attire. A towering cathedral looms in the background, religious iconography scattered throughout—symbols he now recognizes from his research.
Maps, faded with time, span several pages, and in the center lies an intricate, sprawling family tree with Paloma’s name written at the bottom.
He spots envelopes tucked between the pages, each one addressed to her in cursive hand.
He calls out for Romeo, and the sheriff is by his side almost instantly, his expression a twisted mix of hope and dread.
“What’d you find?” 
Javier silently hands him the scrapbook, keeping the envelopes for himself. 
One by one, he opens them, unfolding each paper. His breaths come out ragged, and he feels his stomach drop as he reads.
They’re love poems—explicit, filthy in their adoration. Line after line, they detail all the things August wants to do to her, each word penned with obsession.
The praises he lavishes on her, how he calls her a spectacle, the power he insists she wields—it’s like poison seeping into Javier’s mind. 
His hands start trembling, and the implications tighten around him like a noose.
Romeo, sensing his agitation, reaches out, his voice rough. “What’s that—what did you find?” 
Javier jerks the papers away, swallowing hard. “Trust me. You don’t want to see these—not now.”
“Let me see them, Javier! Goddammit, my daughter is in danger!”
Before their back-and-forth can spiral any further, Javier’s walkie talkie crackles sharply, an officer’s voice coming through:
“A dark green, 1970 Buick Electra matching the APB put out an hour ago has been found in Lake Fraiser alongside an unidentified female body.”
The air thickens and shatters as Javier and Romeo lock eyes, both of them wearing the same look of wide-eyed horror. 
“Romeo—” Javier tries, reaching out, but the man is already out the door, the scrapbook falling from his hands and hitting the hardwood floor with a hollow thud that reverberates in Javier’s chest.
He mutters a quick fuck and scoops it up, rushing after him, yet the sheriff is a blur, tearing down the driveway with the kind of desperation only a father can muster when everything he loves is on the line.
Now that he’s left alone, Javier grips the railing, and the weight of it all—of losing her—comes crashing down. His heart’s splintering, his chest tight, mind skidding out of control.
This is what he’s been running from all along—failure… loss… grief. Now it is all coming back, circling like vultures, ready to take the one thing that’s ever brought him true happiness.
But he forces himself to breathe, to anchor his mind to the one cold comfort he has left. “He wouldn’t kill her. He needs her.” The words taste bitter, chilling him, but they hold him steady.
Paloma is at the center of this plan—there’d be no sense in taking her, just to end it so abruptly.
Despite everything, he finds a sliver of reassurance in that cruel logic. He clings to it with everything he has, because right now, it’s the only thing keeping him from falling apart.
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Javier pulls up to Lake Fraiser, where the scene is a flurry of first responders, flashing lights reflecting off the water’s dark surface in sharp reds and blues.
He parks haphazardly, barely cutting the engine before he’s out of the truck, heading straight toward the area cordoned off by yellow crime scene tape.
His heart slams against his ribs as he spots Romeo, kneeling by the edge of the lake beside a body draped in a white cloth, his face blank, almost empty.
Javier’s eyes dart to the surrounding officers, scanning each one, trying to get a read on the situation before he speaks.
“Is it her?” His voice breaks the stillness.
Romeo doesn’t look up, his gaze locked on the covered body. “…No.”
Relief floods through him, dizzying him for a moment before his gaze lands on a tow truck pulling Paloma’s car away from the scene. 
He clenches his jaw, forcing himself to swallow back the bitter uncertainty rising in his throat.
Romeo stands slowly, brushing the dirt off his hands, his expression hardening as he relays, “Just got a call from the hospital. Our girl from the woods finally woke up. Tonight of all nights.” He chuckles dryly. “Asked to speak with me specifically. So I’ll head that way tomorrow after she’s been stabilized properly… which means you’ll be in charge of all this.” He gestures around them vaguely.
The pulsing emergency lights cast fractured shadows over their faces.
“It’s best for you to step back momentarily. Clear your head. You’re too close to this,” Javier adds quietly, “She’s your daughter.” And while Javier is her lover and every inch of him is fraying at the edges for her, he understands that his pain won’t amount to the agony that Romeo is drowning in.
The sheriff’s silence stretches, words hesitating on his tongue, until finally, with a quiet confession, he murmurs, “I was too harsh on her. On you. I was an asshole, and if it’s any reconciliation—thank you for tryin’ to get her out of this shitty town.”
Javier’s caught off-guard but doesn’t show it, the self awareness on his behalf is appreciated. “I’d do anything for her.”
Romeo studies him for a moment, as if measuring the resolve behind his words, then he nods, his expression taut, “Gonna start combing through everythin’ back at the station. Probably call Olsen, see if he’s got any cameras ‘round the library so we can get a timeline goin’.”
These two men are similar in that regard, backing themselves into their jobs to mask the turmoil inside. They talk through some of the procedures before Romeo is pulled away by other officers, leaving Javier to handle things here.
He forces himself to switch gears, to summon every bit of authority he has left to do his job. He’s got a dead body to assess, a team to command, and then—then he’ll focus everything he���s got on finding Paloma.
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Paloma stirs awake, the pitch darkness of the early morning pressing in from all sides.
She’s disoriented—a dull ache in her head and the sting of thick, abrasive rope biting into her wrists.
Her hands are suspended and bound above her, tethered tightly to an old, rusted pipe overhead, which creaks slightly as she shifts her weight.
She can feel the grit of dried blood matting her hair against her temple, the aftershock of Sloane’s vicious hit with the bat ringing sharp behind her eyes. Her boots are missing, leaving her barefoot against the cool concrete ground.
As reality sharpens around her, she realizes this isn’t a dream and it nauseates her, instilling panic in her heart.
She barely remembers the car ride or the way they dragged her down here, everything muddled from the hit she’d taken until she’d finally succumbed to unconsciousness.
Now, the throbbing intensifies as she tugs instinctively at the ropes, her wrists burning, but no amount of pulling loosens her bonds.
Frustration and terror mix, unwieldy coiling in her chest and tears sting at her eyes despite her attempts to fight them back. She doesn’t want to imagine what they plan to do to her.
She knows Javier and her father have to be looking for her. They must be tearing themselves apart with worry. She can almost hear her father’s harsh reprimands and Javier’s quiet, determined rage—they’re relentless when it comes to protecting her. 
They’ll find her. They have to.
The cellar door creaks open and she freezes, her pulse skittering as August, Sloane, and Gabriel descend the stairs.
The dim light barely touches their faces, but she doesn’t need to see them clearly to know what they’re capable of.
She tries to hold her head high, pushing back the tears, refusing to let them see the fear that’s boiling inside. She won’t give them that satisfaction, not if she can help it.
Their footsteps echo against the walls of the basement. August stops just close enough that she can feel his presence invading her senses, suffocating, his familiar smirk tugging at his lips.
“Good morning, P,” he drawls, voice dripping with the charm that managed to slither its way into her heart.
What she once found magnetic in him is now hollow, a mask that hides something so unfathomable. 
“Pretty nasty cut ya got there.” Sloane’s voice drips with fake sympathy. Her eyes glint with that special brand of cruelty she’d always kept hidden behind a guise of friendship.
The satisfaction in her tone is unmistakable, like she’s savoring every moment of seeing Paloma in such a vulnerable state.
The urge to spit in their faces, to lash out, is almost unbearable, but she remembers her daddy’s lessons, advising her to stay calm, to never let them know how afraid she really is.
Every word of advice he’d ever given her about self-preservation hangs heavy in her mind. 
She keeps her face blank, her mouth a hard line.
“Silent treatment, huh?” August steps closer, his hand reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from her face. His fingers are inches from her forehead when she sees the sick satisfaction in his eyes, and she can’t suppress the involuntary grimace as his fingers hover over the gash near her forehead.
The moment of weakness feels like a win for him, his smile widening as he grazes her wound, pressing just enough to send a wave of pain radiating through her skull and a fresh stream of blood to trickle out.
Sloane watches her reaction, faux innocence weaving through her sneer. “You make for a pretty damn good damsel in distress. Thought you’d put up more of a fight, if I’m bein’ honest. You really disappointed me, doll face.”
Paloma’s grip tightens around the rope until her knuckles ache. She wants to tell her off, to fight and scream—but instead she just turns away, refusing to even look at them.
August’s hand cups her chin as he forces her to meet his eyes, eyes that once held promises of affection and loyalty now filled with something so dark and consuming.
His fingers dig into her soft skin. “I need you to look perfect, little dove. All stitched up and pretty.” His thumb trails along her chapped bottom lip. “Gabriel,” he calls, not even glancing back at the other man, “Tend to that. Tonight’s a big night, after all. Lots to prepare for.”
There goes that trepidation again. Her mouth twitches, half-ready to break her silence and demand to know just what the hell he’s talking about. But she’s already committed to keeping quiet.
Gabriel lingers behind them, shifting uncomfortably, the first aid kit clutched tight in his hand.
He doesn’t say anything, just stands there as usual, eyes flicking from Paloma to his partners, some part of him clearly unsettled yet too cowardly to intervene.
He’s her best shot of getting out of here, she just knows it.
“‘S’okay, you ain’t gotta talk,” August’s coos. “I actually prefer you like this—makes things a hell of a lot easier. The others…” He snorts, shaking his head.
How many other unfortunate women had been dragged down here, suffering at his hands?
“Too squirmy, too squeamish—like fuckin’ pigs.” His laughter is mirthless and Sloane joins in with loud, exaggerated snorts that mimic a pig’s squeal. The sound claws at Paloma’s ears.
There’s this twisted admiration in his stare as he studies her. “That’s why I knew I needed to have you. No one else on this planet holds a candle to the magic you have, Paloma. You should stop bein’ so scared and embrace it.” He murmurs, dropping his voice to a whisper.
His hand snakes down from her jaw, tracing her neck, lingering in an unsettling crawl between her breasts before settling at her hip.
His fingers dig in, and she flinches, her body stiffening in revulsion. He smirks at her reaction, savoring her discomfort like a fine wine.
“I’ll be back to check on you later, alright?” His tone is falsely tender. "Gotta make sure everythin’ is perfect. Can’t afford any fuck ups now—I’ve been way too patient for this."
He steps back at last, allowing Gabriel to shuffle forward with the kit in hand.
With a jerk of his chin, August motions for Sloane to follow him. She blows Paloma a mocking kiss and winks with a saccharine sweetness that really piles on the hatred that burns a little hotter for her specifically.
The heavy cellar door slams shut, casting them back into dim silence as the first pale light of dawn begins to creep through the basement windows.
Paloma’s heart pounds as their shadows disappear, leaving her helpless in the creeping morning light.
“What are you goin’ to do to me?” Her voice is hoarse, each word scraping her dry throat like sandpaper, but she can’t keep quiet now that they’re alone.
Gabriel wordlessly drags over a stool, placing the first-aid kit on top. He opens it, sorting through supplies as though she isn’t even there.
Paloma yanks at her restraints, the old pipe groaning in protest. “Fuckin’ say somethin’,” she snaps, anger edging her desperation. “It’s the least you could do—just… tell me.” She hates the pleading tone that slips through, the last thread of her control unraveling as she imagines what fate awaits her.
His gloved hands move to clean her wound, and she clenches her jaw against the sting, glaring at him as if she could force him to talk through sheer will. He’s careful and practiced, clearly having done this before.
“The Crimson Rite,” he mutters, brows furrowing as he concentrates, his voice a barely audible murmur. “It’s where the conception will happen… on the altar of incarnation.”
Paloma’s heart stumbles, her mind racing to piece together the fragments. “What the fuck are you even sayin’?” Her voice wavers, but there’s no denying the chill in her spine.
She knows what those words mean on their own, but together, they paint a picture she’d rather not face—the harrowing reality of how August truly plans on using her.
“August’ll explain,” he replies, brushing her off with the indifference of a man following orders. “He’s better at that shit than I am. I just do what he asks and stay outta the way.”
“Like a fuckin’ coward,” she spits.
The needle pauses, its sharp tip hovering an inch from her skin, and he raises his eyes. “You get all lippy with me, but keep your mouth shut around them? What, I ain’t intimidatin’ enough for you?” 
She holds his gaze, defiance simmering behind the exhaustion in her stare. “Nothing about you’s intimidatin’ enough to keep me from tellin’ you exactly what I think.”
His lips twist downward, a muscle in his jaw ticking as he resumes stitching, each tug at her skin rougher than the last. 
“At church that day, you were warnin’ me, weren’t you?” Her voice is barely a whisper, the memory of that awkward conversation rattling in her mind. “S’not too late, Gabe. You can still help me outta this… We both can be outta here ‘fore the sun comes up.”
There’s a lapse, just for a second, in his eyes—something she wants to believe is regret, a part of him she hopes she can reach.
The sliver of optimism she’s mustered might awaken that dormant part of him buried under layers of August’s bullshit and the bitterness life has forced him to swallow.
But he shakes his head slowly, avoiding her gaze as he finishes stitching her wound, his hands deft. “You don’t get it. Don’t matter if I do the right thing. He’d find us—he always does.” He sprays her wound with a numbing mist then covers it with a small gauze.
“He wouldn’t find us,” she insists, her voice fraying. “Daddy would protect us. He’d make sure we’re safe.”
He lets out a low, humorless chuckle. “Yeah? He promise you that or somethin’? ‘Cause from where I’m standin’, you don’t look all that safe.”
A bitter, frustrated cry escapes her as he begins to pack up his kit, her pleas bouncing off him like stones against steel.
“Please, Gabe, don’t leave me down here alone,” she chokes out, and the words twist something deep inside her, pulling her further into a desperation she’s been trying to keep at bay.
“Breakfast’ll be down in a few hours,” he mutters, almost as if talking to himself, keeping his voice low and detached. “Probably get you a shower at sundown so you ain’t all sweaty and grimy. Needs you all fuckin’ pristine.” The last words slip out like a hiss, a disgusted edge in his tone. “S’gonna be a long day for you down here. Scream all you want; ain’t nobody around worth a damn to hear it. You got a better shot at rubbin’ the skin off your wrists than gettin’ out of that rope.”
Paloma snaps, her control breaking in a flood of panic and fury as she yanks at her restraint, her wrists burning as she curses him, calling him every name her mind can summon.
The words pour out in a desperate torrent, trying to cut him, to provoke something human out of him, anything.
But he stays silent, barely flinching, his face a mask as he gathers his things, turning his back on her without a word. 
When the cellar door finally slams shut, it echoes through the basement, and her last shreds of resolve crumble as she sinks into sobs.
The thoughts come in fragments, jagged and bitter, cutting her deeper than any wound.
The way things were left with her father—how they’d argued and he looked at her with that final, dismissive silence, like she’d become a stranger for daring to chase her own life beyond their town.
The love that took root so unexpectedly, so completely with Javier. He came into her life at the perfect time, pouring a rare, tender kind of intimacy into her soul; the kind that made her feel seen for the first time in her life.
He was a good man who’d endured his own share of hardships —and she let their last conversation end in anger and frustration. She’s just like her father.
Perhaps if she had told him the full truth about how she came across her mother’s past, she wouldn’t be in this mess at all.
