#Just the thought of what might happen in the future has me on edge

[mondritter]

You know, it's nice to see that I'm not the only one who felt... uneasy(?) about Buckynat getting back together after a decade 🙃

I mean I'm glad, the war is over (permanently I hope FGS), it's been so long but I DON'T LIKE THAT IT WAS WITH THOSE WRITERS and all the circumstances were... Weird and out of the blue? A bit sudden because in Cold War nothing relevant happened... And in Thunderbolts most of the same imo.

I mean why JUST NOW Nat finally decided to go back to him? I want to know her motivations, her thoughts, she's been through so much since The Widow Hunt and yet we don't really know what she thinks about it all.

And apparently those writers are going to write more stuff about them(?)

Look, I would love for an ongoing (I'm a bit tired of minis) for either Bucky or Nat or both separately, with recurring appearances of them in each other's run, appearing at crucial moments, as a cameo or a mention, so that they can be their own characters and not have to be tied to each other, and the reason I wouldn't want a run of the two of them together is because I think there are really very few writers who could handle them both well at the same time.

And I get the impression that if what it turns out those writers are hinting at is a Nat AND Bucky comic, they will end up using her as just a romantic interest and I don't like it at all.

I think I've already commented that I haven't liked how they've written Bucky since Devil's Reign, which happened 2 years ago and so far they haven't given me a reason to change my opinion, if they haven't been able to give a good writing to Bucky which is supposed to have been their main character, most likely they'll end up doing something worse with Nat 😭😭😭

It's as if we can never take a break 😂😭🫠

Well, I just wanted to get this off my chest to see if I could finally calm down a bit LMAO

I can only continue to pray for the miracle of Marjorie Liu writing them both because she is my personal favorite and one of the few I think can put them in a good place 🫡

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 19)

masterlist

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A blood-orange sun hangs low in the sky.

You might think it ominous on any other day, but not this one. What more adversity could stand in your way? 

Instead of sharing a saddle with John, you ride the same horse that Graves rode out of town. Days spent on horseback have finally caught up to you, pain radiating up and down your legs, a soreness embedded deep in your inner thighs, the skin positively chafed from the constant friction. At least you no longer have the handcuffs digging painfully into your wrists, the metal cuffs long since unlocked using the key in Graves’ pocket and discarded, now lost some acres back for the coyotes and the hares to prod at and sniff. 

You drift in and out of conscious awareness, coming back into your right mind every mile or so, losing track of time along the way. Sometimes you blink and trees disappear out of sight, already ten miles back. Scouring the landscape for something familiar only to come up empty. 

Recent events lour over your conscience. It’s difficult not to let it get to you. So much has happened in such quick succession that part of you still thinks you’re dreaming in the abandoned shack with Graves sleeping just a few feet away. 

A distinct sound scrapes against the inner recesses of your mind and eardrum. If you were to look behind you, you’d find the source of it wrapped in a shroud and dragged behind John’s horse. Drying blood stains the fabric. The head, obscured under the fabric, jostles from side to side as it passes over rocks and undergrowth. 

It’s beyond you now though, the future shuttling forward at an unfathomable speed and taking you with it, willing or not. The world hurrying on to repeat its past mistakes. 

So you don’t look behind you. 

“Won’t be much longer,” your husband murmurs from beside you, speaking just loud enough for you to hear him over the influx of thoughts in your head, which rapidly empty out at the sound of his voice. 

“We can stop for a break after?” you ask, turning your head enough for your eyes to land on the hard, bristled line of his jaw. He nods. 

“Just gotta get this part out of the way.”

He says it so casually, like a bit of unpleasantness that has to be dealt with; no way around it. Unfortunately, a body isn’t something that can be just swept under the rug. No matter how much your muscles beg for a moment’s reprieve, you won’t get it until all the loose ends are tied up. 

“How do you know the land around here so well?” you ask as John leads the two of you deeper into the plains.

“The boys and I have been out here before. Grew up in this county anyway; been wanderin’ these parts since I was born.”

You can’t imagine John as a young boy, uncertain of his place in the world. He seems like someone who emerged from the womb ready-made, already able to skin a deer and build a bushcraft shelter by hand. But he must have been young at one point. 

Finally, he comes upon a suitable place to bury the body. 

Deep in the wilderness, he digs a shallow grave with the short shovel strapped to his horse, sweating up a storm before the hole is big enough to bury the body. You dismount your horse and wander off while John handles the burial. 

This is the part where you have to turn away and pretend it isn’t happening. You stave off the urge to plug your ears and close your eyes. Dogear any page in your life except this one. This is the only memory that you want to fade into obscurity, pretend that it never happened, that this was some bad dream that you only half-remember twenty years from now. 

You glance back only once to find John breathing heavily at the edge of the hole, having just hauled himself out. Sweat slicks his brow and drips down the side of his face near his temple, a dark flush spreading over his cheeks from exertion. Even his shirt is damp with sweat under the pits and around the collar. 

You force yourself to look away. Now is not the time for your libido to trouble you. 

Graves’ body lands with a dull thump when John rolls it into the makeshift grave. You bite your lip and let your eyelids slide shut. Then he starts the process of covering the body, shoveling the dirt back into the hole. It takes a while. An offer to help hovers on the tip of your tongue, but you can’t quite make yourself say the words. 

A half hour later, it no longer matters, the hole covered until the only thing demarcating the grave is the layer of upturned soil, slightly darker than the dirt in the surrounding area.

“That’s it,” John announces, making his way back to you with the shovel slung over his shoulder. You can smell the ripe scent of sweat wafting off him even from a foot away. “Let’s head out; we’ll wanna make camp before it gets dark.”

You don’t answer. Not verbally anyway. The guilt almost makes it hard to breathe. In all your stupidity and poor decision-making, you’ve inadvertently made John an accomplice in your crimes; forced him, in fact, to commit one as heinous as the one that had started this whole debacle. 

You travel the next mile in relative silence, scouring the landscape for a neat patch of land to set up camp. The sun plummets towards the ground at a faster and faster pace until it’s tugged below the horizon, vanishing with a green flash. Then it’s too dangerous to keep going, the way back far too dark to keep traveling down. 

John builds a small fire after tying up the horses for the night. The temperature drops exponentially as the sky darkens, the cold sinking low to the ground. You help with gathering the kindling, mostly twigs and clumps of dry grass, then take the packs off both horses to use as makeshift seats by the fire, unrolling the sleeping bags as well. 

It comes as a relief to finally sit down after the fire is struck. Rest is a double edged sword though; the longer you sit with Graves’ old pack propping you up, the more the pain has time to sink its claws in deep. 

In the hours since he shot Graves, neither of you have spoken more than a few words to each other. You certainly haven’t brought it up. The memory of Graves revealing the truth of what you’d done back east to John looms over you. It’s inevitable that you’ll talk about it eventually though. It’s heavy in the atmosphere, almost oppressive; the weight of everything said and unsaid. You can’t take back what Graves revealed to John. At some point you’ll have to face it. 

At what point will you have to beg for forgiveness? It sits on the tip of your tongue. 

The small fire crackles in front of you. Red tongues of flames lick at the darkness, the light extending out in a circle around the two of you. You’re grateful for the warmth though, particularly after spending the previous night in the cold.  

“Nothing to eat, m’afraid,” he says apologetically, brow creasing. “I didn’t exactly pack before coming after you.”

You shake your head. “That’s fine. I’m not hungry anyway.”

In a few more hours, you might work up an appetite again, but for now, you couldn’t be further from it. All you want to do is lie down on your bed back home and sleep through to the next day. 

“Yeah,” John sighs. “Me neither.”

He picks up your hand and holds it in his for a time. It’s strange how such a small gesture has become such an immense comfort for you. You wish you could thread your fingers through his and bring his hand up to your lips to kiss all over, but you’re too tired for a gesture of that magnitude. 

When he lets go of your hand, it’s only to transfer it to your face. His thumb runs over your split lip, pulling away when you wince. “Looks like it’s healing on its own.”

“That’s good,” you mumble. “…It hurt a lot more yesterday.”

John’s nostrils flare. The fire reflects off his eyes in such a way that, for a moment, it almost looks like it’s coming from within him. “I’d kill him again if I could.”

Your stomach clenches at the ferocity behind his words. 

“You—you shouldn’t have done it in the first place,” you croak. “Not when he was—” right, you don’t say. Right to haul you out of town by your hair and drag you back to the scene of the crime, back to pay for what you’d done. 

“Now I ain’t gonna hear you go spoutin’ that horseshit,” he growls, clasping you by the back of your neck and tugging you to his side. It’s so sudden that your butt skids across the ground, raking up a small mound of dirt with the weight of your body.

You look away, unable to meet his eyes even as he pulls you forward until you’re nearly nose to nose. “It’s not—”

“Yes, it is, darlin’. That shit weren’t none of your fault. You ain’t done a thing wrong by keeping yourself safe.” 

It’s almost hard to hear. It’s taken you months to scrub the dirt from your soul, which until recently was raw to the touch and pained you to even think back on. And the hopelessness. And the longing, the irreversibility of it; irreversible in the way that you couldn’t turn your pain inside out. You could never go back to the way things were because the only way out was to keep on trudging forward. 

Like rain in a drought, you’ve been missing someone’s mercy. You’ve been waiting for someone to come and forgive you for your sins; someone to absolve you of them. 

You lean forward, burying your face in his neck. Not making much of a sound except for a harsh exhale, your throat quavering with something unsaid. 

Then you grip him by the back of his shirt and pull him to the ground with you. 

Out in the open like this, John doesn’t dare remove your clothes, but he does reach beneath your dress to pull off your underclothes. He’s silent through it all, eyes fixed on yours. Never wavering or dropping your gaze. It’s intoxicating to be stared at with such a fierce intensity. Vaguely overwhelming, the sensation creeping up your chest and lodging in your throat. 

The light of the fire he built for the two of you flickers across his skin, illuminating his face in shades of orange and gold. 

He holds your gaze when he rucks the skirt of your dress up and crawls down the length of your body until his mouth is level with your center, slick already dripping from your sex. Your breathing goes haggard, anticipating his mouth before it’s suddenly there between your thighs, planting a gentle kiss on your inner thigh before dragging his lips over your sensitive skin until they brush your clit. Your mouth opens to a soundless gasp. Electrical impulses travel up your spine, your arching back following their trajectory. 

He pulls back to stare at your dripping hole. “Missed me, my love?” 

You’d answer if you could form words, but then you realize who he’s talking to and your mind goes blank. 

When he runs his tongue up the seam of your pussy, you jolt, legs slung over his shoulders kicking at the air. He eats you out with gusto, with reverence, sighing into your pussy that it’s been too long, that he’d worried himself nearly half to death over you. 

Rough hands hold you by your waist and pull you down onto his face. Long, crude licks of his tongue, rubbing the flat of it over your clit until you’re a roiling, twisting hotbed of pent up arousal. 

The urge to suppress your noises is almost overwhelming. When you twist your head from side to side, there’s nothing but miles of land; trees and shrubbery and a deep, impenetrable darkness. Not another person around for miles. It makes you shiver when you stare out into it. 

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t—” you gasp, chest getting tighter and tighter until you expect it to burst but it doesn’t. It stays all pent up, all itchy and scratchy and you can feel the sweat slicking the small of your back and the blood furiously rushing to your cheeks, heating you up from the inside out. Sweat-laden and flustered. 

Your toes curl in your boots, throat tightening up the closer it gets. All it takes to push you over the edge is John cupping his hands under your butt to tilt your hips up, licking you from hole to hole. The impertinence and thrill sends a rush through your body, the coil in your belly twisting and releasing, core pulsing around nothing. Your body gives a violent jolt when he gives your clit one last wet, suckling kiss.

“Are you comfortable like this, darlin’, or should I wait until we’re home?” John asks when he positions himself over you again, beard still wet with your desire and a big hand cupping the front of his trousers. You stare down at the hair dusting his knuckles and the bulge straining against his pants. 

The shadows make it seem even larger than usual. Your throat goes dry the longer you stare down at where he fists his length through his trousers.

“Darlin’?” he repeats, drawing your attention back up to his face.

“Oh?” you ask, cheeks heating. “I’m, um…I’m quite comfortable.”

It seems absurd to have such a conversation when your husband’s hand is reaching into his trousers to pull out his cock and fuck you with it, but the nervous tickle in your belly is far from unpleasant. 

He’s so careful with you, cognizant that your muscles are already sore and aching from days of being on the road and the abuse Graves put you through. Gentle hands maneuver your legs around his hips and move your hair from your face. Again your belly flips. 

Your grunt is involuntary when he first pushes in, walls stretching around the head of his cock. It hasn’t been long enough for the blunt intrusion to be painful, but it’s overwhelming all the same. You wince and grimace through it all. 

“Easy does it. You’re alright,” John shushes when you whimper, rough hand cupping your cheek. It sends a thrill down your spine, but doesn’t lessen the intensity. 

He stays like that for a time, hovering over you and stroking a thumb over your cheekbone until you relax around his girth, gradually finding your breath again. In and out; one after the other. When he pulls his hand away, it’s to plant his forearms on the ground beside your head and grind his hips forward, taking your breath away. 

“Oh Lord,” you wheeze, then brace your hands around his neck. 

“You’re doing great, darlin’. Just hold on; I’ve got ya.”

It’s nothing like the times before; your arms link around his neck and your breath goes shallow, hitching with every measured thrust. It’s too much and not enough. You feel windswept and battered, bruises smarting now that you’ve had time to feel them, but still you need more from him. 

He works himself into the wet flex of your pussy with slow, heavy thrusts. Taking his time. Not rushing it just yet because though the threat of you being taken from him still looms over his head, he’s sated his bloodlust. His reassurance now comes in the form of your legs spread to receive him and the fat head of his cock fitting snugly in you. 

The heels of your boots press firm against the flesh above his buttocks. Taking him this way with your clothes still on feels debaucherous, filthier than usual; like you were so desperate to have your husband inside you, that you couldn’t even be bothered to remove your garments. 

He must feel the way that thought heats you up because he rasps, “Need a lil somethin’, love?” 

Before you can even answer, he’s reached a hand down and tucked it between your thighs to strum the tight bundle of nerves at the apex of your sex. 

“John—”

Your fingernails must dig into the back of his neck because he grunts. Serves him right, you think, digging your nails in all the harder when grinds a knuckle against your clit and you briefly see stars. 

You’re splintering down to the root, coming apart in his hands like clay; when he says your name, the darkness fades and for a moment, you’re in the light, a shaft of it haloing your face. Chasing it no matter how fast it runs. A hare in a snare, a shadow captured in the palm of your hand. 

It comes fluttering down from somewhere beyond sight. Gasped out in another voice, a truer voice. From the depths of you, true as stone and air. 

“I love you.”

Give it time and it’ll come naturally. Now, it comes as a gut punch. Even John stills over you when he hears the words, and you can feel the shudder that runs through him under your fingertips. There’s no time to sit and talk about it though, not with the frenzy that comes over him, blue eyes glazed over by a manic glint. 

He braces one hand on the top of your head and surges forward, so rough with you that your teeth clack together, eyes rolling back in your head. 

“Say it again,” John growls, leaning down until his mouth is right next to your ear. 

“I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you—”

Then it hits you. A wall of heat. Your belly rolling and cheeks burning, walls squeezing around John’s cock, tighter with every thrust. You yelp when he lifts himself off you to yank the skirt of your dress up higher and presses his hands to your inner thighs, spreading your legs wider for him. Bullies his cock into your channel even as you try to squeeze him out, pounding into you until the lurid torrent of words spilling out of his mouth go slurred and his release floods into you, his hips slapping against yours until he’s emptied the last of his spend into your womb. 

It’s a while before either of you can move after that. Your energy melts into the ground like rainwater, purifying the earth. Maybe life is already germinating beneath you, grass seedlings about to burst from the dirt, flower buds curled up in tight coils until they’re ready to bloom. 

Your hands shake when you lift one up to wipe the sweat from your face. 

When he finally pulls out of you, the feeling of his come leaking down your inner thighs makes you fussy. You lift your thighs just enough to let him pull your drawers back up before lying back down, no energy left in you to do more than that. You only scrunch your nose a little at the feeling of your combined juices already wetting the gusset.

Time seems to come apart and then piece back together. You roll over onto your side and nestle up against John’s chest, staring up at him wordlessly. His eyes stay shut for some time until he feels your stare on him and they peel open, the color of his irises barely discernible in the flickering light. 

“Somethin’ on your mind?” he asks in a tone so devoid of accusation or condemnation that you’re almost thrown by it. He says it like it’s just another day, like something horrible and monumental didn’t just happen. 

It takes you a while to find the words. Even when you do, they come out jumbled and disjointed. “How long have you…—when did you find out?”

“‘Bout what happened back East?” he clarifies, blunt as usual. 

The question makes you swallow impulsively, anxiety secreting from you again. “Yes.”

John looks up into the dark sky, quiet for a spell. “Not until recently. The arrest warrant drifted across my desk probably around the time Graves first stopped by. Wasn’t hard to put two and two together after that—you showing up in a tizzy around the same time as the warrant was issued. General description matched as well.”

You feel a bit foolish in retrospect, certain that you were getting away with it all this time. 

“You know my name.”

“I do.”

“My real name.”

“In a manner of speaking. Got yourself a new last name since then though, didn’t you?”

Your lips pull up at the corners involuntarily. “Yes. I guess so.”

You can almost hear it now. The penultimate note of the overture writhing against convalescence like you might stay this way for a second longer. But it isn’t right to keep feeling the same old pain. At some point, it has to heal. 

“Hey,” John says, giving your shoulder a little shake to draw your attention back to him. The look in his eyes is serious. “This is as far as the story goes, alright?”

You stare up at him silently until you nod against his chest. 

“You’re my wife. End of story. The rest ain’t anyone’s business but ours.”

Off in the distance, an owl hoots, and its call hits your ear as a distant evocation to sleep. You press one last kiss to his chest before rolling off him, letting him put the fire out before the two of you turn in for the night, and then drawing a blanket over the both of you. 

And then, you go to sleep.

[boltwrites]

I haven’t recently thought about Hugh Jackman but this Movie has recently given me hunger™️

Reader/Logan fic hurt/comfort where Logan knew reader in his world (but reader never met Logan in their world) and tries to ignore them out of guilt but reader is persistently trying to be friends w him. Eventually Logan opens up about what happened in his world with reader…

A/N: so uh. i originally wrote this as headcanons in bullet point format but tumblr didn't like it so i had to redo some shit and uh. anyway. it's not my normal fic quality so i'm sorry for that.

in other author's note news - lmk if you want the recipe.

You smiled at Logan across the table as Wade rambled on about something or other. You didn't know him - well, other than what Wade had spouted off about him before inviting you to this make-birthday party after the first one went to shit - but you wanted to.

You didn't exactly know why you wanted that. Maybe just curiosity? Wade did say he'd be living with him for the foreseeable future, and as his neighbor, you should introduce yourself and be friendly, right?

But it was kind of more than that. He was hot. definitely, very hot. Maybe not your usual type - you weren't typically into older men. But there was just something about him. Something magnetic.

Either way, he'd definitely avoided you at that party. spent most of his time sulking in the corner, talking to Al or sometimes Colossus.

You'd walked up to him, smile on your face, and introduced yourself. He'd barely looked at you.

"Nice to meet you," he'd replied, his tone gruff and dismissive. By the way he spoke it sounded less like it was nice to meet you and more like you were inconveniencing him with your mere existence. Like he'd been dreading the idea of you coming over and introducing yourself.

"Wade says you helped stop the time ripper," you tried, willing yourself to ignore how shitty he was treating you. Wade had mentioned that this man - Logan - was a little rough around the edges. rude. A drunk, even. Maybe he just wasn't good with people in general.

"Yep," he replied, shooting you a glare over the glass of - was that pure fucking bourbon? - he was sipping out of. You tried your best not to let it get to you - but you also knew how to take a hint. He wasn't interested in talking. That shot straight to your stomach like a bullet made of embarrassment and guilt, but whatever.

It's fine. you were younger than him by a decent margin. He could probably tell just by the look in your eyes that you were interested in him as more than just a friend. He probably just wanted to shut that shit down as quickly and efficiently as possible. You weren't gonna blame him for that. You've done the same for several weird men in the past - including Wade, before he got the hint and the two of you became fast friends. You weren't necessarily interested in being his post-Vanessa rebound, and he respected that.

So, that's fine, you'd just be nice to Logan. He could be your friend, too. He was rooming with Wade and Al, after all. It would be good to make friends with him.

"Hey!" You smiled when he opened the door a few days after the party. You stood there, hands currently occupied by a tin foil-wrapped package.

"What do you want?" Logan asked, looking you up and down with more paranoia than you'd expected. You thought that maybe he was just uncomfortable with your advances, but this time, it was like he was searching for something. What, you didn't know.

"I just wanted to give you this," you replied, thrusting your gift into his hands - the smooth glass of the pie mold contrasting with the brief brush of his calloused hands. You tried not to shiver.

