#and I’m like ???? what about this man oozes cool to you

[swxxtsxcchxrine]

imagine Miguel O'Hara has bound your ankles and wrist to the headboard with his sticky spiderwebs so your all spread out just for him as he spits on your sensitive cunt before running his rough fingers between the lips. you whine and buck your hips in an attempt against the restraints but he just looks down at you pathetically as if you were an insignificant bug and chuckles at your weak struggle. he’s pushing your knees further towards your chest as your sitting upright. his head lowers down to your slick and hot cunt before blowing his cool air onto your clenching hole. “Miguel” you gasp as he waste no time before attaching his warm mouth to your throbbing clit. he suckles hard as your cunt clenches and slick drips down to your puckered hole. he follows the trail of your juices and his spit all the way down to your arse hole kissing it before moving his attention to your impatient cunny. although he wasn’t too vocal about it, Miguel was a nasty nasty man. he slurps and licks at the hole as he slides his pink muscle into your cunt, flicking up and down, left and right, trying to find that spot to make you sing. he groans into your flesh as you wince and whine and squirm within the binds. “you’re so sweet f’me, mami,” he coos as you sob tremendously. you’re babbling absolute rubbish when he runs his tongue down your pussy. you squeal particularly loud when he nips your clit, the line between pleasure and pain becoming increasingly blurred. he was turning your mind to glittery putty and loved every minute of it. he was finally indulging in a fantasy he’d had for a long time. he wondered if you’d sit on his face next, but that was for another day. his mouth found its way to your sore clit, his lips wrapping around the bud while his finger rims around your hole. the hot tears increase ten fold when he slips a finger in and immediately curls in upwards, finding your sensitive spongey spot. your legs twitch and tremble while you try to run away but his free hand holds a firm grip against your plush thighs. you were gonna be a good girl and give him what he wants. your tummy flipped as a slick oozed out and you could feel your orgasm coming very quickly. you were so so so close. he could feel it. maybe that's why he intensified his sucking and added another finger. whatever it was, the feeling was now replaced with something a lot more stronger. 

your toes curled painfully hard, your eyes rolled all the way back, you’d stop breathing at one point, your thighs were twitching, your cunt was trembling and your vision was white and black. you opened your eyes to find Miguel's pretty face looking back up at you: infatuated. his face was dripping with both of your juices. it was so fucking nasty, “you’re such a messy girl, baby,” he teases.

“i’m gonna make sure that you squirt like this next time sitting on my face,” he remarks as your mind wanders off.

[ghostlyglimmer]

The Fun Zone Part 3

You can find previous chapters here

Summary:

Danny Fenton’s part-time job at The Fun Zone—a chaotic arcade and entertainment center that’s secretly a gang front—was going great until a certain vigilante stormed in to shut the place down.

It was another day at The Fun Zone, and Danny was manning the counter like always, half-heartedly sorting through a stack of tokens while sipping on an overly sweet slushy. Business was steady enough to keep him on his feet, but not so busy that he couldn’t hear the unmistakable chime of the front door opening.

Danny didn’t look up right away. “Welcome to The Fun Zone,” he called out in his default bored tone. “Mini-golf is on special today. Please don’t fight over the clown hole.”

“Actually, I’m more interested in laser tag,” came a voice that was far too chipper for Gotham. Danny glanced up to see a young man with a camera slung around his neck and a backpack that looked too functional to just carry snacks. His black hair stuck out at odd angles, and his smile radiated the kind of curiosity that immediately put Danny on edge.

“Sure thing,” Danny said cautiously, taking in the guy’s face. He wasn’t exactly memorable, but he had the same intense energy as a kid trying to win all the prizes at once. “Laser tag’s fifteen bucks for unlimited rounds. You here alone?”

“Yup.” The guy smiled wider. “I like to… scout out fun places for my blog. Gotham doesn’t have many safe places for kids, you know?”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “A blog? About arcades?”

“And family fun centers,” the guy corrected, his voice practically oozing innocence. “Places like this are important. Keeps kids off the streets, you know?”

Danny wasn’t buying it for a second. No one with that much pep belonged in Gotham. “Cool. Name?”

“Uh…” The guy hesitated.

"It's for the ticket." Danny replied

“Tim.” The boy smiled sheepishly

“Tim,” Danny repeated, staring at him for a moment before shrugging. “Okay, Tim. Here’s your gear.”

Danny handed over a laser tag vest and a blaster, noting the subtle tension in Tim’s posture, like he was expecting something to jump out at him. “Laser tag arena’s through the back. Don’t break anything.”

Tim nodded and wandered off, though not without a suspicious glance at the prize counter as if he were cataloging the stuffed animals for some secret database. Danny watched him go, his unease growing.

About ten minutes later, the chime of the office door opening caught Danny’s attention. Red Hood poked his head out “Hey, where’s that slush—”

Hood stopped mid-sentence, narrowing his eyes toward the laser tag entrance. “God damnit-Stay here. Don’t let him leave until I get back.”

“Uh, sure, boss,” Danny said, watching as Hood stalked off toward the laser tag arena like a man on a mission.

Fifteen minutes later, Danny was back at the counter when Tim returned, looking slightly disheveled but otherwise unbothered. He placed the laser tag gear on the counter and smiled. “That was fun. You’ve got a good setup here.”

Danny crossed his arms. “You meet my boss in there?”

Tim’s smile didn’t falter. “Oh, you mean the guy who thinks laser tag is a viable interrogation method? Yeah, we had a nice chat.”

“Sure you did,” Danny said dryly, grabbing a disinfectant wipe to clean the gear. “So, what’s the deal? You guys just take turns harassing me, or is this some kind of weird Gotham hazing ritual?”

Tim tilted his head, genuinely curious. “You seem pretty unfazed by all this. Not many people can handle Red Hood breathing down their neck without sweating.”

Danny smirked. “I’ve had worse bosses.”

“Fair enough,” Tim said, pulling a notepad out of his pocket and jotting something down. “By the way, do you guys host birthday parties?”

“Yeah, but it’s mostly chaos and kids screaming for tokens,” Danny replied. “Not sure it’s blog-worthy.”

Tim grinned, slipping the notepad back into his pocket. “Oh, I think this place is definitely worth writing about.”

As Tim walked out the door, Danny sighed, already bracing himself for whatever nonsense tomorrow would bring. Hood emerged from the laser tag arena a moment later, looking equal parts annoyed and suspicious.

“He leave?” Hood asked.

“Yup,” Danny replied. “Said he’s writing about us.”

“Great,” Hood muttered. “Now we’re gonna end up on Bat's watchlist.”

Danny couldn’t suppress his grin. “We weren’t already?”

Hood shot him a glare. “Shut up and mop the arcade.”

Danny gave a mock salute. “Aye aye, Captain Hood.”

[neiptune]

when you get me alone it's so simple

c/w: 1k wc, megumi is so head over heels in love with you he allows you to do his makeup for a halloween party, sappy and self indulgent and disgustingly sweet pls be nice i haven't written something in forever

“Why are you being so difficult?”

“When am I not being difficult according to you?”

The playful quip makes the cornes of your lips curl into an amused smile.

“Right. But I really think you should come”

Megumi holds your gaze with a seemingly impassive stare, lets the small interval of silence stretch for a second too long.

It’s not that he doesn’t like hanging out with his friends, he actually enjoys the idea of getting to be nothing more than a young man with an exceptionally low tolerance level for Nobara’s antics for once. However, a halloween party? Filled with obnoxious strangers who will get drunk and make a mess of Yuuji’s house? A mess that you have already promised will help to clean out?

Definitely not on his bingo card for an evening he could spend at the movies or in a quiet pub instead.

But then, there’s your strenuous perseverence. The disappointment you didn’t for a second attempt to hide still swarming in those big eyes, the pettish inflexion of your pitch when you had sputtered a what? What d’you mean you’re not coming?

And now there you are, curled up on the other end of your couch, sulkiness oozing from every glance you’ve spared him for the last half an hour.

“I want you there” you innocently cock your head and he feels something melt in his chest “it just wouldn’t be fun without you. Please come?”

Sometimes Megumi wonders if you know about the exhausting effort it takes him to whisk away thoughts a friend shouldn’t have, the way he’s almost lost his mind dwelling on the way you held on to his hand the entire way back to your apartment on the night he came to collect you from the bar, drunk and a giggling, clingy mess. He wonders if you understand just how deeply you can get under his skin and the way he hangs on to every word, every smile, each I want you there.

“Gumi?” you inch forward, brows knit and cool fingers gently grazing his arm.

Jesus, fuck.

“Fine. But I’m not staying to clean up”

You smile knowingly, a light shrug swallowing the of course you will almost spilling from your lips.

“Deal. And I get to do your makeup”

The dim light of your awfully small bathroom has gentle shadows settling into the curves of your collarbones and accentuates your jaw, the apples of your cheeks. There are only so many glances he can steal as the pitter-patter of rain on the window makes the perspective of spending the night out even less appealing.

Regardless, the warmth radiating from your skin and the smell of your perfume cloud his pathetically heightened senses, a multisensory madness that has his heart thumping painfully in his chest and the pads of his fingers tingling with need.

“Will you stop flinching?” only one of his eyes is open and you’re out of focus but that exasperated smile rings loud in his ears.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re doing, it’s an instinctive reaction”

“I’m just using eyeshadow”

You finally allow his left eye to peel open and Megumi almost laughs at your focused stare, creases on your forehead expressing a deep dissatisfaction.

“What? Doesn’t suit me?” he quips “it’s probably because you keep smudging it—”

“I’m going for a dramatic look, you dolt!”

His eyebrows raise in mocking interest.

“Oh, apologies. What’s the issue, then? Not dramatic enough?”

“You’re being surprisingly chatty for someone who is usually very fucking quiet”

Megumi’s sarcastic comeback dies in his throat as you suddenly position yourself over him, not quite straddling his lap because you’re still standing but nevertheless exceptionally close to sitting on his thighs.  

“What are you— what is that?” his voice is thinner and he has to flex his hands to keep himself from positioning them on your hips.

Christ.

“Chill, man. It’s eyeliner. Don’t move, this is the most important part” and then you’re hovering above him once more, except this time you gently grab his chin to tilt his head upwards as you lean closer, so close he stops breathing.

You work quietly, in comfortable silence, although you’re at cotton swab number three and the result still doesn’t seem to fully satisfy you.

“You should wear makeup” it’s a comment made absentmindedly, Megumi can tell by the way you’re not even truly looking at him as you speak, way too absorbed by the task at hand “eye makeup, I mean. It looks really good on you”

“Yeah?”

There must be something in his inflection, because your hand comes to a halt for a second, then resumes its gentle work over his eyelid. All he gets is an affirmative hum.

“Someone would have to teach me how to do it”

He’s not sure where his boldness is stemming from, although he suspects the thumb gently brushing over the same spot close to the corner of his eye would make a reasonable source.

“I’m sure Nobara would be happy to” you quietly chuckle to yourself but this time it feels as if you’re avoiding his gaze on purpose and that just won’t do.

“Doesn’t your back hurt like this?”

“A little bit but I’m almost done with this eye. Are you uncomfortable? I can—” Megumi interrupts you with a gentle but firm hold of your waist, hands far bigger than yours pulling you down to sit on his lap.

You’re dumbfounded and he revels in your shocked expression, in the way you’re the one who doesn’t know how to handle something unexpected for once. In how good it feels to be in control.

“Don’t make it weird” the warning is playful but his hands are still on your waist and give it a light squeeze that has your stomach doing a weird flip.

“I— what? You don’t make it weird! Shut up, stand still” your entire face is on fire and the hoodie you’re wearing suddenly feels all too warm.

Megumi smiles innocently but complies, quiet and as immobile as a sorcerer's body can get.

You pretend not to notice the way he melts into your touch, how his body relaxes as he shuts both his eyes and finally lets you work in peace. No sarcastic remarks, no silly winces. Why does that do something to your chest?

It’s so easy, carefully lining his bottom lash line with your favorite liquid eyeliner. Without thinking, you cradle his face as you gently swipe your thumb over the freshly traced lines to smudge them just right.

But then his eyes flutter open right as you hold his face in your hands and is it your imagination or does the grip on your waist grow more solid in turn?

“Y’know” he murmurs in a way that is so unlike him, so intimate as his indigo gaze burns right into yours “actually, I wouldn’t want Nobara to be the one to do it”

[it-was-summer]

The Very First... Second... Third Night

A/N: Hey guys, happy fall!!! Fun fact about me, I love Season one reid so much it's not even funny. That's pookie!!!!! Anyways, enjoy this little fluffy cute thing I wrote in a romance-infused haze (I saw that photo of MGG in that pumpkin sweater at knott's berry farms and I needed Spencer in a Halloween way). MAYBE some porn coming soon idk man. Love you all!!-Em <3

Link to the Ao3: The Very First... Second... Third Night ->Link to the: Yee olde masterlist Tags: Can't remember if I use any female pronouns for reader, but warning just incase. Season one reid, MENTION OF JEID, SPENCELLE, AND bisexual Reid, Spencer reid being critical of himself, Spencer's POV for the most part, jello mentioned guys, Overstimulated Spencer Reid at a football game, mention of a cemetery, mention of Nosferatu (1922). Kind of proofread, yippie!!!

Genre: Fluffy meet cutes. Pairing: Season One! Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader.

Plot: Spencer runs into you twice before but only manages to get your name (and number) the third time.

Word Count: 3,863

First Meeting

Spencer can’t remember the last time this bookstore was so crowded. Personally, he tried to go on early Sunday mornings to avoid the crowds– if any– that came into the shop. Maybe he was being overdramatic. There couldn’t have been more than twenty people in the store with him. But it was still twenty too many. He softly apologizes to the elderly woman as he squeezes past her in the narrow nonfiction aisle. 

Most of the crowd seemed to be hovering around the fiction area, which was fine with him– the further away, the better. With his head turned to watch the small crowd bustle about the store, he didn’t notice the person standing just inches from him in the aisle. 