This mess—it’s her inheritance. Not a blessing like August wants her to believe, but a curse Calmana left behind, the forced sins of her mother she didn’t choose but can’t escape.
Her suicide is starting to make more sense.
It all makes her feel like a lamb at slaughter, her life never really hers, and now her blood and body are an offering to feed whatever he believes she’s meant to bring to life. 
The promise of an explanation later on hangs over her like a guillotine. Does she even want to know? Will it make a difference?
She got herself kidnapped by trusting them all, falling for August’s romantic words and impressive knowledge. All of his lies. She’d thought she was smart enough to see through him, to keep a grip on her own heart, and instead, she’d unknowingly let him manipulate her.
Sloane was right—she is the helpless damsel she always denied being, someone who hadn’t fought hard enough to save herself. 
Paloma has to believe she’s got people searching for her, that they’re smart enough, relentless enough to find her before night falls. She has to cling to that hope, however fragile, because right now it’s all she has.
Her cries fill the empty space around her until exhaustion claims her in silence.
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The basement is her prison as the sun traces its lazy arc above.
The day drags on in a haze of stale air and the natural sounds of bugs chittering about. On occasion, she’ll hear people walk by or see their shadows through the small windows.
She's trapped here, the only visits marking the hours coming when Gabriel brings a bucket for her to relieve herself—like she’s some kind of animal—or sets down a tray of food she refuses to touch.
“You need to eat,” he says, setting the tray with her dinner on the floor. His hands working on cutting the thick rope binding her wrists, each tug and scrape freeing her a fraction at a time.
“What’s the point? M’gonna die anyway,” she mutters, exhausted but still pissed. “Won’t matter if I’ve got a full stomach or not.”
He shakes his head. “You’re not goin’ to die, Paloma. You’re too important to all this. How haven’t you realized that yet?”
“Oh, forgive me if I haven’t picked up on all your twisted bullshit,” she snaps. “You all speak in fuckin’ tongues and riddles. No one’s told me a damn thing that makes any sense.”
At last, the final fiber of rope snaps, and the weight drops from her wrists. She lets out a low, relieved sigh as her arms fall to her sides, stiff from the hours of suspension.
The ache in her shoulders is intense, and her wrists are lined with red from the coarse bondage.
“Don’t try anythin’ stupid,” he warns, his voice low. “They might not kill ya but they’ll hurt you in ways that’ll make you wish you were dead.”
She doesn’t doubt it, so she reins in her impulses and instead glances at the food, the bitterness slowly giving way to resignation.
If the chance to escape comes, she’ll need her strength. She takes the cup, drinking greedily, barely noticing the water spilling down her chin—it’s just a relief to feel the dryness ease, something grounding in a nightmare that feels endless.
The meal tastes dull, but she swallows it down anyway, each bite a fight to hold onto her sense of self, to stay sharp.
Gabriel watches her with that quiet, unreadable expression.
“I tried leavin’ years ago, when August first started buildin’ the group.” He looks down, his mouth pressing into a grim line. “But he caught me at the train station. Gave me the ass-beatin’ of my life. Locked me up in a shed in the middle of the woods for days, left me there until I learned my lesson. I swear, I lost every bit of myself in that dark place.” His voice lowers to a whisper. “After that, I never thought ‘bout leavin’ again... not until he got his sights set on you.”
Paloma’s chewing slows, her eyes flitting over to him, reading the conflict etched in his expression.
For August to treat Gabriel, his so-called “brother,” with such brutality to keep him in line... it makes all too much sense now, why he is August’s silent shadow, obeying every command.
“His obsession with you is different. Everythin’ suddenly became different. He has this way of makin’ you submit to him that gets me wonderin’ if all this Eurynomos shit is actually real.”
The twisted loyalty, the deep-seated fear that’s tangled around them like shackles, intertwined with stories of divinity.
She’s barely scratched the surface of what August is capable of.
“That’s terrible,” she whispers, sympathetic to what he’s been through. “I’m sorry... ‘n I get why you’re scared, but there’s two of us now. We could make a run for it, slip away while we have the chance.”
Her food is forgotten as Paloma edges closer, her gaze steady and imploring. For a moment, he genuinely considers their escape.
But the heavy, thunderous creak of the cellar doors breaks through the moment, both of them jerking apart.
She scrambles backward until her back presses against the cold, damp wall, her heartbeat racing as Gabriel stands abruptly from his stool, his face hardening again. 
It’s only August this time, his usual shadow—Sloane with her biting sneers—thankfully absent.
He strides down with a bag in one hand and shower supplies in the other, eyeing her like she’s some prized possession he’s been itching to inspect. 
“Unrestrained, ate her dinner, and didn’t even try to run? My, my. Little dove, you’re such a good girl.” He passes the items to Gabriel as he steps closer, and she hates the way she’s wedged in a corner, wishing she could melt into the wall or skitter away like a mouse.
He crouches, gently moving the gauze out of the way, his sharp gaze examining the stitches worked into her head wound. “S’lookin’ better already. Now, let’s get you a shower. I can smell you from here, and, sweetheart, it’s not exactly appealin’.”
“Fuck you.”
He smirks, the cruel curve of his lips almost congratulatory. “There she is. Glad to see that fire hasn’t died just yet, my love.”
With a vice-like grip, his hand latches onto her arm, dragging her up to her feet and across the basement to a sad excuse for a shower—no curtain, nothing remotely resembling privacy, just exposed plumbing and mildewed tile. He shoves her into the cramped space, gesturing at her with a command that chills her: “Strip.”
Her stomach tightens, and she squares her jaw. “Turn around.”
A laugh bursts from him, sharp and mocking. “You think you’re in any position to make demands? You may be special, darlin’, but that don’t mean you’re runnin’ shit. Now strip, or I’ll tie you up and rip that little outfit off myself.”
She grits her teeth, fists clenched. “No.”
His smile vanishes, replaced by a darker, crueler expression.
In a flash, his hand is around her throat, shoving her harshly against the slimy tile, the back of her head meeting the hard surface making her cry out in pain.
Her breath snags as his grip tightens around her neck, the cool press of a switchblade grazing the scar on her hip, making her pulse hammer in her ears. “Don’t push me,” he growls, the blade’s edge nicking her skin just enough to sting. He knows exactly where she’s sensitive, and he revels in her flinch. “I’ve told you—I don’t like hurtin’ you, but I will if I have to. Strip. Now.”
He releases her, the air rushing back into her lungs, making her cough.
Her hands tremble as she peels away her clothes, starting with the long, flowing skirt that puddles around her ankles, leaving her in just her underwear and camisole.
August’s eyes rake over her, and his silent demand pulls at her last nerve.
She swallows back her tears, fingers shaking as she slides the straps off her shoulders, letting the fabric fall to the floor and then stepping out of her underwear, kicking the pile aside.
Now entirely naked, her arms wrap protectively around herself to shield what she can. She looks away, the sting of indignity making her skin crawl, willing herself not to cry.
August steps forward, adjusting the shower’s dial, and the pipes clank and groan as water finally bursts out of the rusted shower head, icy at first. She shivers, her teeth clattering, and only once the water turns warm does the chill ease up.
A snap of his fingers brings Gabriel closer, setting the shower supplies within reach. August then places them at her feet, his mocking gaze never leaving her as he drags a worn wooden chair up, seating himself like a perverse audience settling in for a show. 
Paloma doesn’t move, clinging harder to her body, her nails digging into her own skin, praying he’ll lose interest and turn away. But he just smirks. “Don’t be shy, P. Not like I haven’t seen you naked before.” His tongue drags over his lips, blue eyes glittering darkly, drinking in her discomfort.
She would rather die where she stands than have him touch her, lingering his hands over her body like a wolf savoring his meal. Slowly, reluctantly, her arms fall to her sides, shoulders curling inward, as she begins to wash herself.
The hot tears mix with the water streaming down her cheeks, each drop hiding the sobs she’s swallowing.
August’s stare trails over her figure, his smirk deepening every time she flinches under the weight of it.
He doesn’t hide his hunger, watching her every movement—the rise and fall of her breasts, the curve of her hips, the sway of her shoulders as she soaps herself in silence.
Gabriel’s eyes stay firmly on his boots, shame evident in his posture. 
Finally, she shuts off the water, chest heaving as she swallows down the humiliation, covering herself again and feeling his satisfaction lingering in the room like a toxic cloud.
A towel lands at her feet, and she grabs it, pulling it around her trembling frame, feeling like her skin might crawl right off her bones. 
“Got this dress made just for you,” August says casually, standing then pulling out a white dress and red flats from a worn bag. He tosses them onto the chair he’d just been sitting in, not making any effort to move or look away, and she swallows back the lump in her throat.
She’s barely holding herself together, her fingers fumbling with the towel as she dries off, eyes darting between the two men.
One won’t meet her gaze, too timorous, and the other stares at her with lecherous eyes.
She slips on the dress, it’s something she would’ve picked for herself under different circumstances; calf-length, delicate ladder lace along the trim, cap sleeves, and three charmeuse red ribbons that match the shoes.
But the beauty of it feels like a cruel mockery against the ugliness of this moment. 
“You look so beautiful,” August purrs, “Get a good look at yourself.” 
She’s forced in front of an antique mirror, the glass warped and cracked, but she can still make out her reflection. 
The dark circles beneath her eyes, bruised skin, the way her hair clings to her damp skin, the faded pallor of her face against her outfit—she looks like a ghost.
His hand slides to her shoulder, pushing her hair aside as he leans in, trailing his nose against her skin and inhaling deeply. “You smell like summertime.” He presses his lips to her neck, and bile rises in her throat.
Then, he pulls back, her mother’s cross pendant in hand, fastening it around her neck with a satisfied smile.
Her heart clenches once she sees it. She’d left that at Javier’s, tucked away safely with all the other things she moved out of her childhood home in preparation for their big trip.
The thought of August being in his space, doing God knows what, gets her alarmed. “What did you do to him?”
August looks momentarily confused by her query, but then his smirk grows as he eyes the pendent and sees that look in her eyes. “Don’t worry, I didn’t touch your precious narc. He ain’t been home all day. He’s out there, sniffin’ around for you like a lost dog. Thought about killin’ him, but… I think he’d suffer more thinkin’ he failed you. Just another life he couldn’t save, huh?”
The words press against those bruising, sore spots on her heart. She scowls, throwing back as much defiance as she can muster. “You wouldn’t get close enough to try.” Her voice trembles, but she knows Javier and what he’s capable of. 
He just shrugs, the malicious glint in his eyes unwavering. “Maybe not. But Sloane?” He grins, knowing how even mentioning her gets under Paloma’s skin. “Now, I think she could.”
He doesn’t give her time to respond, moving to bind her hands again, this time in smooth silk restraints that feel uncharacteristically gentle against her wrists.
Time moves in slow motion, she becomes unresponsive, like a melancholic statue, as he brushes her hair, fussing over her appearance as if she were some doll, changing the gauze over her stitches.
Her hope of getting out of this has diminished. Gabriel won’t help her and August has run the two men competent enough to figure this out in circles, so tangled up in deceit to find her.
The evening melts into night, shadows deepening when he finally leaves, just to return moments later with a steaming cup of tea that smells rancid and earthy, like decay.
“Drink up.”
She shakes her head, refusing it, but he pries her mouth open, forcing her to swallow the scalding liquid. It’s bitter and burns her throat, her tongue singed as she swallows unwillingly. 
“See? Wasn’t so bad,” he taunts her, wiping away some of the remnants that spilled from the corner of her mouth.
The effect is immediate; her mind hazes, thoughts swirling, until her body feels sluggish, as if it is no longer tethered to her.
Just as her vision starts to fade, a red, body-length veil is draped over her, the fabric casting her world into blood-hued darkness.
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“I need to see it again.” 
Javier pinches the bridge of his nose at Romeo’s request, fingers then pressing hard against his closed eyes as the footage gets rewound. 
It’s the only evidence they have—a single security camera capturing what transpired. The grainy video shows her crossing the street, pausing, and then August and his accomplices stepping into view. She runs, disappearing off-camera for what feels like a lifetime, before being dragged back and shoved into the bed of the truck.
Each time Javier watches, another shard of him breaks away.
Romeo shifts beside him, watching the screen with unrelenting focus. He’s insistent, searching for anything, some small clue to pinpoint where they went.
Javier, though, is at his limit, fighting the urge to hurl the screen across the room.
“Romeo,” he begins, a little strained, “we’re not going to find anything new here.”
“We missed shit before. Can’t afford to miss anythin’ now.”
They’d spent the whole damn day combing through the trio’s hometown, hoping for any piece of intel, some breadcrumb that would lead them to the group’s hideout.
The search had been maddeningly fruitless. Fayette’s local authorities helped spread the word, but there was nothing, no tracks, no whispers, no real leads to follow.
Every registered address tied to the three was a dead end. Their only childhood homes, a trailer park, had burned down over a decade ago, leaving no trace, no history to sift through.
Everyone close to them—parents, guardians—were either dead, in prison, or admitted. The few family members with any sense had cut ties long ago.
“They were hellraisers,” the retired sheriff had muttered. That’s all the town could say, the simple acknowledgment that the trio had always left destruction in their wake.
The only useful piece of information they dug up was that August had left his job at a local grocery store to work for some woman, an outsider no one really knew.
She’d shown up, taken August with her, and he’d returned a few years later with a more hardened resolve, recruiting Sloane and Gabriel.
After torching some local acreage and serving time for arson, they’d vanished from Fayette until the recent spree of murders started.
“He’s been planning this for a long time, Romeo. They knew how to hide; they’ve done this before.” Javier mutters, frustration simmering in his tone.
They’d tried running a partial plate of the truck, only to come up short once again.
Javier moves near the blinds, unable to keep watching her kidnapping, glimpsing the sea of people that make up their search parties gathered in their too small department.
The faces blur together, civilians and first responders alike, all waiting for direction.
“It’s probably best if you go to the hospital and get Harper’s statement. She’s cleared to talk, right?” 
Romeo takes a beat longer to respond, clearly grappling with his own anguish. “Yeah. Got the official call ‘bout ten minutes ago.” 
“If anyone’s got something to give us that can break this open, it’s her.”
The room is quiet except for the low murmur of voices spilling in. The tape finally ends and Romeo’s gaze falls to the corner of his desk, where a lone photo of Paloma sits; she’s grinning with his cowboy hat perched high on her head, radiating joy.
He stares at it like he’s trying to draw strength from that moment, then he slowly picks it up, pressing his lips together in thought, handing it over to Javier.
“Here. This is the one I used for the flyers.”
Javier swallows hard, taking it, his thumb grazing over the image, his own heart sinking. This is the Paloma he can’t let slip through his fingers, the one who belongs right here, laughing and safe. Not wherever she was now. 
Romeo’s tone holds firm determination. “Do what you gotta do. For her. You understand me?”
Javier just nods, no words left to offer in the face of everything unsaid.
The sheriff lets out a long, heavy sigh, the kind that speaks of too many hours awake, too many close calls, too many second chances lost to bad luck or timing or whatever fate is left to them.
He grabs his jacket, slinging it over his shoulders, steeling his expression as he leaves the office, moving through the throng that instantly swells around him.