"It's a pie," you continued on, even as Logan stared off into the distance, at something you couldn't see. "When I saw what you were drinking at the party, I thought you might like it. It's a family recipe. Pumpkin pie with a shitload of bourbon. As a welcome to the neighborhood kind of thing."

You offered him an awkward sort of smile, a little shrug. He blinked, snapping himself out of his thousand yard stare only to glare at you like you'd just offered him a dead animal instead of a home-baked pie. Your blood briefly turned to ice as you wondered if maybe this man was actually sober and you'd mistake the iced tea in his glass as pure liquor. As if Wade ever had that sort of shit in his apartment.

"I-" he looked down at the pie, then up at you, taking a breath as if he wanted to say more, but instead shaking his head, like he was knocking some bit of cobwebs or old dust loose. "Thanks."

He nodded at you in acknowledgement, then slammed the door in your face. Great.

Wade wasn't much help either. He'd returned the pie dish and you'd wrung your hands and asked him if you'd done something that made Logan hate you. The dish was empty, but your stomach churned at the thought of the man just taking a knife and scraping the whole thing into the trash. You'd even made the crust by hand, too.

"Oh, fuck no!" Wade scoffed, shaking his head. "Are you kidding me? Listen, if there's anything I know about our not-so-furry friend, it's that he can put up with a metric fuckton of asinine shit. I mean - he's living with me! Do you know how many times he's used his little clawsies to hole-punch my organs? Like - so many!" Wade waved his arms for emphasis. "If he really hated you, he wouldn't just sulk around about it like a teenager - no! He'd hurt you! Like the kind of teenager that would shoot up their local high school!"

You rolled your eyes at Wade, but you knew that's just how he was. No filter, all idiocy. "Did he - did he at least try the pie," you asked, voice a little more hopeful than you'd meant for it to sound.

"Try it - fuck! That man has full-tilt sprinted at me on all fours and I've never seen him so animalistic. He was eating that pie like it would crawl inside his dick itself and pull out an orgasm. I swear - and may Thor strike me dead and then mourn my fried corpse - that he actually growled when I asked for a slice."

You didn't believe Wade for a second, but fuck. at least that made you feel better. You offered him your thanks and a sweet smile as you received your dish and promised to make him something "Wolvie" wouldn't hoard when you brought something over next. You promised to try your best.

Really, what you'd try your best at was winning this shy Wolverine over to your good side. You didn't want to force him to be your friend, obviously - but if you had made a bad impression, even if that impression was solely based on the fact that you were also friends with Wade - you wanted to make it right.

So you did everything you could. Baked and cooked and offered the results up whenever you could afford the extra ingredients. Made sure to snatch up any packages bound for Wade's apartment so your notorious Amazon thief didn't have the chance to. You even dog-sat that nasty looking creature Wade had adopted - she was very sweet, but you had nightmares about that tongue.

It all came to a head, one day. One day when you almost brained yourself walking up the stairs.

You'd been holding grocery bags - supplies to make your perfected mac and cheese recipe - head down as you ascended the steps. That was, until you ran into what felt like a brick wall. Or, an iron one. Your shoulder smacked whatever it was and you jolted backwards, gasping as you dropped the bag you were holding to cling to the railing-

Only to catch and grip tight at thin fabric as a firm, steel-strong arm wrapped around your waist. You finally caught your breath, lungs filling and then immediately vacating as you locked eyes with none other than Logan.

"Fuck."

Both of you said it. But you gasped, it, breathless and dreamy. Meanwhile he spat it, like he knew something like this would happen, and he'd been planning his whole day to avoid it.

As soon as you found your footing again, he threw his arm away from you like you'd burned him. Like your very existence was offensive to him, somehow. He manages to spin you around as he let go of your waist, disorient you as you sputtered, glancing after him.

The stairs were littered with groceries - blocks of cream cheese, butter, cookies for the crust - fresh fruit for the filling. A bag of sugar had exploded, its contents dusting the next landing like snow. All of this - ingredients you'd bought, with money you'd worked your ass off to afford - and the man you'd been trying to impress stepped in that puddle of sugar, granules crackling under his boot.

You damn near saw red.

"Logan!" you snapped, your voice harsh, crisp as it echoed through the stairwell. Fuck. You hated using that voice - but it made him freeze on the spot.

He turned to look at you - eyes wide, as if he was some child who'd been caught in a lie. But also - that gaze was knowing, somehow. Like he knew what you used that voice for. What it meant for him.

You sighed, tried to regain your composure. It was fine. You were fine. When you opened your eyes, you addressed him with even, annunciated words:

"Why do you hate me?"

Even as you tried your best to dull your voice of emotion, it slipped through. A waved of your throat, the hint of water in your eyes. You hated it - this man didn't hold that power over you. You just - you were used to being liked. That's all.

Logan looked at you like you'd shot him.

"What?" he asked, just as breathless as you felt. You thought you detected just a hint of hurt in that syllable.

"It-it's just-" you tried not to let yourself waver, but you stuttered as you spoke. "I've been trying to just - to be your friend, to be a good neighbor. Like I am to Wade, like we - we hang out, sometimes. But you- you're just - I feel like you've been kind of rude to me."

You sounded like a child.

Logan took a breath. A deep one, as if this were a confrontation that had been a long time coming (which it was) and that he was prepared to have a conversation he'd dreaded (which was really what got you - if he really just disliked you, why would he care enough to prepare something? What was going on?)

He turned around - gathered up all your dropped groceries - and started walking up the stairs, passing you and continuing his way to your shared floor. He'd previously been on his way out, so you didn't do much except stare at him until he was nearly half a flight ahead of you and your brain finally switched on again.

He led you to the apartment he shared with Wade, nodded as he held the door open for you. It felt strange - you hadn't been inside the apartment since the party. You'd always felt too nervous to ask Wade if he wanted to continue your usual game nights. Too intimidated by Logan.

He set the groceries on the counter, and practically sank into the couch. You perched on the chair opposite it, still not quite believing that he had let you in. That you were going to talk. He breathed in deeply, steadying himself before he spoke, eyes still glued to the floor.

"I'm not from here. 'M sure Wade told you that much," he glanced up, only to nod in your direction. You nodded back.

"My world - timeline, whatever the fuck - I killed it. Everyone I loved, everyone I cared about - they all died. Because of me."

You sat in rapt attention as his shoulders tensed, his jaw flexed. This was a lot, for him. You didn't really understand why he was telling you about it, but it was important to him. So you listened.

"Every timeline is different. At least, that's what the science says. Ones that are closer together - might have the same people show up at around the same time. Might be - people I knew. People I - cared about."

Logan glanced up, again. Caught your eyes with his and swallowed harshly.

"You're - one of them. One of the people I lost."

"Oh," you breathed, because now it all made sense. The strange looks, the curt conversations - even the thousand yard stare. You were triggering his memories of a horrible time of his life with every step you took in his direction. And you didn't even know it.

"I'm so sorry," You whispered, trying your best to quell any tears that might form sympathetically. No wonder he kept pushing you away. You were a walking PTSD trigger.

"No-" he gasped, shaking his head as he stood up, like he'd been shocked upright. "No, it's not -"

He cleared his throat, shook his head like he was trying to find the right words.

"I know I was pushing you away. And it is - hard, to see you again. But - I want to see you. I want to get to know you, again," if you didn't know any better, you'd think that there were tears forming at the corner of his eyes.

"You made the pie, you know. The pumpkin pie. I was only there for the one Thanksgiving, but I remember it. You swore you'd cooked off all the liquor, but Xavier made you promise only the adults would get a slice."

He grinned at you, then - wide, real. It was pretty, that smile. You could imagine recognizing it, in another life.

"None of the kids got any. Too good for them, anyway," he took a step towards you, and you rose from your seat, legs only a little wobbly.

"That's good," you breathed, voice as shaky as your knees. "I use vodka in the crust, too."

"I know," Logan grinned, a hand grasping yours, his smile somehow wider than before.

You wondered, as you strode forward into a crushing hug against his chest, if it felt so right in every universe.

[ktownshizzle]

Terms & Conditions | Chapter 2

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female reader

Summary: Managing Min Yoongi as one of your encoders during his alternative military service should’ve been simple. He is quiet, punctual—and can apparently type as fast as he can rap! Not to mention the fact that he is easy on the eyes and keeps wanting to help you. You’ve signed an iron-clad NDA, detailing the full terms and conditions of his temporary employment, so you’re supposed to keep things professional, but what happens if neither of you wants to?

Genre: Fluff, eventual smut, co-workers to lovers, office romance, idol!au

Warnings: Purely speculative regarding Yoongi’s alternative military service and how this is really done in SK, I might include scootergate in a future chapter but please know it will be written sensibly imo and with so much love for our Yoongi (I just wanna protecc him at all costs even thru this silly story!), some cursing, boss/employee relationship sorta but there's no power play involved, reader and Yoongi are within the same age range, tbh still nothing too bad in this chapter

Word count: 4k (approx. 18 mins to read)

Posting date: October 15, 2024

Notes: Wow this next update came very early. Really loving writing this couple so much. Btw, winner of this poll is written in and will be appearing in succeeding chapters. Enjoy~

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Masterlist

It’s not like you’ll miss him (you’ve told yourself that repeatedly)—there’s just something in the atmosphere that feels off today, is all.

The truth? It was just you. Everyone else is counting down the seconds, ready to bail and do whatever gets them through the weekend. But you? You wanna stretch the day out a bit more, if it means spending a little more time with him.

You received an email from Hyun-woo earlier, informing you that Yoongi is leaving for his two-week basic training camp. The news dropped into your inbox like a stone, and ever since, a funny weight has settled in your stomach, refusing to budge.

By 5 p.m., the office has thinned out. The soft hum of the a/c is the only sound left in the room. You’re absently adjusting the tiny plant on your desk when you notice him hovering nearby, one hand awkwardly scratching the back of his neck, the other stuffed into his pocket. 

“So, um, I’ll be gone for a bit,” he mumbles, voice low and a tad raspy. His eyes flick to yours, just for a second, before darting away again. He pokes at the leaves of your plant, as if it suddenly piqued his interest.

“I know,” you reply with a playful pout, trying to keep things light. “You’re just abandoning me here with all this work, huh?”

A tiny smile quirks up the corner of his lips, but something in it feels distant, like he’s keeping some emotions at bay. “Yeah, sorry. You’ll survive, though.”

“I will.” You look away with mischief on your lips, clicking X on some of the windows in your computer. “Besides, I hear Jeon Jungkook—you know him, right?—is dying for a transfer here. I might just say yes.”

His eyes narrow slightly, and you catch the quick flare of something—annoyance, maybe?—before he huffs out a breath. His mouth curls into a half-snarl, half-smirk. “Wow. The body isn’t even buried yet.”

You’d laugh, but the sight of him pushing his tense fingers through his hair as his tongue skirts the edge of his bottom lip apparently has your pussy on speed dial. Why is that single action so goddamn sexy? You blink, quickly shaking the thought from your mind before it escalates.

“I’m just playing,” you mutter, leaning back in your chair to put some distance between your thoughts and his presence. “You take care of yourself, loser.”

He hesitates for a beat, his fingers resting on the edge of your mouse pad, close enough to yours. There’s something happening, curious and charged, but before you can make sense of it, he bites his lip and nods.

And, of course, he says the one thing you promised yourself you would do anyway. “Don’t miss me too much.”

Your heart skips a beat, but your lips form a straight line, pretending you didn’t feel it. “I won’t.” The words come out too quickly, too light, as if you’re trying to convince yourself more than him.

The door closes softly behind him, but the space feels bigger, emptier without him there. You sit back, staring at the spot where he stood moments ago. The quiet settles in, heavier than before, and you can’t help but notice how different the room feels already.

It’s fine. You’ll barely notice he’s gone.

Except… you do notice.

The first few days pass in a blur of silence and monotony. Your office feels out of sorts without him, like something’s missing. His desk remains untouched, where he orphaned a pair of Galaxy earbuds and a relatively normal-sized black tumbler compared to yours.

You tell yourself it’s just the routine that’s off—that’s all. But then you find yourself thinking about the way his mouth always hangs open when he’s concentrating, or how the other day he tripped over the trash can that the cleaning lady keeps moving around and suddenly you have this goofy smile on your face.

The next Monday, you catch yourself looking at the door, waiting for the familiar sound of him coming in, and the realization burns you like the cheap-ass Tequila you had in college: you do miss him.

You groan internally, pressing your fingers to your temples. Great. Just great.

Actually, not great. This is fucking bad. Like violating a multi-million-won NDA bad.

You gotta keep this unspeakable thing locked airtight in the recesses of your brain. Your Youtube and Naver browsing history will definitely betray you so you need to clear that shit A-SAP. Chae will never out you, but you might want to have another convo just for your peace of mind. And finally, you need to put a stop to the friendly-flirty thing you have going on with Yoongi. You had your fun, but it’s time to stop.

Of course that’s easier said than done. Not when two weeks was up, the sight of Yoongi made you almost drop to your goddamn knees.

You didn’t recognize him at first. His hair is gone. Well, mostly. The buzz cut threw you off. So did the round metal-rim glasses. You blink, trying to process the change, but your brain has officially malfunctioned. 

Is this really him? You verify through the name patch on his shirt. Min Yoongi. Daegu. It read. It really is him, and you are no longer yourself.

“Hey,” he says with a small grin as he approaches you.

“Hello,” you manage, eyes fixed on him, still. The glasses. The buzz cut. Shit. He looks ridiculously cute.

Yoongi drops something on your desk—a small bag. You glance at it, then at him, but he’s already walking away, back to his desk like nothing happened.

Tangerines. It’s a bag of tangerines. Maybe 7 of them.

Your chest tightens in the strangest way. You know tangerines are his favorite fruit as he shared during one of your coffee breaks, but the fact that he brought them for you as he returned from bootcamp? Why does it feel so… personal?

You really want to keep your distance and protect yourself, but this man acts like an angel and looks just like heaven—so you don’t stand a chance at all. You’re going straight to hell. Or jail.

Later that evening, you practically burst through your apartment door, your mind still reeling from the sight of Yoongi with that stupidly cute hair cut. Chae is already in the kitchen, humming as she slices what looks like gimbap.

One look at you, and her eyes narrow with curiosity. “What’s up with you? You look manic.”

You toss your bag down and place the bag of fruit on the counter before you flop onto the couch. “He’s back.”

“Who?”

“You know who,” you groan, burying your face in a pillow. “Yoongi.”

Chae immediately perks up, abandoning the knife to focus on your conversation. “Oh? How is he?”

You point to the citrus. “Those are from him, by the way.”

“Wait, wha—aww his favorite and he brought you some? And he got you seven? Oh my god…” Chae swoons as she rummages through the plastic, picking up one of the plush oranges to sniff it.

“How’d you know it's his fave? And so what if it’s 7?”

Chae places the fruit back in the plastic and exhales dramatically as if she was exasperated by your questions.

“Every self-respecting ARMY knows about Yoongi’s tangerines obsession. And there’s seven of them in BTS,” Chae explains pointedly, before crossing her arms. “Babe, if you’re going to be his girlfriend, you gotta know these things.”

“Fuck off,” you roll your eyes and lie back on the cushions so she’s out of sight.

“Wait…” she says, rounding the kitchen island to lean over the couch by your feet. “So Yoongi’s back. Why do you look a little… unhinged?”

“Ok,” you start, leaning forward and resting your weight on your elbows. “He came back with a buzz cut. And glasses. Like, really cute glasses, Chae. Granted it’s the same ones those fuckbois in Hongdae always wore. But he looked… ugh, I don’t even know how to explain it. Like it suits him. It’s so nerdy, but… sexy. His face is so like…” You drop your head back down on the pillow and sigh.

She shakes her head. “You got it bad, bro.”

You sit up again, glaring at her, but it’s useless. “Fine. Okay, fine. I have a crush. Happy now?”

Chae cackles, going back to her chopping board with way too much enthusiasm. “I knew it! You’ve been soft for him since day one.”

You groan, rubbing your temples. “I don’t know what to do about it. He’s my co-worker.”

“And?”

“And he’s a goddamn idol. Plus, I signed that NDA.”

Before Chae could even react, your words continue to spill out from the leaky bucket that was your brain.

“But like, Chae, he got me a whole bag of tangerines. The fuck is that? And he made me a latte—said he made too much by mistake, but I know the machine, there’s literally only one setting. And there’s this look. And when he smiles. Like, I don’t know, like…” Hell, you can't get more words out, because you know you legitimately sound insane. Is Min Yoongi, rapper, producer, billionaire, actually giving you the time of day?

Chae nods, completely unbothered by your spiraling as she chops the kimchi on the board. “Uh-huh. So, when’s the wedding?”

“Not helpful!” you groan, throwing yourself back down onto the couch and covering your face with the throw blanket. You know she’s teasing, but it’s starting to feel too real.

“Look,” you hear her muffled voice from under the cloth. “I'm honestly super jealous right now, don't get it twisted. But I'm really, really excited for you. And not just because he is my bias wrecker, but because you haven't been excited over a guy in like forever.”

You stay mum as you process her words.

“Do you want my advice?”

“Yes.” You pull the blanket away and sit up to look at her.

“Let the chips fall where they may…” she declares as she sprinkles sesame seeds on the gimbap with a flourish.

“That's vague as hell.”

“Listen, you are a smart, capable, smokeshow of a woman. You've got very weird cardigans, but thank god you wear a uniform.”

“Rude?!”

“It seems that he wants at the very least a friendship with you, so just have fun with it,” Chae winks, her voice taking on a teasing tone. “You’ll know when to make a move.”

You stare at her, feeling your face heat up. “Oho I’m not making a move. I’m just… acknowledging the fact that I might be into him.”

She laughs, her spoon waving in the air. “Aight. Good luck with that, then.”

The steady click of your keyboard echoes through the dimly lit office, the glow from your screen casting long shadows on the walls. It is well past 9 p.m. and the office is virtually empty. You are deep into your report, fingers flying over the keys, when the door to your office opens.

You startle but not by much, removing your earphones that were filtering lo-fi music that usually helped with your concentration. 

Your visitor leans against the doorway, sharp eyes lingering on you. Work uniform gone, he sports a branded black shirt and black pants, a gray beanie hiding the fuzz you have been obsessed with for days.

“Still at it?” he asks.

“Yeah. Told you I was gonna try to get this done after hours,” you say, flashing him a tired smile. “Thought you left.”

He seems about to say something, but he pauses, glancing around the room before his gaze settles on his desk. He moves toward it, clearing his throat.

“Ah, yeah. I did,” he says, his voice casual, almost too casual. “But then I realized I forgot my earbuds.”

He plucks the pod case from the table, holding it up with a little shrug. “Couldn’t exactly leave without these, right?”

You narrow your eyes at him, one eyebrow raised. “Didn’t you leave those here for, like, two weeks when you were at bootcamp?”

Yoongi’s grin flickers—just for a second—but then it’s back in place, lazy and effortless. “Must’ve missed them this time.” He slides into a chair beside you, settling in like he has no intention of leaving.

Curious. Very curious. He is not about to waste his Friday night to be in this office with you. Or is he?

“So I have an idea that might make tonight more… interesting.” He declares, setting his bag down against your desk.

Before you can ask what he meant, he stands up and disappears out the door. A few minutes later, he returns, a mischievous glint in his eye and a bottle of wine clutched in his hand. 

You sit up straighter, eyes wide. “Yoongi, where the hell did you get that?”

“Hyun-woo’s stash.” His grin was impish as he set the bottle down between you. “He gave me keys to his office.”

“I don’t think he gave it to you for this purpose,” You gape at him, disbelieving. “You’re going to get us in so much trouble.”

He shrugs, looking entirely unfazed. “It’s after hours. Nobody’s around. Besides…” He glances towards the CCTV camera in the corner, then reaches for a small box on top of the filing cabinet and slides it in front of the camera’s view. “Oops.”

You can’t help but laugh at his boldness, shaking your head. “You know I signed an NDA about working with you, and now you’ve got me breaking the code of conduct? You’re trouble, Min Yoongi.”

Yoongi beams as he twists the cap off the bottle. “Yet here you are enabling me.”

You raise an eyebrow, snatching the bottle from his hand and taking a sip. The wine was surprisingly decent for something hidden away in an office drawer. Some fruity red that went smoothly down your throat. As you pass the bottle back to him, you fish through your desk drawer, pulling out a bag of cheese crackers and mini pretzels.

“See, enabler,” Yoongi remarked, gulping from the bottle before shoving a piece of pretzel in his mouth.

“Your tshirt says you’re the ‘mastermind’ though,” you point out.

He glances down on the print of his shirt and nods, “That I am” before he presents you the gummiest smile you’ve ever seen.

You fall into an easy relay after that, taking turns with the wine bottle while you continue to type away your report. Meanwhile he takes out his laptop and perches it on the side of your desk so he can work beside you on what seems like a personal project, perhaps a song. But you can’t ask because the NDA states you are not allowed to ask him anything about BTS or his music career.