You stared at him with a confused expression for a second, thinking surely this man would move eventually. But the moment never came. He was tall with brown hair and long eyelashes. He had the fashion sense of a teacher– correction, teacher’s assistant. You clear your throat softly, hardcover clutched in hand as you watch the man’s head snap over to you, his cheeks flushing red. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t see you. Not that you’re hard to miss– I mean in a good way, you’re–” He closes his mouth and swallows hard, looking into your gentle eyes. “I’m sorry.” 

You would have felt a little agitated if he hadn’t seemed so earnest, but this man oozes social anxiety, and your heart takes pity on him. Your lips move to a slow smile, and you whisper a sweet, “That’s alright,” 

Spencer’s sure he’s never seen kinder eyes, “It’s just so busy today. I was looking at the crowd,” 

Your head turns at that, allowing Spencer to take in your features. A light sweater to accommodate the cool air this early-October morning, some Halloween earrings that make Spencer smile, and stunning eyes. “Book signing pop-up, it’ll be crazy until three. At least that's what the stock girl told me.” You’re soft-spoken, too. Spencer can appreciate that.

He nods slightly, looking down at the hardcover in your hand and then over at the crowd again, “Are you not here for the book signing?” 

“Afraid not,” You sigh as you hold up a historical fiction novel, “Me and my historical fiction novel were going to take a gander at some biographies.” 

He can’t help his peaked interest as he licks his lips, “Regarding?” He’s a fan of history himself and is always happy to interact with someone who also shares a love for it. He feels slightly less anxious talking about something he knows.

You twist your lips to the side like you’re silently debating whether or not you should tell him. You look away for a second, your eyes scanning the bookshelves on either side of you. “Salem Witch Trials.” You answer him bluntly. 

Spencer nods like he understands precisely what you mean, “Ah, the more humane witch trials.” It's a funny joke… to him, at least. 

But then your lips twitch upwards as you let out a quiet chuckle, “No burning for us, just rope and intense torture.” 

He feels electric, which is stupid because he shouldn’t feel excited over something as simple as someone joking with him, but he does. He’s been working on it upon Derek’s sarcastic request, and he can’t help but wonder if it is finally paying off now. 

Spencer feels the overwhelming urge to partake in what Garcia describes as ‘info-dumping ,’ but he bites his tongue as he settles on a simple question, “How come?” 

You shrug slightly as you look up at him. The bookstore light keeps making his eyes a soft amber, and you’re having a hard time looking away now. “Halloween tradition.” You watch his eyebrow furrow, raising a hand to explain yourself quickly. “My best friend and I each pick a historical event that is relatively macabre, and then we base our costumes around it and throw a party with a related theme. It’s... It’s stupid.” You say with a smile and a wave of your hand dismissively. 

Meanwhile, Spencer’s too busy thinking you’re the most extraordinary girl he’s ever interacted with. For the first time in his life, he’s desperate for an invite to a stranger’s party—a pretty stranger who has yet to tell him her name. 

“That’s not-” 

A woman’s voice cuts him off as she barrels down the aisle with a grin, “There you are, oh…” Her blue eyes look Spencer up and down carefully, studying him. “Hello, there.” She’s direct and forward and speaks in a tone that tells Spencer to leave you the hell alone. 

He nods curtly, waving slightly at your friend. You sigh out with mock annoyance as you say, “He’s a friendly, put your gun away.” 

“I don’t believe in guns.” 

“They’re very real, trust me.” Is your sarcastic reply before looking at Spencer again. “Thanks for the company. I’ll see you around.” And just like that… you’re gone. 

Second Meeting

Spencer is sure he’ll never see you again, but here he is a week later, still thinking about you on a case. Or rather, he’s thinking about every woman ever and that he’ll never have a chance with any of them… ever. He’s feeling rather lonely, or maybe his self-esteem is taking a certain nose-dive this fine San Diego day. 

It’s not because it’s his birthday. He doesn’t hate his birthday like Elle hates hers– that’s what she told him once—the day started off great: the trick candles, the big birthday hat, his embarrassing crush on JJ. And now, they’re discussing the case, a routine he enjoys. 

His mind, always full of helpful information, quickly recognized the ballad from the 17th century– betwixt death and a lady. After his comment regarding what people could find by typing the word ‘death’ in the search engine, Derek’s laughing, “Reid, no wonder you can’t get a date.”

It sticks on him; he would love to let it slide off his back, but he’s not familiar with that kind of territory– dating, that is– so it hits a nerve. A nerve that Spencer didn’t know was so exposed. The worst part is that Derek’s not wrong. Spencer can’t seem to get a date. Not with the pretty intellectual at the bookstore, JJ, or Elle– though that last one feels strange to admit to himself. 

He’s too awkward, speaks too fast, and, according to Gideon, needs to relax more. He’s sure… he’s cute, actually, he doesn’t know if he is. All he knows is that his mind is brilliant, his skills involving women… not so much. 

He’s silently mulling it over as he approaches one of the bulletin boards, muttering lines of the ballad softly when JJ walks up beside him, “Creepy, huh?” Her voice makes him look at her, hesitating as he replies. 

“Actually, uh, conversations between death and his victims was a fairly popular literary and artistic theme throughout the Renaissance.” He’s staring at the bulletin for a second before glancing her away, and his cheeks feel hot when he sees the way JJ is looking at him– disinterest. “But, yeah, creepy.” 

He feels like a teenager, and all those years spent in college and not high school are coming back to bite him. He liked girls and boys, too. He should be better at this, he has an IQ of 187 and five degrees to prove it. Spencer walks away from the conversation quickly, his feet carrying him away from the embarrassing moment as quickly as possible. He needs to focus on the case. 

And focus he does. He’s happy to analyze the meaning of the ballads at the crime scenes, his anxiety calming as he settles into the sweet caress of facts. Feelings, beauty, and tastes were all subjective. The objective was his comfort zone.

So it stands to reason that he feels lighter after conversing with Gideon about why the UnSub would start to use the ballad if it wasn’t a part of his signature. However, after the team delivers the profile, his lightness returns to his ruminating thoughts surrounding his lack of social skills. 

The more he thinks about it, the more he feels the icy breath of repressed memories breathing down his neck. A jammed locker, missing gym clothes, a dark bathroom bolted shut. As the team waits for the UnSub’s suspected phone call to the tip line, he reaches for his bag to pull out a Rubix cube. 

His fingers quickly twist and turn it aimlessly until he feels like it’s mixed around enough for him to solve it again. Elle is sitting in a desk chair in front of him as he solves it. He wants to ask her if she’d ever consider dating him, if she thinks JJ would, or if she feels any self-respecting woman would. He doesn’t, though, the question sounding too desperate in his head to say it out loud. 

Instead, he asks, “Do you think it’s weird that I knew that ballad?” His eyes don’t stray away from the cube for too long as he asks it, scared of what Elle’s gaze might tell him. 

He’s pleasantly surprised when she chuckles and says, “I don’t know how it is that you know half the things you know, but I’m glad you do.” 

Spencer feels insecure when he speaks again, but he has to know the answer, “Do you think it’s why I can’t get a date?” He looks up at her now, waiting for the brutal blow, which is her answer. 

Elle looks slightly amused. “You ever ask anyone out?” She smiles a little, seeing the genius look genuinely dumbfounded for a second as he thinks about it. 

He never had the confidence to walk up to someone he found attractive and say something interesting enough to warrant a ‘yes’ if he asked them on a date. “No,” 

She gives him a slight shrug of her shoulders, “That’s why you can't get a date.” And Spencer seems to nod at that, and his lips tighten for a second as he nods before he looks away from her again. His focus is pulled back to the case when the UnSub calls, and for a little while, he feels better. 

On the flight home, he’s almost completely forgotten about his spiral as he plays chess with Gideon. When he hands Spencer a small present, a little smile plays on his lips as he says, “But you don’t give birthday presents.” When he finally gets the present open, he feels a little confused as he thanks Gideon for the generous gift– two VIP box seat Redskin tickets. 

He’s excited, nonetheless, to experience something new with Gideon, and Spencer believes him when he says that Spencer will love it. 

“We are. You’re coming with me, right?” Spencer asks with a slight grin.

Gideon smiles, “No.” he doesn’t let Spencer’s confusion build for long as he quickly adds, “Someone else on the plane is a huge skins fan.” 

“Who?” 

“Only person in the world who calls you Spence.” 

Speaking of the only person in the world that calls him Spence, the date was going terribly. She had invited Penelope; she thought it was a group thing. He begged Hotch and Gideon for some pointers, anything. They reminded him she was already his friend, but that wasn’t very helpful. He knew how to talk to her on a typical day. On a date? Not so much.

Then, she invited Penelope. Now he’s stuck on a date where only one person in the group knows it was supposed to be a date, and he feels nauseous. He’s trying to keep a conversation going, but every time it picks up for a second, he feels himself fumble the metaphorical ball, and it dies again. 

Eventually, he excuses himself to get some air. He’s debating calling Gideon and updating him on how it’s going. His feet pace on the concrete stadium floor. He’s near the elevators, and he can barely hear himself– it’s auditory overload hell. He shuts his eyes tight, stuffing his phone back into his pocket as he covers his ears, leaning against the cool wall beside the elevators. 

It’s all muffled, barely helping, but the feeling of the cool wall on his back through his clothes helps relax him slightly. His shoulders relax briefly before he feels two fingers lightly tapping his shoulders, and he’s rigid again. 

Rigid until his eyes snap open to see that it’s you. You from the bookstore, with that same kind smile, same dazzling smile, it is you. You’re yelling over the shouting, but he can barely hear you. You laugh. He can only tell by your facial expression as all the sound falls deaf to his ears over the crowd's yelling. 

Once it calms down, you repeat yourself, “Are you alright?” 

He nods, then you’re giving him a skeptical look, and he slowly shakes his head. 

“Is it the noise?” 

A part of him wants to tell you that it’s everything he is experiencing today, but instead, he whispers a soft “Yes.” 

You twist your lips to the side, looking upset for him. Your empathy is so sweet and pure for him that he feels the knot in his chest unraveling slowly. “Let me buy you a water?” You offer, motioning to a concession stand a few steps away. 

He doesn’t remember saying yes, but you’re grinning as you walk with him to the stand and buy the two of you a bottle. After a sip or two, you say, “I’m not the biggest fan of football games either. My dad loves em’.”

He nods along silently, feeling so socially overwhelmed that he barely has the energy for more conversation. You seem happy to fill the gap: “I ran into you at that bookstore on 8th, right?” 

Spencer’s beaming as he pulls the bottle away from his lips, nodding, speaking for the first time in a while. “Yes.” 

You let out a happy hum, “Small world,” And Spencer agrees with you silently. 

It's the most comfortable he’s felt all week, and he wonders if maybe this failed date of his was a strange blessing in disguise. He’s about to ask for your name when Penelope approaches the two of you, blinking starstruck at Spencer and you as she introduces herself when the crowd begins to cheer again. Any noise he can hear is drowned out, frowning as you shake Penelope’s hand and say your name– a name he cannot hear. Some more words follow, but it's all small talk until you excuse yourself to return to your father in the stands. 

Then he’s the one being dragged away from you, convinced once more that he’ll never see his pretty stranger ever again. 

Third Meeting

It’s the night before Halloween. Ask anyone who knows Spencer; they will tell you he genuinely loves Halloween. It’s a part of him, always has been. He likes that you can dress up as anyone you want to be without judgment. He loves the build-up, the history, and the scents that fill the air. 

So, when he manages to get the night off, he’s quick to try and convince someone from the team to head over to a cemetery not too far from headquarters. Even when he explains how it is for a classic horror movie showing on the graveyard’s lands, everyone declines. 

Now, he’s setting up an oversized quilt on the soft grass, smoothing out the edges of the oversized quilt with his hands before sitting down on it. His hands move to his bag, pulling out a few of his favorite snacks, drinks, and so on as he watches the cemetery slowly fill up with people. 

He’s happy. He feels a little strange at the thought, but he’s happy– even if it is in the middle of a cemetery. 

A gentle voice cuts through the soft quiet of the graveyard, “I knew I was going to run into you sooner or later,” 

He turns his head to look at you, picnic basket and blanket in hand. You smile down at him. He trips over himself as he stands, his cheeks flushing as you laugh at the sight. He rubs his suddenly sweating hands on his button-up as he reluctantly offers you his hand to shake, only to realize that you don’t have a hand available. 

“Can I—” he says softly, “Would it be alright if I—" he swallows hard, his voice cracking lightly. Do you need help with your things?” 

You glance down at your hands, smiling slightly as you shake your head politely. “I’m sure I can find a good spot soon. I didn’t mean to disturb you.” 

“You’re not, honest. I’m, uh, I’m here alone, and it doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes.” You silently debate his offer, and then Spencer feels a wave of confidence surge through him, “You can always sit with me if you’d like. I promise I’ll try to be quiet.” 

You seem to think that’s funny as you nod, “Well, it is a silent film.” 

“You don’t have to say yes. I just have a big blanket, and I’m in a good spot to see the screen and–”

“I’ll sit with you,” You cut him off softly, bending down to gently get the picnic basket on the edge of his quilt. Spencer moves out of your way, awkwardly shuffling for a second before he decides this might be a good time to introduce himself. 

“I’m Spencer.” 

You glance up at him as you move to sit on the blanket, smiling as you tell him your name. He licks his lips nervously, nodding as he sits beside you. His nervous eyes dance over your figure as you set your blanket, which he now sees has little cartoon ghosts all over it, to the side of your basket. 

You’re frowning slightly as you reach into the basket, pulling out a small cup of jello and a spoon. “I’m sorry. If I had known I was sharing a blanket with someone, I would have brought another cup.” 

Spencer finds it funny as he leans over to his satchel and pulls out his own cup of jello and spoon, “No need,” 

You laugh lightly as you raise your jello cup to his. “Cheers, then. " Spencer smiles lightly as the two of you tap the edges together for a moment before falling into a comfortable silence while eating jello. 

Spencer’s spoon digs into the jello, and he asks, “Is this your first time seeing Nosferatu ?”

You let out a soft hum as you pull your spoon out of your mouth and quickly nod, “Yes!” You say after swallowing, “What about you?” 

“Third.” 

“Didn’t remember it well enough the first two times?” 