They close in with questions, worry, and hope—all of it colliding in one tense space.
Seeing them converge on Romeo, Javier takes a steadying breath and steps out right behind him, his presence commanding even in his silence.
He straightens, letting the authority in his stance speak for him, his gaze hard as he begins relaying their plan with swift, unyielding precision.
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The world tilts and sways as Paloma returns to half-consciousness, vision still muddled from the drugged tea that has her head feeling like it’s filled with lead and limbs sluggish.
She’s seated upright in an ornate, over-decorated chair with her hands still bound in front of her. She tries to blink away the fog clouding her mind, but the red veil over her face continues to shroud her vision.
Her stitched wound throbs faintly, then suddenly, she’s being lifted and carried by four indistinct figures.
The swaying motion makes her sick, but she’s too weak to cry out, her voice nothing more than a ghost lodged in her throat.
She starts to feel the dampness of the humid Texas night pressing into her skin, the scent of flowers floating in the air, sickly sweet as it mixes with the distant smell of incense.
She’s paraded down a candlelit path where kneeling figures line the walkway, bowing in silent reverence. The sound of murmuring voices hums around her like a distant, dreadful lullaby. 
Finally, the procession stops, and her chair is lowered to the ground.
Her surroundings feel unreal, like a fever dream she’s trapped inside. A dark shadow moves in front of her, reaching to pull her to her feet. She tries to make out their face, but it’s just a dark, hollow blur.
Her legs tremble as she takes a few shaky steps, guided by an iron grip that steers her from the soft earth to a hard surface. Somewhere to her right, she hears a voice—August's—so sharp that it almost makes her ears bleed.
“We have to capture this moment.”
Paloma’s body is positioned, hands adjusting her like she’s an ornament rather than a person. She can barely keep her knees from buckling, her body swaying as they try to hold her up.
Her mind is a mess, every thought tangled, every movement slow, as if she’s moving underwater.
She falls, just as she hears the flash of a camera, her legs finally giving way, but hands grip her before she hits the ground, lifting her, steadying her as her head lolls to the side.
Then, in one swift motion, the veil lifted from her face.
August stands there, close enough that she can see every cold line in his face, conforming into possessive delight. 
He’s dressed to match her, red bows on his collared shirt, the same lace design on his pants.
Her skin crawls as his fingers trace the side of her face, his voice a leering purr. “My special little dove.”
He pulls her close, spinning her so that she faces their creation in her honor. The white marble gleams in the halo of the candlelight, surrounded by a sea of blood-red spider lilies, their spindly petals stretching out like claws.
Candles of every size and shape cast their shadows over the altar, illuminating the intricate carving of their emblem, miniatures and other offerings strewn about.
“All for you,” his lips brush against her ear.
The hands surrounding her are unyielding as she’s lifted and maneuvered onto the cold slab, the hard surface unforgiving beneath her back.
Her wrists are freed only to be tied again, the silk binding each one to a small stone pillar at each side.
Her ankles follow, strapped to the pillars near the end of the altar, legs bent slightly and spread, leaving her trapped and exposed.
Her breath quickens, each ragged inhale catching in her throat as the reality of her fate crashes down with brutal clarity. The red veil is drawn back over her face.
Tears blur her sight, mixing with the snot and sweat as she starts to sob, desperate cries spilling from her lips, pleas tumbling out in a desperate stream that echo out into the vastness of the field.
“Please… please, let me go. You don’t have to do this, please.” Her words come out strangled and slurred but she’s ignored. She jerks against her restraints, each movement growing weaker as the drug saps her strength.
August stands before his followers, his voice low yet electrifying, every declaration steeped in reverence and simmering triumph. 
“For centuries, we have waited in the shadows, prayed in whispers, bound by oaths that our forebears swore. Those before us dreamed of this moment, yet they were weak, too fearful to claim what was rightfully theirs. We will not repeat their mistakes. The bloodline of the first, the birthing bloodline, flows through her veins, and she is ours. Eurynomos will have a body made of flesh and bone, a place in this realm, because of us.”
Paloma shakes her head side to side, desperate to block out August’s devious words. Just as a surge of strength flares within her, sharp fingers dig into her shoulders from behind, pressing her back down, anchoring her in place.
Through the haze of drowsiness, her blurred vision lands on Sloane, looming over her with a short, black veil shrouding her face. Beneath it, Paloma can make out an expression as evil as it is watchful.
“No more dreams. No more consuming or offering flesh that rots before dawn. Our devotion, our patience, has led us here. We are the last of our kind—the ones who bring forth the new age. Now is the time for fulfillment. Now is the time to step into the eternal night and bring our deity home.” 
His gaze sweeps over the bowed heads, the flicker of candlelight dancing in his eyes as his words coil around them like a vow.
Sloane relinquishes her hold, seemingly fading away.
He approaches her slowly, each step deliberate, his hand drifting up the length of her body. His fingers come to rest on her cheek, stroking gently, almost reverently.
August leans in, his nose brushing against hers, and without a word, he presses his lips to hers, a slow, possessive kiss over the sheer material of the veil.
She wants to pull away, to resist, but she’s trapped within herself, her will slipping as though he’s holding the reins to her very soul.
When he pulls away, his voice lowers to a rhythmic timbre, the words twisting together in an incantation she can’t understand.
Each syllable makes her sink further into delusion, the compromising position heightening her vulnerability. 
The weight of her own helplessness crushes her as she lies there.
Suddenly, the speaking stops. An unnatural silence blankets the moment, thieving sound until it’s just her shaky, pitiful cries. Even the cicadas quit their insistent chirping.
Paloma blinks, barely able to see through the veil, but she watches August step back until his figure is swallowed by the darkness beyond the altar. 
She shivers as a chill wind flows over her body, extinguishing the flames around her and plunging her into the night, save for the heavy, luminous moon hanging full and merciless above.
Two glowing eyes flicker into view at the far end of the clearing. They hover, eerie and inhuman, watching her with a predatory patience.
A twig snaps in the shadows. Her breath catches. Another snap, closer this time.
Blood rushes in her ears, but above the pounding, she hears something else—labored breaths, thick and wet, the sound too guttural to be human. 
Her body locks up and quivers as a shadow casts up to the very heavens, emerging from the backdrop of trees, its form towering and monstrous. It seems to stretch endlessly, merging with the dark sky above, as if it could reach out and seize the lunar sphere.
Paloma tries to scream, but her body is frozen, paralyzed in a state of unholy dread.
Her eyes widen, tears leaking silently, her throat closing tight as the figure moves forward.
The dark, hulking mass leans over her, and she feels something press down on her belly, then sharp claws caress her bare legs, creeping upwards, scratching at the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. 
Her chest tightens as if she’s having a heart attack, fright coursing through her like poison. She can’t breathe, feeling herself teeter on the edge of consciousness.
Black spots swallow her field of view as her eyes roll to the back of her head, and in that instant, she’s slipping away, her mind yanking her away from this horror, casting her into the darkness of her own making as she loses herself, the terror too great to bear.
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dirtybitfic · 5 months ago
Text
Reality- pt.1
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Matt x y/n - Matt was your creative writing professor throughout all four years of university , he made lectures interactive and fun making him your favorite professor , throughout having him as your professor you caught feelings for him , now that you have graduated you think about reaching out....
( didn't proofread cause I didn't have the energy so I apologize if there are any typos)
Y/n pov-
Ive been having the time of my life on vacation with my best friends , we graduated this past spring so we decided to plan an amazing trip to Greece .
Im more than happy to be done with school for the rest of my life but ... I find myself missing one class in particular on this trip . Every time I sit down to read or write about my day or even as I write the book i'm working on , I think back to my creative writing teacher . Ive always loved writing wether it was my dreams as a kid or crazy stories my mind would come up with I found it made me happy . After having Professor Sturniolo for four years he made me fall involve with literature and writing even more . The day I graduated he told me he was so proud of the student I had become in his class , he loved my determination and creativity , and he loved watching me blossom into the hopefully soon to be author I am .
I grew to love him and a professor but also I slowly felt the feelings blossom for him throughout the years . I mean he's young , he was only 23 my freshman year and 19 year old me was foaming at the mouth walking into that lecture hall , His fluffy brown hair, Peircing blue eyes, tattoo scattered arm and deep but calm voice god he was just perfect.
Im three glasses of Santo down while writing a few chapters of my book but start to read over it a bit and feel like its missing something but I cant quite figure out what. Thats when I remember Professor sturniolo told me I could email him anything I write in the future if I ever needed notes or help , he is a published author after all . I search in my notes for his personally email he gave me and start up an email .
*email to profesor Sturniolo
Hi mr. Sturniolo ,
Im sorry to bother you , but I wanted to see if you could maybe read over my latest chapters of my book i'm writing . I trust that you will give me the feed back and guidance I need .
hope your summer is going well !
( inserts pages for him to read)
sincerely , y/n
After clicking send my stomach flutters with nerves , the books I write are... suggestive is the best way to put it . Dark romance is the style i've always been drawn to something about a stalker romance does something to me . When I was in his class I kept it classy with my writing style so having him read this type of work by me seems a bit inappropriate but then again he is no longer my professor so its not as bad .
I set my computer aside and fill my glass again and take a sip as I look over the beautiful scenery in front of me . I put my AirPods in as I start playing Young and beautiful by lana del rey . I close my eyes feeling the warm breeze blow through my hair as a smile spreads across my face . I could get used to this life , traveling around , writing in beautiful places just being happy while doing what I love.
Rhiannon by Fleetwood Mac comes on next and I stand as I slowly dance along to the music on the terrace and dramatically turn and grab the railing leaning back . It feels like i'm in a movie with how beautiful the scenery around me is . I hear the sound of an incoming email notification and my heart drops . I pause the song and sit back down looking at my computer seeing its from him . I take a deep breathe before opening it.
Good evening y/n,
I just started reading over the first few pages , your writing is amazing its filled with raw emotion which as a reader makes me more interested to keep reading . Would you be up or able to call once I finish fully reading what you've sent I think it would be a lot quicker for me to just tell you on the phone my feedback then type it out in an email.
Sincerely , Matt.
As I read over the email again just to make sure I read it correctly my heart literally falls to my ass . Im embarrassingly eager to talk to him on the phone . I decide to send him and email saying id love to call and left my number at the bottom .
I sit in the chair buzzing with nerves waiting for my phone to ring. I zone out looking at the water for god knows how long before I snapped out of my trance by my phone ringing. I look to see its a California # meaning its probably Matt.
I shakily pick up the phone and put it on speaker .
"Hi y/n its so nice to hear from you" his voice rumbles through the phone " You too I know its probably very late in California so I'm sorry for emailing you so late" I say shakily as the nerves fully take over my body." oh no please done apologize i'm actually in Italy right now so its not late at all" he says and I gulp Italy isn't too far from here meaning were probably in the same time zone. " oh god even worse ...I bothered you on vacation didn't I?" I ask now feeling terrible for bothering him. " No no trust me your fine i'm taking sometime here to get inspired for some upcoming books i'm writing so really its no bother at all" he says ending it with a warm chuckle that makes me smile. " well thank you again for even taking the time to do this I really appreciate it " I say sweetly " of course so lets talk about these chapters so far , I love the base line I think you've written dane very well , the detail you write about him makes it easy for me to envision him and get a feel for the character , ivory is written even better I mean she almost reminds me of you , but I think its missing some fear aspects . What I mean by that is Dane is her stalker and is following her around and entering her house without invitation so I feel like she should be more scared and fight back more than you have her , I feel like she's a bit too ... calm about the situation. I think if you add in that fear hes distilled in her it will help a lot with their character and relationship growth throughout the rest of the book but other than that I think the writing is amazing so far . I really am happy you came to me for help , I know I could be a little hard on you guys but I really did care about seeing you grow into the amazing writer I know you can be" he says and I cant stop smiling , hearing his kind words and praises have my stomach twisting and my heart beating a mile a minute. " I knew something was missing thank you so much this feedback really did help Mr. sturniolo " I say and I hear him chuckle " Of course and please call me Matt no need for the formality , you probably need to get some sleep I could imagine its very late in Oregon " he says and I smile
" well it is but i'm actually in Greece right now so i'm not to tired" I say " Oh wow then I guess you're watching a beautiful sunset right now , its beautiful here I can only imagine how amazing it is there" he says as I sigh and smile " It really is beautiful , the way it reflecting off the water is the best part " I say as I stand up and walk over to the railing looking out at the beautiful colors filling the sky " show me " he says and I furrow by eyebrows in confusion " what do you mean ?" I ask nervously " Face time me I want to see how beautiful it really is " he says calmly . " O-okay " I say as I hit the face time button and it connects almost instantly , I flip the camera quickly as I show it to him but instead of looking at it with him i'm staring at how fucking hot he looks . " wow your weren't lying its amazing " he says as his eyes move around taking in my view " I know , this place really makes the U.S seem dull and boring " I say as I still cant stop admiring him . "Sadly I have to agree with you on that " He says smiling . He flips his camera showing me the sunset he's currently seeing. " Oh my god ... its beautiful especially on a vineyard god I cant even imagine " I gasp as I take in the view . " It really is something huh" he says behind the camera . "mhm" I hum back smiling . He flips his camera back to his face and reluctantly so do I as I go to sit back down in my chair. " So are you in Greece all alone ?" he asks and I shake my head . " No i'm here with some friends but they've left me alone so I can write a little bit" I say and look into his beautiful eyes through the screen. " Ahh well that seems fun , a big trip with friends is always a good time " he says smiling taking a sip of wine . I admire him as I sigh and smile "Yeah its fun I just... I know i'm only 22 but I feel like i'm too old to be going out like they want to you know , its an every night thing " I say and he shakes his head laughing " trust me you are not too old y/n , you should be going out and having fun ... your young you gotta take advantage of it " he says and I smile " yeah I guess your right " I agree and he smiles before looking slightly behind me . I turn around seeing two of my friends standing by the back door smiling " WHO IS THATTTT " one of them yells and I smack her as she approaches . " No seriously hes so hot " my other friend says smirking . My face gets so red I look like a tomato . " Im so sorry Matt .... I should probably go but thank you again for the help " I rush out nervously " Of course y/n feel free to reach out anytime i'm more than happy to help " he says with a smirk that has me about to pass out in my chair . " Sounds good , have a good night " I say smiling " You too gorgeous " he says before hanging up. I gulp as I realize what he said before he hung up and my heart literally beets so loud I can hear it in my ears and feel it in my head.
" Guys seriously ... That was my old professor " I say as I turn to them still red in embarrassment . " WAIT LIKE ... PROFESSOR STURNIOLO THE ONE YOU NEVER SHUT UP ABOUT" she squeals and I nod . " Oh my god y/n whatttt ... he called you beautiful " she gasps and I hide my face in my hands . " I knowww " I say in a high pitched voice embarrassed. " Okay but like ... a FaceTime is crazyyyy , how did that even happen?" my friend ally asked and she sat down Callie doing the same. " well I emailed him asking if he would maybe read the recent chapters of my book and give me some feedback because I was struggling and then he emailed back and said it would be easier to call instead of email his notes so I gave him my number and then he told me that he thought my writing was great and a couple things I needed to add and then somehow we got to talking and he said he was in Italy and I said I was here and then he said something about how he was watching a beautiful sunset and I told him I was too then he asked me to show him over FaceTime so I did and then you guys came out and yeah " I rambled as they reacted with facial expressions and small gasps and squeals .