“How’s the deck coming along?” Yoongi asks after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

“I’ve got the wireframe done. Just need to fill in the details.” You glance at his screen. “You seem busy.”

“Yeah, I’m reviewing materials for a documentary about the last tour,” he says, letting out a long sigh as he slouches further into his chair.

You hum in response, biting your lip, holding back the questions dancing on your tongue. NDA, remember.

He must notice your hesitation, because he waves his hand dismissively. “I know the contract says you’re not supposed to ask about music, but it’s cool. You can ask.”

Before you can second-guess yourself, you blurt out, “Do you miss it?”

Yoongi turns his head slightly, meeting your eyes. You clarify, quieter now, “Making music. Being with the others.”

He doesn’t answer right away, picking at his lip. There’s a pause, long enough that you almost regret asking.

“Yes,” he finally says, voice low. “And no.”

You wait, sensing there’s more.

“Yes, because it’s music,” he continues, leaning back. “It’s what I’ve done my whole life. It’s where I feel… alive, you know? Like everything clicks into place when I’m creating. It’s hard to explain, but when I’m in it, everything makes sense.”

His words pull at something in you—the way his voice changes when he talks about it, that quiet intensity he wears so well. But then he looks down, fingers tracing the cork of the wine bottle.

“But no, too,” he says, softer. “This is the first time in years I’ve been able to step back. To just be… normal.” He glances up, a small grin touching his lips, the kind that never quite reaches his eyes. “It’s weird, right? But it’s freeing.”

You’ve never been an idol, but you can imagine the pressure of always being watched. You tilt your head, curious. “Freeing how?”

He shrugs, eyes drifting to the ceiling. “I get to slow down. Figure out parts of me I didn’t have time for before. Meet new people. Like you.” The way he says it is casual, but your heart does a little cartwheel.

“I’m not locked in the same cycle—touring, writing, performing. I love it, but sometimes… It's a lot. Now, I can just breathe.”

You nod slowly, absorbing his words. You can see how much music means to him, but there’s something grounding about this version of him—without the spotlight, without the expectations.

“Does that make sense?” His voice lightens, like he’s suddenly aware of how much he’s shared.

Your lips quirk a bit. “Yeah, for sure.”

He gives a small nod, almost imperceptible, before reaching for the bottle again, taking a slow sip. “Don’t get me wrong,” he adds, his tone slipping back into something more familiar. “I’ll be back at it soon. But right now… this isn’t so bad.”

For a moment, his eyes meet yours, and there’s a flicker of something there—something deeper, quieter. It’s a side of him you don’t see often, a side that’s relieved to step away from the noise, even if just for a while.

His gaze makes you think of your own life, your own lack of direction. You shift slightly, glancing back at the document in front of you.

“You look like you’re thinking about something,” Yoongi says, his attention shifting fully to you as he shuts his laptop.

You hesitate, nibbling on a cracker, not sure why you’re even about to say this out loud. “I don’t know… sometimes I wonder how I got here.”

Yoongi’s brow lifts, and you feel the heat of his gaze on you. “Here?”

“At this job,” you clarify. “It wasn’t really part of the plan. But somehow, I’ve stayed. And now it’s been years.” You laugh a little, but it feels tight, almost self-conscious.

“What do you mean?” he asks, his voice steady, as if he’s urging you to go on.

You sigh, glancing down at your hands. “I guess… a lot of people around me, they have these big dreams. They’re doing things that sound so… important. My best friend Chae, she’s working in this Michelin star restaurant, on her way to becoming head chef. And I’m just… here. Still figuring things out. Shouldn’t I want more?”

The words slip out before you can catch them, and suddenly you’re left with that familiar weight in your chest, the one that sneaks up on you late at night when you wonder if you’re not doing enough. It feels silly now, admitting it out loud.

Yoongi stays quiet for a beat, thinking, his fingers tapping the wine bottle lightly. When he speaks, his voice is low, thoughtful.

“Not everyone needs to have some grand dream to chase. Sometimes, just doing what makes you feel steady is enough.”

You glance at him, caught off guard by how easily he says it. There’s something honest in the way he looks at you, like he’s sharing a truth he’s only just come to understand himself.

“There’s no rule,” he adds, “that says you have to follow everyone else’s path. It’s okay to take your time figuring things out.”

You bite your lip, his words settling over you like a quiet comfort. “You really think that?”

Yoongi nods, leaning in just a little. “Yeah. Some people chase after their dreams because they think that’s the only way to prove something. But sometimes… just living and finding what makes you feel steady is enough.”

His words strike deep, but they’re simple. You smile, feeling warmth uncurling in your chest. And you know it’s not just the wine.

“Thanks,” you murmur, offering him the bottle, your fingers barely holding on.

He takes it, and when his hand brushes yours, something tightens in your stomach. You let go without a fight.

Yoongi leans back, that smirk tugging at his lips again—like he’s fully aware of the effect he’s having. “If you get fired for this, at least we’re going down together.”

Your laugh slips out softer than expected, probably because he’s so maddeningly calm. Like he’d still have that cocky mouth even if the world was burning.

You both reach for a pretzel at the same time, fingers grazing his. “Oh, my bad,” you say, forcing casual, but inside, it’s like an electric shock.

He doesn’t pull away right away. His hand lingers for a second—just long enough to make you notice. That twitch at the corner of his mouth is lethal.

You chuckle, but it feels hollow, like you’re trying to shake off the sudden flutter in your chest. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

Yoongi laughs, low and quiet, and it does something to you. His knee bumps yours under the table, and he doesn’t move it. “You don’t seem too bothered by trouble.”

It’s a quiet sort of ambush. Nothing pushy, just… unexpected.

You glance up and catch him staring—not at your eyes, but your lips. It’s barely a second, but it makes your pulse spike like he’s just yanked the ground out from under you.

You shift in your seat, trying to play it cool, but there’s a hint of something else, something daring. Your gaze drifts to his lips, wondering, for a split second, what he’d taste like if you were bold enough to just go for it like Chae had said.

But… no. That’s insane. You could definitely get fired for that.

He’s still watching you, face neutral, but his cheeks are flushed, a pink stain that gives him away.

“You good?” you ask, keeping it light, teasing.

“Yeah,” he mutters, looking away. “Just warm.”

The way he yanks off his beanie and runs a hand through his hair shouldn’t feel like a whole damn striptease, but here you are, heart pounding, as if you’re witnessing something way more scandalous than him adjusting his hair. The tips of his ears are red, so maybe he is more affected than he lets on.

“Yeah, it is kinda warm.” You fumble for something to do with your hands, tying your hair up into a messy bun. You don’t think much of it, until you catch the way Yoongi watches, gaze lingering a second too long on the bare skin of your neck. He’s not subtle about it, either. His lips part, and suddenly, it’s like you’ve knocked the wind out of him.

The look he is giving you is devastating. Fuck.

The way his tongue drags across his wine-stained bottom lip is downright diabolical. It’s a subtle motion, but it hits with cutting precision, like he knows exactly what he’s doing and how it’s affecting you. And you know he has this down to a science at this point, being an idol, and knowing how to bring fans to their knees. 

“Trouble,” you mutter, shaking your head. It’s not just teasing anymore. It’s acknowledgment, an unspoken agreement that you both know what’s happening.

He licks his teeth, smirking. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You roll your eyes, laughing softly, trying to ease the tension. “Can’t believe I let you drag me into this.”

And by this, you both know you’re not just talking about this night, but all the moments leading up to it. Leading up to these new feelings you haven’t fully unraveled.

“You like it,” he teases, taking another swig, feline eyes locked in on yours a second longer than necessary, like he’s daring you to deny it.

Welp. Maybe he’s right. Maybe you’re starting to.

Maybe you already do.

A/N: So what do we think? Tell me what you liked about the chapter and what you want to see in the next ones!

Btw y'all really wanted JK in this one so I had to write him in. Personally, I was imagining Seungcheol (my Daegu bbs) and initially had him in the drafts, but Woozi would've been comedy gold, too.

Next chapter is half-way written haha who am i?! Look forward to 1,000 words about Yoongi's large, veiny hands. Who's down?

Chapter Three >

Taglist: @glossdebut @kam9404 @mar-lo-pap @nnybtitts08 @granataepfelchen

@perfectiondazesworld @wobblewobble822 @yoongznme @caressesurloceanlove @rinkud

@kayleefriedchicken @jajabro @tinytan-gerine @xxbibin1208 @forevercarpediem227

@yoongicatagenda @someshinesomedont @marnz1990 @iheartshopping @confidentjus

@queenbloody @whydoeyecare @sadroses98 @curlyquennn

[lovebugism]

u ask for shy!reader here i come holding a request

shy reader who is used to ppl telling them they look better without glasses, only for steve to find out they actually do very much need them, especially to read

so steve finally encourages them to wear them more and make sure to tell them how cute they look with them

hi, angel! thanks for ur request! fellow glasses-wearers rise! (1.4k)

Six months, five days, and twelve hours — that’s how long Steve’s been your boyfriend. Not that he’s counting, of course. It takes him the same amount of time to find out that you wear glasses.

He always knew your vision wasn’t the greatest. You complained about it from time to time — the headaches and the blurriness — but he never thought it was bad because you never made a big deal about it. He figured it was more existential than urgent, the idea that you might need glasses in the future if your eyes ever worsened. 

He didn’t know they were already worse. 

It’s your first movie night together — “the first of many,” Steve lilted when he sat down on the couch beside you, with a bowl of popcorn in his hand and a kiss on your cheek. He liked the idea of that, of having a tradition with you. He liked knowing that a section of his busy week could be carved out just for the both of you.

And it’s not like you’ve never watched a movie together before. It’s just that usually, there are about five teenagers sandwiched between the two of you, not including Robin and Nancy. 

The former always insists on sitting on Steve’s left and only occasionally sharing her popcorn. The latter sits next to you and, halfway through the film, has already managed to convince you to leave with her and do something more fun.

But now, at eight o’clock, tucked tenderly away in your apartment, it’s just the two of you. 

And your terrible, terrible eyesight.

A quarter of the way through Beetlejuice, Steve catches you squinting at the television across the room.

You’re all wrapped up in his arms, lying on your sides on the small couch. Steve keeps you pressed against him to stop you from falling off the edge of it. One of his arms curls around your stomach and the other is balled into a fist to prop up his head.

He looks down at you, already smiling, and with a “Be honest, would you fuck Michael Keaton as Beetlejuice?” on the tip of his tongue. It fades when he notices your eyes are halfway closed.

For a second, he thinks you might be falling asleep. He can tell by your scrunched nose and quirked mouth that it’s something else entirely.

His hand squeezes your hip to get your attention. “Babe? You okay?”

“Huh?” you hum as you turn to him. The furrow between your brows dissipates when your eyes open to their fullest again.

“You’re squinting.”

Your mouth falls softly agape, as though in slight surprise. 

You hadn’t noticed it, really. You hardly ever do, but it’s been happening a lot more recently.

Just a week ago, Nancy pointed out how closely you held her newspaper to your face while trying to read it. After that, Dustin had been trying to show you a new VHS at Family Video but had to come about ten steps closer for you to see what it was.

“Oh. I didn’t realize…”

“Do you have a headache?” Steve asks, bushy brows pinched in concern. “Do you wanna turn the movie off?”

You shake your head against the pillow. “No. It’s fine.”

“Is it your eyes again? Can you see—”

“Yes, Steve,” you interject, laughing gently. “I can see the screen.”

“What’s the time say, then?”

“I can see,” you argue in a non-answer.

“Humor me.”

You huff. Then squint again.

The red numbers below the TV stand are mush. Your eyes try hopelessly to focus on them. With what you lack in eyesight, you make up for with confidence. “Nine… Thirty-six…” you answer with a nonchalant shrug.

Steve sputters out a laugh that fans against your cheek. He shakes his head in pity. “Babe…”

“What?”

“That’s not even close! It’s eight-fifty-five!” he chuckles with a pink smile and sparkling honey eyes. 

You roll your eyes at him in response. He leans down to kiss your cheek when you turn away from him again. 

“You gotta make an appointment to get your eyes checked, babe. You can’t just go through life not being able to see anything—”

“I have glasses,” you mumble.

“What? Since when?”

“I don’t know. Since, like, middle school,” you shrug. “I just don’t wear them.”

Steve, halfway offended, gapes at you in response. “…Why didn’t I know about this?”

“’Cause I don’t like wearing them. They make my eyes look funny. I hate it.”

“Where are they?”

“In my bedroom—” you answer absentmindedly, then whine when he starts to get up. “Steve, don’t! I’m comfortable!” 

“I’ll be right back,” the boy promises.

He shoves the covers down and climbs over your legs to get off the couch. He presses another kiss to your cheeks before he goes, like he can’t stand the idea of not kissing you every chance he gets.

He finds your glasses in a thin leather case in your desk drawer. They’re simple, rounded things — rimmed with silver and pretty in their minimalism. He rushes them back to you with a boyish excitement fluttering like a butterfly in his chest.

No one’s ever been this thrilled to see someone in a pair of glasses.

He beams at you when he hurries back into the living room.

You’ve already sat up against the back of the couch, not nearly as comfortable without Steve holding you. Your knees are brought up to your chest, the knitted blanket through over them and bunched at your lap. You meet his grin with a childlike scowl.

“Here. Put ‘em on,” he says, motioning the glasses to you.

“No,” you whine, flopping your head back against the couch.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Steve laughs. “They’re just glasses.”

“I don’t like them!”

“Why?” 

“‘Cause they make me look weird!”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Well, ask everyone who’s ever seen me in them,” you retort, halfway pouting. “I got made fun of for, like, six years when I wore them to school. Everyone called me Turtle until I graduated.”

A grin pulls at Steve’s lips. ���Turtle?”

You nod shyly, looking at him through your lashes and trying not to smile back. “Yeah. ‘Cause I looked like Toby Turtle from Robin Hood—”

Steve doesn’t mean to laugh. It just sort of comes out. A big, boyish, hearty chuckle sputters from his mouth before he can stop it.

“Don’t laugh!” you scold, giggling alongside him.

“Well, now you have to put them on.”

Steve inches toward you with the glasses in hand. You don’t protest when he slips the sides over your ears and uses the knuckle of his forefinger to push them up the bridge of your nose. 

He steps back to admire you with a grin. Your girlish pout has returned to you, but it doesn’t look nearly as intimidating when you’re blinking up at him with unusually large eyes.

He shakes his head down at you. “You’re the cutest damn thing I’ve ever seen, you know that?”

“Don’t lie,” you grouse. “I look like a bug.”

“Correction: the cutest bug.” 

He laughs when it makes you glower. 

He steps to the side and points to the clock again. “Can you see the time now?”

You look at it, then back to him. “Yeah… ’S Time for you to go home,” you deadpan.

“When’d you get so mean?” Steve lilt, beaming at you as he settles on the couch again. 

The two of you absentmindedly crawl back into your original positions. He lounges behind you and clutches you to his chest again. “You used to be so nice, Toby Turtle—”

“Don’t,” you protest, halfway smiling despite the glare you give him. You look almost owlish behind the thick lenses. "It's not funny."

“I’m just kidding, babe,” he promises. He sprinkles kisses to your face and laughs into each one. “I love them. I swear.”

“I’m glad someone does,” you murmur.

Steve pulls back with a grin, toeing the line between sincerity and mischief. “I’ll show how much I like ‘em later,” he teases quietly, squeezing the outside of your thigh where his hand rests. “I have a feeling I’m gonna have a lot of fun with these tonight.”

Your face heats at his words. Your nose scrunches, feigning disgust as you push him away.

“Perv,” you mumble, crossing your arms over your chest and turning so your back is pressed against him again.

“I thought Toby Turtle was supposed to be nice—”

“Steve!”

[babygirlwritessmut]

♡︎ part10. tickets

・❥・pairing: vi (arcane) x fem!reader

・❥・ summary: Vi`s weird behavior bothered you, later she decided to have a serious conversation about the future of your relationship

・❥・ genre: smut + grumpy x sunshine

・❥・ word count: 1.6k

✎ warnings: 18+, SMUT, sub!vi, fingering, oral sex, fluff

MINORS DNI!

RIDE ON ME masterlist

“yes, cupcake, don't stop,” - Vi's legs were on your shoulders as your tongue moved over her wetness. it seemed like you two were planning to make dinner together, but one thing led to another, and now she was lying on the couch while you were pleasuring her. there wasn't a single spot in this apartment where you hadn't enjoyed each other.

when your fingers slipped inside her, she tangled her hand in your hair and arched her back. you increased your pace, sucking harder on her clit. her body began to tense up, and you knew she was on the edge. pressing on that soft, tender spot inside her, she moaned louder and came. letting go of your hair, Vi tried to catch her breath.

“what are you doing to me?” - she said, and you just smiled in response. as she regained her composure, she kissed you. your lips still tasted like her, and lately, the two of you had become even closer, almost like one entity.

the holidays were going wonderfully, you finally had a break from studying and felt recharged. after a quick shower, you both found yourselves back in the kitchen. this time, you finally managed to cook a delicious dinner, and while watching a movie, you spent the evening wrapped in each other’s arms.

the next morning, Vi seemed a bit nervous. she left the apartment while you were still asleep, and when she returned, she didn't say where she'd been. when you tried to ask what was going on, she simply said there was no reason to worry.

you spent the day together again, but every time her phone rang, she would go into another room and close the door. you knew something strange was happening, but you couldn't figure out what it was.

this went on for a few days until your patience ran out.

“Vi, what's going on? I trust you, but your behavior has been a little different,” - you said, your voice was uneasy. you were used to sharing everything with each other, but now she seemed to be pulling away.

“everything's fine, there's no...”

“yes, yes, no reason to worry. I've heard that before, but I’d really like to know the real reason.”

Vi paused for a moment before speaking, - “there's something I want to talk to you about. can we meet tonight?”

“meet? why can't we just go together?” - you asked, realizing she was about to leave again.

“I have to go in ten minutes, but please, come to this café at 7. I have something to tell you,” - she said, getting up and avoiding eye contact.

"no, not this"

your thoughts were racing as she moved around the room in a rush. you watched her gather her things and walk out the door.

the whole day you were alone, unable to settle. "something bad happened, I can feel it," - you kept thinking. you were ready to leave as early as 5 o'clock, somehow believing that starting to get ready sooner would speed up time, but instead, you spent the next hour and a half sitting on the couch, waiting.

when the time finally came, you headed towards the café, feeling worse with every step. a few tears fell down your cheek as you realized what might be happening, but you were too scared to say it out loud. the café was almost empty when you arrived, and you took a seat at the table, waiting. minutes felt like hours, and your face grew pale.

right at 7, Vi walked in, sat down with you, and greeted you. you don’t remember if you said anything back, your heart was pounding, and her body seemed tense. "please, no."

“cupcake, I know I've been spending too little time with you these days,” - Vi began. “I'm sorry for that,” - she said, her eyes darting around nervously.

“what I’m about to say... I don’t expect you to...” - for some reason, she struggled to find the right words, and it was clear from her expression that she was incredibly nervous.

"Vi, please"

“we've spent so much time together, but I...” -she was struggling to find the words – “I can't do this anymore...”

"no, no, no" -  tears welling up in your eyes.

“I just want to say that...” - it felt like torture, her words weren't forming a complete sentence, and you decided to take the initiative.

unable to hold back, you said, - “if you want to break up with me, you didn't need to wait. why did you bring me here? so people could see me cry?” - your voice trembled. “I thought we were fine.”

Vi looked at you and finally realized that you were crying. when her hand reached out to wipe your tears, you pulled away.

“what are you doing?” - you said, starting to get angry. “just end it already.”

“cupcake, there's nothing to end,” - she said, her face showing a whirlwind of emotions. you couldn't understand what was wrong, but it didn't seem to matter anymore.

“what are you talking about? didn't you say you were happy to be my girlfriend?” - it seemed like some of the people in the café had started paying attention, listening to your conversation.

“I did, that's not what I…“

“not what you want? I already figured that out, and now I just want to leave,” - you said, feeling too humiliated to stay any longer. you started putting on your jacket and stood up to leave.

“cupcake, sit down,” - her tone turned firm, which caught you by surprise. “sit down, please, and let me explain.”

you didn't want to make a scene because almost everyone in the café was watching you.

“the reason I asked you here today is not to break up with you,” - she said, and your eyes widened in surprise. “if my dear girlfriend had let me finish a sentence, she would have known that today is a special day.” - Vi finally started to smile, and you felt a little warmth return.

“as you know, you're not just my girlfriend, you're also my roommate,” - she winked at you – “we moved in together six months ago.” - Vi took your hand in hers.

“in my whole life, I've never met anyone like you. cupcake, you amaze me every day and make me want to be a better person,” - she said, speaking with more confidence.