He lets out a shy laugh at that— it feels strange for someone to be unaware of his eidetic memory, and he wonders how long that’ll last. “Not exactly. I guess just like Halloween.” 

“A man of good taste,” You quip back softly, taking a smiling bite of jello. 

Spencer laughs as his eyes watch your lips close around your spoon before he pulls them away to look into your eye, hoping you don’t notice as he stutters lightly. “That’s debatable.” 

You’re looking down at your half-eaten Jello cup. “I’m the judge here. I deem it a fact that you are a man of good taste. You’re wearing a cardigan. That’s how the judicial system works, don’t you know?” You look back at him with a smirk, and Spencer can’t help the chortle that escapes his throat. 

“That is not how the United States judicial system works, but thank you.” 

“Yeah, you look like someone who would know all the inner workings of the judicial system.” 

Spencer can feel his cheeks getting red at how your voice sounds—teasing and a little flirty. Oh my god, were you flirting with him? He’s sure he’s all smiles and red cheeks as he looks at you, changing the topic. “None of your friends wanted to come with you tonight?”

“No, not their scene. It’s okay, though. I’m making a new friend right now.” 

Spencer’s finishing off his Jello as he steals a glance at you again, stars in his eyes. “You don’t even know me.” 

“Sure I do. Your name is Spencer. You like jello, nonfiction, Halloween, and dressing like a teacher’s assistant.” 

Spencer doesn’t want to say you’re wrong, even though he knows you’re just being nice, but he doesn’t want to spend another week without seeing you. He wants to be your friend— he’ll be anything you want him to be. “Could I–” He licks his lips, eyes searching yours nervously. 

You watch him carefully, tilting your head to the side as you look into his brown eyes. The sun is gone now, but the rising moon is shining down on him. He seems so… gentle, like a deer in a quiet forest.  A part of you just wants to scoop him up and bring him home with you, as inappropriate as that is. 

“You wouldn’t have to– It’s alright if you say no. I was just thinking I could give you my number sometime, maybe.” He manages with a gentle huff of air. 

You nod a little, “Sometime, maybe.” You repeat with a slight grin forming on your lips. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the projector starting to play the movie, and a hush falls over the cemetery’s lawn. 

Spencer’s voice is a little too loud as he rushes to say, “I mean, now. Would it be alright if I–” A shush cuts him off, and his back straightens quickly as he shuts his mouth. His eyes meet yours for a second before darting over to the projection. 

You’re watching him again, how he’s staring at the screen like his life depends on it. You scoot closer to him, grabbing your folded-up blanket in the process. Once you reach his side, you drape the folded blanket around his shoulders carefully before doing the same to your own. 

His fingers gingerly grab one of the blanket's edges, casting you an apologetic glance for a second as your pants graze against his. You seem unbothered as you lean toward him. “I would love your number after this, " you whisper, looking up into his doe-like eyes before turning your head to watch the film. 

He’s beaming now as he stares at you, and his chest tightens slightly when you lean close to him again. You’re so close he can smell your perfume, the scent tangling with the sweet smell of crisp fall air. “You like costume parties?” Your voice is barely audible. 

He signals that he does silently, his head moving up and down quickly. The sight makes you grin as you mouth a silent, ‘Perfect’ at him before your attention is fully pulled back to the movie. 

Spencer feels warm all over for the rest of the night, and three months from now, he’ll start to believe three is a lucky number as he picks you up for your third date with him and just how perfect everything feels when he kisses you. 

[anikaluv]

JUST FOR PRACTICE —

❤︎︎ pairing: Miles (e!42) × fem!reader

❤︎︎ genre: fluff (slight angst?)

❤︎︎ cw: cussing, nail biting, Miles (e!42) is named Myles (creative Ik), Miles (e!42) teases reader a lil bit <3

❤︎︎ summary: Spider-Man!Miles and Prowler!Miles as Twins where you have a crush on Miles (e!1610) and Miles (e!42) suggests you make out with him for practice.

❤︎︎ w/c: 1.6k

❤︎︎ a/n: I was reading miles morales x reader fics then I thought of this and went “It would be so cool if someone wrote it”. Then I did, cause I’m a bitch who gets shit done. 😘

PART TWO EXTRA

You and Miles have been inseparable since y’all were born. You two seemed to be tied together like a knot. You could always fondly go back and look through memories of him holding your hand while leading you through forests, him sharing his PB&J’s with you during lunch time, and him protecting you numerous times from bullies as the years went by. He was always there for you.

So much that you’ve fallen head over heels for him.

Yet you were too scared to ruin the deep friendship you two have. Too terrified of the chance that everything you two had going to waste because of your feelings, so you kept to yourself.

Which leads you to the present day, you sit on Miles’ bed as he takes a shower before you start the study session you both had planned.

Nervously, you fidget with your fingers, eagerly awaiting his return. The truth is, you don't need these study sessions. As an all-A student, you grasp the subjects effortlessly. However, you seize any opportunity to spend time with Miles.

Your mind wonders as curious eyes scan his room and land on his sketchbook. Your instinctively get up and reach for it, not caring for the overstep of privacy because c’mon, you knew this guy before you knew how to walk.

Excitement courses through you as you eagerly flip through the pages, revealing beautiful sketches of family, sunflowers, among other things. However, as you reach the more recent pages, your heart starts to sink.

Gwanda, Miles' so-called friend who conveniently always seems to be "out of town," yet he never ceases to endlessly complement her and fills his sketchbook to the brim with pages of her. What's so extraordinary about her? You've known Miles since you both were starting to crawl, while she has only been in his life for a few months, and suddenly she's this incredible person?

With a heavy sigh, you set your sketchbook down, feeling your vision blur as you make your way back to sit on Miles' bed. Tears well up quickly as you bury your face in your hands, sobbing silently. Unfortunately, the sound of approaching footsteps awakens your senses. You hastily wipe your eyes with your sleeve, although it's already too late.

"Oh great, looks like la llorona (crybaby) is sobbing once more. What's the matter, ma?" Miles strolls in, his voice oozing with condescension. He leans against the doorway, owning a smug expression. You can't help but roll your eyes and let out an exasperated groan at the mere sight of him.

Myles Morales. The worst person you’ve ever met. You’ve always wondered how him and Miles are even related. Ever since you were little he’s been a stick up your ass. You would always go back and flinch through memories of him pulling your hair as you scream and cry, him destroying all of your brand new dolls because they “needed a makeover ” , and him notoriously bullying you numerous times mercilessly as the years went by. He was always there, annoying you.

You cross you arms and let out a exasperated huff as you turn away from him. “Don’t you have someone else to annoy Morales? I’m not in the mood.” Myles chuckles at your childish behavior and struts into the room to sit beside you.

He inspects your face, frowning at your red eyes and stuffy nose. “I’m serious, mami. Those pretty tears only look good on your face if I’m causing ‘em.“ Myles softly grabs your chin and moves your face towards his. He raised his fingers to softly wipe your tears as you look deeply into his eyes.

Your heart quickens yet instead you release the insult bubbling in your throat. "Thanks for your oh-so-worrisome concern, Morales," you retort, venom lacing your words. He smirks in response. “Anytime, princesa (princess). I’m serious though, you cryin’ cause of my brother again?” You nod slowly looking away from his pitying gaze.

You bite your nails as your eyes look around the room once more landing on Miles sketchbook. Pain flickers in your eyes, catching Myles' attention.

The realization settles in Myles which is showcased by his new scowl on his face. “Ah I see, Its cause of that lil’ white chick, right?” Your eyes widen at how Myles was able to guess it correctly, you nod again slowly and try to concentrate on breathing before you continue wailing. “I just don’t understand, what’s so special about her? Was I ever even special to him if I could be replaced so easily?” You clench your fists, digging your nails into the fabric of your jeans, scrunching them up as your lip quivers.

Myles sucks his teeth in annoyance, followed by a deep sigh that catches your attention. “Why don’t you just tell him this, ma? Bet that’ll make him realize what’s in front of him.” You quickly shake your head, rejecting the idea. "I can't. It's not that simple. If I confess how I truly feel, what if it ruins everything? I can't risk that," you explain anxiously. Myles rolls his eyes at your dramatic response.

"There's no way it would go down like that, but let's entertain your idea. Are you saying all it would take is courage for you to confess to him?" he asks, testing the waters. There’s a different look in Myles eyes, they’re filled with mischief as he slowly scoots towards you.

“Well, yeah, I guess? Why?" You answer your voice layered with curiosity at Myles newfound demeanor. You tilt your head in confusion, What was he planning?

A gasp escapes your lips as Myles firmly grabs you waist tightly. His big hands pull you against him harshly. Instantly his lips lock with yours, showcasing deep desire as his kisses you. Your eyes widen momentarily before you surrender, closing them gently and placing a hand on his chest.

You wrap your arms around Myles' neck, deepening the kiss, your tongues intertwining desperately. He tastes so sweet, like slightly burnt caramel. Your body molds into his, feeling the hard contours of his muscled yet lean chest beneath your palm as you press into him.

You let out a soft whine against his lips, the sound echoing with a mix of pleasure and longing. Your breaths become heavy, synchronized with the intensity of the moment. Your mind becomes fuzzy, confused how you got to this point.

"There's no way it would go down like that, but let's entertain your idea. Are you saying all it would take is courage for you to confess to him?"

“Well, yeah, I guess? Why?"

“Why not just practice the having the real thing wit me?” Myles watched you scoff at the idea and laughs softly.

“I’m serious, ma. C’mon, just for practice, it’ll only be fo a lil bit. Just imagine I’m him” Myles brings his face closer to yours making your noses brush against each other.

“It’ll only be for a sec right?”, you question Myles nods, sensing he’s winning you over. “Promise, mi alma (my soul)”

You nod your head, and that gave him everything he needed.

Now you have your arms wrapped around Miles neck, playing with his braids as he layers kisses across your collarbone, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in their wake. Myles tugs at your shirt rising it up to lay his hand against your waist skin to skin. The heat from his hand placed on your waist shoots heat throughout your body.

You begin to sway, your strength ebbing away as your mind becomes blissfully hazy. Myles, ever attentive, keeps you steady, his hand resting firmly on your back while the other remains securely on your waist. He rises slightly, locking eyes with you, a playful chuckle escaping his lips as he delights in your slightly intoxicated-like state.

“C’mon, mi vida, you can’t be tired yet. I just got you.” he playfully teases, causing your face to twist with confusion. You lean your head into his shoulder leaving kisses along his neck.

Myles takes up your hand and interlocks it with his fingers. He tilts your face up to him. You look into his eyes and see something there, you just can’t tell what. He places kisses laced with adoration across your face, feeling like lighting sparks erupting across your skin.

“Mami, I haven’t always been the nicest to you, I admit that, but I also wanna admit that I-“

Right on cue, you once again hear the steps of someone walking towards the room. It must be Miles finishing his shower.

Your suddenly feel a wash of consciousness rush through your senses as you try to shuffle and fix your wrinkled clothing and correct your shriveled hair. Myles watches you and smirks at your attempt to clean up.

Miles soon steps into the room wearing a fresh set of clothes, “Sorry it took me so long, I got way into my shower playlist haha. You ready to sta-“ He eyes land on you and Myles, you watch as his face turns to confusion.

“Imma take that as my sign to leave” Myles gets up and heads to the doorway and starts to head out, before he turns his neck around to say one more thing. “I’ll see you around, ma. Let me know if you ever need more practice aight?”

EXTRA: You hurriedly shuffle to your backpack to go get your notebooks and supplies you usually use for your study sessions. As you do that Miles can’t help but watch as his brother slowly struts out the room pride written all over his face. Miles swore that as his twin left the room his could see a lipstick stain adorning Myles’ neck.

ENDING A/N: Thank you for reading this- Ion know if imma keep writing I just felt like making this at 2 am lol. Also please lmk if this is fast paced or not, that was on my mind while writing this whole thing. 💀 Love ya’ll babes <3

TAGS:

[trulyumai]

Fall Baking

pairing: eddie munson / gf! reader

synopsis: it was finally fall. more rain, more sweaters. this also meant the return of the infamous, ‘Hawkins Fair.’ eddie could care less about it really, but you were ecstatic.

warnings: none, fluff only!

A/N: im baking like crazy right now so this automatically came to my head. I’m ready to drown in pumpkin bread and warm coffee.

Eddie knew you loved the fall.

When the leafs started to turn, the weather getting colder and sbittier than normal, yeah, that was when that thing happened to your eyes.

They’d get all shiny and well, cute.

He was the opposite. He could do without the hindrance of rain bearing against him anytime he wanted to take out the trash or walk to the corner store.

But seeing you so happy about little sprinkles of condensation made the man weak.

So he detested the cold weather a little less for you.

And you know what the cold weather brought?

Fall excursions.

Aka: The Fair.

“Guys, you’re not gonna believe this!” Slamming your lunch down on the table, your body molded against his in one solid motion.

Eddie grunted out in surprise, but it didn’t stop you from talking about the surprise you had in store.

“The fair is coming back!”

Only stares were given, Gaven looked over at Jeff who was returning the same empty, confused look.

Eddie jumped in with a clearing of his throat, being the best boyfriend ever he had to save the day, right?

“No way, baby!”

“Way!” You giggled, relaxing into Eddies hold as you dug out the celery sticks in your little box.

“And, the school is accepting student stalls, that’s gonna be so much fun!”

“Why is that fun— ow!” With a harsh kick to Gavin’s knee, Eddie changed the subject.

“That’s cool babe, you could do a baking themed one. Your treats are to dieeeee for.”

“Oh yeah! Been a while since I got the iconic Mrs. Munson brownies,” Gavin sighed out. Already imagining the pillowy, chocolaty goodness that was always oozing with warmth.

“That’s not what I named them.” You laughed, “Buuuut if you boys help me out with the stall I promise to bake one thing if your choosing!”

This garnered the attention of the hellfire club fast. Eddie was almost jealous at how entranced you got everyone.

“Anything?”

“Can you do cakes?”

“Ooooh the brownieees!” Almost everyone talked over one another, already fantasizing about the treats they’ll ask for.

“Uhhhh babe?” Eddies rings were cold against your thighs, your dark green skirt rid up against the tops of his legs, showcasing your pretty and soft skin.