" No fucking way I mean girl ... he's gotta be into you I men he fully initiated the calls and shit andddd kept the conversation going after giving you the notes so like ..." ally says making me smile and blush . "Oh for sure he definitely wants you " Callie says smirking and shoving my shoulder . " No he doesn't y'all are reading into it to much" I say as I roll my eyes. " Y/n he called you beautiful ... be so for real right now he definitely likes you " Ally says and I cant help the smile that spreads across my face. " Okay I mean yeah but ... he was my professor we cant go there" I say and shake my head " Oh yes you fucking can , you graduated he isn't your professor anymore " Callie says making me laugh " okay whateverrr now lets go out I need to get drunk " I say as I close my computer and head back inside to get ready.
After a long night of drinking , dancing and laughing with my friends and random people we met throughout the night , Im stumbling up the stairs to our place with all of us giggling like school girls . " Y/n you should totally text him " Callie giggles and I laugh " No I may be drunk but I still know that would not be a good idea" I say and they all giggle " Oh come on you've wanted him for 4 years and he called you beautiful there's no way he'd shoot you down" ally says and I trip making us all laugh. " Shut the fuck up i'm not gonna do it " I say back but the thought runs through my head . " I mean you can send him a picture of this sunrise and say something like , this view would be better if you were beside me " she says and I burst out laughing " That is terrible like level 10 cringey " I say through gasps and giggles. " Okay yeah it was pretty bad but like send him a pic of it and say , is it as beautiful there or something" Callie says and I think about it " You know what okay fine ill do it" I say as I tussle through my purse grabbing my phone and taking a picture sending it to him then the " is it as beautiful there as it is here" .We all steel when I hit send and I throw my phone back in my bag .
" Alright i'm going to bed , my head is spinning right now" I say as I stumble to my room . I tear off my uncomfortable shoes and outfit and use a makeup wipe to get a good amount of my makeup off . Then flopping into bed way to exhausted and drunk to put pajamas on . I hear my phone ding so I fish it out now my purse seeing its a text from Matt . I open it and see its a picture of a sunrise with a text that says " Its pretty but not as breath taking as you" I gasp and throw my phone down giggling . I think of what to text back and decide to let my intrusive thoughts win " Thats a naughty thing to say Mr. sturniolo I was your student after all" with a smiley :) . I giggle at my text but my heart drops when I see the bubbles appear . " Key word was , ive always thought you were beautiful y/n I just kept those feelings hidden for the sake of being professional " his text read and I gasped . No way he just confessed to finding me attractive for these past four years . " Are you fucking with me ?" I text back . " No I mean every word I said , you're the most beautiful girl i've ever seen" he texts back and I scream into my pillow . " Well if we are being honest here ... i've had the biggest crush on you , the entire time I was in your class I couldn't keep my eyes off of you" I text back letting the alcohol fully take over . " Oh really , how many times did you fantasize about me during class?" he asks and I get nervous " every single day to be honest" I text back and 4 seconds later my phone is ringing . I pick it up giggling .
" Y/n " he greets " Matt " I greet back and I can hear him groan " Such a dirty girl for fantasizing about your professor " his deep morning voice says through the phone and I literally have to cover my mouth son moan doesn't slip out . " mm I have no shame about it " I say back smiling like a maniac " Oh I bet you don't , care to share any of these little thoughts you've had about me ?" he asks in a breathy tone making me clench my thighs " mmm I don't know, How bad do want to hear them? " I ask in a drunk but also seductive voice " Very bad " he answers back and I smile " Well i've thought about how you'd be in bed even had day dreams about it in class " I said and I could hear him groan " Oh trust me I know ... the way you'd look at me with your thighs clenched tight told me all I needed to know" he says with a deep chuckle . " y-you noticed that? I ask in a squeaky tone . "sweetheart I notice everything , you really think I didn't know you wanted me come on you made it so obvious" he says in a deep condescending tone making me clench my thighs as wetness pools between them . " I ... I didn't think I was that obvious " I say feeling embarrassed " No need to be embarrassed , I though about you too ... so so many times I wanted to take you over my desk but I couldn't ... but now now I can say whatever I want and there will be no consequences" he practically growls through the phone . I let a small whimper escape my lips and I can hear him groan . " God y/n you have no idea what you do to me" he groans and I whimper . " I could say the same to you Professor " I say in a teasing manner but I hear him mutter a fuck thinking I wouldn't hear it . " when do you get back to Oregon " he asks and I giggle " why ?" I ask " Just answer the question sweetheart " he says and I gulp " Friday" I answer and I can hear him click his tongue through the phone " You live alone ?" he asks and I gulp again " y-yes why" I ask again now feeling very nervous now. " How would you feel if I said im about to redirect my flight home to land in Oregon and stay for a couple days?" he asks and I can practically hear the smirk on his lips through the phone . " I-I yes I mean y-yeah id be okay with t-that" I answer back stuttering like an idiot as my stomach does summer salts. " Good now thats settled , ill be landing on Sunday that sound okay to you sweetey" he asks and I nod my head before realizing he cant see me . " Y-yes sir fuck I mean yes matt s-sorry force of habit " I rush out and I can hear him chuckle "Oh trust me I don't mind you calling me sir , sounds so good coming out of your pretty little mouth" he says and I moan unintentionally . "Well judging by the subtle slur to your words im guessing you haven't gone to sleep yet so ill let you go but well talk soon okay" he says " Mmm yes sir , goodnight " I say as I roll onto my side and get comfortable " Good night gorgeous sleep well " he says before ending the call .
Oh the girls are gonna freak about this when we all wake up .
....
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obsidianpen · 3 months ago
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Okay, so a lot of people here have talked about the use of AI and large language models such as ChatGPT, and honestly, I have mixed feelings. On one hand, I think that using them to help you proofread is fine. So spelling, grammar, and that sort of thing. And writers can also do this process themselves obviously, but I don't see the harm in using ChatGPT for this, as long as you are aware that you are giving your data and story over to OpenAI.
When it comes to ideas, bouncing ideas off of an AI can be fun, but only to the extent that they are completely your ideas (meaning the AI didn't come up with the idea for you and you aren't giving the AI information about someone else's ideas). So your idea your choice, but don't use the AI to get the idea for your work and don't give the AI other people's ideas or works. And this only really applies if you don't have anybody either in-person or online to do this with instead.
The last thing I'll say is that AI writing isn't the greatest. It can sound realistic and be cohesive to an extent, but it isn't the same as a real author. I actually tested this a few times because I was curious how it would turn out, and I promise that it is not a substitute or replacement for real authors. I think this is because ChatGPT and other AIs work by predicting what is the best/most likely word to come next in its response based off of the dataset it was trained on. It even has a function that allows some degree of randomness/variability in the next word, rather than only using the top/best next word each time. But this means it isn't coming up with new or inventive ideas. It doesn't come up with plot twists, it can't plan slowly developing arcs across multiple chapters, and it doesn't make the characters interesting to read, have a lot of depth, sound real, or so forth. There are more things too, but I'm just giving a non-exhaustive list of why ChatGPT's writing is not the same as a real author's writing.
Note: I apologize if this isn't clear or if I'm just rambling or if I made any typos. I'm writing this on my phone and have not had ChatGPT or other AI proofread it for me.
hm. I’d say there’s been a lot more discussion about whether or not Tom Riddle has a breeding kink (he does not; just a WAP kink) and about the height difference between Harry and Voldemort in NG (there are charts; they are, somehow, confusing). I don’t want this to be a recurring theme on this blog, so consider this my (very hopefully) last post on this topic.
My opinion on the matter: I don’t agree with your reasoning for using AI. You said you didn’t think it was an issue ‘as long as you are aware that you are giving your data and story over to OpenAI.’ I think you absolutely should care that you’re giving your data and story over to AI!!! You should care. Pretty much just sold yourself there as far as I’m concerned.
I don’t think anyone should be using AI for proofreading. I don’t know how great it is at this, but even if it’s amazing, I think you should be doing this yourself!!! Editing is a skill, and a great one to have. I catch a lot of things when I proofread my own shit; I realize I missed things or screwed things up - not just grammatically speaking but plot wise, which as you said, AI can’t help with anyway. Proofread your own stuff. Proofread your own stuff!!!! And if you want a second set of eyes on your work, ask a real human!!!!!!!!
re: bouncing your ideas off of AI… no!!!! Bounce your ideas off of PEOPLE I promise you will have much better conversations because they will be with someone who can think critically.
and the thing about chatGPT not writing super well… yeah, duh. But what some writers do is use shit like chatGPT as a starting point, then edit. It doesn’t come up with plot twists - unless you feed them to it. No one is arguing that it’s a good as a ‘real author’ but that doesn’t mean people who consider themselves ‘real authors’ aren’t using it. I think this sucks, because, in case we forgot, chatGPT uses theft as its foundation.
(and this isn’t even touching on the environmental shit concerning AI.)
In conclusion: I don’t think anyone should use it for anything creative. At all. Feel free to disagree (and you can post about that on your own blog), but if you lean on AI to edit or create your creative work, you’re only hindering yourself.
Note: I apologize if this isn't clear or if I'm just rambling or if I made any typos. I'm also writing this on my phone and have not had ChatGPT or other AI proofread it for me, nor would I ever.
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whiskey-bumblebee · 2 years ago
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take a seat/take a hint
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Reader
Warnings: MDNI, allusions to sexual activity
A/N: quick n dirty blurb I typed up on my phone so apologies for any typos! Not sure of the word count but it's short. Reader uses they/them pronouns, mention of pegging
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The team was huddled around the pinboard, trying to make sense of how the victims were connected. So far, there was nothing connecting them, and morale was low.
JJ sighed and took a seat, cupping her coffee in her manicured hands.
It was almost like that was the cue for everyone to relax, and each of the members did so in turn: Emily tucking her hands in the shallow pockets of her pants, Derek unfolding his arms, Reid drumming his fingers against his knee. Hotch, the last one to relax, leaned against the conference room table, resting his ass on the edge to rest his legs.
Except...
"Hotch, did you just wince?"
Aaron's brow furrowed even deeper. "No."
"Yeah, you did," Emily pointed out. "When you sat down."
"No I didn't," Aaron shot back. "Look."
The tall man pulled out one of the chairs and sat down, careful not to react.
Emily hummed, satisfied, for now.
The room was silent, save for the clock ticking, as everyone stared at the wall, waiting for it to come together.
There was a squeak from Aaron's chair and everyone's heads snapped in his direction.
Aaron looked uncomfortable, shifting his weight slightly from side to side.
"What, did they spank you last night?" Morgan asked, finally. "You don't have to sit if it's uncomfortable, boss man."
"Oh my god," Emily said slowly. "Not spanked, but... Did they...?"
"What?" Spencer asked, clueless.
JJ started to blush.
"What?" Derek echoed, looking around the room. "C'mon people, details."
Aaron cleared his throat, "I would remind all of you that your careers depend upon the evaluations I'll be writing in a few weeks."
Spencer looked nervous. "Is he gonna be okay?" He murmured to Emily.
Emily grinned. "He'll be alright. It gets easier after the first time."
"The first time...?" Derek eyed Emily. His eyes widened. "He got it in the... Damn. Good for you, man."
______________________________________
That night, as you sat on the couch with your partner, catching up on the events of the day, he was perched on a plush pillow as he nursed his tea.
"So they know that I pegged you?" You laughed quietly, trying to picture the stern Unit Chief explaining why he couldn't quite sit down.
"I didn't exactly spell it out. Prentiss guessed."
"I'm sorry, baby," You said earnestly, resting your head on his shoulder. "I didn't mean to-"
"I know," He finished quickly. "It's just that I don't normally share the... More intimate details of our relationship with the team."
"We don't have to do it again," You said, stroking his leg affectionately, but he was already shaking his head, a fond smile on his face.
"We will," He turned to face you. "You own this ass, you know?"
You couldn't help but kiss him, pressing your smiling lips to his own, only pulling away to laugh quietly.
"I know," You murmured, smiling. "You own mine too."
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earthstellar · 1 year ago
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because it's cold and my circulation is shitty because I am old and disabled lmao, I've been thinking...
Concept: Old Bots in Cold Earth Weather
there are different kinds and degrees of cold, of course
but surely, snow/ice/damp winter weather would be not great for mechanical lifeforms
sure, we know rust is a perpetual concern to begin with
and in TFP, we know there is a hard limit to maximum safe cold exposure for bots in general
but what about old bots with more sensitive joints and cabling?
maybe their minor fuel lines suffer stiffness during cold weather similar to how vascular construction from cold can cause circulation problems in human beings (Reynauds Syndrome, anyone?)
it would also be comparable to winter damage to rubber lines and materials in cars, where the cold causes the rubber components to become more brittle and less flexible over time -- might also affect tires
in TFA, they're all by Lake Erie/Detroit. cold as hell in winter. there's no way Ratchet is having a good time. his ass is out there unable to feel his servos for a good five months out of the year.
I know this, because I used to live just outside of Erie, in Allegheny. And holy fuck, my joints hurt just thinking about it. Now I live in England, where it's a different type of cold, but it fucks up my circulation and my lungs. lol
maybe it's not just damp cold weather that can impact older bots more severely, but dry cold weather.
perhaps "breathing in" cold air through their cooling systems and fans might cause difficulty with internal temperature regulation, possibly even causing spark dysregulation in the way humans can suffer tachycardia/arrhythmia from extreme cold exposure.
TFA Ratchet is having a rough time, I'm telling you. He's a medic, he's watching his own systems carefully, but he's not having a good time. lmao
But even TFP Ratchet, who has been acclimated mostly to the desert climate of Nevada, surely would not have an easy time trying to bridge himself over to a colder climate in order to pull an injured bot out of the field or try to carry out field repairs in a blizzard etc.
Or G1 Kup, who would absolutely be feeling the cold in miserable ways what with being in charge of field drills for the younger recruits (and therefore having to be outside all day), but he would absolutely strategically call Hot Rod over so that he could warm himself up with the excess heat rolling off of the exceptionally hot-running speedster.
The longer his stories are, the longer Hot Rod has to stand there next to him. LOL
all of the old bots would refuse to acknowledge their own difficulty in cold weather, lmao -- If Ratchet drops a tool because he can't feel his digits at all, you did not see it, it is fine, yes Bumblebee does pick it up and it's totally not embarrassing to be taken out by EARTH WEATHER of all things
if he trips because his pedes have started to ice over and his fuel circulation is going to hell, you did not see it. (Everyone sees it. Bumblebee and Optimus are first to offer help, and if the snow piles up too high, Bulkhead might even jokingly offer to carry Ratchet back... Ratchet starts yelling back, which gives Optimus the opportunity to sweep in and pick him up instead. "It's not a problem, old friend. We all stumble at times.")
lots of grumbling about how the vacuum of space is far colder and they've handled that before etc. (until someone points out that space doesn't have snowfall etc.)
anyway my break's over so I gotta get back to work, apologies for any typos, I'm writing this on my phone lol :')
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kaylaz-world-00 · 1 year ago
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Laserhawk!Rayman x Reader
A/n: Okay, I couldn't help myself and write this down. I've been thinking about this idea for a while now. I've been not going to any airports for such a long time, forvgive me if I made a mistake. This is not the special for 300 followers so you know~👀
I am sorry if there is any typo mistakes. I wrote the end in a rush 😭
Summery; You and Rayman trying to go to your arranged hotel peacfully.