“as I was trying to say from the beginning, we've spent a lot of time together, but I can't keep my feelings bottled up anymore. it's hard for me to express them, so it takes me a while,” - she said, taking a deep breath while still holding your hand.

“I love you, cupcake. so much,” - Vi said, looking into your eyes, her fingers gently tracing over your hand. inside, everything was turning upside down, the rush of words and emotions was so overwhelming that you didn't know where to start. you saw a hint of panic appearing on her face.

“Vi, I love you too...” - you said, still with tears glistening on your face. “I feel so ashamed. when you were avoiding me these past few days, I thought you wanted to...”

“never,” - she interrupted the flow of your negative thoughts. “but I won't lie, you did upset me a little. how could you think that?” - her eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise.

you decided not to answer, the shame you felt in that moment was overwhelming. you squeezed her hand tighter and lowered your head.

“then why were you acting so strange these past few days?” - you asked, still seeking an answer to the question that had been bothering you. without responding, Vi stood up from the table and went over to the waiter. they exchanged a few words, and then she returned to you.

“you deserve the best. I wanted to surprise you,” - she said, just as the waiter approached your table with a pot of fragrant tea and a slice of pie for each of you. Vi thanked the waiter and continued, - “you've spent so much time with me, you've opened up to me completely, and as a gesture of gratitude and my love to you, I want to give you this.”

she pulled a white envelope out of her pocket. turning it over in your hands, you started to open it. your hands were shaking, but eventually, you managed to pull out what was inside. they were tickets. you looked at Vi in disbelief.

“after the next semester ends, I'd like to go on a trip with you. I want to give you the whole world,” - she said, looking at you like she was afraid you might vanish at any moment.

“I... I don't know what to say,” - you said, trembling as you felt hot tears streaming down your face again. “I love you, this is incredible. thank you, thank you!” - you moved closer to her and started kissing her.

“I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me, I was just so afraid of losing you,” - you said, burying your face in her neck.

“that will never happen. I love you too, cupcake."

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

I'm a bit sad that this story has come to an end, but at the same time, I'm happy that I had the chance to share my thoughts with you. I am immensely grateful to everyone who read and shared my first creation. without your support, I wouldn't have made it through. I really hope that you found it interesting. once again, thank you so much! ♡︎

[shuenkio]

𝐈'𝐦 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐢𝐭? | Ksn.

Paring: Sunoo x M!reader | Genre: Smut! Very.

Synopsis: Not only is he upset that you spend less time with him, but the fact he saw a random guy said hi to you and you flash a smile so bright. That's when his inner beast came out.

Cw: jealousy, cumming, cursing (any other else was explicit so bad, read at your own risk)

Non proof read | Eng is not my 1st language

This is a work of fanfiction, do not throw unnecessary tantrums on this nsfw/sfw blog. ©Shuenkio

𝐀𝐍: writing a bias who look like an angel was... Something. Anyway writing smut is still limited because I'm still trying, some awkward part might happen and yeah, I might cringe in the future seeing this. Enjoy reading. ( Request From anon)

A group project from your professor made you start to spend less time with your lovely boyfriend, Sunoo. Every weekend after your class, you'd often come home at 7 p.m., which is unusual.

Sunoo finds it weird that you're coming home late these past few weeks, till he thought you'd cheated on him. However, who knows, when you went to sleep, he always checked your phone and your account in every corner to make sure you weren't doing anything out of his sight, and it's true you did not have anybody else other than him and a group chat of friends.

After that, he started to realize that you probably keep a distance from him by spending more time with your friends, almost prioritizing them over him. Which made him upset for some reason but was soon replaced by madness mixed with jealousy. You've never smiled at anyone or anybody approaching you, but for today, when coming home after finishing groceries with him, during the time he's paying, he saw a guy coming at you and said, 'hello' Not only that, he thought you'd be creeped out by a stranger's face; instead, a bright smile appeared on your face.

That's irritated him so much; when he saw that, you were changed now. At home. While he was unloading the foods into the fridge, Sunoo saw you lying on the bed as you were making a phone call with one of your friends.

He decided that he'd have to finish all the action you have been taking, throwing him into the edge, which he can't back down now; if he couldn't bang tf out of you tonight, he'd be dead.

"M/n!" The door is opened by a strong pair of arms as he knocks softly on it twice, but you can't seem to pay any attention to him or notice him behind you with your back facing him. The ignorance not only boils him more, but the heat in his body continues to grow like a chemical burn.

You should at least turn your back or respond to him; there's no way you couldn't hear, yet nothing comes out of your mouth. It's all busy chitchatting with your close buddy about nonsense things and group projects. The temperature has reached its limit. The innocent boyfriend, who was like an angel, gentle and bubbly to you, turns 360° at the spot.

His jaw tightened as his gaze was painted black. Without any warning, he closed the door slowly, locked it as he took off his shirt, left him with his sleeveless top on, and made his way behind you.

"Yeah, lol, bye, see you tomorrow." gasps escape as you feel an arm placed underneath your shorts. When you turn around, you see Sunoo completely turned on, and he looks just like he just came out of hell.

"S-sunoo! What are you doing?" Nervously asking, you were about to turn around, but his strong strength left you unmoved.

"You were such a bad boy for these past few weeks, m/n; you left me alone and spent time with your friends instead of me. A lot, no too much. Have you forgotten you have your boyfriend here, desperate for your love?" He explains with a stern tone that all he said was true; nevertheless, you try to deny the fact that you have to complete the group project.

But all the things you've said now are useless; he knows everything, and if you keep denying, there's no reason why you could be able to walk tomorrow, maybe or maybe not.

"Go on, what do you have next? Not only that, the guy I saw earlier at the store looks like a creep, but you still flash your only smile for me to him? M/n, what's this all about?" Get a hold of his control, and while his finger lingers on the entrance of your ass, circle around and attempt to slide in, but he gives you time to explain that the lie would only push more in.

"I—he that guy—he was a friend of mine; we go to the same college." sweating soaks your forehead as you try your best to make your statement. Later, you find yourself crying out in pleasure as you feel a finger slide inside of you.

"Oh really? Hm... I think I've never seen him before. If he were your friend, why have you never told me about him? Most of your friends with whom you interact are all in your contact list, but not him? I know if you did, you'd think I'd be jealous, but unfortunately, I am jealous, by my own sight!!! For now, let's see who's belong to who shall we m/n?"

The innocent is gone, the lamp in your heart making you speechless with no more words coming out to argue with the matter of fact. Ripped off your short away, as he smirked in Maniac, he had never been like this; he used to be a sugar pie gummy bear, but now? A total psycho who's probably fucking the hell out of you tonight.

"Foreplay is dumb; why not get into it, hm? I look like a beautiful cloud, baby boy, but a clout can also be a dangerous cloud when it's raining." Before you can react, a cock spring frees out of his pant, the leaking pre-cum making your dick twitch. Never in your relationship have you seen each other's private parts, but look! It's paler than your thigh. The size might be normal, but what happens if he knows how to...?

"I'm going in, boy. I'll take care of you after these hours." The dark, low chuckle gives you goosebumps, and soon enough, Sunoo slides his cock in, raw! Losing control of himself once he was inside of you. His eyes painted in wide white, listening to your whimpering sound, even turned him on to the edge.

All he wanted right now was to claim you as his. Thrusting in, wasting no more time, with both of your hands locked by him on your back in one hand, he never worked out nor did he have an abs, but he's strong, strong, tbh. The wet liquid of his pre-cum gives him smooth access to push in even deeper. The first time with you was worth it, and he knows you're low-key loving it.

"Shit, why does it feel so good?" Everyone would be moaning, whimpering, or cursing out of pleasure, yet for Sunoo, he's crying out of pleasure. Tears streaming down on his pretty face, with your countless can't-take-it huffs only to make him fasten his pace, Sunoo's balls continue to slap against your balls, mixed with the wet sound you'd often hear in a beat of music. It's so hot and aroused that your body is twirling under his touch, adjusted, and squeezing in his cock, begging for more.

"Sun—Nghuu... I feel strange, faster!!" Wiping his satisfied tears away, he then responded back with both of his hands locking, wrapped around your hip before going all in, one thrust in a first attempt, making his cock disappear suddenly.

Your jaw almost cracks when his tip reaches the most sensitive spot ever in your body, the prostate. Saliva is leaking out of your lips like hunger, as is a massive load of cum shooting out on the bed sheet. When he saw that you were cumming, a weird feeling approached him, like a string intertwined in one, a wave of jolt hitting the shaft of his before he exploded inside of your ass.

It was messy, but it just hit the spot of pleasure. The odor of stain cum began to fill the room, and both of you then collapsed on the bed while still connected with each other.

"It feels good, right, m/n?" Nod to the question as a warm smile appeared on his face. Patting your head out of cuteness.

"Good boy, we're only here once; nobody else interrupts us. You got it? Now let's restore your energy; your trembling is too much." And that is how you know: you will never leave him alone again, ever. All innocent guys are wild, and you can't change that.

"Goodnight 내사랑" 

Ps: Some requests I might write and some I might decline just because. sometimes I feel horrible when I won't be able to do it, 🥹 surwy to some anon had asked me ><

🗣️Reblog and like is much appreciated ♥

🗣️ Please mind my English! ><

🗣️All crd pics & dividers to the owner.

[twiisted-king]

⊙ THE SPOT BF HC’s ⊙

➟ The Spot / Jonathan Ohnn X GN!Reader 🕳️

➟ NSFW / SFW ( he has such raw sex appeal )

➟ TW : Insecurities, Workplace Abuse, Body Image, SEX, & Murder :)

————————————————————————

⊙ PRE-COLLIDER

— Jonathan is PAINFULLY average.

— Sure his colleagues like him and he has a good standing with his superiors, But he just doesn’t have a lot going for him.

— Which is why he wonders why an angel like you loves him so much.

— He enjoys the domesticity of y’all’s relationship when he isn’t stuck at the lab or doing scientific research. Like make the man a nice home cooked meal and take a shower with him, it makes him happy beyond belief.

— He has quips. Jonathan just loves making you laugh and he’s actually pretty good at laughing at himself whenever he does something stupid. He knows you won’t judge him.

— Kind of obsessed? Besides work, you are all he thinks about and focuses on. He has plans for the future of your relationship ( MARRIAGE ).

— He’s the type of person to keep a picture of you on his desk.

— Adding onto the obsessed part, he can be possessive. I feel like that’s a given with him.

— Jonathan is insecure. He knows that there are a lot of more attractive, cooler people out there and he worries that he’ll fuck up one day and you’ll leave him. Please comfort him.

— Arguments are few and far between. He’s good at resolving whatever issues that may come up with good ol’ communication.

— He keeps you as far away from his work life as possible. He NEVER EVER wants you to get caught up in the messes that are his projects and he knows just how dangerous working with physics is. Plus Wilson Fisk might use you as leverage to get Jonathan to do what he wants.

— sex time boys :)

— You wanna have sex .. WITH HIM!? That’s kind of his instant reaction though he isn’t opposed.

— I don’t think he’s a virgin, But he’s not the most experienced. He might’ve had a few partners in college though that’s about it. I’m sure he had a few admirers at Alchemax though he was far too busy with working to care plus he had you.

— I don’t think he has a preference for who is dominant and submissive. If you want to edge him until he cries that’s cool! But he’s also chill with taking the lead and fucking you into submission.

— This man is PACKIN’. You can disagree with me all you want, But it’s always the dorky ones that have the most dick. He probably thought that he wasn’t big since he’s since all of these videos talking about how “ 6 inches isn’t big enough yadi yada “. So he was incredibly nervous taking his pants off the first time and he just sorta held his breath, waiting for a reaction of disappointment. He ended up being pleasantly surprised in the end of and was more than happy to shove his dick down your throat.

— His dick is skinnier than it is thick. Poor dude has an INCREDIBLY sensitive head and a prominent vein running up the underside of his shaft.

— Prefers positions where he can see your face. He thinks eyes are the windows to the soul and being able to focus on your expressions makes sex 100X more enjoyable.

— SIT ON THIS MANS FACE. Force him to take all of you inside his mouth and then ride his nose until you’re seeing stars.

— Jonathan let’s out the pathetic noises. He’ll whine, whimper, moan, etc.

————————————————————————

⊙ POST-COLLIDER

— honey, you’ve got a big storm comin’

— He becomes almost 1,000X more clingy and loving.

— He’s absolutely horrified at what happened to him and feels like he’s a burden to you now. He can’t even kiss you for god’s sake!

— Spot will get steal gifts for you in an effort to make up for having to date an idiot like him. He’s much more withdrawn and silent though he’s still prone to using humor as a coping skill.

— Once he realizes that you aren’t going to leave him is probably when he resorts to crime. He would never leave you as the main breadwinner no matter how much you can provide for y’all and will do whatever he can to make sure you are well cared for.

— He’ll never allow you to go out with him when he’s committing crimes. If you were to get hurt or worse ( ahem die ) he would probably never forgive himself.

— You are now his world and he must protect his world at all cost.

— He’s become even more obsessed with your face now that he doesn’t have a proper one. Kissing is a little awkward, But he still appreciates that you’re willing to be affectionate with him.

— You can be curious about his spots, But don’t expect him to let you go through one. It’s already difficult enough for him to control them and he doesn’t want to send you to a whole other universe.

— He has become much more confident as The Spot. He’ll make big risky choices and no longer wants to be a doormat. Arguments are still uncommon though he isn’t afraid to defend the crimes he commits because at the end of the day it’s all for you.

— Being a interdimensional criminal isn’t the most ideal job, But it all comes back to his love for you and don’t ever forget that.

— Has told you to “ Come check out his hole “ a couple of times whenever he figures out his powers, he is definitely aware of how dirty he makes it sound.

— time to get down and dirty in Jonathan’s holes :)

— For starters, he didn’t LOSE his dick it’s just kind of chilling in a void pocket. Go read Spotless on AO3, The Spot actually has a dick in that fic in a way that makes sense.

— He’s grateful you still want to be intimate with him. He can be a little awkward sometimes though he makes up for it.

— Becoming a supervillain has made this man an absolutely menace in bed. He’ll overstimulate and edge you to make sure you remember he isn’t just some lowlife scientist anymore.

— Jonathan’s rougher and manhandles you, forcing you into whatever position he wants.

— It’s a little silly if you imagine it with his regular voice ngl, BUT THE MEAN VOICE? oh my god.

— Repeats phrases like “ mine “ whenever he fucks you and let’s out this raspy little laugh whenever you tell him it’s too much.

— It’s a little pointless for you to pleasure him now so he solely focuses on you. Plus it’s a way for him to blow off steam after a fight with Miles.

— Could you have sex with one of his holes? Does he even feel pleasure anymore? I have many questions that I will ignore for the sake of fanfiction.

— Imagine getting choked by this dude?

— This motherfucker definitely still whimpers though as The Spot and you can’t tell me otherwise.

[moonstruckme]

hey :)) first off, i love the hozier caption in your bio. second, I’ve been reading so many of your fics recently and i think you’re sooo talented! i wanna be like you when I grow up (im 20 almost 21 lol)

anyways, I’ve never really requested anything but i wanna give it a try. I was wondering if you could do a poly!marauders x reader fic or a just remus x reader fic where’s she’s driving and accidentally hits an animal and is really upset about it but they’re there to help to her move it and comfort her.

i just hit a cat and im not taking it well. we think it was just a stray cause I left my number with it in case but no one has called. my family kinda, but not really, made fun of me for being so sad about it and i kinda just need something with the guys being so affectionate and loving with her after everything.

it’s totally okay if youre not up to it! I understand that it’s such a hard topic so I won’t be offended if you don’t feel comfortable writing in this.

thank you again and im sooo looking forward to youre future work!! you’re talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique, completely not ever been done before (lady gaga)

Mwah mwah mwah <3<3

-aves

(sorry this is so long)

Hi sweetheart, thank you so much! (Is your username a Lizzy McAlpine reference? I love that) I'm really sorry you went through this, I've been fortunate enough to have never hit an animal but I've seen it happen and it's so horrible, I'm really sorry you've been dealing with this :(( I think you did the right thing by leaving your number with it, and I hope the weight of that trauma and grief is starting to lift off you my love. Thank you for requesting <3

cw: mention of killing an animal, reader feeling guilty

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.8k words

James hears the door and is up instantly, bounding down the hall to greet you and Sirius. 

“Hello!” he calls ahead, eager for company after being left alone in your flat for over a half hour. “You guys took your time today, I thought even Remus might beat you home. Was traffic a riot, or…”

Sirius is looking at him with panic in his blue-gray eyes, clearly trying to convey one of those telepathic messages James has never been great at interpreting, and you…you’re looking at nothing. Your gaze is distant as you work off your shoe, the area around your eyes puffy and gray with smudged mascara. 

“Hey,” James breathes, then feels stupid. It sounds like he’s accusing you of something. He tries again. “Is everything okay?” 

Sirius gives him a look that says What do you think? and crouches beside you to help with a stubborn knot in your shoelace. Your hands are trembling, James notices. Dread settles like a stone in his stomach.

“I’ve got it,” Sirius murmurs to you, fingers gentle as they intercept your own, but the alarm doesn’t leave his expression as he watches your face. Ah. As much as it kills James to see you upset, Sirius will have no idea what to do with you in this state. Tears have always set him on edge. 

James squats, joining the two of you on the floor. “Hi, sweetheart.” He does his best to keep his own anxiety out of his voice as his hand finds your ankle, fingers wrapping around the bit of skin between the hem of your jeans and your socks. “Has something happened?” 

Your eyes meet his already full of tears, and James braces himself. Sirius does too, by the look of it, his shoulders tensing as he watches your face like you’re about to crumble away to nothing right here on their doormat. 

“I—” That’s all you get out before you have to bite down on your lip to keep from crying. A tiny whimper escapes, and spider web cracks spread across James’ heart. A sluggish tear leaks from your right eye. 

“It’s okay,” he swears, though he has no way of knowing it. You press the back of your hand to your mouth, trying to quell the sobs that shake your frame even with no air to feed them. “Oh, honey.” James leans forward, wrapping you in an awkward but very heartfelt hug, your knees between his chest and yours but your head crossing the distance to wet his shoulder with your tears. 

A sympathetic pressure builds in James’ sinuses, but he does his best to breathe through it. Stability tends to help you more than sympathy in these situations, and since Remus isn’t home yet, it’s left to James to be the reasonable one (Sirius would have all sorts of jokes to make about that, but he doesn’t seem to be feeling up to them either). 

He gives you a few moments of reprieve, a few passes of his palm up and down your spine, before trying again. “What’s going on?” he asks, gently as he can. “You guys are scaring me. Sirius?” 

Sirius’ brow pinches like he almost doesn’t want to say it either, and the anticipation in James’ chest heavies. “We were driving home,” he says slowly, keeping a wary eye on you lest he worsen your upset, “and a rabbit ran in front of the car.” 

Relief nearly chokes James at the same time as a sympathetic sorrow takes ahold of him. He pets the back of your head. You tremble with the force of your crying, leaning into his touch greedily. 

“She was driving?” he asks quietly, though he’s nearly sure. If your reaction isn’t enough to go off of, he already knows that you usually pick Sirius up from work and drive the both of you home. 

Sirius nods. 

“It doesn’t sound like there was anything you could do,” he murmurs to you, cupping the back of your neck to encourage you to look up at him. You do, sniffling as your lip quivers, and James uses his thumb to brush a wet streak of mascara from your blotchy cheek. 

“It must have been so scared.” Your voice breaks on the last word and James’ heart along with it, leaving a throbbing wound in the center of his chest. 

“I doubt it had time to be scared, honey,” he tries to reassure you, but his own voice is fraught. He looks to Sirius. “Did you…do you know if it…passed?” 

Sirius is half hiding behind his hair, a sure tell of his disquiet, and it brushes his shirt collar when he nods again. “We weren’t sure at first, so I got out to move it off the road. It was dead.” He winces at his wording, and you bite down on your lip harshly. His tone softens as he addresses you. “I really don’t think it felt any pain.”

You look nowhere near ready to believe him, and James is preparing to offer to make you a cup of tea and let you sort out your grief at your own pace when the front door opens again, stopping when it hits Sirius’ side. 

“Oh.” Remus pokes his head through. “Hello. Why are we all sitting on the floor?” 

Sirius scoots the rest of the way out of the door’s path before deciding to stand instead. He speaks to Remus in a low voice while James runs a hand up and down your side in an attempt to soothe you. He locks eyes with Remus over your shoulder, watching as the taller boy’s gaze takes on the weight of understanding. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Remus wraps Sirius in a half-hug, kissing his surprised boyfriend on the temple before stooping beside you. “That must have been awful to have to see. Let’s get you up, yeah?” He wraps a spindly hand around your forearm, more encouragement than anything, and James grips your other hand as he stands to pull you up with him. 

Neither of them seem quite willing to break contact with you, walking you over to the couch like a newborn fawn despite your murmured I’m okay. Sirius follows close behind. The both of you look like you’re perching rather than sitting, unable to completely relax even now that you’re home. 