“Mhm?” You replied, already turning towards your wild haired boyfriend.

“And what do I get? I mean I love your baking, obviously! but I can get that anytime.”

That was… true.

Damn it you thought you had everyone sinched into the plan. But of course Eddie would try to sneak something else into play.

“Well ummm,” he stumped you this time.

Furrowing your brows, you bit lightly on the inside of your cheek. Thoroughly searching your brain for anything Eddie might approve of.

Clothes? No, Eddie only wore his favorite staples anyway. Maybe you could offer to clean his room? No, you just did that last weekend when he was too busy snoring on the couch.

Think, think!—

“I knooow what I want.”

You knew that tone. That deep drawl that makes his voice come out in a low, teasing hush.

Eddie indicated you closer with just a wag of his index finger.

You felt the weight of his breath hit the side of your face, warm and light.

“I want,” he breathed in this time, dragging his lips closer and closer until they brushed against the side of your jaw.

“You, to spend the night, every nite this week.”

“Eddie!” Rolling your orbs you pushed his face away. “That’s kinda impossible. You know how my parents are—“

“Pretty please, sweetheart? It’s been forever!”

“I just spent the night on saturday!”

“That was literally forever ago.”

“Eddie.” Your fingers brushed with his temple, lightly pushing against them.

“That was two days ago.”

He only shook his head in rebuttal, moving his legs until your frame was once again close to his.

“My point still stands. Forever ago! And you need my help, who will keep these idiots in check?”

“Hey!” A few club mates responded back, but quickly went into their own baking conversations.

“Not all week. Two days,”

“Three!” Eddie challenged. With a mocking squint to your eyes you huffed out a breath.

“Fine! You win. Three days.”

“Yes!” Eddie cheered, smothering a sloppy kiss on your cheek and raised a hand to high five Gavin.

What a dork.

“You won’t regret this baby. I just got new snacks, cleaned my room—“

“You cleaned your room?”

Eddie cleared his throat and his long fingers came up to play with the loose hair around your neck.

“Well.. no, but it’s still clean from when you did it— ouch!”

Grabbing the man’s soft cheek, you began to pull.

“Hey hey, easy easy, I was just joking!—“

“Sooooo funny, Eddie.” Laughing, you watched as his fingers came up to the pinched spot, rubbing it with a soft tenderness like you had plucked the skin right off his face.

Grabbing at your celery you joined into the groups conversation. Trying to remember each and every goodie the gang wanted you to bake.

This is gonna be a long week.

But at least it’s fall, right?

….

Right..?

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

SKZ DRABBLE-OT8

The one where love is a death sentence. And you've just stepped up to the chopping block. Or The Twenty Fifth Installment of the SKZ!Pack Prequel Series.

Tags: Skz, Stray kids, Stay, SKZ!Pack, SKZ!abo, Poly!skz, Pack!prequel, SKZ!Pack Prequel, OT8, Skz x you, Skz x reader, Ot8 x you, Ot8 x reader, femreader, Bang Chan, Lee Minho, Seo Changbin, Lee Felix, Han Jisung, Hwang Hyunjin, Kim Seungmin, Yang Jeongin, Y/N, Skz imagines, skz scenarios, skz reactions, skz drabble, skz fluff

Genre: Fluff

Title: Half Baked

You’ve never seen Chan this distraught. 

Granted, it’s not like you’ve known him your whole life or anything, but in all the time you have known him, Chan has always been the calm one-cool, collected, rational, level headed. 

This is not that. 

He flings open the door before you can even raise your fist to knock-you’d decided against using the pincode and letting yourself in, considering there was a very protective alpha on the other side-and when he sees you, his shoulders slump into some sort of exhausted relief. 

“Hey.” He breathes out, staring at you, fingers still gripped tightly around the lip of the omega’s door. 

You arch a brow and incline your head toward the interior of the dorm. “Can I come in there without you biting my head off?” 

He takes in a long, slow breath through his nose, and steps back a little from the open door with one quick jerk of a nod. “Yeah.” 

You step past him, and he’s true to his word, rooted to the spot, but your wolf doesn’t miss the way his jaw ticks as you pass, the way his nostrils flare, the almost death grip of his white knuckles as they tighten on the door. 

You retreat to the opposite side of the small couch for safety, and watch him warily as he closes and locks the door once more before turning to you. 

He takes a small step in your direction, and you tense without really thinking about it. 

Chan freezes, staring at you, and you notice the wild look to his eyes has diminished since he first saw you, but the alpha gold is present and vibrant as ever in his irises, swallowing any hint of his normal caramel.

He sighs again, and reaches up to rake an agitated hand through his messy hair. 

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes in a whisper, voice strangled, and your wolf keens sadly in response. 

You emerge from behind the safety of the couch, moving to stand in front of him. 

Surprise flashes across his haggard features, but he doesn’t move, staring at you, as you study his face. 

The man is tired, so is the wolf. 

You dare to reach up and run a finger beneath his jaw, swiping across his scent gland gently, and his chest caves in as he takes a deep, shuddering breath, then another.

“You don’t need to apologize.” You murmur back, watching him carefully, your fingers still playing around the oozing gland at his throat. 

The smell of storm is overwhelming. 

“I do though.” Chan says hoarsely, his eyes meeting yours, his bottom lip going between his teeth. “I basically kicked you and Minho out-” 

Your lips quirk up into the start of a small smile. “Yeah, well Minho was being an asshole, so I don’t blame you. He kind of deserved it.” 

Chan huffs out something that could’ve been a chuckle if his entire demeanor wasn’t so stiff and morose, and glances sidelong, past you to the darkness of the hallway. 

“Still, I don’t think my alpha has ever reacted this strongly to an omega’s heat before. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me.” 

You place your palm flat against his gland, and he leans into your touch, as if he’s a dog seeking comfort from a familiar hand. 

“I think I have an idea.” 

Chan’s eyes flare with surprise, and his lips gap. 

You give him the hint of another small smile. “First off, I don’t think any of us have ever dealt with someone presenting before, so that’s an unknown that we weren’t really planning for. Secondly-” 

You pause, watching him carefully, gauging whether you think he’s ready to hear this. 

Better now than later. 

“Minho wasn’t just being an asshole, though he does that often enough that it wouldn’t surprise me if he were.” You give a little laugh, and then sober up again, staring up at Chan. “He was testing something.” 

Chan’s brows disappear into his hairline. “What?” 

“Yeah.” You nod. “And I told him he should never, ever be a scientist, but he kind of cemented something into place for us regardless.” 

Chan is staring at you, brow furrowed, expression confused. 

You take in another breath, and spit it out. 

“You’re a head alpha. And not just any head alpha, you’re our head alpha.” 

Chan is frozen, staring at you, expression unreadable, and you suddenly worry you’ve broken him. 

“Channie-” You start to say, reaching out for his hands now, as his chest heaves with a breath. 

“Oh my god.” He cuts you off, his voice little more than a shocked whisper beneath his breath. “It all fucking makes sense.” 

Well, he’s taking it better than you had expected. 

“Yeah.” You nod, squeezing his fingers between your own. “Sorry to drop that bomb on you right now, but I thought you needed to hear it, at least to put your mind at ease a little over your behavior.” 

Chan’s gaze raises to you, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips.

“Fuck, okay, I’m going to need more details on that later, but now-” 

His gaze flicks past you once more to the dark hallway, and you take in a steadying breath. 

“Yeah, okay. What can I do to help?” 

The alpha in front of you rakes another violent hand through his hair, and you can practically see the agitated wolf pacing beneath the surface of his twisted features.

“I don’t fucking know. I don’t-”  

You reach out and palm his gland again, and when he finally looks at you once more, you give him a serious, pointed look, your alpha surging forward now, ready to hear about the newest omega-your newest omega-in the other room. 

Suddenly, the scent of petrichor is being drowned out by the smell of freshly baked bread, crusted in cinnamon.

“Is Jeongin okay?” 

The wild look is back in Chan’s eyes, the gold molten, as he tears away from you to pace the length of the small room, movements agitated. 

“Yes? I don’t know. Everything happened so fast, but I didn’t- We didn’t-” 

You stare at him, trying to figure out what he’s trying to say, your wolf growling dangerously now. 

“You didn’t what-?” You pin him beneath your gaze, and Chan stops, reaching up to tug at the ends of his messy curls, expression frantic. 

The smell of storm is decaying, turning into something sour and rotten.

“He’s fucking miserable, (Y/N), but I couldn’t-” 

He stops again, and something clicks into place in your brain. Your irritated wolf backs down instantly, purring and chuffing in comfort to the clearly distressed alpha before you. 

“Channie-” You say softly, stepping toward him, trying to send soothing signals into the space between the two of you. 

Chan sighs, long and heavy, shoulders slumping once more, and stares at the floor beneath his sneakers, his hands clenched into fists at his side. 

“The kid’s never taken a knot before.” He sucks in a breath and glances up at you, eyes dark and serious. “And I know he’s an omega now and that his wolf biology is built for that or whatever, but fuck, that doesn’t mean I’m incapable of hurting him.” 

His chin drops back down to his chest, and his fingers clench at his sides, knuckles whitening. 

You step toward him, and wrap your arms around his waist, consequences be damned. 

“Baby.” You breathe, tilting your head to look up at him. “Look at me.” 

He does, lips pulled into a thin, tight line, stretched with worry. 

You can see the war behind his eyes, the struggle. 

Because Chan is worried about Jeongin, worried that it’s his first time, that he’ll be uncomfortable, and his alpha is worried about the new omega, worried that he’s suffering, that he needed a knot yesterday.

You smooth your palms down the sides of his neck, watch the way his chest rises and falls with an inhale, the way his muscles relax slightly beneath the wave you push forward of your own scent. 

“Did he ask you?” You question quietly, gaze intent on his own. 

His features fall a little, and he lets out another long, shuddering breath, a muscle in his jaw flexing slightly as he grinds his teeth. 

“I mean, yeah.” He admits in a murmur, his expression unsure now. “But I didn’t know if that was just a physical and emotional response to being so close to my alpha now that he’s presented, or if he actually knew what he was asking for.” 

“It’s probably both.” You admit gently, his eyes flicking up to your own, and you give him what you hope is the hint of a soothing smile. “However, maybe you just need to trust your gut and go with instinct this one time. Not overthink it.” 

Chan lets out a little sardonic cough, halfway to a chuckle, his eyes bitter. “Yeah, kind of a hard ask when it comes to me.” 

Your mouth tugs upward, and you reach up to trace a finger down the line of his nose, smoothing away the worried wrinkles currently residing between his eyes. 

“Channie.” 

When he looks at you once more, you cock your head and stare him down. 

“You already know, deep down, you’re not gonna hurt him. You’re going to be gentle and loving and careful and give him exactly what he needs. You and I both know you’d never do anything to endanger a member of this pack, right?” 

He parts his lips, as if to respond, but all that comes out is a huff of breath, as if he’s unsure how to answer your question. 

“Right?” You prod again, a little more sternly, and Chan finally nods, shoulders slumping forward in defeat. 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay, so-” You let your hands smooth over his scent gland again, your palms sticky with the leaking pheromones, and tug your fingers up through his disheveled curls, tilting his chin to make him meet your gaze. “-go in there and help our omega.” 

Something resolves in Chan’s gaze, just a little, and he gives a tiny nod, lifting his chin, his gaze flickering past you and to the hallway beyond. 

“Okay.” He nods again, taking in a deep breath, chest rising and falling against your own. “Okay.” He repeats, more sure this time, glancing back down to you, a fire in the back of his eyes. “You’re right. I can do this.” 

“Good boy.” You grin, laughing slightly as he rolls his eyes. 

There’s the Chan you know. 

Something hesitant flickers across his gaze, and he rolls his bottom lip between his teeth, looking anxious. “Fuck, why am I acting like a pup that doesn’t know what he’s doing? I don’t know why I’m so fucking nervous.” “Because you love him. And I know what that’s like.” You reply back with surety, so quickly that it takes the both of you off guard. 

The look of shocked surprise on Chan’s face probably mirrors your own. 

Because you do love Jeongin, have known it for awhile, and you know Chan knows that, but in this moment, you’re no longer talking about the newest omega down the hall, you’re suddenly talking about-

Chan stares at you, and you wish you could bite your tongue off. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He stares. 

You look away.

You clear your throat in the sudden silence, and inch back from him, straightening the hoodie he wears, if only to give your fingers something to do, your eyes somewhere else to focus. 

You give him an awkward little pat on the chest before you step away completely. 

“So, go get him, pretty boy.” 

You can feel Chan’s gaze still on you, can feel the start of something brewing at the tip of his tongue, the tension in the air between you, but you doggedly avoid eye contact, not giving him the chance, already headed for the door. 

“Text me when you’re done, yeah? I gotta get out of here, the smell of cinnamon is making my teeth ache.” 

Your hand is on the knob when Chan calls, “(Y/N).” 

You turn back slowly, already regretting the decision. 

He gives you the hint of a smile and a little wave of his fingers. 

“Thanks.” You nod, biting down on your own tongue, and leave the apartment and the smell of baked bread behind. 

******************

“God-” 

You throw another punch, your glove landing solidly in the middle of the bag. 

Thwack. 

“Fucking-” Another hit, another ripple of pain through your already abused knuckles. 

Thwack. 

“Dammit!” 

Your glove connects again, and this time you let it drop back to your side after the hit, breathing hard, chest heaving, sweat dripping down your brow, body numb. 

With a low whistle, Changbin appears at your side, brow arched and expression slightly amused, taking in your exhausted stance. 

“Fuck, girl, if I’d known you could go that hard, I would’ve brought you with me to the gym a lot sooner.” 

You give him a sidelong glare, reaching to pull the glove off your dominant hand, before you undo the other, dropping them to the mat at your feet, before you move on to ripping the tape off of your knuckles unceremoniously. 

“Don’t get used to it.” 

You don’t usually take Changbin up on his offers to hit the campus gym-preferring to stick to long distance running with Yeosang instead-but tonight, you’d needed something a little more than running. 