Warnings: cursing, guns.
Masterlist
Words: 3.4k
Taglist: @blorbostation @eateableworm @livelaughluvvfaithyy @darkchanx @astoraa @shiroisotto64
Btw does anyone want to be in the tag list?
Dear anons; I would really appreciate it if you could choose an emoji while sending your asks and requests (and stick with it) so I can tell you apart. Thank you~
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Hotel
"We are sorry but you can't go through unless you show us a proof that you are infact his manager. Rayman doesn't seem to be very aware of your presence either. If you are lying--"
You growled, "What do you mean I can't go through?! Didn't I just tell you that I was Rayman's manager?" You were angry alright. You could see Rayman from your point against the few guards in front of you. He was surrounded by young kids. My god. Why would there be so many children at the airport at this hour anyway? Now how were you going to convince these fuckers? You didn't want to have to deal with these jerks in the middle of the airport with a bunch of luggage. It was too late at night for that.
"I'm not lying! I can't find my cards and information, they must be in Rayman's bag. At least let me call out to him-" you were stopped by them once again. Normally this wouldn't be such a problem, but you were experiencing this because they found a few... unapproved items on you. To be more specific, weapons. They slowly advanced towards you, making clear their guns precence to you. They weren't pointing it at you... yet. You frowned. It was a warning.
You glared and slowly spoke for them in your own warning tone, calmly stepping back and slightly raising your hands in the air, "I'm his bodyguard. Okay? That's why I keep them with me. At all times. You never know... what might happen any moment." You didn't want to cause a scene here right now. You reminded yourself that you are in the middle of an airport with a lot of bystanders and especially children around you.
"A second ago, you said you were a manager. When did that change? I'm sorry, but I think you're just trying to get out of trouble, but that won't work. We have no reason to believe you. Now come with us without making a scene." You were trying so hard for this right now.
"I'm doing both! I'm telling the truth. Just lemme--" You couldn't keep your calm any longer as they were coming towards you like a truck, and you wouldn't stood still staring like a deer, you couldn't do that. There was a great injustice here and you were definitely can't stand it. You called out to Rayman one last time before you could do anything wrong. If he didn't have your phone, you would have called him already. "RAYMAN, COME HERE Damn it!" you shouted but in vain, it was impossible for him to hear your voice over all the noise, you just hoped he would notice your absence. Right away.
Luckily, Rayman finally managed to notice your absence before security could do anything. You might have laughed if you weren't so tired at the look on his face when his eyes caught your figure. You gestured for him to come here immediately. Now. He looked so scared by your expression that you could have laughed at that. He ran over to you as he apologized to the kids, "Hey, hey! They're with me!" He quickly took out his card and showed it to them with a polite smile.
You rolled your eyes when they were finally convinced to let you in. Rayman helped you carry the luggages. He apologized to you several times as you stared ahead listlessly.
"I thougt you were right behind me! I forget that I was the one carrying your cards! I am really sorry."
You huffed in defeat, "No, it's fine, kids come first." You chuckled tiredly, "It was my fault I should have been the one carrying them in the first place. Whatever let's just catch the plane before they leave without us." You glance at your wrist. "We are only minutes away, god those fuckers took all our time. I suggest we start running." And you did just that, alerting Rayman along with it.
He start running along with you, "Hey, no need to rush Mr/Miss OCPD! We can always buy tickets for another one for today."
"Today? You mean tomorrow?" You scoffed. It was nearly midnight. "I don't want to stay up all night. It's already too late, let's just go. Also I don't have a Obsessive whatever personality disorder, I am just punctual. All my jobs are planned and need to be in time. Especially yours! Do you know how much pain in the ass would be for me if you miss something?! God, Eden would kill me." It's not even like they pay you good for your every success. It wasn't yours it was his success.
He was out of breath from the long, fast, non-stop run, as if you were going to get a reward at the end of it, but he still let out a laugh. But you were going to do whatever it took to get the job done, "Sure. You are a people-pleaser--" he start counting as you rolled your eyes.
"Look who is talking."
"You have Anxiety, obsession, probably dyspraxia too."
"Okay now you are going too far, you jerk. I am completaly a normal person trying to live a normal life. How normal it could be as long as I am stuck with you Mr. Rayman. The man who sheds light in the darkness."
"I'm taking this as a compliment."
The two of you were finally able to board the plane before it took off. You wanted to say that you could finally breathe a sigh of relief, but your clumsiness didn't quite allow it and continued to be a pain in the ass for you.
"You should be happy that we got the best seats. Because I am! Do you think we could see some nice view when we are up above? I heard the weather will be clear tonight." He daydreamed as he looked outside of the window with the biggest grin you ever saw on him.
"Yeah, sure whatever." You grumbled as you tried to push your suitcase into the compartment above your seat. You were obviously struggling but eventually managed to get it inside and quickly closed the compartment with anger and impatience. And finally sat down next to Rayman with a sigh, you can relax a bit now. Your body ached from all the things you were carrying and running around so much causing your frown to deepend.
You give a real remark to his previous statement, "How nice of Eden to be such a gentleman and give us the money for two tickets first-class plane. Unlike the last time..." You scoffed.
Finally deciding to look at you, he took his eyes off the window and turned to you, already aware of your discomfort and exhaustion and hoping to finally address it gently, muttering, "Hey, how about you relax a bit? We've got a four-hour flight. Sleep could do you good. You look like you've been up all night for three days straight. You're much crankier than usual. And you definitely need makeup. For your under eyes." He nervously eyed you.
You rolled your eyes at that, suppressing a sudden yawn appeared in your chest at the mention of sleep, "What a coincidence. How did you know? I've been working and writing non-stop for three days. Trying to get your work done."
He turned to you with a warm smile and a bit of embarrassment, "Hey, you're a lifesaver, okay? But I'm serious. Sleep. I'll wake you up when we land. Don't worry about me or yourself. If anyone tries anything, I have something up my sleeve too." He whispered with a grin and whinked.
"How reassuring. But you're right. I really need some sleep." You needed to gather your strength and mind for tomorrow. You couldn't be this anxious and stressed. Nor this lose and tired. You sighed in defeat and turned onto your side. He didn't say anything and you didn't need to hear any more.
You've been working all your life to get what you want to be like the majority. You always wanted to be able to make a change for the world. Working with Eden wasn't your biggest dream, in fact, quite the opposite. You hated them. But you had no choice. And you were forced to do this. But if it would make a difference, you would even be willing to die. You followed Rayman wherever he went, in a way you became his bodyguard. It didn't take long for you to receive that title from Eden. It had become official, and frankly, it made your job a lot easier. The fact that you knew how to fight was a bonus to them and a reason to use you. But after meeting Rayman and becoming his manager, something changed... He always manages to get into trouble, even if you don't know how, but you were always there to save him. Physically, of course. He already knew how to verbally get himself out of shit. At least that's what you hoped for. Even though some of his words might cause fights in some places... you finally know he doesn't meant to. You knew how much of a trouble Eden could be. So much so that sometimes Rayman needed you not just as a bodyguard or a manager, but as a friend... Rayman needed you to be there... he needed you to support him. He was needy, isolated, manipulated. And you are not saying any of this to insult him. Before that, you didn't realize he was actually innocent... and you continued to remain cold and distant, but he was always innocent, to say the least. You decided to be there for him after learning that. You don’t know why you decided on that. Maybe it was conscience. Or the unfair threatment he is having. Your sense of justice did not allow this. You wanted to help so badly. Even if it means throwing away your job. Yes, you've come to that point. You couldn't believe it yourself either. You saw the real him. Not the person on TV who lies and smiles through his teeth, the face Eden shows. He was defenseless behind the walls he built himself, he was being victimized and used by the company he worked for, even though he had little knowledge and was unaware of it. He was made to believe that what he was doing was a good thing, he was made to believe that he was saved, he put up with what Eden did to him for the sake of the children and for peace. He had no one to call his real friend, damn it! You would have wanted to fill that out, but... the only part you were allowed to do was keep him safe and pass on information. And nothing else.
You slept deeply and surprisingly restfully for the four hours until the plane landed. You woke up soundly asleep without anyone even having to wake you up, which surprised you. Normally this would never happen, especially in a place where you sleep outside of your bed. You were a light sleeper too. So it was normal while you wake up while landing but Rayman didn't woke you up? After yawning a little, you were about to get up to get your suitcase when you notice the weight on your shoulder and glance at your side. Your lips turned into a soft smile upon noticing Rayman was sleeping sound asleep, leaning against you, in a deep slumber.
You couldn't help but giggle, "And here I was hoping you'd stay awake the whole flight. Who am I kidding? Rayman and not sleeping?" How were you going to wake him up now? He's a really heavy sleeper. Your experiences speak for you right now. It's almost impossible to wake him up. Actually you have to but do you want to? He looked really relaxed and happy. Ah, come on he always looks like that! Just wake him up! But... something about that soft smile plastered on his lips telling you this was a real smile unlike the ones he seems to wear on his face all the time. Especially in front of the camera.
You pouted, this is your job and the two of you can't stay on this plane all day… besides, Rayman can sleep at the hotel Eden arranged for you two. Also, you didn't want to be late for your meeting...
You nudge his side. You knew a little nudge won't help him but you started of slow and gentle. You were in a good mood today. "Hey, Ray Ray." You whispered, calling out his nickname. You pushed his head on the other side and turn to him, "Ray! Wake up!" You hold onto hid hand and shook them, "Ray, Rayman! Wake up!!" You get up starting to shook his body, "This isn't sleeping you idiot! This is dying! COME ON! WAKE UP!" You grabbed his clothes and jolt him a few times, you were up infront of him by now, with all your might you continued, "Come on! We landed! Wake up, we need to go! You can sleep later!" You were about to slap him, "If you don't wake up right now I'll throw you off of the fucking plane!" He grumbled a few words hard to understand causing you to halt and lower your hand on his chest once again gripping his clothes. He was still asleep.
You fucking ask for that. You groaned as you wrapped your arms around his body and lifted him up. "God, you're a lot heavier than you look." You huffed and start to carry him towards the exit of the plane.
"I'm fucking throwing you out." You weren't actually gonna do that. You were hoping he would wake up as cold fresh air of the night swarm him. Almost all passengers on the plane had disembarked. The rest were still looking at you strangely because of what had just happened. You didn't pay any attention to them and continued on your way. Even the way you carried Rayman was weird. But how else were you going to carry him when half of the man didn't... exist? His arms and legs were nope, and the only place you could hold on to was his chest. His feet and hands were almost rubbing on the ground. He was still asleep with his head on your shoulder. Oh my god.
When you finally reached the door, you barely lifted him into the air and held him out against the night wind. Even you were cold when you realized he was shivering, he whined a few times and winced. He muttered something about him awoke and rubbed his eyes. Of course you didn't believe that, "If you don't really wake up right now, I'll let you go, don't test my patience. You'll fall down the stairs. My arms are already torn off. Lose some weight."
He grumbled, voice horse from just waking up, it was clear four hours wasn't excatly enough to satisfy his tired body, "You lose some. I am perfectly fine, thank you. You are heavier than I am." He pouted sleepily. "Also... Please put me down my butt is freezing here."
You muttered, "Your ass is freezing because of you."
You scoffed and do as he wished, sighing in relief when you got your aching arms back, massaging them gently, you couldn't hold yourself back from talking further, "We are nearly at the same weight. But you are half of my height. You are fucking heavhy. How dare you can insult me? You are a pain in the ass to wake up! Why I have to be the one to suffer everytime!? Pray that I am in a good mood today or you've been on the cold concrate with a terrible headache."
"You love me too much for that. You wouldn't do that to your favorite... would you?" He hesitate.
While the hostess watch you both argue back and forth like married couples, she couldn't help but smiled at your relationship. You were finally able to wake him up and gather your belongies, finding a taxi and finally on your way to your arranged hotel. Thank god.
While on your way you did everything in your power to not let him fall asleep again. Him grumbling everytime he was woken up before he could sleep on your shoulder.
"I am not gonna carry all that suitcase myself."
"I am not sleeping." He grumbled.
And he fall asleep afterwas. You will gonna rub that in his face later. When you finally arrived at the hotel, luckily the taxi driver was a kind person and helped you carry your belongings. Rayman was still sleeping on the bed you carried to his room while you pay the driver. After closing the door you took a deep breath and sat on the bed. Finally, you can breath a little. Sun already risen, it’s 8 in the morning. Four hours passed, huh? You had still time until your arranged meeting… You pondered to yourself. You watched him sleep a bit, the way he calmly breathed, his chest slowly rising and falling, his blonde locks of hair covering his eyes. He looked so serene.
You get up and reached towards the door. Giving a final glance at the soundly asleep boss of yours, you get out of his room. You already left all his suitcases in his room. He can do whatever he wants with then when he wakes up. You both gonna stay two weeks in there. Reporting things and such. Whatever Rayman does. You heard there is a beach nearby too. Though it was too cold to swim. You are sure Eden especially choose this time around on purpose. Just to tease you two. Those fuckers.
You went past your own room and went straight ahead for the elevator and pressed the top floor. You want to see the view.
After a bit of wait the doors opened with a ding. You walked in the penthouse, glancing around, observing the nice view with a deep happy sigh.
You closed your eyes with a smile. But it faded quickly, you gripped the earphone between your two fingers. You sighed with a thoughtful expression, putting it in your ear and pressed it on, calling for the only contact inside. Before you could even open your mouth, a very familiar voice quickly answered from the other side. "Light. It's been so long since I've heard from you! Honestly, it's good to see you're calling. Do you have something to report?" Light... that was your code name.
"Bullfrog." You greeted back, "Actually no... This time... I need to talk to you... like a friend."
You waited for him to say something. Hearing a few gunshot and a grunt from him your expression soured, "Fuck, was this a bad time?"
"Non, non, not at all. Just gimme a sec."
You waited a few minutes for him. You heard him fight with a few armed people. He heaved a sigh, "I would like to talk also, mon ami. What's up?"
You sighed, "It's about our mission... I can't... I can't do this to him. I want to tell him--"
"If you do you would risk our mission." He sounded serious but you are too.
You chuckled, "Aren't we always under heavhy danger?"
"I always trust your instincts you know that. But you actually believe he could change just so you said so? He believes he is doing good."
"I know. Don't worry, I am not gonna do anything that can risk the mission or us. I just need a right moment. I know we can able to get him to our side." You knew Bullfrog didn't actually believe what you said.