“It must have been quite a scare,” Remus sympathizes, sitting on the edge of his favored armchair. 

“A bit,” Sirius mutters, and your throat bobs. 

Remus cocks his head. “What’re you thinking, darling?” 

James almost wants to look away at the rawness in your expression as you raise your eyes to meet Remus’. “I just…I can’t believe I killed it. I’ve never” —your voice pitches, and you swallow again— “I’ve never killed anything before.”

 “It was an accident,” James tells you, beseeching. 

“You couldn’t have stopped,” Sirius says. His voice has an odd, desperate quality to it, and James sees Remus notice it at the same time as he does, both boys leaning forward to see Sirius better. For the first time, James notices—had he missed it before, or has it only just started?—that Sirius is trembling slightly too. James’ free hand twitches instinctively toward him, but his dark-haired boyfriend is only touchy when he’s in a good mood. He’s not keen on physical comfort; no matter how many years James has worked on him, Sirius has always preferred to keep his struggles internal. “Or avoided it,” he goes on. “It happened too fast.” 

Remus nods at you. “As awful as it is, these things happen sometimes. Hopefully,” he adds when another tear slips down your cheek, “never again to you, but selfish as it is, I’m glad you didn’t slam on the brakes or anything else that could have gotten you and Sirius hurt instead.” 

You glance at Sirius, and he gives you a weak smile, taking your hand and squeezing gently. 

“Nothing you could have done,” he whispers. 

Your lips tremble again. James watches as panic flashes in Sirius’ eyes, but he keeps it together. “I’m really sorry,” you tell him, voice wavering. “I shouldn’t have made you take care of the bunny by yourself.” 

James' chest aches as Sirius takes a steadying breath. “You were frazzled. Understandably upset,” he corrects himself, squeezing your hand again. This time you squeeze back. “It was a one-man job anyway.” 

You make a soft sound, leaning your head on his shoulder, and James has the sense something has settled a bit in each of you. He raises your joined hands to his lips, kissing the back of yours as Remus’ eyebrows furrow. 

“Have you had a chance to wash your hands, love?” he asks Sirius, who blinks.

“No. I forgot.” 

Despite the heavy atmosphere, James actually feels the beginnings of a smile tempting his lips as he watches Remus forcibly quell his horror. “Right, then. Why don’t we go do that in the kitchen now, and I’ll make us all some tea.” 

“Good idea,” James says heartily, swiping his thumb back and forth over his own kiss on your hand. “Hey, could we take out the good cookies as well?” 

Remus hums what James chooses to interpret as assent, shepherding Sirius into the kitchen. 

“I’m sorry,” you say to James once the other two are out of hearing. 

He looks down at you. “What for, sweetheart?” 

You shrug, your shoulders remaining just a tad too high after the motion. You’ve stopped crying, and James is grateful, but he doesn’t think this shameful look is a vast improvement. “I feel like I’m being dramatic. And Sirius is the one who had to see it. He had to drive home too, I was too upset.” 

James’ battered, broken heart wells for the both of you. He forgoes his attentions to your hand, wrapping his arm around your shoulders instead to tuck you against his side. “You’re not being dramatic,” he promises, “okay? You and Sirius were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and you both had to witness something awful.” Your head sinks onto his shoulder, and he rubs your upper arm. “I think it’s alright to be sad for a while. For yourselves, and for the bunny. Just, don’t torment yourself, alright?” He withdraws enough to see your face, and you tilt your gaze up to his. “Please. You don’t deserve the guilt.” 

Your eyes cast down, contemplative and a bit shy, a moment before your head comes back to its spot on his shoulder. “Thanks,” you murmur. 

“No thanks necessary, babe. You can cry all night if you need to, I’ll be right here. Just do me a favor,” he lowers his voice, glancing toward the kitchen, “let me sit between you and Sirius if you do. Many more tears and I think he’ll have a heart attack.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 5

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: Let's see if I make it through Monday.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

At Corissa’s insistence, and against your own reticence, you have a taste of nearly every course. The fiery red head gabs animatedly in her work, to her assistants and the servers, and even to you. You feel something very peculiar; you feel included.

That pleasant sensation is as fleeting as the night. The servers bring in the dishes, many untouched, and you clean them attentively, keeping the counters clear of clutter. Corissa mutters about the waste and has the leftovers scraped into containers, promising them to her hardworking staff. She even offers you one but you refuse, you’ve indulged enough. You suspect Mr. Laufeyson would be less than pleased to see you walking out with a to-go box.

You are not requested again to tend to the diners. Voices carry from down the hall and the front door opens and shuts between farewells. Amid the hue, you do not hear Mr. Laufeyson though you try not to listen intently.

Corissa and her staff depart with their work done and you’re left to clean up. It’s near midnight. You’re surprised at how long the gathering lasted and yet, you wouldn’t know what to expect. You’d never attended anything like that. You didn’t even go to your own high school graduation.

There’s a scuff and a shadow darken’s the edge of your vision. You lift your head to find Mr. Laufeyson crossing the threshold, his polished shoes clicking on the tile. You dip your head in acknowledgement and return to stacking the dishes neatly inside the cupboards.

“Do not forget the dining room. My guests proved to be animals,” he scoffs, “though, what use would you be if they didn’t leave you some work?”

You nod again. You close the cupboard door and move to the stemmed crystal. You open the glass cabinet that holds the various liquor vessels. You set each in tidy lines, following the pattern.

You wait for him to leave but he remains. Is he watching you or are you just paranoid? You clasp the door shut and face him, though you’re not intent on him. The dining room. You hope you might finish it quickly. You glance at the clock again.

“Do you recall what I told you at the beginning of the night?” He asks brusquely.

You gulp and part your lips, your words trapped in your chest.

“Speak,” he demands with a flippant flick of his fingers.

“Yes, I do, Mr. Laufeyson–”

“Not a look, not a word,” he retorts.

“Mr. Laufeyson, I didn’t–”

“The blond man. I saw your eyes stray,” he insists, “the worst thing you can ever do is lie to me.”

“I… I apologise, it wasn’t– I didn’t mean to–”

“Ah, enough,” he dismisses your protests, “this isn’t an argument. I am merely reminding you of the rules. I do hate to repeat myself.”

You seal your lips and put your chin down in deference. You made a mistake. You’re wrong, he’s right.

“Now you know. I expect it not to happen again,” he rebukes.

His sole squeaks on the floor as he spins and struts out. You look around, time to move on to the dining room. You tiptoe out and find the hallway empty. You creep down to the dining room and find it similarly abandoned.

You enter and begin your work. You wipe down the table and tidy little bits of food and forgotten napkins. You push in the chairs and remove a broken stem from one of the vases at the centre line of the table.

The clock ticks and heightens your impatience. You have to hurry if you’re going to catch the bus. If you don’t… you don’t know if you can budget a cab.

“There is another thing,” Mr. Laufeyson gives you a start as he appears through the archway, “something forgotten…”

You look at him with confusion stitched into your forehead. He reaches into his jacket and slips out a pinkish slip of paper. It’s folded into quarters with a curl in one corner. You recognise it immediately.

“I assume you didn’t mean to leave it on the floor,” he sneers as he comes closer, holding it between his index and middle fingers, “I almost tossed it but I did peruse it in case… Well, I don’t mean to pry…”

You take it and nearly thank him aloud. You look at the folded invoice and a cringe pinches your cheeks. You didn’t even realise you’d dropped it. You would prefer to forget about it but that would hardly void the debt.

“You look well,” he muses. You flinch; what does he mean? “I did note it was for the same date you were absent however.”

You tuck the invoice into your pocket and fix another chair. He lurks close as you try not to falter. He puts his hand on the next chair to stop you.

“You may speak. Humour my intrigue. You don’t appear very sick.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. It feels as if he’s making some joke you don’t understand. Your lips strain and you stare at his tie.

“My father had an emergency, Mr. Laufeyson. That is all. He is better now.”

“Ah, a loyal daughter,” he remarks, “it is almost endearing.”

You stand in a stalemate. Your eyes drift over to the clock and back to his slender tie. You’re almost done and you’ll have just enough time to get to the stop.

“I suppose you are eager,” he steps in between you and the clock, “to get home to your sick father.”

You clutch the cloth tight and scrunch your lips. Your stomach does somersaults. You want to beg him to let you finish so you can go home. So you’re not stranded but you already made yourself pathetic enough.

“I am not a man without empathy, I would not keep you long. However, I do wish to have a proper conversation,” he declares.

You nod and wring the cloth. You dare to peek at his face and find his attention on your hands. You still them and drop your eyes again. Is he going to fire you? Rather, tell the agency of your misdeeds?

“I would assume you rely on transit. I am in a rather bright mood after my little soiree so I feel of a mind to offer a favour. One which would allow us to converse,” he rolls the button of his jacket between his thumb and index, “I would drive you home and you would listen, yes?”

You nod and he shows his palm.

“Say it.”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson. That is very kind.”

“Isn’t it?” He preens and swirls away again, “ten minutes should be sufficient for you to wrap up. I will be at the door.”

“Yes. Mr. Laufeyson.”

“Wonderful,” he strolls out, his unusual glee putting you on guard.

🧹

As promised, Mr. Laufeyson is waiting at the front door. You only realise after checking the back door. You don’t feel good about accepting an unearned favour but the last bus is well and gone.

He opens the door as he sees you enter the foyer. To your surprise, he holds it for you to pass through first. You suppose it's a habit. He is fond of etiquette.

He follows and directs you to a sleek black car in the drive. You wait patiently at the passenger door as he unlocks it and lowers himself into the driver’s seat. It’s only then that you get in, gently closing the door. You put your kit between your feet and click your seat belt into place.

He turns the ignition and the engine hums quietly. It runs so smoothly, you barely feel it. He backs up before steering around the arch of driveway and towards the gate. He reaches to hit a button on the small fob dangling by the rear view and the wider gates split for him to pass through.

You wait for him to begin. He must be basking in your anticipation. Less than eager for what comes next, it's more a needling anxiety. 

“So, let us get down to it,” he begins, one hand on the wheel. The roads are near desolate in the late hour. “I’ve a proposition for you.”

You wait and listen. You assume that’s the deal still. He chuckles and carries on.

“An arrangement convenient for both of us. You see,” he pauses, exhaling as he measures his words, “I am not fond of the agency. I’ve not been for some time, neither have I had the time to search for an alternative. 

“Details are irrelevant. My ex-wife enlisted them for a maid. Just as she employed the gardener and the cook. She might be gone but her handiwork remains, though a very big void as well,” he turns down the next street as you twiddle your fingers, “that is too say, she managed the house and without her, I find myself lacking. I’ve not even the chance to acquire a house manager, but now…”

He lets his suggestion dangle but you’re not quite sure you understand. You hate to presume. Hate to think more of yourself than you should.

“What I’m proposing is that you step into her shoes. In the manner of taking on that management. The gardener, the cook, general maintenance and the like,” he explains, “but of course, you would also keep to your existing tasks, keep the house orderly in all ways.”

You still your hands and stare at your lap. You don’t really believe it. He thinks you capable of all that? Based on what? Some mopping?

“You are rather adept at following orders,” he says, “and you are in need of money, yes?”

You hunch down in shame.

“I will pay more than the agency for I would not take a cut as they do. You will be compensated appropriately for your efforts,” he assures, “as they would lessen mine.”

You look over the dash and at the road ahead. Your father will be home soon, he might need more help, and yet, you most certainly need money. You still have over a month left on probation and even after, you’re not guaranteed full-time hours.

“There would be a starting bonus,” he intones, filling the silence, “fifteen hundred. As an incentive.”

Your eyes burn. That’s what the invoice reads in red. He’s taunting you now. He knows that you need it badly. 

“This offer stands until you leave this car,” he says firmly, “so you may think about it.”

You blanch and keep your eyes forward. You can think all you want but that won’t change anything. There is no other answer. Even if it makes you nervous, even if you find that house stifling, and him terrifying. None of it matters. You need that money as much as your father needs you.

“I accept, Mr. Laufeyson,” you murmur. “I will do my best.”

He hums, a triumphant note, “I expect nothing less.”

🧹

You’re greeted by an empty house. It was too late to even think of going to the hospital. You wouldn’t want to wake your father during his recovery, and besides, his dejection sticks in your head. He told you not to come back.

You go to bed but don’t sleep very much. It’s hard in the lonely house. You want to tell your father that you got a new job. That you’re going to be able to pay for his hospital bills and that you’ll make things better. You will, when he gets home.

What has you just as wakeless is Mr. Laufeyson. He said you could start tomorrow. You’re nervous about that. Your only experience is the last month and a half of cleaning. He might expect more than you can do. Worse, you might not be able to meet those expectations.

You toss and turn, sleeping a few hours just before your alarm. You have your tea and get dressed. You bring your kit, just in case, and head out to catch the bus. You don’t like being in the house alone so you’re all too happy to get out.

You walk the block and a half from the bus stop. You realise as you come to the iron gate that you don’t have the new code. You stand cluelessly, locked out and listless. You notice the small button by the metal speakerbox. Does it work?

You tap the bell and wait. Nothing. You even lean in to listen to the speaker. It’s entirely dead. You try again. Still, nothing.

You lean in and peer through the bars, like a prisoner. The front door opens and Mr. Laufeyson appears, a harried pace with a hint of agitation. He comes to the other side and looks out at you. His eyes scan you from head to toe. He opens the gate from within.

“In, in,” he demands curtly, “are you not supposed to make my life easier?”

You step in and he swings the door shut harshly. He huffs and swiftly outpaces you back towards the door. You hesitate. You never go in that way.

“Do not waste my time,” he orders without looking back.

You jog to catch up with him. You hop up the steps behind his lithe gait and trail him inside. He stops and points to the mat. You leave your shoes on it even as he keeps his own on.

“I’ve a list made up. That is sufficient, yes?”

You nod and he sighs. He’s already moving as you slipping in an effort to keep up.

“Speak,” he drawls.

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson.”

“Very good,” he praises, a lilt of condescension dripping from his lips. “I trust you sent your resignation in. I would be happy to cut ties from that cursed agency at the soonest opportunity.”

You bite your lip. You didn’t even think of that. Your silence is telling.

“Add it to the list,” he says derisively.

[dawngel]

Crazy Tokyo Debunker theory ahead, but if I don't put it out there before the next chapter drops I'll explode:

What if

Hear me out

What if the Like Doves anomalies aren't actually a sign that someone likes another person? What if instead they are being used by someone?

Listen-

We are told Like Doves are a sign of someone liking someone else by Kaito in chapter 1 and from Luca's reaction we can gather that Like Doves aren't common in the UK.

This alone just tells us that this type of anomaly might be native to Japan, or, at the very least, that they don't exist in the UK.

However.

I believe Luca has never seen them before because they are not "natural" anomalies.

Why do I believe that?

Well-

We need to talk about Taiga's reaction to Like Doves first.

He was SO UPSET when he saw one in Romeo's room. At first I thought that he was simply Not Happy™ that he might be catching feelings for MC (if we're to believe that Like Doves appear when one of the cast starts developing a crush on MC, like it looks to be the case from previous chapters), but I'm not sure that's the only thing, or perhaps it might not even be it at all tbh.

His behaviour and mood completely change when he spots it. It's ridiculous. He was incredibly chill and comfortable talking with Romeo and suddenly his sprites all look upset and/or nervous.

He has so many "quiet" dialogues, just staring and thinking. I counted like 5 on this conversation alone-

His voice. Shakes.

His confident persona falters-! Like--

Still, that is not conclusive evidence. Here I still thought that he was simply not thrilled at the idea of liking MC but that was all. He might not be used to liking someone and might be uncomfortable, or perhaps it might be a source of concern given that he clearly has a lot going on already.

However, unlike the rest of the chapters, we see a Like Dove twice in chapter 4.

And when does it appear for the second time? Right after Taiga tells us there's a spy amongst the ghouls.

Yes, I am saying that the Like Doves might be being used to spy on the ghouls.

'cause when do they usually appear? Either a case has finished or something of relevance is happening/has just happened.

If Like Doves were created for this purpose in this academy, it would explain why Luca didn't know about them and why Taiga was so on edge when he spotted one. Taiga knows something's up, especially if we believe other theories saying that he knows what will happen in the future.

Also, the second time he spots it he doesn't freeze up and immediately goes to shoot it??? And then he eats it- which is normal for Taiga but LISTEN. Even Romeo is freaked out! Both times Taiga acts weirdly because of a Like Dove Romeo is visibly shaken by his behaviour.

And if this is not the case and Like Doves are just cute anomalies to make MC feel special, that's alright. It was fun to think about :P

I find Taiga's behaviour with all of this very interesting. I want to inspect him under a microscope, y'know?

Very fun, very amusing.

[obeymematches]

I saw one of your stories and I got immediately interested by one of them, then I had an idea more like a head Canon maybe-

So you and Solomon are making a potion for class one of the brothers came into the classroom and a big explosion happened one of you and the brothers didn't brace for impact and then suddenly your future child is there I just want to see everybody's reaction or maybe what will they do in that situation (sorry it's a bit weird but yeah that's all I came up with in my head) ^^"

henlo!!! So you sent in this ask almost 3 years ago (may 20th 2021) I'm so so so sorry i didn't reply sooner, you're probably over this by now 😅 but i felt inspired to write it today so here we go 🫶

🌸Meeting your future kid with him🌸

GN MC

Okay so this time Solomon has some homework to do... sending this kiddo back without messing with the future is gonna take time. Until then you must take care of them! You are the parent afterall!!

Lucifer: 4 months old

Not gonna lie it took him the longest to realize it's YOUR baby WITH him! In his defense, babies can look a bit weird. The baby definitely has your mouth, but his eyes and hairline. He didn't see many infant in his life so this is all new! You can literally see his heart melt when the little baby smiles at him! Shares his part with pride, changes diapers, carries the baby around....just take over when the baby is fussy.

MC I can't wait to meet the baby again... I miss them already, isn't that funny?

Mammon: 3yrs old

Your toddler immediately recognized you and Mammon. You and him looked at each other with an awkward stare, his face is as red as it can be- you are definitely not ready for kids!!! The fact that around 3 years old kids looove disobeying on purpose doesn't help. Mammon gets the hang of it though, he looves his little troublemaker! They could play all day long.

I wanna see ya grow up little man- I looove being your dad!

Levi: 8yrs old

Again, the kis recognizes you and him. Right now he keeps telling you he isn't ready for kids and might never be; same as you!! So how did this happen??? Do you must have one in the future??? Thankfully with an 8yrs old you can already have a conversation, play games with, etc so by the time it's over he grows very fond of them.

MC... I think I have changed my mind- having a kid is a lot like having a small best friend!

Satan: 16yrs

Ah. Your child is as upset as any 16 yr old would be in this case, leaving you and Satan no time to think about the fact you made this person. He does his absolute best to stay calm and see things from the kid's POV, but man is it difficult when your teen keeps lying about important stuff, escapes the house as soon as you lower your guard, fights with anyone over and over who doesn't do as they want despite being so so so sensitive... it is tiring.

I wish I could see what they were like as a little kid... why did I think teens were easy?!

Asmo: 13 yrs

Okay he is very quick at recognizing his own kid; he has YOUR and HIS face memorized. Starts sobbing when he realizes what this means; you are going to be parents!! The thought of loving someone sooo much just sends him over the edge. He buys everyone matching clothes, plans so many vacations you are rarely at home, surprisingly good at answering questions your little one has. (Very comforting, builds their confidence as much as he can!!)

MC, how do I look as a parent? You still love me?

Beel: 1 yr old

Okay, it was obvious the baby is a perfect mix of you two; his eyes are definitely yours though! Beel finds this job to be super important so he spends almost all day with the baby. They play peek-a-boo, he helps your kid to learn to walk and eat with hands, carries them on his shoulder when they get tired. Honestly he doesn't want to let them go back.

MC... I think we should have at least 3 kids!"

Belphie: 6yrs

Okay, he never would've thought he'd have a kid with you; first, you are dating someone else right now and second, he doesn't really like kids. So this one's gonna be complicated. His face turns red though as he has always liked you but you made it clear he is not really your type. Co-parenting brought you much closer; you could see how calm he can stay when he wants to, and how smart he actually is especially when the 6 years old doesn't stop with their questions. How it continues after the kid is back in the future is up to you babe!

[ghost-in-the-hall]

Fall For Me (Poly! Sleep Token x Fem! Reader) - Part I

Well, it happened... After trying to evade the hype for so long they finally got me 😂😂 This story has had me in a chokehold (haha, get it?) since I started toying around with the idea of it. Hopefully you guys enjoy it, let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list for future chapters and/or Sleep Token one shots!

WARNINGS: None

Part II

My Masterlist! ~ AO3 Link!