Your slip up with Chan last week-and your misstep and ensuing fight with Jeongin-had had your thoughts in knots since, your body tense, and fuck it all, you’d needed an outlet. 

So rather than unfairly deck Jisung in the face when he’d poured cold water over you in the shower earlier, you’d opted for going to the gym with Changbin, and the punching bag had been just what you needed. 

Changbin reaches down and picks up your discarded gloves, tossing them back into the recesses of his large gym bag, before he steps toward you and takes your hands in his, inspecting your knuckles. 

They’re already bruising, darkening to blue, and a little bit of the skin is split on your dominant hand, but other than that, you haven’t fared all that bad, especially considering you’d been going at it-hard-for more than an hour now. 

Changbin brushes his thumb over the split between your knuckles, and you let out a hiss between your teeth, his eyes meeting yours at the sound with another knowing arch of his dark brow. 

“Minho’s gonna be proud, considering how well you fared the first time you threw a punch against him.” 

You glare at him, pulling your hand from his grasp, as a slight smirk comes to his lips. 

“I didn’t have a glove the first time. It was spontaneous, a rage filled necessity. Minho knew he was egging me on, I just reacted. He was being a fucking dick, and I threw a punch, knuckles and proper form be damned.” 

“Right, right.” Changbin agrees with a little chuckle and a raise of his hands, ignoring your sour look in his direction, as he steps over to pick up his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. 

His golden skin is glistening with sweat from his own workout, and if you weren’t in such a bad mood, you would’ve taken the opportunity to push him into the nearest locker room and lick it off, slowly and meticulously, but since you are in such a bad mood, you silently follow him down the stairs and out the front doors of the gym. 

It’s dark outside, and chilly, the sun having set hours ago, and you keep stride with Changbin easily, as you walk through the park and cut across the main field of campus, a shortcut of sorts, that will deposit you directly outside of the alpha dorms. 

As you walk, you can feel Changbin darting glances in your direction, but you ignore him, striding beside him in complete silence. 

Finally, he asks, “So, are you gonna tell me what brought all that on or-?” 

You violently kick a pebble off the edge of the path with the toe of your sneaker, listening to it rattle away amongst the trees in the darkness, and refuse to look at him, snarking back, “What? I can’t just enjoy a good boxing session every once and a while without some dark, sinister reason? Seems a little hypocritical, don’t you think?” 

Changbin clicks his tongue beneath his breath, dodging your warpath, as you kick another pebble into the trees, this one dangerously close to hitting his ankle. 

“I mean, yeah, you can, but you don’t.” You send another rock flying with a vehement curse under your breath. 

“Fucking hell, dude, just drop it, would you?” 

He pivots to walk in front of you, walking backward so he can stare at you, his brow furrowed into the start of a dangerous scowl, eyes dark and flashing with warning. 

“Fucking talk to me like that again, dude, and I’ll drop you.” 

You don’t back down an inch, glaring right back at him and walking quicker, closing the distance between the two of you. 

“Try it, I dare you. I just spent an hour improving my aim and force, and I’m dying to actually apply it in real life.” 

He holds your glare for another moment, a muscle ticking with annoyance in his strong jaw, and then he sighs with exasperation, stopping in front of you so you have to stop too, lest you run smack dab into his broad chest. 

Actually, that probably wouldn’t be so bad. 

He stares at you, his hands going to his hips, like he’s a mother-or Minho-getting ready to tell you off, and then he blows out another breath past his teeth, his shoulders slumping, as he admits with softened irritation, “You’re infuriating, you know that?” 

You feel the muscles in your body relax, if only just a bit, and your glare softens minutely at his obviously candid words. 

“So I’ve been told.” 

He glances up at the dark sky over your heads, the moon rising over the stark branches of the trees, and then back to you, before he says, “You know your scent has been whacked out all week right? Ever since Jeongin’s presentation.” 

Your shoulders tense, but you start to accept defeat under his scrutiny, letting out a long sigh of your own in response. 

“I know.” You finally acquiesce, voice slightly bitter, your words dropping off, as you glance back down at the ground, scuffing your sneaker along the sidewalk, wishing for another rock. 

Changbin steps closer, you see his converse kiss the toes of your own, and then his fingers find your chin, tilting your gaze back to meet his own, eyes dark and gentle. 

“Talk to me, baby.” 

You blow out another harsh breath. “I think-” You start, before stuttering off again, a sudden lump in your throat. 

You nip your bottom lip between your teeth and will yourself not to cry. 

Changbin reaches out, freeing the skin from your grip, before he thumbs your lip softly, tracing the skin with his touch. 

“You think-?” He pushes gently, eyes locked on your own, expression intent. 

You swallow thickly, and glance up at the sky above you, counting stars silently to keep your emotions in check. 

Fuck it, you might as well just tell him. 

“I think I told Chan something, inadvertently, that maybe fucked up our relationship forever.” You give a sardonic little laugh, one that lacks all humor, and shrug helplessly. “You know me and my big mouth. And then, of course, the whole thing with Jeongin-” You sigh. “Ive fucked up-probably irrevocably-two of my most important relationships in the last week.” 

Changbin’s gaze narrows in on you, and you can see him processing, going over things in his mind, reviewing the week back, looking for clues. 

“Have you talked to Chan about it?” He asks you finally, and you’re glad he hasn’t asked you what it was that you said. 

You don’t think you could repeat it again. 

‘Love. I know what that feels like.’ 

“I’ve been avoiding him.” You admit quietly, your gut churning into knots at just the thought of seeing Chan, at having to talk to him about what you’d admitted. 

Changbin takes your hands in his, thumbs brushing carefully over the sore, swollen skin of your knuckles, and when he speaks, his voice is gentle, but firm, “That’s the first step then. And we all need to make reparations with Jeongin. But I think you know all that already.” 

You swallow, before you nod reluctantly. 

“Yeah, I guess so.” 

He gives you the hint of a soft smile, and pulls you with him as he begins walking again, hand still firmly in his own. 

“C’mon. Let’s go home. Minho-hyung’s gonna wanna look at those knuckles.” 

**************

You: Hey.  Innie: Hey.  You: Can we talk?  Innie: Yeah……cafe @ 12?  You: I’ll be there. 

You’re not sure what to expect when Jeongin slides into the booth opposite you, dropping his backpack with a thud and turning to you expectantly, albeit a little shyly. 

God, he’s pretty. 

His fiery red hair is tucked beneath a baseball cap today, a thick, wool cardigan hanging off his shoulders, a woven bracelet you vaguely remember Jisung making tied around his small wrist. His nails are painted a dark navy, matching the mood of the oncoming winter outside.

The scent of warm bread fills your nose as he leans toward you slightly, and your jaw aches in response, saliva pooling beneath your tongue. 

“Hi.” He says without preamble, large dark eyes on your own. 

You swallow and take in a deep breath through your mouth.

“Hey.” 

It sounds lame, flat, a placeholder for what you should be actually saying. 

You take in another breath and jump in without preamble. 

“Look, Jeongin, I am so fucking sorry-” 

His lips quirk slightly, catching you off guard, and he sits back, looking more relaxed now. 

“Yeah, I know, noona.” 

Your words die in your throat, and you stare at him, openly shocked. 

“You do?” 

“Yeah.” He shrugs, giving you a grin now, white teeth flashing. “Chan-hyung told me all about it. You know, after-” His words stumble to a halt, and his cheeks flush a deep red. 

Fucking adorable. 

You clear your throat. “Okay, well, I just need you to know though, that you’ve always been a part of this pack, from the moment we met you, but we just couldn’t figure out how to be around you when you weren’t-” 

“Presented.” Jeongin finishes for you easily, his brow quirking upward. “Yeah, noona, I get it now. It’s okay.” 

Your body relaxes slightly, and you let out the breath you’ve been holding, sinking back into the booth behind you. 

“Yeah?” “Yeah.” Jeongin nods back resolutely, his expression open and understanding. “It hurt, before, because I didn’t get it, but now, I do.” His dark eyes flash with affection. “You guys were just trying to protect me. I see that now. Seriously.” 

Your alpha hums contentedly in your chest in response. 

“Fuck.” Your shoulders slump with relief. “We went about it really stupidly, Innie, but I swear we were.” 

He gives you a half smile, his lips curling up, and a wave of spiced cinnamon has your gut clenching with need. 

“It’s okay, noona. Really.” 

Might as well continue with the honesty, right? 

“Innie-” You let the words die on your tongue as his eyes meet yours, large, and dark, and completely vulnerable. You swallow and ask, like a coward, instead, “-are you feeling okay? You know, after everything?” 

His cheeks flush a subtle pink again, and he looks away, tapping his fingers on the table between you in an awkward sort of stiletto. 

“Yeah-” He gives a half little shrug, and you see his throat bob with a swallow. “-I mean, I guess? I don’t really know how I’m supposed to be feeling right now. I’ve never done this before.” You reach out, stilling his fingers by placing your palm over his hand, and when he finally looks at you once more, you give him a soft, comforting smile, squeezing his hand in your own. 

His skin is warm, soft and familiar beneath your hold. 

“It’s okay, Innie. We’ve all been there. It’s overwhelming at first.” 

“That’s an understatement.” He gives a little snort, rolling his eyes. “I swear to god I’ve never been this aware of how people smell in my entire life.” 

With a jolt, you realize that you’re probably being really overwhelming right now, this close to him, touching him, your alpha pheromones oozing from every pore in an attempt to soothe the agitated omega before you. 

“Oh, shit, I didn’t even think-” You start, pulling your hand from his grasp, but his fingers clench down on your own, his brow furrowing instantly. 

“No, not you!” He blurts out, almost in a panic, and you freeze. He clears his throat, blushing again, and then repeats quietly, “Not you, noona.I like how you smell. I like how everyone in the pack smells.” 

Your body relaxes once more, and you give him the hint of a smile as you reposition your hand over his. 

“Oh, okay. That’s good. Great, even.” 

“It is?” Jeongin questions curiously, before he lifts an arm, taking a sniff of his sweater, his large eyes flashing back up to your own, alight with innocence. “Do I smell good to you guys then too?” 

As if his body reacts to his own question, you catch a fresh wave of cinnamon and yeast, heady and strong, and your fingers tighten around his own on instinct, your jaw suddenly clenched, aching and expectant. 

You breathe out slowly through your nose, and relax your fingers one by one. 

“Yeah-” You get out through gritted teeth. “-you could say that.” 

Your alpha is begging you to pounce on the omega in front of you-all too big eyes and small frame, wrapped up prettily in an oversized sweater-but you force down the instinct, breathing out slowly instead, counting to ten silently in your head as Jeongin watches you expectantly. 

“Noona?” He asks, a little hesitantly, and you’d bet that his omega is doing something weird, maybe alarming, in response to your obvious reaction. 

“Sorry.” You shake your head to clear your thoughts, and give him a strained smile, clearing your throat. “Yeah, you smell really good to us too, Innie. It’s a pack thing, a biology thing. Especially between alphas and omegas. Nature wants us to find each other enticing, so omega scents are specifically designed to appeal to alphas and vice versa.” 

“Oh.” He simply replies, looking thoughtful now, as if he’s digesting what you’ve told him. 

“Anyway-” You glance at the clock on the wall behind his head, noting the time and how long you’ve both been sitting at the booth now. “-I have a lab I need to get to, but it’s on the way to the omega dorms if you’re done for the day and wanna walk with me?” 

Jeongin’s eyes light up and he grins, nodding rapidly, as he reaches for his backpack and scoots out of the booth. 

“I’d like that.” 

You follow him out of the small, warm cafe, the winter air nipping at your nose as you step outside, slinging your own bag over your shoulder, your hands going into the pockets of your coat for warmth. 

Jeongin pulls a scarf from his bag and tucks it around his neck with difficulty, the brisk wind whipping at the knitted fabric. 

Without a thought, you step forward and bat his hands away teasingly, wrapping the scarf securely around his throat a few times, before you tuck the loose ends down into the heavy fabric of his cardigan. 

“There.” You say firmly, finishing and looking down at him, making sure he’s completely covered. “Better?” 

Jeongin stares up at you, wide, dark eyes lined with incredibly long lashes, the end of his pert nose already turning red from the cold, face tucked into the folds of the scarf. 

“Yeah.” He breathes out, still staring up at you, his breath clouding in the cold air, and not for the first time, you have the fleeting thought that Jeongin looks good enough to eat. 

Bread bakes between the two of you without warning, and you clear your throat, telling yourself to step back, but you can’t physically make your feet move, fingers still clenched on the soft fabric of Jeongin’s scarf. 

“Fuck, don’t look at me like that.” You choke out, not able to stop yourself, glancing around to see if anyone has noticed the two of you, frozen on the sidewalk in front of the campus cafe. 

No one is around.

You don’t know if that’s incredibly fortunate, or incredibly dangerous.

“Noona?” He questions softly, and your eyes flick back to his own. 

“Yeah?” 

He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and chews it, staring up at you, and everything inside of you is begging you to free the delicate, plump, pink skin. 

His cheeks are red, and you don’t know if it’s from the proximity, or from the frigid air. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

You hold your breath. “Of course.” 

He glances away, suddenly looking nervous. “Do you-” He takes in a shaky breath, and bravely meets your gaze once more. “-I mean, would you-?” 

You know what he’s asking, even without the words. 

Taking a step closer to him, your shoes butting against his own, you put a finger beneath his chin and angle his gaze upward, and you’re so close now, your lips are almost brushing, the warmth of Jeongin’s breath fanning across your tongue. 

You can almost taste the bread. 

“Yes, little pup. I would.” You murmur, words husky, voice dropping into a touch of alpha timber in response to his body against your own, his omega practically begging for your alpha just beneath the surface of his gaze. 

He sucks in a sharp breath as you let your thumb brush across the seam of his lips. 

“However, if I kiss you now, baby boy, I don’t think I’d be able to stop anytime soon.” 

His body shivers, and you can tell it’s not from the cold, and fuck, you really want to skip your lab, but-

You thumb his bottom lip once more, letting the skin drag beneath your touch, before you pull back. 

“And I want to take my fucking time, so-” You tug his collar and scarf up around his throat once more, bundling him for the walk back to the dorms. 