You heard him sigh, you knew he wanted to argue about that, he only softly speak up a few words, "I find it hard, mon ami. Just be more carifull." You heard more gun shots on his side. "I need to go. We'll talk more about this later. You just continue observing." You were an agent after all.
"You want to meet?"
"That's too risky. Just wait for my call."
"Alright. Try to stay alive until then."
"You too, prends soin de toi." He closed the call.
You took a deep breath and took your earphone off. You just need to wait the right time.
The right moment... you wonder...
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nerdieforpedro · 1 year ago
Text
Weddings 101 with Dieter Bravo
Chapter one: Transportation? I'll Cover it
Dieter Bravo x plus size OFC (Maya)
Fanfiction 18+ (not this chapter but later chapters will be)
Main Masterlist / Dieter Bravo Masterlist / Weddings 101 with Dieter / AO3 Link
Summary: Maya is just trying to be a good big sister. Yet, even the planes are conspiring against her. She encounters Dieter who who likes that sass and that ass. No candy was harmed in the writing of this chapter.
Warnings: Cursing, angst, self-doubt, bad jokes, Dieter being soft and cute, card games, body insecurities, brief mentions of drug use and alcohol, etc. (none too serious, that’s for later)
Notes: I've wanted to write Dieter for awhile and I'm glad that I was able to get a rough draft together, outline and now part one. I think it will be three or four parts depending on where I can take the story. I swear I did go over it several times while editing, but I was laughing at my own jokes, so there may still be some typos. 🤔
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“So, what you're saying is that even though I have paid three months in advance and have my confirmation code right here both in my phone and printed I don't have my seat on my flight?!” A woman stood with both hands on the counter, visibly frustrated but not yelling. 
“Yes, yes ma'am that, that is what I'm saying I again I'm so sorry just so sorry.” The young man at the service counter apologized again. It’s all he could do.
“I mean I appreciate that you're sorry but it's not gonna get me on the flight. I need to be on the flight so that I can be at my brother's wedding. Is there another flight going out later today?” The woman asked, wiping her brow. She had worn a sweatshirt and leggings because it was supposed to be cold in the airport and on the plane. The young man tapped a few keys on his computer and looked up, his eyes wide.
“There is ma'am, but the flights aren’t going out until like, 10 tonight.” He broke the news. The woman groaned.
“Sir you you realize it's it's eight in the morning. How… how can there not be any more flights to Hawaii of all places until ten tonight?!” She questioned, that time she did yell. She felt it was ludicrous, the entire situation.
“Well ma'am it's it's based on availability and, and, and consumer interest and it looks like most people were were interested in morning flights. No one was really booking any of the afternoon flights so we cancelled those and just you know some people wanted the red eye flights. I mean we will give you vouchers for the price of your flight and an extra $250 for future flights with our airline. Because I feel like that that's exactly this time…” All she heard was that she wasn’t going to be in Hawaii by later today. Which meant she wouldn’t check in, then have to find another hotel, maybe it would be near the wedding venue if they even had any availability ….all horrible.
Maya rubbed her temples in defeat because she had planned that she was going to fly out in the morning from San Francisco where she was now and then fly the rest of the way to Hawaii. She was now stuck in San Francisco with no way to get to Hawaii on time to participate in her brother's weeklong wedding to albeit his lovely wife but fucking destination weddings man. The woman stepped away from the counter, her gray slip-on sneakers squeaking on the cool tile floor.
“Hey what's cooking good looking, you need a flight out?” A man in a gray robe, sunglasses inside an airport for some reason, a Gray T-shirt, striped Gray and brown pajama pants maybe and grey Crocs. He appeared to be holding a goat. He sauntered up to the service desk alongside Maya and leaned on it casually. The man had been keeping track of the exchange, it was much more entertaining than the random loud kids running around and all the stretched-out pants that said juicy and they were not in fact juicy. Instead, he found the loud woman to be much more succulent. 
“I mean I do, but he said there's no more flights out. What? Are you going to give me your seat because I got a wide ass.” Mya put her hands on her large hips, she leaned forward on her right foot and her thigh jiggled. The man in the robe took notice of her hips. They looked like they’d swallow his fingers when he held onto them, he would like to know for sure.
The man laughed and replied, “No. I got a private jet and honestly, I'm tired of looking at just my assistant because he tells me all kinds of stuff I can't do or shouldn't be doing.” He pointed at a nervous young man who held a briefcase and a duffle bag. “You wanna ride with me Miss Toblerone? You seem fun.” 
Perplexed, Maya considered both the man's appearance and the offer. He seemed like he had just rolled out of bed, was holding a goat but also had this really fluffy hair. Honestly, it just made her wanna smack his head and like play with his downy mop a little bit. The man had this little mischievous looking grin that was surrounded by a little mustache and facial situation going. It could be that she was tired from getting up at 3:00 in the morning to make sure she was at the airport packing up her crap and making sure that it was indeed the two carry-ons and one personal bag per the airline.  It could have also been the horrendous drive over that mostly was sitting in traffic for a ride that maybe should have taken 15 minutes but took an hour and a half. She had to factor the time in and also finding which gate after security, which security was its own monster in and of itself so at this point a pajama clad stranger with fluffy hair sexy grin and a goat was looking real good right now.
“Fuck it let's go, my name's Maya. I not particularly a fan of Toblerone though, they’re decadent. I guess it’s good to have one everyone once in awhile.” She replied to him and reached her hand out, he took one hand off the goat and shook it then held on to it a little too long. The fluffy man kissed it and trailed his lips up her wrist which the woman shivered a bit because it's like who who does that out outside of Bridgeton? Her new traveling partner said his name was Dieter Bravo which sounded familiar, but she couldn't quite place it. Just like she couldn't quite place him, she felt like she would remember if she saw any man looking like this, but she'd worry about that later right? Now she just really needed to get on a flight from San Francisco to Hawaii, so she gathered up her purse, her backpack and suitcase follow Dieter, but he stopped her and told his assistant to take her backpack and bag from her. Bravo then questioned why she had so few bags, Maya told him that she didn't want to pay the carry-on fees because it the price of the flight out here was outrageous already in addition to the hotel. Dieter asked why she was going to all the trouble, she told him it was for her youngest brother’s wedding.
“I think you can be more indulgent then that Toblerone. Especially for a wedding.” The actor took her hand and walked with her while the assistant got another person to help with all the bags, the majority were Dieter’s.
Dieter said once they got to Hawaii, he would look around for some more clothes for her. Maya laughed and said he's probably going to have to look hard for that stuff because she didn’t know if any of those designer stores there would have her size. Likely not, those mannequins are probably one of her thighs. Dieter grinned and told her that it was alright, there’s more to work with and to use. He then cleared his throat and said that he meant as far as fashion choices.
Maya had a feeling she knew what he meant. She had an extra bounce in her step at the thought giggled. She may consider it after they’re off the jet and they can find some privacy. She wasn’t into people watching her have sex. 
Once at the jet they were greeted with two stewardesses in suspiciously short skirts, but the woman figured that's probably what Dieter or whoever Dieter’s people were had paid.  Honestly this was a completely free flight, so it didn’t matter how she felt about anything. Besides, how much were those stewardesses getting paid? Could it be a part time job maybe, it’s something to look into. The pair were served with sushi which was actually pretty lovely, she hadn't had California rolls in quite some time. Bravo offered her two of his, he enjoyed watching her put them in her mouth. He did offer some wine but she said she's not really into wine. 
“We got a bartender over here tell him what you want.”
So Maya told the mixologist to make her some lemon drops which was basically lemon, lime, and vodka with a little bit of sugar added in it. Dieter said that he hadn't had those for quite a while so they toasted and took off toward their destination. It was when they were in midair, when Dieter took out a pack of cards and shuffle them saying that they were going to play poker.
“My dear sweet man, I'mma level with you. I don't know a thing about poker. The only card games I've played are go fish and Uno.” Maya chuckled as she continued to sip, the alcohol was making her slur already and her eyes were a tad glassy.
Dieter’s eyes widened. 
“I haven’t played Uno for years! Finally, someone else who wants to play uno!”
He hopped up out of his seat which the captain had not turned off the seat belt sign, so he bobbed and weaved a little bit and went to somewhere in the back of the plane. Maya couldn't quite see where he went, the fluffy man grabbed little Uno box and Maya cautioned him by saying you know we should wait until the seat belt sign goes off because she wasn’t trying to bob and weave as well on the plane. After about thirty minutes, the sign did go off and then they were free to sit across from each other at a little table that was built into the jet. In setting up for the Uno game, the two flight attendants couldn't be bothered because they're just they're here to look hot, not for weird games. The young assistant was just so happy that Dieter had someone else to focus on, he was taking a nap because that man looked stressed, he was probably going to have gray hairs before he turned thirty.
“Toblerone, we got to make this game interesting though.” Dieter stated as he removed his robe and shuffled the card. “I’m gonna take this seriously.” His sunglasses came off next, serious indeed.
Maya scoffed, finishing off her drink and leaned forward. Removing her sweatshirt, she revealed she had on a pale pink t-shirt that read ‘Live loud and love long.’ She rested her elbows on her knees while Bravo delt the cards, she noted his triangle tattoo on his forearm and wondered how long it took to fill that in. She just had scars and stretch marks. Dieter’s eyes floated to her shirt and licked his lips. He found himself curious about the second part of that shirt. 
“So, it's not just enough to be playing Uno in a private jet? We have to have stakes too? And my name’s Maya, not Toblerone. Still not a bad nickname though.” The plush woman picked up her cards and scanned them, not a bad hand, but not great either. “How often are you playing games with stakes in the air, lovely man?” She was trying to find a nickname for him as well, none sounded cool though. Dieter could have cared less, he soaked up any name she was willing to call him. Her voice sounded like smooth caramel to him. Wait, he had an idea.
“Yeah, I haven't really done it with anybody else for like a while.” He paused. Was he just talking about the cards? His assistant was normally troubled by Dieter’s lack of routine, but kept his schedule packed, which left little time for extracurriculars he was used to. The pregnant pause caused Maya’s head to tilt with her lips pursed.  “No, no, no, no. Scratch that. I do it all the time. Cards all over the place. On the walls, Several packs at a time. All the packs.” The croc clad man stuttered as he attempted to clarify what he meant, which just solidified what he said further. He’d won awards for his acting, yet his was doing a piss poor job right now. “If I win,” Dieter explained as he picked up his cards and looked at them, once of his hands held his chin, presumably deep in thought. He was but he felt like he embarrassed himself. There was no way she was going to agree to meet with him after they left the plane. “I get to keep calling you Kit Kat, Milky Way or Toblerone and you have dinner with me.” 
Maya just stared at him smiling. “Dinner? I honestly thought you were going to mention cards on the ceiling and on the beach.” She waved her hand, their banter was one thing, but dinner? This man did not want dinner. He just wanted a fun night because his assistant has been cockblocking him. She wasn’t opposed, but she didn’t want to be a fun fat fuck for him either. It wouldn’t be the sex that would be bad, though it could be, she just didn’t want to wake up with that shame again or alone in bed as she had too often before. Her smile dimmed. “I’ll agree to the nickname game but not dinner. We ate here on the plane.” Her eyes focused on his hands, then lips, Maya couldn’t directly at his face. It was bad enough she was considering it.
Bravo noticed her demeanor change. The card talk had been too much. It’s not like he hadn’t thought of getting her in bed or wherever she would agree since seeing her at the airport. He didn’t want her to feel bad about it nor obligated. Maya had been fun to talk to, he hadn’t felt the need to snort or shoot anything yet. He wanted to know why, he thought dinner might help with that. 
“What we ate wasn’t a full meal. I’m still hungry.” He played his first card, “I want dinner with you because I like you, Maya. For more than getting a quick thrill, plus if I don’t see you later, I won’t be able to use any of your nicknames.” Dieter flicked his chin toward her, indicating her move.
Smooth bastard. “Fine but if I win, I get to call you Sugar lips, soufflé or pretty boy.” Maya sucked her teeth and drew a card from the pile, she didn’t have the right color or number. She started to tap her foot nervously, this was dangerous. He was cunning, deceptively so. She hated that she was enjoying their wordplay.
“Wait the first one I get but why the second one? And why pretty boy? You called me man earlier Toblerone?” He was able to put down two more cards. Maya cursed under her breath and was able to be rid of one card on her turn.
“We’ll see how this game goes and that will tell me if I call you a man or a boy Dieter.”
Maya lost uno and Dieter decided he would keep Toblerone and Milky Way. He did tell her that she could call him Sugar Lips. He liked that one. Maya drank a second lemon drop as did Dieter. Now dinner was happening off this plane. He danced with his third drink, snaking his hips in a circle to music only he could hear. After polishing it off, he grabbed Maya’s hands and pulled her up to dance as well. 
“What song are thinking of Sugar Lips? I can’t tell by your dancing.” The man’s laugh was infectious, and Maya started cackling as well. They spun around as once of his hands ran down to her side, grabbing a handful of her hip. He guided her from side to side, slowing down. His lips kissed the back of the hand he still held in his. 
“No particular song. I just felt like dancing. I get to have dinner with you, my Toblerone. I’m excited.” Dieter answered, he kissed her jaw and met her eyes. His hand on her hip loosened as he started to circle his palm over her hip and part of her ass. “You’re soft Maya. Wanna find out what makes you that way. I feel like I need to, you know?” Her breath hitched with each of his touches, her resistance fading with each movement they took together. Would she make it to dinner?
Next: Chapter 2
Tag list:
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hannieluvsyou · 1 year ago
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Drift Away. (Part One)
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Xu Minghao x Reader (ft. Moon Junhui)
description: wherein your love for him slowly fades into blurry lines, and he realizes too late.
genre: angst
warnings: unrequited feelings (for now), swearing, Minghao is painfully oblivious
note: : I apologize in advance for any typos or grammatical errors. (This is also my first time writing angst hihihi). I'm also planning to make multiple parts bc I'm too lazy to write this all in one go.
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Xu Minghao. My best friend. My star.
In this world, he is the only thing I have. I cherish him, more than anything but.. It's all one sided.
I give him everything. My time, my attention, my support, everything. But nothing is ever enough for him to see these lines I created that connects us. The lines that hold clarity, sincerety, and love that is meant for him and him only. The love that he failed to comprehend.
I was aware that he never asked for this, but I can't help it. His smile that lights up the whole atmosphere, his laugh that levels with the hymns of the angels in heaven, his heart that's full of warmth. He deserves more than this world has to offer.
But, his heart was out of reach, already beating and seeking for another.
But it's okay. It's not his fault. It's me who keeps on hoping that maybe, maybe things will take a turn. Maybe he might see me, too. It's my fault for letting myself fall in love with him so easily.
It was inevitable though, he's so fucking easy to love! Everything he does holds no flaw, every action carries grace, every word comes out like silk, what's not to love?
Even if I know that my love will continue to rot between us, I find myself still falling for him despite everything.
But.. I don't think I can fall for him any deeper. I had already reached the bottom of this sorrowful pit that I filled with false hope.
The false hope that I clung onto for the past years with him.
Today was the day that I decided to climb out of that pitiful pit.
It was a normal day. Nothing special going on, no events of any kind. Atleast that's what I thought.