Credit to @spookyghostjelly for beta reading, ily bb 💗💗💗

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You sat with your feet propped up on the counter, one of the magazines you had yet to sell spread open on your lap. "Be fashion forward this fall." You read out loud to the empty store in a mocking tone as your eyes grazed over the pictures of chunky sweaters, jeans, and boring, brown leather boots. The bell over the door jingled as a customer entered the store, your eyes darted up, expecting one of your regulars. You were met with the sight of someone in a black sweatshirt with the hood pulled up over their head. 'Great,' you thought to yourself, 'just when I thought I was going to have an easy evening.' You watched the man carefully, waiting to see what exactly he was going to stick in his pockets. Now, you normally turn a blind eye to shoplifters up to a certain extent, everyone deserves to have something to eat. But, being an independently owned store you could only take so much of a loss on your inventory. To your surprise, the man didn't pick up a single item. He took his time looking over the contents of each shelf, his hands never leaving his sweatshirt pocket. "Can I help you find anything, sir?" His head turned slightly in your direction, but not enough for you to see his face.

"What time do you close?" You were caught off guard by his British accent, it was an uncommon occurrence to get outsiders in your small backwoods town.

"Eight o'clock." He nods his thanks and hurriedly exits your store, almost bumping into one of your regulars on the way out.

"Everything alright?" He asks as the strange visitor leaves your store.

"Do you know him?" You ask quietly, as if he would somehow be able to overhear you despite having rounded the corner of the building already.

"Yeah, he's one of those… those cultists that set up shop in the woods." He explains. You were a bit shocked at the realization. You had been seeing headlines in the local newspaper for months as curiosity rose around the small group of men that had built a few Cabins on the very edge of town. Reporters didn't dare venture into their camp for an interview, but that didn't stop them from snapping a few pictures from the safety of the treeline. Four cabins sat at each corner of a small clearing, a large fire pit dominated the center. From what you could make out they seemed to have some sort of root cellar and a lackluster garden, which would explain why you hadn't seen any of them in person until this afternoon. "You be careful, (Y/N). Freaks like that might just try to sacrifice you to some goat demon they worship." He warns. You can't help but roll your eyes at the outlandish statement.

"Mark, those boys haven't done a single thing to bother anyone since they got here. They've been out there for months, if they were going to take someone they would've done it by now." You argue.

He chuckles, "Trust me darlin', I hope you're right. But until then me and a lot of other folks around here plan on keeping a close eye on them. You'd do best to stay away from them."

"You think I can't take care of myself?" You challenge, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Now, Miss (Y/N), you and I both know you'd beat my ass to next Sunday if that's what I was implying." The two of you shared a laugh. "I just don't want something bad to happen, that's all. These strange men show up out of nowhere one day and no one knows where they came from, hell none of us have ever seen their faces. They all wear these black masks, least that's what the reports are saying. You can never be too cautious."

"I'll take my chances." You smile politely in an attempt to get him off his soap box. "Now, I take it you're here for your pack of Marlboros."

"Yes ma'am, and an extra one for Donnie if you don't mind." He responds with a nod as he fumbles for his wallet in his back pocket.

"You got it boss." The rest of your evening was spent rather uneventfully, save for the fact that you would practically jump out of your chair every time the door opened. You glanced up at the clock, there was about twenty minutes left until you closed. "Maybe he decided to not come back." You shrug. Moments later an old, beat up pick up truck rumbled into the parking lot. You watched as the driver got out, his head dipped low to hide his face in the hood of his black sweatshirt. He pushes through the door, the jingle of the bell the only sound to cut through the tense silence. "Welcome back." You tried to sound friendly despite your unease. He nods at you in response, not saying a single word as he makes his way quickly and directly to everything he needs. He approaches the counter, unloading his arm load of supplies before taking a step back. "You got a name to go with those big, broad shoulders of yours?" You ask in a bit of a teasing tone, trying to do what you could to lighten the mood. He remained silent, despite the fact you couldn't see his face you couldn't escape the feeling of his piercing gaze. You opened a bag, carefully organizing his contents inside. "$18.75, sir." He slaps a twenty dollar bill on the counter, not even waiting for his change as he grabs his bag and flits out the door. You watched as he drove off, not sure exactly what you were supposed to make of that interaction. You had a similar occurrence every day for almost a week. He would come in, grab an armful of groceries, put down his money, and he left. You would try and greet him whenever he would come in your store, it was always met with a curt nod.

"Vessel." You froze as he finally spoke up. You looked up, your eyes met with 6 slits on an odd looking mask. "You can call me Vessel." You couldn't think of how to respond at first. He had barely acknowledged your existence before tonight, what had changed?

"Vessel… (Y/N)." You stick out your hand to shake his. "It's nice to finally meet you." You smile as his hands clap into yours.

"You're different from the other people we've run into from town." He remarks.

"The reporters?"

"Some of them, a few others we just happened to cross paths with." You could feel him studying you. "You don't seem scared."

"Vessel, you've been coming in here for over a week now. If you were going to try and hurt me you would've done it by now." You notice the corner of his mouth quirk up in a smile.

"I guess you have a point." He chuckles. You finish scanning his items and give him his total. He places the money down on the counter and picks up his bag.

"How come you never take your change?" You ask as he's almost out the door.

"I know you run this place by yourself, think of it as me tipping a small business." He flashes a brief, brilliant smile at you. You try to hide your shy smile by fixing up your register. "Oh, and (Y/N)?" You glance back up at him. "It's nice to finally meet you too."

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Tag List: @herripinkle @mustluvecho @jumpcauseimfroggy (If you would like to be tagged for Sleep Token stuff let me know!)

[synnamonroll666]

Wicked Temptation

Pairing: Josh Washington x Fem!Reader Description: You decided to stay in the shed with Josh until dawn, letting Chris and Mike go back to the lodge for some much needed rest. But Josh knows a little secret that you've been hiding for a couple years and unfortunately for you, Josh has no mercy to spare tonight... Warnings: Mutual Pining, Mild Violence, Thigh Riding, Grinding, Edging, Humiliation, Degradation, Strip Tease, BlowJob (Male And Female Receiving), Cock Warming, Teasing, P In V, Creampie, Switch!Josh, Switch!Reader, Bondage??? Shibari??? I Don't Know, I Just Went All Out With This One. 😅 Word Count: 10k!!!!! A/N: This is not only my very first Josh Washington smut fic, but it's also the first time I've ever written a fic 10k words long! I've been working on this since January and let me tell you, it's been a struggle to finish it. It started out as some 2k idea but then I decided, since I was changing fandoms, I might as well go big for my first smut fic for Josh. I've put a lot of work into it between editing it dozens of times and watching that shed scene probably billions of times to get the lines correct. Since I have taken so long to write it and put so much effort into it, it's kind of like my baby now and I'm so excited to share it with all of you. As some of you know, I've been going through quite a lot of shit lately but focusing on this has helped me greatly, and that's another reason why this fic means so much to me. So here's to new beginning, because there will definitely be more of this good stuff to come in the future too! Enjoy! 🖤 Main MasterList: 🖤 Synny's Angels: @lorebite, @mornandil, @koexchange, @yesitsloulou, @mistmoose, @jasonexo, @fortune-fool02, and @raven-the-cryptid. (If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know in the comments! 🖤)

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

I followed closely behind Chris and Mike, who had their hands full with a very uncooperative Josh. It had been one hell of a night. First I got chased around by some demented psychopath, then I found a video of my crush of five years being sawed in two; and then I found out that he was actually the psycho all along and he possibly killed one of my close friends, Jessica. I was exhausted, but at least the deadly grip of the cold mountain air around my frame did help to wake me up a bit. I could only think positively at this point. It was the only way to stay sane.

But unfortunately, that did not last long as my thoughts continued to wander down a darker path. It was as if I wasn't even there at all. I had transitioned from reality and found myself trapped within my own racing mind, desperately looking for answers to clarify just what happened on this horrific night. But after a few minutes, Josh yelling in pain brought me out of my dark thoughts.

"Come on, guys…" He whined as his eyes pleaded to us with a look of remorse and guilt. "Seriously — this is crazy, you know?"

"Shut up." Mike spat sternly as he pushed him along the snowy path. It would have looked so beautiful if this was just a late night walk in the woods.

But this wasn't just some late night walk…

Did I feel good about what we were doing? No. But was it necessary? Yes.

I always knew that Josh had some mental health issues since his sisters went missing — I mean, who wouldn't become some level of fucked up from that happening to two people you love. But this — this was something different, and I was beginning to feel very concerned for Josh and our safety.

But as sympathetic as I was towards Josh regarding that situation, it still didn't take away the sting of what he did tonight; especially since me, Chris and Sam had nothing to do with the events that occurred one year ago.

Still — despite the judgmental glares he was given — Josh wasn't going to give up on trying to convince us to free him.

"Chris… Bro…" Josh's eyes met Chris' as he begged for him to have some sort of mercy. After all, they had been best friends since children. But to his surprise, Chris looked away.

"I'm not your bro." Chris spoke lowly in a disappointed tone. And at that moment, I saw Josh's heart break through his eyes. He looked so lost and saddened by Chris' words that it made me want to cry.

Without warning, Mike grabbed Josh's forearm and began pushing him further down the path again, despite Josh digging his heels in the snow to stop him. Josh was a lot bigger than Mike and a lot taller, too. But in this case, Mike's strength won. I figured Josh was weakened due to the blow he took to the head when Mike pistol whipped him.

"Where are we going?" Josh asked — his voice now frantic and full of worry. I could see that he was beginning to panic. "Where are you guys taking me?"

"Locking you up, bro!" Mike revealed as he pushed Josh onto the ground. I wanted to help him back up, since he was tied up and couldn't just simply push himself back to his feet. But I had to hold back; it probably wasn't safe to go near him anyway…

"What?!" Josh shrieked as he struggled to get back up, succeeding after a very weak attempt.

"So you can't do anything stupid before we call the police in the morning."

I couldn't help but agree with Mike's words. It hurt to do, but he was right. Josh was so unpredictable right now, so it was better for all of our safety and Josh's as well, that he got locked up for the rest of the night.

"Come on!" He cried out in another desperate attempt to convince us that he's just an innocent victim in all this. "I didn't do anything—"

"Are you serious, bro?" Despite the dramatic and stressful situation, I literally had to hold back laughter as I remembered Chris declaring only seconds ago that he was no longer his 'bro'.

But that moment was short-lived when Mike piped in…

"You're a God damn murderer is what you are!" He raised his voice as he pushed Josh down once again, his stance becoming dominant and intimidating as he towered over Josh.

I didn't agree with him there. I just couldn't see Josh going as far as killing Jessica. And when Mike told us what had happened — it didn't make sense nor did anything add up. Though I disagreed, I chose to stay silent, not wanting any more fights to occur.

"I didn't do it!" Josh cried as he stood up again. His sorrowful eyes burrowed into Mike's, hoping that he would believe him. "Michael, please! Just listen to me, man! I did not hurt Jessica—"

"Are you insane?!" Chris yelled unexpectedly, surprising us all since he had been fairly quiet for a little while now. "Like really? Do you not understand what you've done?!"

"I'm a healer, man! I bring people together!" Josh's voice began to rise with each word he said, clearly getting frustrated by this whole situation as well. I couldn't blame him… "Not like you assholes!"

His last sentence… It hurt my heart. I had been there for him — I was the one who was there. It made me clench my teeth along with my fists to resist the urge to do something I may have regretted later on.

"That's enough!" Mike finally put his foot down, having enough of Josh's bullshit. But just when I thought it was over — just when I thought that Josh would shut up and we would just get this shit over with, he began to approach me…

"(Y/N)…" He whimpered like a hurt puppy, his sad eyes didn't help either. "Please… You know I wouldn't harm any of you…"

"Josh…" I whined, my voice breaking before I could say anything else. He was only inches away from me now — his face so damn close to mine that I could feel his shaky breath on my cold-bitten skin. Any other day, the warmth would have felt nice on such a cold night. He lowered his head so his mouth was right by my ear.

"Please," he whispered softly. "You know me…"

"That's it!" Merely two seconds after Mike's enraged voice was heard, he was pulling Josh away from me as he begged and cried for my forgiveness. I felt a couple of tears escape my eyes and slowly fall down my cheek, so all I did was look away to hide my pain.

It had only been a peaceful snowfall when we arrived — peaceful like how the night began. But now it was colder, more hectic; a storm much like the one that had erupted during the events of the night. Nothing was peaceful anymore, and I was beginning to wonder if it ever would be again.

"You only see what you wanna see! You're blind!" Josh's rant brought me out of my thoughts again to see Mike pinning Josh face down on the ground. I tried to step in — worried that one of them would get hurt — but Chris put his arm in front of me to stop me from interfering. I knew he was only looking out for me, but it frustrated me greatly.

"Stop talking!" Mike ordered angrily.

"You are— Argh—" Josh struggled to speak as he continued writhing against Mike's hold — but once again, Mike's strength overpowered him.

"Dude!" Chris yelled at Mike, since he was now going too far with his little intimidation tactics. I was glad that at least Chris decided to step in, since he wouldn't allow me to.

"It's not my fault you suckers can't take a joke!" Josh spat bitterly at the three of us and I clenched my fists again until there were angry crescents engraved in my palms, resisting the urge to take advantage of him being pinned on the ground.

"Oh, oh, wait — did I hurt you?" Mike asked when Josh grunted out in pain. Something told me that he didn't care about Josh's well-being though. "Did you just feel a little — little bit of pain right now? I am so, so sorry!"

Mike began pushing Josh's arms into his lower back, causing him to yell out in agony. "Stop it!"

"Mike, please — don't!" I cried out, not wanting any more people to get hurt. I couldn't take it.

"Jesus, dude!" Chris said in disapproval of Mike's actions while Josh continued to yell, "Stop!"

Luckily, Mike listened and lifted Josh back up to his knees.

"Michael… I'm sorry, man…" There was something so genuine in Josh's voice as he spoke — something that only convinced me further that Josh didn't do it… He didn't kill Jessica… "I can't tell you how sorry I am that something happened to Jessica but I swear — I swear to you that I have no idea what happened to her!"

"Shit… Mike, this…" Chris muttered lowly — a look of uncertainty clear on his face as he furrowed his brows."I dunno… Something feels really wrong here, man…"

"Are you joking?" Mike turned around. He looked shocked and… Angry at Chris?

"I–I'm just having a really hard time figuring out that he would — like — do anything to hurt Jess…" Chris explained in a calm manner, despite the look of distress his face held. He clearly didn't want to upset Mike but I knew he felt that this was important enough to bring up.

"Mike…" I spoke up, approaching him slowly. "Did you actually see him murder her? How did he butcher her like you said and drag her away at a speed that you couldn't catch up on at the same time?"

"I saw what he did to her with my own eyes! This—" Mike gestured to his jacket, which was stained with blood. "This is her blood!"

"It just… Something doesn't add up…" I muttered as I backed away slowly.

"Can't we all just get along?" Josh giggled and his change in attitude — his sudden lack of sympathy shocked me. Mike began pulling him to his feet and he winced in pain. "Ow! Dammit!"

"We are not dicking around!" Mike growled in his ear — his tone threatening and harsh.

"This is not right… Nope…" Josh muttered as his brows furrowed together — a sudden disappointment darkening his once sorry eyes. "This is not how it's supposed to go down! You are just a bunch of bullies!"

We all chose to ignore his insults as Mike continued to push him closer to the shed door. My patience was wearing thin and I was honestly getting more and more sick of Josh's shit. And the way he had just reacted to Mike's accusations… It was leading me down another path — the path that told me Josh was guilty…

"You can't just hang out a guy to dry like this, guys… Huh?" He continued to ramble on, putting on what seemed to be a fake, wounded animal act again. "Not like… Not like you got the guts to do anything about it anyway!"

Mike snapped again and pushed him onto the ground once more, only this time a blanket of snow wasn't there to break his fall, since we were now in the shed.

"Oh, stuff it! You're the biggest coward there is!" Chris snarled at Josh, his brows knitted together due to frustration and resentment towards his best — ex-best friend.

"Uh huh?" Josh scoffed. "I did something! I made you believe in the world I created and showed you parts of yourself that you were too afraid to visit!

I couldn't help but shake my head at Josh's gloating while I wondered what had happened to that remorseful, empathetic guy that was here only moments ago.

"You manipulated us, you tricked us, you hurt your friends and you did it all while you hid in the shadows! You're a coward, Josh! That's all you are!" Chris yelled, showing that he officially had enough of Josh's crap. And by that point, I was sure that we all had.

Mike grabbed Josh again, pulled him up and dragged him further into the shed. Once my eyes landed on the stool that was sitting in front of a beam, I knew what was coming. Mike and Chris forced Josh down onto the stool and began unting his hands to retie them around the beam instead. They both told me to stay back but it was hard to do so once they began to hold Josh down and he became erratic as a result.

"Ok, tying me up now! Ok!" Josh acknowledged what they were doing as if he was accepting it, but his body language told me otherwise as he continued to thrash and writhe against his restraints.

"Stay still, man!" Mike demanded as both he and Chris struggled to hold him down and tie his hands back up.

"Right, right, right, right… Still…" Josh parroted and for a brief moment, I thought he was finally going to cooperate…

Man, was I wrong…

"Well, c–can't tie 'em up if they just wiggle around!" Josh shouted as he began squirming around like a child who refused to stay still during time-out.

"Josh, come on!" Chris snarled as he fought Josh to stay still long enough for them to wrap the ropes around his wrists.

"Leave me a little wiggle room, huh?!" Josh continued to squirm as he began to giggle like an immature, defiant little brat. I am ashamed to admit it, but it was painfully hard repressing a giggle of my own at that moment.

"What will it take to shut you up?!" Mike yelled, clearly getting more and more annoyed by the second.

"Ow! Not so tight, ok?! Not so tight, ok…" Josh whined as he winced in pain. Although I doubted that the pain was as severe as he let on.

Then Josh started rambling about plastic ties or something and I zoned out, wondering what was really wrong with him. He clearly wasn't his self anymore and he seemed very, very unhinged at the moment. And then I remembered when Chris said that he was off his meds… He must have been a lot more sick than I thought, and for a lot longer too.

"What… In God's name is he talking about?" Mike muttered to Chris, who was looking as equally confused as both of us.

Chris brought his hand up to his face to rub the bridge of his nose while letting out a stressed sigh. "This is hard to watch…"

"He ever say this kind of shit before?"

"No, I've never seen him like this."

"Maybe he needs some help?" I suggested while glancing over at Josh out of the corner of my eye. "Like, help from a professional."

"Everybody's stupid… Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid…" Josh muttered under his breath, moving on from the plastic tie rant and catching all of our attention. "Chris and Ash… Chris is an ass. Ashley's a dumb-dumb!"

"I'm sorry, what did you say?!" Chris raised his voice slightly as the features of his face contorted with anger. He stepped closer to Josh, who had an obnoxious smirk plastered on his bruised face.

"Well, I said you're a dummy, dummy!" Josh laughed and the mocking sound made Chris' fingers curl into fists.

"What is wrong with you?" Chris asked, clenching his fists so tight that the skin on his knuckles turned pale. I wanted to step in, but just as I took a step forward to insert myself between the two, Mike looked in my direction and shook his head.

"Oh, Ashley… Oh…" Josh sighed as his voice trailed off into a breathless whisper as if he began to zone out. But unfortunately, that didn't last long. "Oh, I never imagined in my wildest dreams that you liked me!" He teased in a mocking tone as his smirk broadened with pride in the way he was taunting his friend.

"Stop." Chris warned and Josh started to make obnoxious kissing noises at Chris.

"Do you know what that sound is? It's the sound of never kissing Ashley, you pussy!"

"Stop!" Chris warned again, rasing his voice louder than before.

"Yeah, you know? Maybe you should let Mike sleep with Jess! I mean, at least he's got some notches in his belt! He'll treat! Her! Right!" With each word in his last sentence, he thrusted his hips in the air as if he was trying to fuck it. I couldn't peel my eyes away. My mind began to wonder what it would feel like if he was thrusting into me that way — how his cock would feel slamming into me at that angle.

"You're fucking pathetic, Christopher!" Josh yelled, knocking me out of my little fantasy.

"I'm going to beat his fucking head in!" Chris growled while winding back the wooden plank he was holding, as if he was actually going to do it.

"Chris! No!" I yelled without even giving it a thought, worried that he was serious.

"Don't listen to him! Not worth it!" Mike said as he put his hand up to get Chris' attention. Chris looked at Mike and then me before slowly lowering the plank, looking pretty embarrassed by his outburst.

"You know what, Josh?" Chris' voice lowered a couple octaves as he spoke — his eyes growing dark with resentment as he did so. He let the plank slip from his fingers to hit the floor with an ear piercing thud. "I'm not keeping your little secret anymore. You are the one who's pathetic!"

Me and Mike glanced at each other in confusion, neither of us having a single idea what Chris was talking about. Though we both instantly noticed the way Josh narrowed his eyes at Chris, growing cold with anger and what seemed like a bit of fear.

He muttered one word — his voice so low that we could barely hear him, "Don't."