His eyes are hazed, pupils dark and blown, as you give him a little smirk. 

“-later, hm, pup?” 

He nods eagerly, and your alpha chuffs approvingly in response.

“Good boy. Now c’mon, let’s get you out of this cold.” 

*****************

“You can’t avoid him forever, you know.” 

Jisung tosses another handful of popcorn into his mouth beside you on the couch, eyes trained on the TV where a badly made action movie is currently playing. 

You don’t look at him as you query back innocently, “Who?” 

He snorts, stuffing more popcorn into his already puffed cheeks. 

“Chan-hyung.” 

“I’m not avoiding him.” You reply back a little too quickly, clearly a lie, your eyes stilling on the page you’ve been doggedly reading for the last half an hour. 

Jisung snorts again. “Yeah, okay, and I’m not fucking Minho-hyung.” 

“Ew.” You shove his shoulder, and he totters, steadying the popcorn bowl at the last moment so it doesn’t dump its contents all over said hyung’s couch. 

He gives you a glare, throwing a popcorn kernel at your head, and missing by a margin. 

“Well, it’s true! I’m just saying, noona-” His words become muffled as he shoves another handful of popcorn into his waiting mouth, glancing at the movie once more. “-ever’one knows you’re being weird all the sudd’n.” 

“Yeah, okay, well-” You shut your book a little bit harder than necessary, tossing it aside as you stand. “-when I want advice from you, Han Jisung, I’ll ask for it.” You lean over him obnoxiously, blocking his view of the TV, as you take a large handful of his popcorn and shove it into your mouth, chewing loudly as you stare him down. 

“Hey!” He protests, jerking the popcorn out of your reach violently, as you straighten and give him one last pointed look, gathering up your homework. 

“I’m only trying to help!” He calls out as you turn to leave the living room, flipping him off over your shoulder without looking back. “Just looking out for you, noona!” 

He goes up on his knees on the couch, cupping his hands around his mouth, as if it’ll make him louder, and you can’t hear him just beyond the doorway. 

“Considering, you know, that he’s here right now and all!” 

His words don’t register for a moment, and when they do, it’s already too late, considering you’ve just rounded the corner into Minho’s kitchen and caught sight of both he and Chan sitting, deep in conversation, at the small table. 

You come to a dead stop, your stomach instantly dropping out of your shoes, and they both look up at your entrance, Minho arching a brow at what you’re sure is clear, unfiltered panic crossing your face. 

His lips curve into the hint of a knowing smirk.

“Ah, sweetheart. We were just talking about you.” 

Shit. 

[melancholymetropolis]

"Say it," Miguel O'Hara growled into my ear. "Say what I want to hear."

His larger hand gently squeezed the sides of my neck, enough to make my mouth fall open and to have me panting like a bitch in heat. My nails dug deep crescent shapes onto his forearm to steady myself. My other hand was planted flat against the control panel, right next to his. My knee was propped up onto the flat surface with my back arched against his torso. 

His hot body was colliding against mine at a rapid pace. The long girthy member tore through me quicker than the speed of light and I couldn’t think straight.

"F-F-Fuck y-you," I stammered, quivering beneath him.

A deep chuckle resonated through the massive man. "You shouldn't have said that, Y/N."

Miguel quickly spun me around to face him. He planted my ass into the edge of the control panel and hiked my legs up onto his waist. His spider suit was still partially covering his body. The top was hiked up over his lower abs, while his pants were just low enough to free his cock.

Mr. O'Hara shoved the member right back into my sopping cunt. Earning a gasp out of me. One of his hands gripped the edge of the flat surface, while the other found a new position. His right hand hooked around my back and took hold of my braids from the root. He cocked my head back at a near-painful angle, exposing my jugular. 

Miguel started to ram the member into me, faster than before. My whole body jolted and spasmed from the sheer force of the thrusts. Tears pricked the corner of my eyes as hot pants fell from my mouth.

"Oh God yes!" I said, drool spilling from my lips. "Just like that!"

The new position had placed the beautiful rod of pleasure directly against my G-spot. The massive member was annihilating the spongy area every chance it got. My pussy oozed in response. It fluttered and tightened around the brooding man, earning a groan from him.

A curse fell from his lips as his thrusts became a little sloppy. Miguel was reaching his peak. It was only right after he fucked me for almost an hour straight. So much for a quickie.

The massive man slammed his hand against the flat surface and placed a searing kiss on my lips. He loosened the grip on my hair and wrapped an arm around my waist. I hooked my arms around his neck and deepened the kiss. Our sweaty chests were pressed together as our thighs trembled. 

Suddenly, I turned my head away from his lips, offering my neck to his. The climax was inching closer and closer by the second. My nails dug into his back, clawing the elastic fabric of his suit. His sharp teeth grazed my neck in response, causing me to shudder underneath me. 

I wanted him to bite me. To drain me while he filled me with his seed. 

But he never did.

Coward.

The climax hit my body like a wrecking ball. My entire being tensed. My trembling thighs came to a staggering halt. My nails deeper into his shoulder blades as my heels sunk into his plump ass. I had squeezed my eyelids shut and kept my mouth wide open. My face was pointing to the ceiling, I could feel the cool light gracing my eyelids. Miguel’s thrusts never stopped. He kept the dangerous pace as I clung to his body for dear life. After about five tremendous seconds, I felt like I could finally breathe.

“I’m cumming,” I gasped in one big breath. “Oh my god, I’m cumming.”

I lifted my head up and pressed it against Miguel’s shoulder. I hooked my arms firmly around his torso, wanting to be close to him. My heartbeat was hammering against his cool chest. My heavy breath fanned his ear. The man shuddered in response. His hips, also, came to an abrupt halt. His entire being tensed. Miguel’s breath hitched as warm, thick cum shot out of him. It filled my empty womb entirely. I groaned at the lustful sensation and pressed soft kisses on his neck.

His strong arms circled my plus body and held me closer than he ever had, My heart leaped from such tenderness, but I quickly shot it down. I wouldn’t get my hopes up. I knew better when it came to Miguel. Without meaning to, he always found a way to disappoint me.

“No,” I said, finally. “I will not join your spider society.”

“Oh,” he replied in shock. “That’s not what I was expecting.”  He lifted my face from his should and took my chin between his fingers. “I must admit, I’m a little disappointed, Y/N.”

“Well,” I pulled away, hopping off the ledge. “Join the club.”

‐-------------------------

I know I lie more then sza but ya girl being settling into a new job.

Imma be posting soon. I promise.

[kingkatsuki]

You cannot tell me this man wouldn’t be able to smell your desire for him, okay?

Pairing: Yamada Asaemon Shion x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, scent kink.

Word Count: 0.7k.

You liked to stare at Yamada Asaemon Shion.

Assessing him under your shameless gaze as you mapped out every inch of his features. From the deep, worn scars that crossed his eyelids, to the light shadow of stubble that cast across his jaw. Your eyes followed a path to follow the prominent bones of his clavicle and the hint of skin that peeked out from beneath his robes, just enough to keep you pondering what lay beneath.

“You shouldn’t stare at him,” Tenza would tell you, bluntly. But there was no real harm in it.

Shion was beautiful.

With a body that could’ve been sculpted by the gods, and a face to match. He was made to be ogled, to be marveled. Committing the sight of him to memory to keep with you while you lay awake at night with your fingers buried deep inside your cunt plagued with thoughts of him— And there was no real harm in it because he’d never know.

Or well, so you thought.

“Are you even paying attention?” You can hear the harshness at the back of his throat, trying to conceal the humour in his tone. A soft sigh follows as he moves to sheath his sword, you hadn’t been— how could you when the tie of his robes loosened enough to reveal muscular pectorals that begged you to ask for more.

“Of course.” You threw back a lie. Your eyes still focused on the light sheen of sweat that glistened against his pale skin in the cooling embers of the afternoon sun, slowly disappearing beneath the horizon.

“Are you lying to me again?” His calloused hand found the curve of your jaw with little effort, his palm pressed against your throat as he held you tight. Feeling the vibrations as you exhaled softly under his touch— you should’ve known there was nothing you could hide from him.

“Think of your answer again.”

He can smell the arousal practically pooling between your thighs. Clenching them together in a feeble attempt to mask the overpowering scent, but it’s futile when it practically radiates off you. The desire for him burns inside you like a blazing inferno as you’ve fought the urge to satiate it in front of him on more than one occasion. And what makes it worse is the same smell still lingers on your fingers, evidence of your indiscretions. The scent has his cock throbbing beneath his robes as he wonders what you think about when you lay on tousled sheets.

You make it difficult for him to focus— to even remember to breathe as he tries to aim for his target. His thoughts possessed with how you would feel beneath him, how you would taste. He’s never felt so much disdain over the thought of never being able to see again until now— to see how you would look strewn beneath him, the pleasure that would be etched into your features when he has you coming undone on his tongue.

“I was paying attention, Shion.” You chance again, your tongue slips out to wet your lip as you stare up at him. His jaw locked and focused as he curls his palm around the back of your neck, his thumb still pressed firm against your jaw.

“You were paying attention to something,” He continues, leaning down until his lips are a breadth away. His warm breath flutters against your skin as you have to stop yourself from reaching out to him, almost cross eyed as you stare at his chapped lips, “But I’m certain it was something improper.”

You can’t ignore the way your cunt throbs from his words, your neglected clit pulses with desire as Shion catches the muted rumble of a groan shake at the back of your throat. He can smell the fresh wave of arousal that oozes from your cunt, the spike in your temperature as he presses himself against your skin and the hike in your breath. Longing to bury his nose between your thighs to inhale deeply, to seek out the alluring scent that captivates him.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” He is. He already knows it, you already know it and yet he moves his palm over your front to press against your sternum. Feeling the swift flutter of your racing heart, before his hand slips lower to cup your sopping heat through your hakama, “Or do I need to check?”

[miss-tc-nova]

With Reckless Choices - Leona Kingscholar x Reader Pt 1

Idk when I started this. Pretty sure it was 2+ years ago...ANYWAY! Buckle up kids. It's gonna be a bumpy ride.