I was getting ready to go to the grocery store since I ran out of stuff to eat but suddenly Minghao texted me, saying he needed help with something. Of course I couldn't refuse, it was him after all.
But oh how I wish I could rewind time and decline.
He arrived at my apartment looking clammy and nervous but I could sense some excitement hiding in there. As he flopped down beside me he finally looked at me and said the things that I wish I didn't hear. The words that I wished were aimed at me.
"Please help me confess to Lijuan."
I can feel my heart drop down.
Lijuan. My ex-best friend. How fucking ironic.
She's not only my ex-best friend, but also a backstabbing manipulator who took everything away from me when we were kids. Everyone I talked to back then, suddenly end up vanishing since little miss perfect was bad mouthing me.
I don't know how to feel, I want to disagree but I can't. I want to be selfish, but I had no right.
"Of course." I wanted to fucking cry but his wide grin and sparkly eyes made my lips quirk up a bit.
"Thank you! I knew I could count on you." He sighed in relief and proceeded to bid his goodbyes since he has to prepare for this big moment.
After he left, I was left on the couch alone. I didn't know what to do. I was heartbroken and devastated, yet what right do I have?
I decided to not go to the grocery store anymore since I lost every ounce of my appetite. Minghao said he'll text me the details about his confession, saying he'll take her out to this fancy dinner and break the ice to her.
I wanted to tell him about Lijuan, but I doubt that he'll even believe the shit that she has done to me.
I lay down on my couch and just stared at the ceiling above me, I wanted to cry but no tears came whatsoever.
'Maybe we were never meant to be after all..'
I was about to drift off to sleep but a sudden 'ding!' made me sit up and grab my phone.
Haohao: hey, would you mind picking up the flowers i ordered? They're already paid so u just have to pick them up.
Haohao: [location]
I stare at the message for a bit before typing my response.
You: sure, i don't mind.
Haohao: thanks again, i owe you one.
The things I would do, just because it was you. Damn, this hurts more than I thought.
I begrudgingly stood up and made my way to the location he sent me. It was a cute little flower shop situated beside a park.
As I entered the shop I was immediately greeted by the welcoming scent of flowers.
"Hello, welcome! How can I assist you?" A tall good-looking boy came up to me holding a bunch of roses.
"I'm here to pick up an order for Xu Minghao." I say with a somewhat bitter tone. He seemed to notice, and proceeded to ask, "Sorry for asking but is he your boyfriend? Did you have guys fight? You seem.. sad." He said now putting the roses down.
'Are you supposed to be a therapist or something?' I wanted to say.
"No, he's not my boyfriend and no we didn't fight. Can I just get his order, please?" He sensed that I did not want to dwell on the topic any further and only nodded. He went to the back to pick up the bouquet, I'm assuming.
As I wait for him to return, I'm stuck with my own thoughts. Am I really just giving up on him? It's not like I have a choice, though.
From now on, I think it's best to keep my distance from him and move on.
I can feel my heart drift away, I can hear the string snap between us. The string that failed to hold us together.
Thank you for making me happy, Xu Minghao. It's time to let you go.
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hsal · 7 months ago
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CLONES
A brief drabble about their tragic nature.
I've been sitting on these thoughts for a hot minute, but it definitely plays into why I love them so much.
To begin with, a simple question must be asked. Why is cloning necessary/ beneficial to the cloners. Is it for population? A specific set of skills that individual possessed? Convenience? Sentimentality?
Regardless, these are people who are created with alterior motives. You don't 'just make a clone', they are made to serve a purpose.
A couple of case studies in media showcase their tragic nature, and why I'm absolutely obsessed with these goobers. Specifically, I will be talking about Hunter from the owl house, the clones from starwars, and Sam from Moon (2009). I am writing this from my phone, and refuse to run this through word or the like. If there are any typos or poor grammar I apologize in advance LOL
drum roll please 🥁🥁🥁 CLONE NUMBER 1
1. Hunter (TOH)
Alright, spoilers for the owl house I guess for seasons 2 and 3. Keep scrolling if u wanna watch, just keep going till you see the next set of clones.
A recreation of a brother, Hunter was meant to fill a void in his 'uncle', Belo's past. While Belos motives remain unclear, it's certain that he couldn't live without his brother. He could never let go. He couldn't move on from his old beliefs, that witches are vile and the magic they use an affront to God, and he couldn't accept Caleb's newfound life in the Iles.
Was Hunter made to replace Caleb and groom him into a better version of his brother? Or perhaps it was revenge for his betrayal.
Either way, Belos needed his brother. Hunter wasn't made to serve a purpose in the traditional sense. It's arguable that the majority of the boiling iles would serve better as the Golden Gaurd. But the tasks undertaken by the Golden Gaurd are meaningless, and dont really matter. It's an empty tittle that Hunter could never live up to, as the ideal Golden Gaurd would literally be Caleb. He was designed to fail.
To Belos, he and his brother should have worked together to save humanity from the witches, and like everything else, he couldn't let that dream go. Instead, he used magic to bring his brother back, corrupting himself, and becoming the world's biggest hypocrit in the process.
My man literally made a clone farm, harvesting the grimwalkers when he deemed them right for the picking and moulded them into what he wanted. If they were faulty and didn't resemble his brother, he discarded them. If they betrayed him again, into the pit. Belos saw the grimwalkers as disposable, cheap mockeries of his brother. And no matter how many times they failed, he always tried again.
2. Clones from starwars
The clones from starwars served a 'singular' purpose as soldiers of the Republic. Assured quality and quantity, they faced the front lines for civilians who viewed them as little more than property: meat droids.
The kaminoians prioritized efficiency. How better to get high quality soldiers to the front lines than breeding them to fight. Their engineered genetics, accelerated ageing, constant training, yielded the greatest army the galaxy had ever seen.
Or so the Jedi thought.
A grand deception, the clones were always meant to fulfill a secondary purpose. One that removed all their agency, personality, and emotions to execute the Jedi.
People who they worked closely with for the last 3 years, nearly a quarter of their lives with, they were designed to betray. The clones viewed themselves as disposable, and some of the few people who challenged their perspectives, who cared for them, they were forced to murder.
The clones were always designed to kill and remain steadfast in the gruellest situations. However what made them unique was their individuality, independence, and ability to adapt. In such conditions, it was no wonder why they values loyalty above all else. Loyalty to their cause, and to their brothers. And even these few values were stripped away in favour of a grand scheme.
Each one of the paragraphs could have an entire post dedicated to the completexities, and is truly just the surface level of the tragedy of the clones. Perhaps another time. Lmao
Sam (moon 2009)
Ok this is a bit of a niche one. I watched this movie a little girl and it really stuck with me for some reason. For those who Havnt watched it, here's a bit of background.
(Spoilers) basically, a corporation that mines helium on the moon is manned by 1 man, Sam, and an AI GERTY. Receiving calls from his daughter and wife, Sam is excited to soon be returning to earth. However, Sam was never meant to go back, for he was a clone of the original man who operated the mining facility. Clones were used as disposable men on the facility to ensure that the mines would constantly be manned.
There were many clones before him, his wife and daughter simply a means to keep the clones sane. The industry's usage of clones is of convenience, a simple and cost effective means to maintain operations at a lower cost.
CONCLUSIONS
Holy sh*t I love clones. A common theme is their disposable nature, as they are often seen as 'less than their origonals', as their humanity is called into question. While the chip arc is the most blantent with this, another key element of the clones is their individuality. Nature vs Nurture. Purpose vs independence. Individuality vs collectivism.
At the end of the day, they are fiction. However the wide range of stories and themes that can be told based off their tragic conception is why I love them so much.
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newwwwusername · 2 years ago
Note
Can you write a non-binary noel/Mischa/Ricky please? You can write anything else with it like idc about the genera or the genders of the others either :) thank you!
Chronology : Post-canon AU where all the kids survived
Headcanons : Nonbinary!Noel, FTM!Ricky, they all know ASL, all three of them are neurodivergent if you squint
Author's note : Gonna be so completely honest with you, the reason I didn't write this when I first saw it was cause I can't tell if you wanted them all to be NB or just Noel. I'm writing just Noel as NB for this, so sorry if that's a misinterpretation but that's how I'm gonna. Interpret the request. Also I wrote this from my phone so apologies for any typos or weird formatting
Noel had only recently realized they were nonbinary- Being able to express their fantasies in Karnak's limbo had definitely helped- And the rest of the chorus had been very accepting (though Ocean admittedly wasn't the best with it at first), but they were worried.
See, alongside them realizing the truth about their gender, they'd also gotten romantically involved with Mischa and Ricky. They weren't super open about their relationship to people outside of the choir since their town was, well, deeply homophobic, but Noel still worried about how their boyfriends saw them because of their gender. What if they were ashamed or embarrassed by them?
"Are you guys ashamed of me?" they asked one night as the three of them were curled up together in Mischa's bed. The other two immediately looked over at them in surprise.
'Why would you think that?' Ricky signed.
"Or embarrassed" Noel backtracked slightly.
"Why would us be embarrassed?" Mischa questioned.
"Cause I'm... Y'know"
'A twink?'
"Cause I'm nonbinary" Noel said. "Are you embarrassed of me because I'm not a boy... Or a girl?"
'I'm trans' Ricky reminded. 'It'd be pretty hypocritical of me to be embarrassed of you'
"Yeah, but you're still a guy" Noel insisted. Ricky smiled slightly at the validation.
"No" Mischa spoke up. "Not embarrassed by you. Right, Ricky?"
'Correct'
"Okay..." Noel shrunk into themself slightly. Ricky and Mischa exchanged a glance. Ricky took a deep breath and willed his muscles to work enough to lean forward and kiss Noel on the cheek, a motion which Mischa mimicked. Noel went slightly red. "Guys"
"We love you" Mischa told them firmly. "Stop worry so much"
DO NOT REPOST ON OTHER SITES
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littlestartopaz · 2 years ago
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Writing advice: Confronting your weaknesses
(Note I'm writing this on my phone, so i do apologize for any weird typos that i miss.)
So i briefly mentioned it in the tags on this post, but one of the ways i grew as a writer was by forcing myself to write my weaknesses repeatedly. These "challenges" never really saw the light of day, since they were just for practice, but they've helped so much. So I'm going to try and explain how to construct your own.
> Step 1: Identify a weakness. <
This is usually as simple as "I dislike X part of my writing for Y reason," or "whenever i have to write X i die a little inside." It could also be "I love how That Person does X thing, and i want to write like them." When i was younger, i hated how my dialogue sounded (it always sounded forced and fake to me), so I'll use that as an example for this exercise.
> Step 2: Construct an exercise that isolates that weakness. <
The goal is to make a short exercise that forces you to write The Problem. We're talking something you can complete in 10 minutes, give or take. The goal is this is a repeatable exercise so we want it to be short. You also can (and should!) structure it in a way to get progressively harder. It can also be structured in a way that you wouldn't actually write it normally. I'll explain.
So taking our example of Bettering Dialogue, first we start with a setting that is centered around conversation, for example a couple of friends hanging out at McDonald's.
The first phase of my exercise was to write the scene with as little description as possible. Now, even back in high school i considered description to be my best strength, so this was really hard for me and not how I'd actually write this scene. But by removing the descriptive writing, my dialogue was forced to carry the scene.
The next step was to gradually remove anything that wasn't just the conversation. For example, having the characters verbally react to the actions of the others instead of writing descriptions. ("Did you just blow your draw cover at me? Seriously? What are you, 6?") This also includes speech tags, like "David said" or "Stacy replied dryly." What this step does is forces you to write the way people speak. An easy to find example of this is actually the main gang from Scooby-Doo. If you removed all speech tags, you can still tell who is talking because their speech is so distinct.
> Step 3: Make an attempt at your exercise, and edit it. <
Since the exercise should be short, you shouldn't have too much to edit. Take note of what you did well and what you had to change to fit the exercise. And then....
> Step 4: Repeat! <
Once you've finished editing your current exercise, write another! Use what you noted in your last edit to improve this time. Keep going until it The Problem no longer feels like the end of the world to write.
Is this hard? Yes. That's the point. The goal is to challenge yourself so you can better yourself.
Will this advice work for everyone? No, but it helped me.
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lemmilemura · 2 years ago
Text
Watching OOUIL
HEAVY SPOILER WARNING FOR LITERALLY THE ENTIRE SHOW I wrote down anytime I had important/sudden thoughts about stuff. Little warning, there is quite a lot of times I just simp over Simon, but what's new? There will be timestamps so you can go and look what happened to cause that reaction. Also since I was watching in one sitting and it was already past midnight and I was recovering from fever and tired and all that good stuff, towards the end and the last few episodes I didn't write down much. That is also the reason for the many, many typos xD I apologize
Episode 1
00:10 > literally just hearing Simon’s voice is already doing smth to me xD
00:22 > Simon honey I love you but that jacket was a CHOICE
00:50 > not the “I ship it” comment qwq
01:09 > god bronwyn's parents suck
01:26 > I only have my headphones on one ear and like Simon keeps talking and I never want him to stop xD
01:31 > Ah yes, the classic “ew our parents are kissing” teenager trope. just suck it up, Maeve
01:42 > i know, i know, i'm just being nitpicky, but Bronwyn’s phone says she had headphones connected? no she doesn’t
01:52 > if you ever see me smiling that wide while running, please assume I’ve been possessed, I probably have
02:02 > oh my god i can FEEL the sand in Copper’s shoes qwq
02:12 > Wildcats? isn't that like also a meme? like “What team? Wildcats!” idk I’ve only seen it a handful of times
02:46 > even if i hadnt read the book/had no idea what happens I’d still 100% know Cooper’s dad is gonna be an ass
03:21 > Addy is like, so naturally pretty qwq Girlie you don’t have to do all of this qwq I just wanna give her a hug man. And a gun so she can get rid of Jake. I’d help her hide the body too. Sorry, got a lil too into it there xD
03:28 > her outfit is soooo pretty tho I mean c’mon
03:44 > A bad love story? Like a… BAD ROMANCE?
03:47 > “Varsity skank squad” Damn Simon! Really going in on Addy, huh?
03:56 > the “well, you know” should NOT have affected me as much as it did xD
04:08 > Addy, remember that gun I talked about? Yeah, use it on your mom too while you’re at it
04:18 > god Jake is ugly. I’l sorry to any fans of his actor but damn. it really do be the basic white bois huh?
04:23 > you can see how uncomfy Addy is qwq
04:41 > “we’ll be quick” we get it, jake, you don’t last long
05:07 > TJ looks wise? no thanks. TJ being a dumbass? bonus points
05:10 > why does that chick look almost identical to Addy?
05:22 > Everyone wants to fuck a bad boy? Honey I want you. I mean if Simon isn’t a bad boy then what is he?
05:29 > “I’ve got so much dirt his probation officer is gonna bury him in it”? Simoooon, look at you with the metaphores
05:44 > Run bitch, ruuuuun! Or alternatively, “I’m fast as fuck boie!”
06:12 > God how I wish I was Janae right now……
06:17 > My god that shirt has a vneck… don’t be shy, take off the tshirt underneath…
06:39 > Lesbians?? In my tv show?? Fuuuck yeeeah!