"No, no — I think I will!" Chris began to yell again — his frustration clearly exploding into pure anger as he spoke. "How can you sit there and talk about me and Ash, when you've been sitting on your ass and pining away for (Y/N) for the last two fucking years?!"

My mouth fell open after receiving this new information. My heart began to race, picking up speed so fast that I thought I would drop dead of a fucking heart attack. I replayed the words in my head a few times, trying to decide whether or not I heard Chris right or if it was actually real. I couldn't believe it — I just couldn't.

"Don't!" Josh's voice began to sound more like a feral growl than anything, shooting daggers at Chris with his eyes. The air became thick with tension fast and it became all too awkward just standing there, especially since I was the reason for this new argument that had sprouted between the two boys.

"No! You started this, so now I'm going to fucking finish it!"

Chris stepped forwards towards Josh in an aggressive manner, almost seeming as if he was going to punch him. I didn't necessarily think he would and I knew Mike didn't either, but just as a precaution, Mike stepped towards Chris and put his arm in front of him to block him. Chris looked at Mike, his eyes seemed filled with pain due to how the night had carried out. Mike gave him a sympathetic look and stepped back, once Chris seemed a bit more calm. But then Josh let out another obnoxious laugh.

"Hey, Mike!" Josh spoke up but we all stayed silent due to fear of what he might say next. "Mike. Mike. Mike. Mike. Mike. Mike!"

"What?!" Mike growled impatiently as his head snapped in Josh's direction to give him the most brutal glare.

"What happened with Jess, Mike?"

"You know what happened."

"No. No, I–I don't." Josh stammered awkwardly — the tone of his voice and the stutter adding just a little bit more of doubt within me, though I didn't want to admit it to myself or the others. "I've got a problem, Mike. I don't remember killing Jess."

"Chirst…" Mike muttered in frustration. I could tell that he was trying not to snap and I felt so bad for him.

"I mean — like — I feel like I would remember killing her, you know? She's so soft and she's probably got, like, a really tight bod—" He flashed a smirk and for a moment, I felt a bit — no — a lot of jealousy surging through my veins due to his filthy words about my deceased friend. I went to say something — anything to get him to shut up but Mike beat me to it.

"Shut your fucking mouth!" He roared as he pointed his gun right at Josh's head. Josh's mouth fell agape in shock as he stared down the barrel of the gun, quiet for the first time in awhile. Panic ran through me as I subconsciously grabbed Mike's arm to stop him but he pushed me back with his free hand before placing it back on the gun with the other, holding the firearm in a death grip.

To my surprise and Mike's as well, Chris swung the plank he was holding down and hit Mike in the arms, forcing him to drop the gun as he let out a yell in pain and shock.

"Seriously?" Mike grunted as he straightened back up, narrowing his eyes at a very confused Chris.

"W–What?" Chris seemed surprised by Mike's reaction, which was odd to me, because who wouldn't be pissed off at somebody for doing that?

"Did you think I was going to shoot him?" Mike questioned him and I chose to stay silent although my mind was screaming 'yes'.

"I–I dunno…" Chris stammered as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. I could tell he was starting to feel dumb due to his actions.

"Come on, Chris! You know me better than that!" Mike scolded him. I wanted to step in — to tell Mike that it was just a mistake. But before I could say anything to make the situation better, Josh had to open his big mouth again.

"Yeah, Chris! You know me better than that!" He mocked with laughter heavy in his voice. I turned and gave him a glare that clearly said 'shut the fuck up' before turning back to the conversation.

"Ah… Yeah… Well, next time, just give me a heads up, alright?" Chris asked and I could tell that he was still a bit startled by what happened. I understood where he was coming from — he just didn't want to see his friend get hurt.

"Oh, you poor little piggies! You can't even get your 'good cop, bad cop' routine to work! Leave it to the pros, bros!"

At that moment, I had enough. I no longer found Josh funny — he was getting on my nerves and I was tired of everything. I turned to the smug bastard and didn't even think twice about what I was about to say.

"Oh, shut up!" I snapped, clearly surprising everyone in the room, including myself. Josh's eyes widened as his mouth fell ajar. But not only five seconds later, his eyes narrowed with mischief and his lips turned up into another smirk.

"Oh, really?! You really, really want me to? A–And what about you, (Y/N)? Huh?" I felt a chill go down my spine as he said my name, knowing that this wasn't going to end well. "A little bit of advice: You should probably keep a lock on your diary."

I froze completely still as if I was paralyzed from fear and embarrassment. I remembered each dirty thought about Josh that I had written in that diary and I winced.

"W–What?" Was the only word I could speak out of disbelief.

"Fuck, with that many pages, you could publish a God damn porn novel!" He laughed and I cringed even more, falling deeper and deeper into the abyss of eternal embarrassment with each word he said. "Or is it a movie you want to make?"

He wiggled his brows as he licked his lower lip, eyes darkening as they traveled up and down my form for a brief moment. Luckily, Chris noticed how tense I was and decided to step in.

"O–Ok, that's enough!" He shouted at Josh and he responded with a sly smirk.

"What? She wants it! Just read the dozens of dirty thoughts she had written in her little book. Fuck, I should be getting paid for how much she used me in her naughty little stories!"

"Josh, shut the fuck up!" Mike's voice came out like a roar as he stepped closer towards the bound man in an attempt to intimate him.

"And I saw your needy eyes oogling my junk as I humped the air! Don't pretend, (Y/N)! Don't deny what you're dying for!"

"Alright, everybody shut up!" Mike screamed so loud that it almost didn't sound like him. We all froze in shock, since we had never seen him this angry before — not even after every time him and Emily would fight. "Chris, (Y/N), you guys go back to the lodge and make sure everything's alright. I'll stay here with this lunatic until the morning."

The first thought in my head was to protest. Not only was I worried about leaving Josh alone with Mike for Josh's safety against Mike's anger, but I was also worried about what Josh would say about me to Mike. I wondered just how much of my diary he had read and winced again when I thought about the dirty things I had written. I opened my mouth to reject Mike's plan but instantly got cut off.

"Oooo, sleepover!" Josh piped in before I could say a thing to Mike — a childish grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "C–Can we order pizz–ah?"

Me, Chris and Mike all let out an audible sigh and I resisted the urge to smack the smile right off Josh's face. Chris grabbed my arm and lightly tugged me in the direction of the exit, but I pulled away, leaving Chris cocking his head and arching his brow in confusion.

"Listen — you go back to the lodge with Chris. I'll stay here with him." I offered as I approached Mike and he narrowed his eyes at me, seemingly equally as confused as Chris was.

"No. I can handle Josh. It's fine." Mike spoke calmly yet his eyes still told me that he was wary of my offer.

"Mike, you've had a rough night and Josh will just antagonize you until dawn if you stay. You deserve to rest." I placed my hand on his shoulder while looking into his eyes to show my sincerity. "I can handle Josh for the rest of the night. It's no big deal."

He raised a brow while chewing on the inside of his cheek, contemplating my offer. Finally, after an awkward moment of silence, Mike sighed and nodded his head in agreement.

"Alright. We'll be back first thing in the morning, ok?" He said and I nodded as I let go of his shoulder.

"Ooooooo, a sleepover with (Y/N)! That's even better than with Mr. Grumpy Face! Fuck pizza! Let's skip it and go straight to the pillow fight in our underwear!" My jaw dropped as my attention snapped over to Josh, who was wearing a big smirk — so proud of what he had just said. I couldn't see Chris and Mike's faces, since my eyes were too busy trying to kill Josh with a death stare — but due to the awkward silence that instantly filled the room, I could imagine that they held expressions similar to my own.

"Are you sure?" I heard Mike whisper over my shoulder. I slowly turned to face him but my eyes stayed glued to the floor, being too embarrassed to look anybody in the eyes at this moment.

"Yes, Mike. It's ok." I sighed as I brought my hand up to my face to massage the bridge of my nose.

"Here," to my surprise, Mike handed me his gun, cocking it as he did so. "Just in case."

"I don't think I'll need it but thank you." I said and he nodded at me before giving Josh a 'be good' glare, then turning his heel and heading towards the exit of the shed.

"Goodnight, (Y/N)." Chris smiled at me awkwardly and then followed Mike to the door.

"Goodnight, guys." I called out as I sat down on a nearby stool, turning my attention to the man bound before me. This was going to be a long night…

"Alright, you squirrely little fuck. It's just you and me." I uttered while glancing at Josh out of the corner of my eye, feeling rather frustrated with the way he was behaving and quite obviously embarrassed by the words he had just spat out at me in front of my friends. A few minutes of unexpected silence had passed which had surprised me greatly. Unfortunately, that silence didn't last.

"(Y/N)?" Josh spoke shyly and I instantly winced at the sound of his suspiciously calm voice.

"What?" I growled as I glared at him through narrowed eyes.

"I want pizza!" Josh whined like a bratty child. Though his voice was laced with a child-like innocence, I could see the evil mischief in his green eyes — now appearing grey under the dim light of the room.

"Oh, not this again!" I muttered as I rubbed my hands down my face, feeling so tired already of babysitting this little brat. But I had to protect what little privacy I had left and to keep the boys from fighting again. I just had to be smart with this. I looked away, hoping that if I ignored it, it would eventually shut up. But I was greatly wrong.

"Please, please please please, please, please, please, pleeeeeeeeeease!" He continued to beg until I finally had enough.

"Fine!" I snapped as I took my phone out of my pocket.

"Yay!" Josh cheered excitedly as his eyes lit up and his lips parted to make a toothy grin.

I walked into the middle of the room and set my phone down in the middle of the floor before walking back to my stool and sitting back down. Josh stared at my phone a moment and then turned his head to look at me, confused by what I had just done.

"Go ahead — order your pizza." I said with a cocky smirk growing on my face.

"W–What?" He yelped in shock, which made me feel quite satisfied.

"Aww, what's the matter? You can't? Well, I guess you're not getting your pizza then!" I teased him in a whiny baby voice as I stuck my lower lip out to pout.

"What?! Why?!" He shrieked at my mockery and I just chuckled darkly.

"Well — first off, the pizza guy can't get here because they don't deliver this far — genius. And second, consider it payback for all the shit you put us through tonight!" I subconsciously raised my voice at the man–child before me and he only responded with a roll of his eyes and a scoff as if I was the one in the wrong.

"Oh, for fuck sakes, (Y/N)! It was just a prank!" He sneered and I scoffed at his remark, feeling shocked and angered that he had the audacity to say such a thing. "And I didn't even want the damn pizza! I was just trying to piss you off."

"Oh, was it?! Well, I don't think it was very funny! First, you put on a show of you getting sawed in half for me, Chris and Ashley to get traumatized from; and then you chase me around the lodge while pretending to be some stupid movie serial killer?!" I vented out my rant, feeling my body heat up with rage as I did so. I didn't even notice how hard I clenched my fists, cutting angry crescents into my palms as my knuckles turned white.

I chose to ignore his confession about the pizza, since I knew this. He knew that I couldn't get one for him at the moment, so there was no other reason for him to ask. But I decided not to say anything about the matter, because I was too pissed off about what he had said prior to the confession.

"Come on! You have to admit that was pretty epic!" He gloated with a laugh with a look on his face as if he was remembering the events of the night, all crafted by his hand.

"Oh, fuck off!" I growled through gritted teeth, growing pretty close to punching him right in the face.

"If I'm being honest, I didn't expect you to react the way you did. And here I thought your feelings were only sexual." He said with the same smug smirk plastered on his face. But something had changed; there was a sudden hint of softness laced within his eyes and voice — something he was trying to mask by his cockiness but slowly began to break through the cracks only a tiny bit, just enough for me to see it.

I shuddered as the memory replayed itself in my mind. There I stood, helpless and screaming while banging on a cage-like door, begging for mercy on my two friends. I couldn't choose, so Chris had to make the decision — a decision that ended with me weeping on Chris' chest over the loss of a love I never got the chance to have, while the man I wished to experience it with screamed in pure agony as his body got torn in half — or so I thought it did.

I turned my head away without saying another word, mostly because I could not trust my voice enough to actually speak. I stared at the door as if I actually took an interest in it, just to avoid eye contact with the man. Of all the ways he had to find out about my feelings for him, it had to be this way; I was so mad and embarrassed.

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

Some time had passed and the temperature had only seemed to drop lower and — despite my anger and embarrassment heating me up — it didn't stop the feeling of a thousand little needles poking into me all over my body as the harsh cold embraced me. Things had been completely silent, which I appreciated because I knew that I would not be able to speak without my teeth chattering. And I knew that Josh would only mock me for that. I crossed my arms over my chest, hugging my torso tightly in an attempt to warm myself and stop myself from shivering before Josh took notice.

"Cold?" I heard him finally speak up.

'Shit!' I cursed in my head. 'So much for trying to warm up before he noticed.'

"Y–Yeah…" I mumbled, still not daring to look at Josh after the things he had said. Lord knows my face was probably as red as a rose.

"Well, why don't you come over here and warm yourself up on my lap?" My eyes widened at his words and I scowled at the tone of his voice; I could practically hear his smirk in it.

"Oh, God—"

"I want him to be the reason I feel warm in the winter. I want to melt into his arms as he makes love to me and make the harsh winter feel like a beautiful summer." I froze as my eyes widened in terror when I recognized those words from my diary. "What? I–I'm just goin' by the book!"

"Just— How much of my diary did you read?" I asked, afraid of the answer.

"Hmmm… Well, I started at a couple months ago and ended at: 'And then Josh bent down to place a gentle kiss on my clit before dragging his soft tongue between my folds.'"

'Shit! He read about my dream last night!' My heart began to race with humiliation and the regret of asking my question as he recited every word from my diary, dragging out and exaggerating every word like he was a porn star.

"And I kept calling out his name. 'Oooh, Josh! Harder! More! Dominate me! Oooh, Daddy!'" I jumped up from my seat as he moaned out those words, shocked and appalled by his lies and behavior.

"I did not write that!" I screeched in anger as my body heated up with rage, making it easy to forget about the painful cold.

"Oh, admit it, little kitty! Those words might not be down in your little book, but you and me both know damn well that that's what you hear in your head." He snapped back and I stood in silence. I couldn't deny it because he was right. Suddenly, a wicked idea popped into my head as my lips twisted into a mischievous grin.

"Why so creative with it, Josh? Maybe instead of those words being in my head, those are the words that are in your head!" I accused as I pointed a finger at him.

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that, baby." He scoffed while rolling his eyes. "Why don't you just be honest with yourself, honey? You want to ride the Josh express and be taken to the bone zone! Just admit it! Come on, (Y/N)! Admit i—"

"Fine!" I yelled, interrupting him and, to my surprise, his eyes widened as if he was a bit stunned by my outburst. "I want to fuck you! Alright?! I've dreamed about you doing things to me every fucking night since we fucking met! And I can't take anymore!"

His shocked expression formed into a cocky one as his lips turned up into a smirk again. He just stared at me for a moment in silence as I tried to look everywhere but in his direction, terrified to make eye contact after my naughty little confession.

"We're alone here; Chris and Mike went back to the lodge, so is there really any reason to hold back?" His words pierced into my mind like a fishing hook, stabbing that curious part of my brain and reeling me into his sick grasp. I shyly looked up at him and bit the inside of my cheek, not knowing what to do or say.

His eyes darkened further with lust as they peered up at me while his tongue slipped out to lick his lower lip before sucking it between his teeth. He knew exactly what he was doing — he was killing me with temptation. But was he just toying with my emotions? He was hell bent on humiliating everybody else tonight, so what made me so different? For all I knew, there was a camera hidden somewhere to humiliate me as well. I heaved a deep sigh, feeling tired and quite frankly sick of caring. I took a few steps closer to the bound man in front of me before making my very first move.

I stopped right in between his open legs and raised my hand to his head, running my fingers through his surprisingly soft curls and then clenching my digits into a fist, pulling his head back and forcing him to open his mouth as he let out a hiss in pain. I took the opportunity to clash my lips against his and slide my tongue into his mouth, pushing it harshly against his with much need and passion.

A wild fight for dominance began as I lowered myself onto his lap and started to grind myself on his thigh. The sensation it brought me was dull but just enough to add a little more fuel to the fire and dampen my panties. As our mouths explored each other, my other hand roamed his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath the button-up shirt he wore, that I so badly wanted to tear off.

It was then that I realized I couldn't do that without taking off his overalls first. And even then, I had some layers that needed removing as well. I pulled away and he let out a groan of protest while looking up at me with needy eyes. I couldn't help but smile down at him before unzipping my jacket and letting it slide off my shoulders to hit the ground. Understanding what I was doing, Josh's eyes lit up with excitement like a puppy watching his master prepare his food. He watched as I took off my shirt and pants, throwing them on the floor in a messy pile, along with my discarded winter jacket.

Leaving my bra and panties on to tease him, I stepped closer towards him and ran my finger down one of the straps of his overalls before popping its button open, letting it fall to reveal more of his shoulder. I repeated the same actions with the second strap and then pulled the overalls down, just passed his knees. I took a moment to admire his already huge erection — which was pressing firmly against his boxers as if it was dying to escape from its fabricated prison — before slowly working on the buttons of his flannel shirt.

"Ah! Would you hurry up!" He whined as I took my sweet time, taking at least three seconds to pop each button open.

"Ah, ah, ah—" I scolded teasingly. "Be patient. After all, you deserve a little teasing after the shit you pulled tonight."

He responded with another groan and I couldn't stop myself from chuckling at his childish nature. I pulled his shirt open but realized that he had a shirt on underneath — one that could not be opened.

"Oh… I guess you'll just have to keep wearing that." I commented and he gave me a questioning look.

"Why?"

"Because you're tied up."

"For fuck sake." He grumbled with a roll of his eyes. "Why can't you just fucking untie me?"

"You know why. Besides, it's ridiculously cold outside, so extra layers are a good thing." 

Then I kneeled down, ignoring the shock of the cold floor touching my bare knees. I ran a single finger over the throbbing erection through his boxers and he visibly shivered as a reaction. Smiling with satisfaction due to his response, I decided to give him a little more by darting my tongue out and lightly dragging it over his cock, the same way I had done with my finger only moments ago. He let out a soft moan as he let his eyes fall shut, savoring the moment the best he could.

I then hooked my fingers underneath the waistband of his boxers and began pulling them down. He responded to my actions by lifting his hips up, allowing me to pull them down his legs and finally release his cock into the cold night's air. I stared in amazement at his thick length. Josh was a big guy — 6'2" tall to be exact — so I expected there to be quite some girth in his size. But fuck — I thought shit like this was only possible in pornography.

Noticing some of the pre‐cum building up in the slit of his swollen tip, I couldn't stop myself from darting my tongue out to lap it up in one quick sweep. Then I wrapped my lips around his head and sucked on it as hard as I could, earning a deep satisfied groan from him as he jerked his hips up to force me to go deeper — but I pushed them back down with my hands.

"Fuck, if you don't give me something— anything—"

"You'll do what?" I interrupted after pulling his tip out of my mouth with a loud pop. I smirked at him as he let out a strained whine — now completely dominated and owned by me. "Fine. Since you've been such a good boy, I'll give you a little more — how does that sound?"

"Oh— Oh, yes please!" He begged desperately — his voice laced with a pathetic whine

as his eyebrows turned up, making him appear far more innocent than both me and him knew him to be.

I stood up and reached behind my back to unhook my bra and then allowed it to slide down my arms and hit the cold floor beneath me. After letting his hungry eyes linger on my 'girls' for a minute, I turned around so my back was facing him before letting my fingers hook into the waistband of my panties. I made sure to bend over and push my ass out to give him a great show as I slowly pulled them down and let them join my bra on the floor. I straightened up and twirled around, only to be surprised by the dangerous look in Josh's eyes. They were dark and full of pure lust and hunger; it made my core ache for him.

I slowly walked over to him as he licked his lips impatiently like a starving wolf waiting to devour his next meal. The sound of my bare feet slapping against the cold concrete went insync with each passing second, adding to the growing anticipation that was driving me wild. I finally stood just an inch away, staring down at the hungry man before me and admiring his bound form. I buried my hand in his thick hair again but this time, I pulled his head forward, forcing his lips to crash into my pussy.

Taking the hint like a good little boy, his tongue began to work away at my mound, flicking the little bundle of nerves at a rather fast pace. The sensation was incredible — I felt my whole body heat up in a matter of seconds due to the burning arousal his tongue was bringing me. And just when I thought it couldn't get any better, he wrapped his soft lips around my clit to suckle on it as his tongue did it's magic.

Tears began to pool into the corners of my eyes as I felt my orgasm fast approaching. I couldn't fucking believe that I was this close already. His green eyes peered up at me, burning with nothing more than determination to make me cum as his brows furrowed. That sight alone was enough to push me closer to the edge — but when he started moaning, my legs were turning into jelly.