Premise: The lion makes a pass at some questionable prey

Words: 2,093

Music Inspirations: Boyfriend - Dove Cameron

~~~Into the Lion's Den~~~

               Heels click across the grounds of Night Raven College. Cool evening air makes for a lovely night, the glowing castle majestic against the deep sky. What could be a pleasant event is tempered by the gawping of others. It’s not entirely unexpected, but perhaps this vexation would be lessened if the man I was here for was actually with me. Yet he’s disappeared to who-knows-where, as he often does when we’re expected to be seen together.

               Like the piercing of an arrow, I feel a burning gaze. Of course I’m being watched—I always am in public—but these sights are closely trained.

               “Is something wrong, your highness?” asks the argent retainer.

               Atop one of the castle balconies I find the observer. Heavy eyelids fail to mask those striking green eyes. They’re very different from the man I know despite sharing a similar color. Ire and disgust glow bright, but deeper still lies something else.

               Blinking, I look ahead. “No, just admiring the scenery.”

               My venture into the castle remains unimpeded though full of unwanted attention. Today is “family day” at Night Raven College, thus families from across Twisted Wonderland have gathered to celebrate their children. However, with prior duties requiring attention, I’m the only visitor from my home meant to endure this silly gathering at this silly school for such silly reasons. There’s not much to be done about it though, so I’d best play my part.

               If only he’d make it easy for me.

               Many guests are already within the ballroom. To my surprise, he stands among them, chatting with another student. What makes matters even more strange is that smile. I can’t restrain the purse of my lips.

               As I approach, his chartreuse eyes spy me. And that smile slips.

               “There you are.”

               My tongue remains in check. This is nothing new. Instead, my greeting comes with a small curtsy. “My liege. It’s good to see you again.”

               My comment goes unacknowledged. In fact, his attention immediately returns to the human. This is perhaps the first time I’ve seen his eyes spark as he becomes fully engrossed in the conversation.

               The guard leaves me to the company of the prince and his friend. I put on my best air of being attentive despite being majorly excluded. My irritation is short lived, however, as that predatory gaze crawls over me once again. It proves to be unusually distracting as I attempt to remain present in the discussion before me.

               Between the negligence and unsolicited staring, the frustration become insufferable. Though I announce my intention to step away, it falls on deaf ears so I take my leave regardless.

               Outside the ballroom doors are the steps leading to the upper balconies, perfectly deserted with everyone invested in the gathering. Trailing the banister, I peer down at the crowd, breathing forcefully steady to subdue the boiling. When I finally pause, the ebony railing gives me the perfect perch from which to view the entire room below, including those that disregard me.

               My grip on the railing tightens.

               “What a shame.”

               Dousing the fury, I cling to a stoic expression as I turn back. There stands my predator, the second prince of the Sunset Savanna.

               “Prince Leona Kingscholar,” I say curtly.

               He tips a finger off the top of his head in return. “Not enjoying this little soiree, your highness?” The way ‘your highness’ oozes from his mouth with smarmy conceit feels like claws skimming my spine.

               “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.” It’s such a blatant lie and we both know it. Still, for appearance’s sake, I speak it. “This gathering is lovely. I’m glad the prince has found someplace that entertains him.”

               “Oh, he’s entertained alright,” Leona speaks, strolling closer to lean over the banister. “And he’s here—every minute ­of every day—because he’d rather spend his time among commonfolk than back in Briar Valley with his fiancé.”

               Tension sneaks into my muscles, my gaze glued to the fae conversing with the meekest little mortal in the entire school. “Time among man is fleeting. And it appears he’s made friends.”

               “Friends he smiles at for real.”

               As if on cue, the dragon twists my heart.

               “He doesn’t look at you like that, does he,” the lion purrs in my ear.

               I realize in that moment that he’s stepped behind me, hands on the rail on either side. Sultry, citrus spice wafts over me, the warmth of his chest flush against my back. Whispers of the jealous prince replay in my ears of scorn since the day of his birth.

               “Why are you doing this?” I already know.

               Honeyed lies drip from his tongue. “Because you deserve better. A stunning treasure like you deserves to be looked at and lauded over others.” Gentle fingers trail my arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “You should be the center of his whole world, not abandoned like this.” From shoulder to jawline, his touch continues to trace. “Anyone would be rightfully jealous but that overgrown lizard has no idea how lucky he is.”

               In his grasp, I turn, the surprise just enough to compel him to step back. Keeping that momentum, I stride forward as he continues to back pedal.

               “Your deceit is ill conceived, Kingscholar. My feelings are entirely inconsequential to you.”

               Brunette brows pop and his back hits the wall.

               I continue. “You’re just looking to get one over on His Majesty, to boast about how you were able to steal his fiancé from under his nose. You don’t even care what would happen to me, you conniving cat.”

               Despite being at my mercy, his lips quirk. “But am I wrong?”

               My eyes narrow. “Pretty words from that smirk aren’t enough for your ruse to work on me.”

               His deep baritone twists at my nerves. “How about some less than pure?”

               “The kind of trouble you’re brewing is beyond your understanding.”

               “I ain’t hearing a no.”

               Lifting my chin, I look him dead in those alluring, hypnotic eyes.

               I’ve never actually gotten a look at Leona Kingscholar before. He’s very easy on the eyes, even if he is a bit rough. There’s certainly muscle to him, yet he’s got that trace of elegance instilled in every royal. Strands of chocolate hair frame that golden face, adorable rounded ears nestled atop his head that I just want to pinch. And that smirk, formed by such smug, smooth lips, is so tempting.

               But pretty faces—like pretty words—aren’t enough.

               The single, drawn syllable leaves my mouth and, as a finger draws a line down his front, behind his back opens a portal.

               “No.”

               With that, a small shove sends the man sprawling through my magic and to the balcony directly across the ballroom. It takes him a moment to get his bearings, but he does eventually turn to spot me—eyes wide with surprise. It’s my turn to wear the simper.

               Somewhat proud of myself for ruffling the lion’s mane, I give him a little wave before I venture back down to the ballroom.

               By the time I reach the dancefloor, all delight slips away. For one brief moment, I had someone’s interest, yet I literally shoved them out and am now once again left in my lonely little solitude.

               My own choice had no bearings on my engagement. Offered up by my parents as the eldest child of one of Briar Valley’s oldest families, I became a candidate to marry the prince. Bad luck ensued as Her Majesty accepted.

               It’s not that I particularly dislike the prince; we simply never acknowledged each other unless the situation dictated it. Every interaction is meant for someone else’s vision. It’s his duty to one day rule his kingdom and it’s mine to be his support. A marriage of obligation I suppose it’s called.

               The chain that binds me drags me closer. Still, he stands there, smiling with the human from before. I don’t exist, meanwhile, this person greedily consumes all his attention with the sweetest smile and brightest eyes. Bitterness climbs my throat and threatens to spill forth, but I keep my mouth shut lest I make a fool of myself and my liege. Neither pettiness nor jealousy become a royal.

               Then those harlequin eyes snare my own from across the room. As I watch, satisfaction stretches his lips which downturns my own. From his pocket he produces a phone and makes a subtle show of dropping it into the drawer of a little decorative table. With one last smarmy glance, Leona leaves the ballroom altogether.

               The moment he walks away, I catch myself stepping towards the table. That damn lion dripped his poisonous honey into my tea before my very eyes yet I find myself struggling not to drink it all at once.

               “Is something wrong?”

               The question jerks my thoughts like a leash.

               “No, I just…I thought I saw something,” I murmur.

               “A threat?”

               Yes.

               “No. It’s fine. I was mistaken.”

               With a dismissive glance, he returns his attention to his schoolmate, where his expression immediately brightens.

               That seals it. Leona Kingscholar has successfully sunken his claws into me. Throughout the rest of the night, I simply bide my time until the moment I can slip away. Now my cardinal sin sits in my pocket like hot coal, drawing my every thought like a blackhole. It’s terrifying.

               After some long and anxious few hours, the ball inevitably concludes and I bid goodbye to my fiancé and his retinue. My magic draws another portal through space, gracing me with the front gates of Castle Black Scale. A debrief with the Queen is mandatory but she ultimately dismisses all I have to say as easily as her grandson. Fine by me.

               Once the door to my quarters closes, I click the lock and hurry across the room. As though it might burn, I hastily drop the device on the dressing table. Seconds tick by, but nothing happens.

               I shouldn’t be doing this. This is suicide. That doesn’t stop me from reaching for it. A second or two of prodding allows me to investigate the device generally foreign to Briar Valley.

               This thing so clearly belongs to someone else. Upon opening, it seems to have no indication of whose it is, but as I open the small squares across the screen, I can see signs of the lion everywhere. His contacts, his magicam, his photos—this man genuinely gave me his phone.

               Not immediately prepared to deal with all this stress, I drop the phone into one of the drawers and prepare for bed.

~~~~~

               Seven days have gone by since the ball and my encounter with the troublesome prince. I’ve checked the phone a handful of times, having noticed only messages and alerts meant for the lion. That only lasted a few days, however, before the thing shutdown and now refuses to turn back on. I assume it ran out of power. Since then, I’ve simply moved on, ignoring the thorns in my chest.

               As I amble the castle gardens, admiring the foliage, one of the Draconia servants calls to me.

               “Your highness, a package has arrived for you.” A small box sits in her hands.

               “For me?” I elect to ignore the skip of my heart.

               “Yes. Would you like me to have one of the guards investigate it for you?”

               That suggestion is immediately dismissed. “No, that’s alright. I’m sure it’s fine.”

               She hands over the parcel with some reservation, then curtsies and hurries away. I have no control over what happens next. Whisked away against my better judgement, I struggle to keep my walk steady and paced on the way to my room.

               There is no sender on the box, only my name as the recipient. Eager hands fumble to open the cardboard, nearly tearing it open from frustration. Though I’m not sure what I was expecting, the chord inside was not it. But it comes with a white card and a simple, short message.

Talk to you soon                               -L

               This is for the phone. It must be the power cable. A bit of investigation and I manage to plug the phone into the only electrical socket in the room. Quite frankly, I’m surprised there even is one in the castle—granted my room is one of the newer additions. After a moment, pressing the power button brings the electronic back to life.