06:45 > oh my god he’s wearing an earring… Quick, what’s the gay earring rule again? “Right ear means gay, eft means not gay but expressing feminine side” You heard it here first, folks, Simon is a secret Femboy xD
06:46 > these slowmo shottssssss I am living
07:16 > Simon, honey, that is such a bad idea to just have AboutThat open to anyone who flips open your laptop! C’mon, I thought you were smarter than this
07:21 > I would be looking at him the exact same way, Janae. 
07:27 > The smirk,??????? HELLO?????
07:42 > I’ve said it a lot and i will 100% say it again, but DAMN Simon is just so pretty qwq Perfect actor choice 10/10
07:44 > “She can’t prove it’s me” This school probably has security cameras, yes she’d know it’s you. But then again, if the school did have cameras, they’d have solved the mystery waaaay quicker.
07:49 > I am never going to emotionally recover from this
08:19 > he literally has “cold blue eyes” like in the book and that’s what made me immediately fall for him in the first place!!!!
08:23 > What the fuuuuuuuck :0
08:39 > “There is is… that damn smile”
08:45 > Love that she wrote Avengers but from what I can see they’re all DC. Great job, teach
09:17 > Just noticed Bronwyn’s necklace and damn is it ugly
10:02 > Bronwyn never did make it to Debate…
10:16 > no but why is that kinda cute? the way he’s tilting his body like a kid qwq
10:19 > :0 this is where the book starts!! THE COLD BLUE EYESSSSS
10:32 > Is Simon…. shorter than Bronwyn? Or is it just her shoes?? omg is he shmol qwq
11:02 > The way hes sitting, twiddling his fingers, I just, I’m dying
11:05 > then again, there’s probably a lot going through his head, isn’t there?
11:16 > Bronwyn please just stfu. Avery will not believe you. I know, cuz I’ve read the book
11:27 > Isn’t Bronwyn supposed to be the smart kid? Cuz that wasn’t that smart
11:40 > I love his personalityyyyy so sassy
12:25 > he knew she’d say that… he knew… 
12:33 > You can see it on his face qwq I hate this qwq
12:49 > Eggs instead of a carcrash? Weird choice but ok
13:17 > I mean he probably doesn’t have one so xD
13:18 > Nooooooo, he drank iiiitttt qwq
13:31 > It’s taking this long? How? Shouldn’t it happen immediately? Or is that cuz of the amount of water?
13:56 > Nooooooooooooooo qwq I can’t watch this, I’m just gonna start crying qwq
15:48 > I skipped ahead, I couldn’t watch that qwq Reading it is way easier than seeing it
15:54 > my god jake looks ridiculous xD
16:06 > Looked like he was dead? Honey he is!
16:27 > Keely is so pretty qwq
16:56 > They could 100% pass for a straight couple it’s wild
17:07 > Florence and the machine? Like FFXV Florence and the machine? :0000
17:17 > pffffff
17:41 > Bruh does she look okay? She just witnessed her classmate dying! She probably isn’t!
18:09 > He also has an earring?? dafuq
18:53 > Yeah it was!! Wait til you find out the backstory to it
19:00 > his side profile xDDD
19:15 > you can see the tension between hem, god damn
19:32 > Simon’s baaaaaag :0
20:28 > is he getting suspicious??
20:47 > how does her mother know? she a doctor or smth?
21:01 > god that “Bayview High School” could not look any faker xD
21:11 > Janaaaeeee qwq she needs a hug just as much as I do rn qwq
21:24 > The deathstareeeeeee :0 Janae
21:31 > Reading the book I never cared much for Janae, but actually seeing her so fucking sad and close to tears? It’s hitting
22:10 > QWQ I AM GOING TO CRY
23:32 > “Trauma bonding with Nate” I don’t even know this person’s name but I like their humor xD
26:41 > There is no way in hell they both look at eachother at the same time! That’s bull!
28:05 > That’s just creepy, man
28:40 > Sheetmusic? She plays an instrument besides piano? Huh
30:06 > Across the street you say?
30:24 > Okay, that was funny xD
31:13 > Nonnyyy, the icoonnn
31:49 > She iss!!
33:22 > STANLEYYYYYYY :DDDDD
33:38 > stanley is sooo judging him rn xD
33:44 > I forgot Stanley is his pfp xD
34:21 > she legit looks about 10 years older than him…
34:45 > Nuuuuuu Naaate :0
37:17 > Simon knows everything, Addy. Also TJ is such a sweetheart
39:31 > Ok, so, we watched the first 2 episodes in class a year ago and I fucking hate this part I get so much secondhand embarrassment so I’m sorry Janae but I’m gonna skip ahead
42:21 > Nooo, c’mon Nate! Don’t do this!
43:14 > oooooooooooh?
43:27 > Wait, so if Jake is in the pool he can’t have posted it, so it must have been Janae? If she had to write that my god poor girl qwq
44:43 > how tf did anyone get into the trunk? did she leave it unlocked? C’mon Bronwyn!
Total note count for episode 1: 96
Episode 2
00:37 > his hair is even more of a mess than usual xD
00:44 > Wait is this a flashback to when she cheated :000
00:49 > re really doesn’t
01:02 > please don’t fuck outside on the grass
01:07 > now THAT, is a view I really do not mind ;))))
01:5? > hair police? yours is literally the most basic hair ever, you have no right to talk
03:34 > shweeties
04:19 > is that a food truck right outside their school????
05:09 > yeowch
05:38 > the idea of Simon running a podcast, exposing ppl is actually a really fun concept xD
06:20 > not the contact name being “Asshole” xDDDD
06:55 > :00000000000000 Daaaaaaaaamn
07:36 > Nuuuu, Keely qwq babyyy
08:05 > i assume the teacher was turned around because that was so obvious addy!
08:20 > Bruh’s got a death note xDD he would be the type tho
08:56 > what was the notebook forrrrrrr Simoooonnn
10:00 > how tf did this random officer know that’s Addy?
11:58 > really? cmon now, thats so shitty xD
12:19 > more like Homiecide xD
13:42 > why tf is this mom reading AboutThat? xD
13:53 > HES THE MAYORS KID? Ooooh he got the moooooneeeeyyyy
15:02 > Addy……. qwq
16:09 > that was faaaaaast, coop xD
18:03 > :000000000000000
18:10 > Nooooooo, Coooooopppp qwq
20:52 > ok thats actuall kinda cute qwq can you imagine lil kid simon?
22:27 > Two late, two phone related detentions… interesting
24:07 > jis house is so prettyyyyy qwq I wanna live there!
24:16 > TINY SIMONNNNN OH MY GOD BABYYYYY QWQWQWQWQWQ
25:16 > Simon’s mom is fiiiiiiine, I see wher he get’s his good looks from xD
15:29 > Janaaaaaeeee qwq
26:26 > Simon in a suuuuiiittttt Lord have mercy!
26:38 > those fucking professionbal, model photographs xDDD
26:53 > How did she know where his room is? It’s a very very nice room tho, if I may
27:12 > wonder what that sign says…. also his bed looks nice! really comfy too :)
27:43 > look at that fucking setup man! daaaaaamn
27:50 > why is there fucking steps at the door??? xD
28:55 > can I just emphasize the fact his room looks so nice??
29:54 > yeeeeep he def got his looks from his mom, his dad is uglyy xD
30:11 > it would not, actually. not at all
31:25 > i dont think thats the best conversation starter, Maeve xD
32:08 > he did not go to hell! >:0
32:50 > A DRUMSET? AND A GUITAR????? HELLO WHERE IS THAT CONTENT?????
33:32 > Bronwyn can you stfuuuuuu you’re only making this worse
33:47 > atleast hes honest xD
35:07 > this house is so pretty qwq i am so jealous qwq
35:44 > “the incredible hair” pffff
37:56 > A, and I cannot stress this enough, WOOGA
38:59 > I’m gonna fucking scream he looks so goooooododdddd my lord i will not survive
41:22 > I am still not over that giant fucking picture of SImon in the background xD
42:46 > Girl the only thng you did was cheat ona�� fucking test it’s not the end of the wrld!
46:48 > since when are full names used? wasnt it just initials in the book? now this is just evil, initials multiple ppl can have, but full names? C'mon dude!
47:25 > MAEVE??????? WhAT THE FUCK???
Total note count for episode 2: 53
Episode 3
00:17 > Keelyyyyy babyyy I love her qwq
00:47  > shes such a shweety qwq
00:59 > another PERFECT OUTFIT 10/10 MY GOD
01:04 > I don’t even know what to say at this point
01:38 > he diiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiid :)
02:14 > no you fucking dont!
02:55 > Addy is entering her girlboss ear and I love that for her
03:33 > bruh please just use a hairbrush xD
05:20 > its goin down!! hands are being thrown!!
06:39 > addy needs a hug qwq
07:42 > :0 escandalo!
09:10 > they kinda look like siblings wait i love it qwq
11:42 > the laptooooppppp :0
14:51 > okay Janae’s outfits are also really nice, i get why they were bffs xD
16:08 > :00000000000 MAEVEEEEEEEEE OH MY GOOOOOOOOOD
17:13 > why do literalyl all the parents in this suck?
17:39 > Addyyy what are you doing? 
17:53 > Addy! No!
19:21 > TJ looks like a kicked puppy qwq
21:14 > you didnt say it but your face sure did
22:26 > and another perfect outfit!
22:29 > he just keeps getting finer, huh?
22:47 > Daaaamn Simoooooon! :0
22:56 > he looks so ethereal, like an angel or god of some sort :0
23:15 > omg Simon is shmol qwq shmol bean
23:33 > the rings, the bracelets, the necklaces, LORD HAVE MERCY PLEASE
24:20 > NOT NATE :00000 NOOOOOO
29:17 > i love that Addy is dressing for herself now qwq
30:26 > Nooo, Coooperrrr qwq
31:18 > i know that was meant to be all angsty and stuff but it just looked so weird xD
33:56 > Awwwww, Janaaeee qwq
36:13 > WHAAAAAAAT THE FUUUUUUUUUUUCK :000 I mean same, but still, I was NOT expecting that
36:53 > :0000000000000000000 my exact face rn
37:39 > oh yes we are bronwyn!
38:19 > DONT DO IT COOPER PLEASE QWQ
40:45 > There he is again, in that amazing outfit!
41:05 > his faaaaaaaaace oh my god cooper you have a death wish or something?
42:36 > out of all the 4 stories, bronwyns is the most boring to me xD
45:21 > “straight cosplay” pffffff
Total note count for episode 3: 39
Episode 4
00:31 > his outfits never miss! they’re always so good qwq
00:41 > I love that he’S smaller than atleast 3 of the 4 others xD
01:47 > STANLEY! :D 
03:20 > Janae with her hair down tho??????
13:33 > Stanley’s just listening in to all the drama xD
22:30 > how about Addy and Janae just get together? I would not complain xD
24:54 > “actual lizard” pffffff
26:13 > IT WAS JANAE???? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO QWQ
39:22 > Mf looks like a goddamn cryptid xD
41:32 > oh my god hes PISSED you can see it in his faceeee
44:19 > Maaaaaaaaaeve what are you doing????
44:50 > Its momther!
Total note count for epsiode 4: 12
Episode 5
02:00 > if I was sitting in Bronwyns spot I would not be able to focus at all xD
03:20 > Yes addy!!!! Looking good! rocking the short hair!
06:36 > where tf?
13:43 > wtf Cooper???
18:28 > Bronwyn can you not be an asshole for one episode please?
19:02 > MAEVE WAS WHAT???? TO SIMON??? IM SORRY????
21:29 > Bronwyyyyyyyyyyyn whyyyyyyyy oh my god! 
23:52 > they look like such lesbians and I am living for it
33:11 > and ANOTHER perfect fit from Simon, god damn!
39:52 > Please don’t leave Stan behind qwq
Total note count for episode 5: 10
Episode 6
01:07 > janaeeeeeeee that loooook I love itttt
4:31 > “then one summer he got abs” pfffff
04:52 > Janae gave him the idea?????
16:35 > Members of Simon’s what????
21:33 > Awwwww, wait, that’s so cute qwq I knew Janae couldn’t be straight when she dresses like that xD
22:03 > Their dynamic is just chefs kiss xD
22:26 > You can make a move on my anyday xD
33:10 > :0000000000000 NOW THAT IS NOT SOMETHING I EXPECTED TO SEE BUT I AM VERY MUCH WELCOMING IT
36:14 > why are they fucking burning the epi-pen?
37:16 > thats wierdly sweet qwq
37:29 > I know I’m just repeating myself at this point but Simon really does have the best outfits
37:48 > Ayooo? AYO???
38:37 > What if Janae, Maeve and Simon just get in a poly relationship? Problem solved xD
38:51 > His humourrrrr
40:00 > LESBIAAAAAAAAAAAAANSSSSSSSSSSS
40:25 > AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA FUCK YEEEEEEEEEAHHHHHHHHH
Total note count for episode 6: 16
Episode 7
09:08 > The lighting in all of these flashback Simon scenes is just so good qwq
30:32 > i would also 100% be zooming in on that xD
31:43 > that’s boat racism xD
31:47 > again, his humourrrrr top tier
Total note count for episode 7: 4
Episode 8
00:17 > I don’t want it to be over yet qwq I want more Simon qwq
03:06 > that is such a simple signature are you kidding me?
11:29 > I seriously need to calm down xD I can’t keep reacting like this any time SImon is on screen xD
11:41 > THE LIGHTING AND WINDOWS AND FRAMING AND OMG
12:08 > pfff the sheer “what the fuck” on his face xD
15:30 > AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH one day I will just die because Simon keeps looking that good!!!!
16:40 > do I even have to say anything anymore? like at all?
17:19 > “the magic words”? are you for real xD
25:39 > so him having a lizard is a reason you like him?
27:48 > lookatem with his fucking headset xD you know he streams and just annihilates little kids on vc xD
28:16 > wait so… Simon… didnt even want to kill himself? so really Jake is the reason this all happened…
41:30 > WHAT THE FUCK IS GOJNG ON?????
42:28 > So Jake… killed… Simon? Jake is the reason he’s dead, Simon didn’t want to kill himself Jake killed him! Holy fuck this is different than the book…
42:52 > God Janae looks TERRIFYING
43:24 > YEEEEEES JANAEEEEEEEEE KILL HIIIMMMMMMMMMM GET REVENGEEEEE
44:11 > I’m not even remotely sad about this. I’m happy, really
44:21 > I still cannot believe that JAKE is the reason… welp, I know what headcanons I’m making next
44:29 > …
44:42 > YES AND HE SHOULD HAVE
45:05 > I AM ACTUALLY CRYING STOP HE LOOKS SO TERRIFIED NO
45:35 > now you will cuz YOURE OTH FUCKING DEAD
50:58 > Now what if Simon actually didn’t die? Like imagine that, Jake’s plan all going to waste!
Total note count for episode 8: 25
Total note count: 255
Welp, there you have it xD I put them all together because posting one post for every episode or a pair of episodes, eventhough I'd have to split episode 1 in half, would just be too many notifications xD
So here you go, I hope you enjoy my thoughts while watching OOUIL. :D
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