I tossed my head back and moaned so loudly that I wouldn't have been surprised if the others at the lodge could have heard me. My heart was beating so fast that I could have bet that it was going to explode out of my chest. This felt so amazing. I felt so free — hell, so alive! But although I was so close to my climax that I so desperately wanted and needed, I didn't want to cum like this. Not yet, at least…

I pulled away and he let out yet another groan of frustration. Lifting his chin so he would be forced to look up at me, I admired my work, taking in the image of his mouth and chin glistening with my juices as he licked his lips to taste my leftovers. Deciding that I didn't want to waste another second and that it was time, I placed my hands on his shoulders to steady myself before allowing myself to sink down onto his lap — but not all the way. He wasn't getting this that easy.

The stinging sensation of his tip pushing into me and stretching me out was so fucking pleasurable that it was nearly impossible not to continue going all the way, but I wanted to rile him up — I wanted this to last. He let out an annoyed grunt when I stopped and smirked down at him. His eyes shot daggers into mine, gleaming at me with want and frustration and nothing more. I couldn't help but chuckle at how pathetic he was at that moment — how he teased me for being such a needy little slut and now that's exactly what he had become.

"I bet it's killing you right now, being tied up and not in control for once. How does it feel?" I chuckled darkly as I sat completely still, enjoying the tip of his cock twitching within me with much need. But to my surprise, his lips turned up into a dark grin as he let out a combination of a laugh and a growl.

"Y–You think I'm not in control? Oh! Ooooh, you naive little bird! You are so wrong!"

Before I could say anything, he jerked his hips up, forcing each inch of his length into me within a second until his tip slammed into my cervix. I cried out in shock as my core stung with pain due to the lack of preparation for his size until that pain melted into nothing but pure pleasure. He was so much bigger than me, it was overwhelming.

His cock continued to twitch within me — on purpose to tease me or with arousal, I'm unsure. I felt my mind fog with pleasure as I began to fall sedated from my arousal before remembering what I was planning to do. I wasn't here to fall to submission at the hands of this man but to teach the little brat a very valuable lesson: Don't fuck with me.

I gripped his shoulders tightly, digging my nails into the fabric of his shirt for leverage before lifting myself up and slamming myself down hard, knocking unexpected moans from both of our mouths. I wasted no time to start bobbing myself up and down at an incredibly fast pace, bringing the needy sonuvabitch to the edge of his orgasm and then stopping at the very second I felt his shoulders tense up and his cock twitch within me.

A frustrated growl left his lips as he glared at me. I responded with a cocky smirk before lifting myself up again — as slowly as possible — and slamming down again, making the stool beneath us creak a little. Burying my fingers into his soft locks again, I forced his head upwards so I could make eye contact with him as I tortured him. I ground my hips down onto his, rotating them in a circle and his eyes widened — almost pleading to me while he pursed his lips as if he was trying to stifle his moans.

"Ah, ah! If you want more, you have to let me hear it!" I teased before clenching my hand that was tangled in his hair into a fist, pulling on his locks hard and forcing his mouth open.

He openly and shamelessly moaned for me as tears formed in his eyes. I chuckled at his neediness and then leaned down to let my lips graze the side of his neck before giving the sensitive skin a little nip. And I have to admit, I really enjoyed the sound of him gasping in shock at my action.

I then began planting slow kisses along the length of his neck until my lips pressed against the sweet spot right under his jawline to feel his racing pulse quickening by the second. After giving him another little nip and earning another cute, little gasp from him; I began giving him more wet, hard, open-mouth kisses; repeating the same patterns up and down his neck.

After a couple of minutes of completely savoring his delicious taste, I decided to end the torture on a wild note and licked a stripe up his throat from the base to his jaw, feeling the vibrations of his sweet melodic moans while he lifted his head to give me more access as I did so.

I pulled away slightly to look into his wide eyes and smirked before planting a quick kiss on his lips. It was difficult to keep myself from giggling at his shocked expression from my most recent actions. Now that the torture was over, it was time to get straight to business. I lifted myself up and sank back down again, deciding to move at a more neutral pace to savor the moment. I never thought that I'd be here, fucking Joshua fucking Washington, so I was going to milk every second out of this special occasion.

I squeezed his shoulders tightly as I pushed myself up, his cock sliding out of my walls until only the tip remained. I slammed back down, moaning as his head hit right into my g-spot. The way his eyes fluttered shut and his head lolled back as I slammed myself down sent chills straight down my spine. I had wanted this for so long — too long. And I definitely wasn't done with my little teasing game.

I lifted up again and held still in my position, earning a frustrated groan from my lover. Only his tip remained within me, leaving an empty feeling within my core as it ached for what was no longer there. I wanted to absolutely rail him until he was speechless — the pleasure that I so desperately craved just within reach. I felt the speed of my heartbeat increase with each passing second. The cold night's air dragged its chilling fingers down my back, sending chills down my spine and awaking goosebumps upon my skin. I wanted this so, so bad.

But I had to stay strong — I had to keep control.

I swallowed thickly and took a deep breath in an attempt to stifle my growing arousal for a bit longer. But just when I finally regained the little bit of control that had been slipping through my fingers, Josh let out another frustrated growl before his eyes burrowed deeply into mine with anger.

"That's it!" He yelled and before I could react, he jerked his hips upwards, forcing his thick shaft deep into my hole. I couldn't hold back — it was too much. I let my head fall back as a moan pushed passed my lips. My walls stretched and clenched around him, swallowing his length within my heat and savoring the stinging pleasure it offered me.

He continued to buck his hips into mine, his strength and speed overwhelming me in an orgasmic bliss. I was in such a trance that I didn't even notice my hand traveling below my waist to play with my sensitive mound that was swelling for attention. Well — I didn't notice until Josh pointed it out, of course.

"Oh, yes! Good girl!" He praised my actions — his voice dipping a few octaves lower than before, only pushing me closer to the edge of ecstasy. "Touch yourself for Daddy!"

His words sent a buzz to my mind that no alcohol could replicate. It was as if he was casting a spell on me, and each word he spoke had me falling deeper and deeper into his grasp.

I knew that there was no escape now. After hours of trying to run away, the killer had finally caught his prey — and I was oh, so willing to be his helpless victim.

"You are so, so wet right now." He whispered in my ear, a light chuckle on the edge of his tongue. "You're such a slut for me."

I sobbed at his harsh words and he let out an evil laugh.

"Come on — I wanna hear you say it."

"I–I'm — ah!"

I could barely even speak under his cruel gaze. It was as if his bold eyes had me frozen in place, only allowing me to let out moans and uneven breaths as I approached my climax. But just as I thought I had gotten off the hook from disobeying Josh's orders, he slammed his hips up in what felt like a new angle, pushing his cock deeper inside of me and pressing it so hard against my g-spot that I literally saw stars. I barely let out a squeak as my breath caught in my throat, trapping any sound from escaping me.

"I. Said. Say it!" He growled through gritted teeth. His eyes were growing in size with what I thought was anger, pupils dilating and nearly covering his light green irises completely.

"I–I–I'm your s–s–s–slut–t!" I struggled to say in a strained voice. I felt so small under his judgmental gaze, but I assumed that was what he wanted. Though his features softened at my weak declaration and he smiled sweetly — so sweet it almost made me cry.

"That's right — you're my precious little slut." He cooed lovingly. "Good girl."

With that being said, he began to move again. His movements were slow at first, but his pace quickly picked up to a speed that I thought was damn impossible. My trembling fingers gripped his shoulders as I felt myself nearing the end. Even he began to shiver as his once steady breaths became uneven and deep, telling me that he must have been close as well.

I wrapped an arm around his neck as I placed my finger on my clit once again. We remained in eye contact — foreheads pressed together as we shared breaths — while my finger quickened its pace in fast little circles over my throbbing mound.

But then, it happened — my climax covered my body like a tsunami and drowned me in a sea of intoxicating pleasure. It was as if a spark had lit within my core and spread throughout my body as fast as a wildfire; it was magical. I could barely even hear myself scream out as blood rushed to my ears and made my heartbeat the only sound they could comprehend.

I was lucky that I just barely came out of my post–orgasm daze just in time to see Josh releasing within me. His eyes squeezed shut as his head lolled back and his mouth fell wide open while he let out a moan that was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard.

It was an image that I had imagined hundreds of times, but the real thing could never compare to any fantasy I had ever conjured up in my mind — and I'd treasure it forever.

"Are you… Ok?" I heard Josh whisper. His voice was now soft and breathless, soothing me in my fragile state.

I let out a hum in response, not bothering to lift my head from where it rested on his shoulder or speak words that were bound to be pronounced wrong due to my shaky voice. I was too tired to do anything at that moment. I felt him beginning to soften inside of me and I let out relaxed sigh while closing my eyes.

"No…" Josh whispered again — his tone now more concerned and sympathetic. I finally lifted my head to meet his gaze and noticed that his eyes looked just as sympathetic as his voice sounded — so sad and remorseful. "I mean, are you ok from the prank? I'm so sorry."

His voice broke on the last sentence, and for the first time that night, he looked as if he was going to cry. My heart felt heavy for him. He seemed so broken and messed up since his sisters went missing. How could I blame him for wanting us to feel a tiny bit of the same pain he felt? I decided to just brush off my feelings now — for his sake. I let out a soft laugh and nodded my head slowly.

"Well, Josh — one thing's for sure: you are going to make one hell of a film producer." I chuckled while brushing the loose strands of hair out of his eyes. Josh's eyes widened while his mouth fell open dramatically as he let out an over-exaggerated gasp.

"D–Does this mean you actually liked my prank?!"

I giggled at his childish behavior. I didn't want to admit it, but it was probably a little too late for holding back now. I heaved a defeated sigh before speaking my confession.

"If I'm being honest, your prank was actually kind of — really impressive." I reluctantly admitted, thinking back to all the things he somehow managed to pull off by himself.

"I fucking knew it!" He gloated as that too familiar smirk returned to his lips. I rolled my eyes while letting out a huff of laughter.

"Don't get so cocky.* I narrowed my eyes at him — though the smile on my face most likely told him that I wasn't as angry as I was prior to our fuck. "Honestly, I'm not angry anymore. but that doesn't mean I fully forgive or trust you again — not yet, at least."

"What? Just little old me?" He whispered so quiet it was barely audible, while giving me a look of pure innocence. "Just little old me, tied up here and helpless?"

I shook my head as my smile reluctantly broadened. "Keep acting cute like that and I might just have to untie you."

"Oh — so, it's working?" His lips curved up into a sly smirk and I rolled my eyes again while letting out a huff of laughter.

Finally — after so long — everything had finally melted into silence. Josh just gazed into my eyes lovingly, without saying a word. I felt so calm — so peaceful. I laid my head on his shoulder and relaxed again. Despite the cold air chilling my body to the bone and the feeling of warm liquid turning cool between my thighs, I felt so content to just stay on his lap the whole night.

But then I remembered something important: I could only do that until dawn, since Josh would most likely end up getting arrested then. I was grateful for the long moment of silence, because it gave me time to think.

While thinking, I must have lifted up my head without realizing because when I barely came out of my thoughts, Josh was staring at me with a puzzled expression. I barely reacted to him as my mind went elsewhere again.

"Hey… Do you have the keys for the cable car?" I asked after a couple of very quiet minutes — my voice just above a whisper as I continued to stay lost in my thoughts.

"Yeah... Why?" His face studied mine while his brows furrowed and lips pursed from confusion.

I continued to think for a few seconds. What I was thinking of was quite reckless and dangerous, but in the end, it might have been worth it. Finally deciding on what I was going to do, my lips turned up into a sly smile as I studied his beautiful features that were contorted with confusion, knowing that what I was going to say about going to change the butterfly effect of tonight drastically.

"Let's get the fuck out of here."

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

You made it to the end! Good for you! I hope you enjoyed it! 😃 What was your favorite part of the story? Feel free to let me know in the comments! I love getting feedback! Oh, and if this fic does well, I might just write a sequel someday... 👀

[lxvsiick]

THE STARS ARE SHINING BRIGHTLY | HAN TAESAN X READER

[PART 2 -- VERSION 2]

PAIRING: ex! han taesan x ex! fem! reader

SUMMARY: After running into his ex, Y/n, Taesan chases after her--and what happens after was all he could ever wish for.

GENRE: fluff?, angst?, exes, imagine

WORDCOUNT: 1.1k

A/N: i guess everyone deserves a happy ending 😒 jk ,, i apologize for the pain i have caused 🙇🏻‍♀️ btw pink and blue go so well together — i love how the title turned out

❝ ❞ ✧ ೃ༄

Every step felt heavy with anticipation, each breath a mix of excitement and anxiety. He didn’t know what he’d say or what he hoped to find, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a chance he couldn’t let slip by.

Finally, he spotted her again, standing on the corner, waiting for a bus. With a deep breath, he approached, trying to steady his racing heart.

“Y/n!” he called out, trying to keep his voice calm and steady.

She turned, a look of surprise crossing her face as she recognized the urgency in his voice. Her eyes widened as they met his, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. Everything around them seemed to disappear and it was only them there. Y/n’s look of surprise turns into a smile, her sparkling eyes meeting him.

“Hi.”

“It’s been a while,” he said, his voice low, struggling to keep his emotions in check. He took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “How... how have you been?”

She gave a small, distant smile. “I’ve been doing better, actually. A lot better. Things are finally looking up.”

Taesan nodded, though her words twisted in his chest. Seeing her happy without him felt like a double-edged sword—he wanted this for her, but it hurt to realize he wasn’t part of her happiness anymore.

“That’s good to hear,” he managed. “I’m really happy for you.” A pause hung between them before he continued, his voice dropping to a more vulnerable tone. “Idol life has been good for me, too, I guess. But... I’ve missed you. You’ve never left my mind. Not once.”

Her smile faltered as she listened, her eyes softening as his words sunk in. She didn’t say anything, but the way she looked at him spoke of memories they both shared, memories that still lingered.

“I regret everything I did,” he continued, his voice thick with emotion. “The way things ended... I keep replaying it in my mind, wishing I could have done things differently. Better. I’ve thought about you so much, and I’ve been kicking myself every day for letting you go.”

She remained silent, her gaze steady but full of emotion.

“Have you... have you ever missed me?” His voice was barely above a whisper now, laced with a desperate kind of hope.

For a moment, she didn’t answer, her eyes dropping to the ground. But when she spoke, her voice was small, fragile. “I did... I still do.”

His heart jumped at her words. His chest tightened with a hope he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in months. “Then... maybe... maybe we could try again?” he asked, stepping closer to her, his heart on the line. “I promise, I’ll do better this time. I’ll be the person you deserve. Just... give me another chance.”

She looked up at him, uncertainty and love battling in her expression. They stood there, the weight of their shared history hanging between them. Her eyes searched his, and for a moment, it felt like the world stopped.

“I never stopped loving you,” she said quietly, her words tentative, as if she was afraid of what might come next.

He swallowed hard, feeling like his heart might burst. “I never stopped loving you either.”

After what felt like an eternity, she nodded, her eyes filled with both fear and hope. “Okay,” she whispered. “We can try again.”

Relief washed over him, his chest swelling with hope and gratitude. He couldn’t help the smile that broke across his face, genuine and full of emotion. “Thank you,” he breathed. “I promise, I’ll make it right this time.”

As they stood there, the weight of their past seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the possibility of a future together.

❝ ❞ ✧ ೃ༄

The night sky stretched endlessly above, a canvas of twinkling stars that reflected in Y/n’s eyes as she stood on the private balcony, her hands resting gently on the railing. The cool evening breeze played with the curls of her long hair, causing strands to dance around her face. She wore a stunning cream-colored dress that flowed elegantly in the wind, perfectly complementing the glow of the moonlight that bathed her in a soft, ethereal light.

It was a perfect night—peaceful, serene. But a soft sound from behind pulled her from her thoughts. She turned, her gaze falling on Taesan, who was walking towards her, a bouquet of white daisies—her favorite flowers—held in his hands. The sight of him, standing there with that warm, familiar smile, made her heart skip a beat.

"These are for you," he said softly as she walked up to him. His voice was gentle, filled with a tenderness that never seemed to fade, even after all these years.

She took the bouquet, her fingers brushing against his for a brief moment, sending a spark through her. "You remembered," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, her smile lighting up her face.

"How could I ever forget?" he replied with a playful smile, his eyes locked on hers.

Suddenly, music filled the air. She blinked in surprise as the rest of the BOYNEXTDOOR members popped out from behind the door, Sungho strumming a guitar while the others began dancing in sync, clearly having rehearsed this. Laughter bubbled up from her chest as she turned back to him, her heart swelling with affection and love.

But Taesan gently pulled her attention back to him, his hands wrapping around hers as the music continued. His expression grew serious, his eyes soft as he gazed down at her. "These last four years with you... they’ve been the best of my life," he began, his voice full of emotion. "I will always regret letting you go the first time, and I can’t thank you enough for giving us another chance."

Her breath hitched as his words sunk in, her heart racing as she saw the shift in his expression.

"And now," he continued, his voice catching slightly as he dropped down on one knee. The world seemed to slow down around her as he pulled out a small velvet box from his pocket and opened it, revealing a delicate, sparkling ring inside. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?"

Tears instantly brimmed in her eyes as she looked down at him, the love she felt for him overwhelming her. She couldn’t speak for a moment, her throat tight with emotion. All she could do was nod, her tears spilling over as she whispered, "Yes, of course."

The members behind them erupted into cheers, with one of the members dramatically clutching his chest. "Finally! She’s taking him off our hands!" they joked, their voices full of joy as the others continued playing and dancing in celebration.

Laughing through her tears, Y/n dropped to her knees in front of Taesan, pulling him into a tight embrace, her heart full and her future clear. They had found each other again, and this time, they weren’t letting go.

❝ ❞ ✧ ೃ༄

PART ONE | PART TWO VER.1 | MASTERLIST

© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, lxvsiick, 2024

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Multifaceted (S.R.)

Summary: Reader interrogates a witness. Spencer can’t believe what he sees.  

Request: reader where she is super quiet, shy but really really sweet and soft spoken but she has these crazy interrogation skills and tactics that shock the team and Spencer Couple: Spencer Reid/GN!Reader Category: Fluff Content Warning: Police interrogation mentions Word Count: 650

MASTERLIST

Spencer likes to think he knows you pretty well. You’d only started working with the BAU a couple weeks ago, but in those few weeks, he’d taken a particular interest in you.

Of course, that had nothing to do with the fact you were attractive (although you were). That would be shallow.

Instead, Spencer liked you because you were kind. There was an undeniable softness about you that extended far beyond your features. There had never been a moment between the two of you where he felt anything less than appreciated.

For that same reason, Spencer was worried about your first solo interrogation.

He just couldn’t stop thinking of his own. Thankfully, those many moons ago, Hotch had been nearby to put an end to his misery when he’d realized just how far out of his depths he was.

So, Spencer tries to return the favor. He doesn’t tell you that he’s watching because he doesn’t want you to think he is expecting failure.

He stands by. Just in case.

Spencer quickly realizes, however, that you are not the one who might need saving.

Behind the two way mirror, he sees an entirely different side of you. A side that is brusque and intimidating and notably not like the rest of you. Still, your charm somehow bleeds through the rough edges.

Spencer finds himself falling in an entirely different way. That stomach-sinking sensation breaks and makes way for butterflies that feel almost inappropriate.

He watches you with a morbid curiosity as his idyllic image of you dies on the metal table.

There is nothing resembling fear in you as you face evil. You are composed yet terrifying in quick, loud movements.

As you lean closer to something vile, he notices your lip and nose twitch in disgust.

He catches the way the man in the room practically cowers at the sound of your raised voice. He is reminded of the saying:

Demons run when a good man goes to war.

That is how he feels about you.

When you storm towards the exit, Spencer runs to greet you. In that brief time, he stubbornly clings to his vision of you as something soft. He is convinced, however silly it might seem, that something else has happened to explain your behavior.

Yet when he turns the corner and hears the door click shut, he is met with a familiar smile.

“Oh! Hey Spencer,” you chirp happily.

“Hey…” he mumbles suspiciously. He searches your expression for any sign of distress.

He finds none. He isn’t ready to give up just yet, though.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

You look confused, too. That is, until you realize what he meant.

“Oh, were you watching?”

“Yeah…” he confirms.

“So…” you urge him on with a wave of your hand.

He has no idea what you’re waiting for. You giggle as you notice his eyes following your hand like it would help the gears turn faster.

You snap your fingers. He snaps back to reality.

“Was it convincing?” you ask.

After a minute, he almost starts to question it, but he eventually concedes defeat.

“Wh—I-I mean, yeah!” he squeaks, “You were… very, very convincing.”

You recognize the flustered state of him. You take in pink cheeks and wide eyes that are looking anywhere but at you.

Slowly, you realize that Spencer had underestimated just how much of you he had yet to see. You capture that reaction in a treasured memory and tuck it away for a future date.

For now, you just giggle and return to the version of yourself that he was more familiar with.

“You think that’s bad?” you whisper through the side of your mouth, “You should see me when I’m hungry.”

Spencer laughs along with you, even though, if he were honest, he knew he’d like you just as much.

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