               I stare at the device, unsure of what to do next. That’s when a message appears at the top of the screen from an unregistered number.

~~~~~

Part 2

Nova’s Twisted Wonderland Masterlist

[storm-angel989]

How the vees would react to Valentino teenage daughter getting piercings without their consent and even try to hide them? I'm thinking about Tracy from Thirteen while requesting this btw🙏

(thanks if you write it💞💞

Hi there,

I’m afraid I haven’t seen that movie- so this is what my brain came up with! I hope you like it!

<3 Mandy 

The painful throbbing in my earlobes was too much to ignore. Every shift of my long hair, every brush against my swollen skin brought me to the point of tears. I made the executive decision to skip water polo practice, feigning a stomachache. I texted my coach, jumped in the limo and slipped as quietly as I could up into my room. Safe inside, I locked the door before gingerly pulling my hair back as I stood in front of the mirror. 

Two bright red ear lobes shone in my reflection, the skin inflamed to the point where the two tiny diamond studs could barely be seen. Two weeks ago, I begged my father and mother to let me get my ears pierced. My mother, to her credit, seemed to think I was ready for the responsibility. My father, on the other hand, disagreed.

“Just hold off for now, babydoll, and I’ll take you to a professional at some point. But for now, I don’t think mixing pool water with a fresh piercing in the middle of your competition season is a good idea.” 

As much as I tried. As much as I pointed out that three other girls on the team- including my best friend- had recently gotten their ears done, I was met with a firm no. The next day at school, I complained to my friend while standing at my locker when a tap on my shoulder pulled my attention away. Behind me stood a girl I recognized briefly from the softball team. 

“I can pierce your ears. Ten bucks,” she offered with a grin. “Good earrings too. You in?”

I glanced to my friend who shrugged. Before I could answer, the girl continued.

“Meet me in the locker room in the back corner after practice, if you’re interested.” She continued before vanishing off into the crowd.

Against my better judgment, and joined by my friend, I ventured into the back of the locker room that evening after practice. A quick transfer of funds and two sharp pinches and I had two shining diamonds in my ears. My friend suggested keeping my hair down until they were healed enough for me to take the studs out. 

Now I wished I had listened to my father. I gingerly touched the hot skin and bright yellow liquid oozed out. My whole body hurt, and if I didn’t get this fixed soon, I wouldn’t be able to play in the game on Saturday. 

A knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts. I pulled my scrunchie out and let my hair cascade down just as the door opened. 

“Hey, sweetheart, it's Dad,” I heard my fathers voice say softly. “I got a call from your coach. Not feeling so great, huh?” 

“You can come in Daddy,” I replied glumly. “Yeah, not feeling so great.”

Watching his tall form move across the floor, I was doubly glad that this man was my dad. The rest of the world recognized him as the overlord of lust and depravity, and as scary as he could be when he was mad, I knew he loved me. 

“What hurts?” He asked as he laid a cool hand against my forehead. “You feel warm, baby. Why don’t we get you to bed?” 

“Daddy, I have to tell you something,” I replied nervously. “I…” I pulled back my hair to reveal my ears, wincing as I did, “pierced my ears at school. Please don’t be mad.”

Alarm spread across his features. “You did not.” 

I nodded and he leaned forward. I braced for the yelling, the screaming and the anger I had heard him throw at his employees. 

To my surprise, he sighed.

“Well, those look infected. Explains why you don’t feel so good. Come on baby, let’s get you a doctor and have him take a look.” 

“Wait, you’re not mad?” I asked as I stood up and followed him out the door.

“I’m disappointed. But we can talk about that after we make sure you don’t have some sort of serious infection. Tell me, where did you get them done?”

His lack of fury took me by surprise. I relayed the story as we stepped onto the elevator. A pained expression crossed his face.

“You…just let her pierce your ears? For ten dollars? Eres jodidamente estúpida, ninita?” He asked, frustration dripping from his voice. “Honey, I taught you better than that. I know I did.”

The door opened and I trailed behind him with my head down as I followed him to the nurses office in his studio. Somehow, his disappointment towards me stung more than I thought the anger would. 

One painful hour later, the now bright green studs were in the garbage and my ears had been warm compressed, cleaned and I had been given a round of IV antibiotics.  I trudged behind my father as I walked into the apartment.

Velvette gave me a curious look. “Well? How’d that go?”

I closed my eyes as embarrassment flushed my features. “I’m going to bed.”

“Oh no,” my father said quickly as he put a hand on my shoulder. “Go see your Aunt and Uncle. Tell them what you did.” 

I hung my head and mumbled out the story. To my surprise, Aunt Velvette laughed.

“Oh Valentino. Trust me, if that's the worst that reader does, you’re a lucky Dad. Stop being so hard on her.” She patted the cushion next to her and I sat down. She looked at my ears and smiled.

“I did something similar when I was your age. Don’t worry too much about it, it will heal.”

“But also learn a lesson from it? Like don’t let weird bathroom classmates pierce your ears,” Vox added. 

I crossed my arms and leaned back. 

My father walked over and bent over, brushed my hair back and planted a kiss on my forehead. “If you want to go to your room you can. I’m not mad at you, I promise. I just love you mi amore, and you scared me. Learn a lesson from this, so next time you don’t need to be poked with another needle. And I will take you somewhere to get them done right next time, okay?” He stood up and pulled out his phone. “Can I convince you to stay out with us? I’ll order pizza.” 

“So, I’m not grounded?” I asked hopefully.

My father laughed. “Oh. No. You are. Until next Sunday. And you heard the doc- no pool time for at least two weeks.” 

I sank into the couch. Part of me wanted to be mad, but the other part of me knew my fathers punishment this time was totally and completely fair. 

“You’ll tell Mom then?” I asked, crossing my fingers behind my back. 

My father patted my head. “Oh no. No Noooo. You can do that when she gets home.” He patted my head. “Your decision. You learn from the consequences of your actions, babydoll.”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Leona, Floyd: Feud within the Family

They caught him mid-yawn in the initial art 😭 I SAID THIS TO SOME FRIENDS (not even in a thirsty way, just a casual comment) AND THEY INSTANTLY JUMPED ON ME OTL (if any of them are reading this, yes, I am calling your asses OUT for bullying/j)

I thought the Groovy was of Mufasa, Sarabi, and baby Simba but apparently it’s adult Simba, Nala, and their daughter, Kiara?? 😭 Most animated lions look the same to me, so I never would have caught that… Anyway, L*ona looks absolutely unhinged and super smug there… Bro looks like he’s talking down to someone groveling at his feet for mercy—

A Tale as Old as Time.

"Heeeeeey~"

Leona turned away from the call. Cool, nonchalant—theoretically, anyway.

"Heeey."

He pretended to be absorbed in a stone bust of the King of Beasts. The meddling source of the sound (unfortunately) followed him, much as he tried to shunt it out of his ears.

Leona sighed deeply.

Aaaah, what a pain in the ass. I’m really not in the mood for seafood.

"HEY."

A growl threaded through Floyd’s voice as he stomped over, thrusting his face into Leona’s. The lion beastman groaned. He recognized that fire in Floyd’s eyes all too well.

Determination.

“Quit runnin’ away and fight me already,” Floyd gruffly demanded.

He had been tailing Leona all day, pelting him with the same challenge over and over—alas, to no avail. Now he had the third year boxed in a dark, isolated corner. Floyd gleefully gnashed his teeth, raring to go for a scrap.

He won’t take a regular old ‘no’ for an answer. If it’s come to this then…

He’d lead his pursuer off the beaten path.

“Hmph, how rude,” Leona grunted, at last granting the eel his attention. “Can’t a man appreciate the arts without being accosted? I’d rather not be bothered while I’m in the middle of browsing.”

“You? An art aficionado?” Floyd scoffed in disbelief. “Fat chance, Sea Lion-senpai. You’ve never been into that stuff. It’s not nice to lie to your juniors like that.”

“Then you don’t know me as well as you think you do,” Leona drawled, his voice as smooth as liquid velvet. He took to telling untruths so easily, it was an innate skill. “I’m a prince with refined taste. Can’t you tell I’m over the moon and stars to be at this exhibition?”

Floyd deadpanned. “You look like you’re about to fall asleep standing up just like Jellyfish-chan.”

“Nonsense. I’m absolutely thrilled. In fact, i can hardly contain my excitement. It’s taking every ounce of my energy to not talk my classmates’ ears off about the illustrious history of Sunset Savanna.”

“Yeah? Prove it, then.”

Tch. Should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy. Leona grimaced internally.

He was careful to maintain his relaxed poise as he gestured to the painting that was mounted along the wall. “Take a look at that.”

“Huh, what is it?”

Underneath a cornflower sky and thin, cottony clouds, was a red-maned lion and his lioness. Between them, a mandrill cradled a wide-eyed cub. The composition made it clear: it was a painting of a family.

“One of the great kings of the past,” Leona simpered, irony oozing from his every word, “and one of the great kings of the future, if that furball is anything to go by. The parents must cherish their child a great deal. Spoiled and pampered like that… surely the cub will make for a splendid ruler.”

“Ehehehe~ You sound so salty there, Sea Lion-senpai.” Floyd leaned closer, taunting him. “Reciting sappy stories like that don’t suit you.”

“So I’ve been told.” Leona folded his arms and snorted. When he beheld the painting, disgust and envy curled in the pit of his stomach. “… Reminds me of my brother. His life’s always been one big fairy tale—and now he’s got a wife and a kid of his own.”

“Heh. So Sea Lion-senpai definitely feels like the odd one out.”

Leona glared at his junior. “… You don’t have a lick of tact, do you?”

“Ahahah!” Floyd cackled, all too carefree. “What’re you so mad about? ‘S not a bad thing.”

Leona watched him with a wary eye. Floyd paced lazily, as though he were a lion himself. Stewing in the shade, waiting for his next meal to skitter into his waiting paw.

“Who wants to fit in with family? That’s boring. It’s better to just do what you want and be yourself. Don’t sweat the small stuff.

“I hate it when people say Jade and I are the same or they mix us up. Jade’s Jade and I’m me. Two different people.”

“I’m sure your dear brother would shed a tear hearing you talk like that.”

Floyd just shrugged. “I don’t get it. You wanna be like that? It’d be weird.”

“But it’s not about fitting in,” he wanted to snap. “It’s about wanting to shine, to stand out, to be seen. For that moment out of the shadows and basking in the sun.”

They look at me, but they don’t see me.

They never will.

People played in the daytime while sleeping through the lovely night. In the savanna governed by the sun, shadows were scorned and casted aside.

Leona’s throat dried. The moisture gone, as if hungrily devoured by his King’s Roar.

He forced his voice to come again, snarky and sarcastic.

“Hmph, I never said that. You slimy bunch grew up at the bottom of the sea, where the light cannot touch. I’d think you understand what it’s like clawing and kicking and fighting every day to survive.”

And just barely making it out in one piece.

His hand drifted toward the scar over his left eye.

“… Anyway, I wasn’t askin’ for your advice. You should stick to annoying that octopunk.” Leona smirked. Again, concealing. “Keep it in the ‘family’, you know.”

Floyd stared at him intently. Then he let out a burst of laughter. “You’re a riot, Sea Lion-senpai! I don’t even feel light fighting you anymore. It’s just as fun to shoot the shit with ya.”

“That so? You flatter me. Surely there are better conversationalists in Octavinelle, with all those silver tongues.” Leona made a shooting motion with his hands. “You should run back to your school of fish to compare.”

Another fit of sporadic giggles. When they, at last, died down to an eerie quiet, Floyd’s whisper was as loud as a shout in a cavern.

“At the end of the day… we’re both beings that lurk in the dark~”

Leona grunted. “… Who needs the light anyway?”

Deep down, he knew the truth.

It was him who needed that light the most.

[grimoireofhayley]

Shackles

Leon S. Kennedy x TF141!Reader

Inspired by both events of Modern Warfare 2, Resident Evil (Games & Animated Movies) and the Song Shackles by Steven Rodriguez

Shackles Master List

Warnings: Smut (Eventually), Swearing, Blood & Gore, Flirting, BDSM (Eventually), Implied Mental Health Struggles, Alcoholism, Trauma, Torture, Eventual Kidnapping , Age Gap (Leon is 48 and reader is 25), Enemies to Lovers, Leon is an absolute ass at first, Slight Ghost x Reader x Soap if you squint, Abuse, Masochism

A/N: I HAD so much fun writing this chapter, please let me know what you think 🤔

Chapter 3

Leon continued to stare at her, a smirk playing at his lips as he noticed how flustered she became from just one look from him. He couldn’t help but find it amusing that she seemed so torn.

He took a few strides over to her, closing the distance. He spoke, his voice low and teasing. “Looks like you’ve got something on your mind, darling.”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes and scoffed, trying to act as disinterested as possible. “You really are full of yourself, aren’t ya?” She snapped, trying to hide the fact that her heart was now threatening to beat out of her chest.

She had to fight to keep her breath steady, but the closer Leon got to her, the harder it was to keep her cool.

Leon chuckled lightly at her response, his smirk growing wider. He took another step closer, now mere inches from her. “Maybe so,” he mused. “But, I can see right through you.” His gaze raked over her body, his eyes lingering just a moment too long on the pink gloss that adorned her lips.

She clenched her hands into tight fists, her nails leave crescent indents behind, her chest puffing out slightly.

Soap sighed, adjusting his weapon, his annoyance peaking as he looked at the two behind him; the American-man making his blood boil.

Soap placed his gun in its holster, walking up to Leon, smacking him upside the head. “Oi, little man, would you quit it?” His Scottish accent going an octave lower, “Don’t you ever get tired of hearing your own voice?” Soap snapped, holding onto his bulletproof vest, shifting it, “It’s like nails on a chalkboard for Christ sake…”

Leon winced as Soap’s hand connected with the back of his head. He rolled his eyes, his smug smirk never leaving his face.

“Jealous, Soap? That I get more attention from the fairer sex?” Leon drawled, his voice oozing with sarcasm.

Soap growled, she was more like a pain in the ass little sister, one that could get under your skin without even trying; though, it somehow fuelled him to protect her even more. And it nagged at him that Leon had the audacity to treat her like rubbish the second they met.

Soap stood toe-to-toe with Leon, only slightly taller than he was, his brows furrowing.

“Watch it, wanker, I’d kill you right where you stand.” His voice deepened and his eyes darkened, glinting with rage.

Leon chuckled, not the least bit intimidated by Soap’s threats. “Oh, I’m shaking in my boots,” he said through a smirk. “You’re all bark and no bite.” Leon scoffed, “You just don’t like the fact that I make her squirm.”

Soap’s face contorted in anger, he could swear he saw red when Leon implied the possibility of anything going on with (Y/n), “I’d slit ya from ear-ta-ear and laugh while I did it.”

Soap wasn’t playing games, and it’s very clear that Leon hit a nerve, and Soap didn’t care who knew it. “You best keep your hands ta yourself.”

Leon raised an eyebrow, amused by Soap’s threats. “Oh? And why’s that? Afraid I’ll take her away from you?” Leon’s voice dripped with mockery.

He chuckled lightly, “You know just as well as I do that all it would take is a look, and that girl would be trailing after me like a lovesick puppy.”

Soap’s eyes flashed in anger, he wanted to punch Leon in his stupidly-cocky face. He gritted his teeth, “You don’t know anything about her,” Soap shot back, his voice rising slightly. “You think you can just waltz in here, acting like some kind of Casanova, and win her over just like that? You’re bloody delusional.”

(Y/n) eyes were burning with hatred at this point, a looming fire ready to burst.

The way Leon talked about her like she wasn’t in the room with him, acting as if she were some cheap whore who’d obey his every command.

The nerve

She slung her rifle to the front, pointing it upwards with one hand and began rapid firing at the ceiling.

Leon’s smug expression faltered slightly as she began firing her rifle. “Shit…”

Ghost, Gaz, Price and Soap turned towards (Y/n)’s direction, surprised by her actions.

Leon chuckled, “Seems I hit a nerve…again…” his voice was quieter now, more restrained.

Ghost sighed and shook his head, walking back towards the three. “Damnit, (Y/n)….” He mumbled under his breath.

He knew how hot-headed she could be when she was angry, and hearing Leon talk about her like she was some piece of meat definitely crossed a line. He knew he had to try and defuse the situation before it spiraled out of control, but would he make it back in time?

“Enough.” (Y/n) shouted, her usual girlish tone drifted, lowering. She snarled, glaring at Leon, bringing her rifle to her side, though her finger was still placed on the trigger.

Leon’s smirk faded as her voice suddenly silenced the room. He was completely taken aback by her sudden outburst.

His eyes widened slightly as he stared at her, noticing the change in her. Gone was the lighthearted, easily flustered girl from earlier. In her place stood a woman who seemed dangerous and fierce.

He couldn’t explain it, but he felt a shiver run down his spine as her eyes bore into him. He tried to regain his composure, to act as though her sudden anger didn’t faze him at all. But in truth, he was completely captivated by her.

“You and your fuckin’ mouth.” (Y/n) spat, marching towards Leon, tossing the rifle to the side.

Ghost stopped in his tracks, gripping his weapon. He knew that the chance to defuse the situation has halted, it was past the point of saving. Meanwhile, Gaz, Soap and Price watched intensely, waiting for (Y/n)’s command to pop Leon with led.

The four of them knew she was dangerous, she was also smart, quick, and nimble which is why she was recruited to begin with…

But they wouldn’t wish their own worst enemy to be in Leon’s position right now.

Leon dug his own grave and now (Y/n) was going to make him lay in it.

Leon’s smirk faltered, replaced by a look of slight surprise as (Y/n) stormed towards him. He felt a mixture of excitement and unease. He was used to women swooning over him, but this was different. She was angry, and hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

Leon took a step back as she approached him, his eyes narrowing. “Watch yourself, sweetheart, you’re in over your head.”

His voice was meant to come out strong and confident, but it fell short, only coming out weak and unsure. He tried to hide it, but couldn’t help but feel a wave of anxiety wash over him as she neared.

She stomped on his foot harshly, the steel toe boots crushing the toes that were beneath her own.

“That bruise on your face looks a little lonely, don’t you think?” She hissed, reminding him that she can and will do even more damage to his gorgeous face, all he needed to do was ask. And hell, he was asking for it all night.

Leon winced in pain as she stomped on his foot. He let out a hiss, but before he could even react, she had grabbed his collar and pulled him towards her. Leon stumbled forward, their faces now only inches apart.

He could feel her hot breath on his face as she spoke, her words sending a shiver up his spine. He tried to maintain his composure, but her dominance was catching him off guard.

“Bruises heal, darling,” he retorted, trying to regain some kind of control in the situation. He tried to free himself from her grip, but her grip held firm.

Despite the pain in his foot, he tried to remain defiant, but his eyes couldn’t help but dart to her lips, betraying him.

Her lips looked so soft and plump, and he found himself wanting to taste them, to feel them against his. His thoughts were racing, his heart pounding in his chest.

Damn it, what was wrong with him?

He’d been with countless women, and none of them had ever affected him like this before. He tried to keep his composure, to keep up the facade of being in control, but he knew he was losing himself, bit by bit, to her.

Price, Ghost, Soap, and Gaz just stood by helplessly, watching the scene unfold infront of them like a car crash happening in slow motion, their guns now to the side as (Y/n) had complete control over the situation at hand.

None of them wanted to interfere. They knew both Leon and (Y/n) were stubborn, and getting inbetween them would only make things worse.

She bit her lip, her canine tooth poking through, “Seems you lost your voice, lad, c’mon, where’d it go?” She taunted, the anger still lingering as she licked up his jaw, bringing her lips to his ear, “You scared?”

Leon let out a soft gasp as (Y/n)’s tongue traced up his jaw, her breath hot on his ear as she whispered to him. Her words sent a shiver down his spine, and despite himself, he couldn’t deny the effect she was having on him. His heart was pounding in his chest, his mind racing with conflicting thoughts.

He hated her. He hated how she made him feel. And yet, he wanted more.

Leon avoided her gaze as his face twisted into one of hot-and-bothered.

She nipped at his ear, tugging it gently, rolling the flesh between her teeth, involuntarily drawing blood as it dribbled down her chin.

She pulled away to look at him, her gaze looming over his face, noticing he was avoiding any and all eye contact with her.

That’s how she knew she had him right where she wanted.

“Look at me.” She ordered.

Leon felt her tug at his hair, forcing him to turn his gaze to her. He tried to look away, but her grip was too strong.

He winced as she pulled at his hair, but he couldn’t deny that the small wave of masochism that washed over him, was only making his predicament worse.

He tried to compose himself, but her eyes, her lips… her overall presence was making it hard to think straight.

Leon couldn’t help but let out a soft gasp as he noticed the faint trace of blood on her lip. He should have been disgusted, repulsed even, by the fact that she had bitten him hard enough to draw blood, but instead, he found himself mesmerized.

He couldn’t deny it anymore. She had him completely and utterly hooked. He was hooked on her, her touch, her kiss… every part of her.

(Y/n) took her thumb, swiping it across her lips, cleaning the copper from her mouth.

“Look at that…” She began, “I didn’t have to do much and you’re already crumbling at my touch.”

Leon gritted his teeth at her as she wiped the blood from her lips with her thumb, her words hitting him like a punch to the gut. She was right, and he knew it and he knew she knew it too.

He had never felt such an intense mix of desire, hatred and confusion all at once. Her teasing was getting to him, and he hated it.

“Shut up,” he muttered, his voice coming out as a low, desperate whine.

“Oh, you sick.. sick puppy.” She purred, her pupils dilating as she took note of his whine, “You enjoyed that? You really enjoyed that…” She grinned, flinging him to the ground with such ease.

Leon let out a grunt as he landed on the ground, his back hitting the cold concrete. He tried to catch his breath, but then she was on top of him, straddling his hips, her powerful thighs squeezing his sides.

He felt a mixture of fear and excitement as he looked up at her, her gaze burning into him with an intensity that he had never seen before. He tried to squirm free, but her grip on his face held him in place.

(Y/n) slowly leaned in, their noses practically touching.

Leon felt a shiver run down his spine as she got closer, filling his senses. He tried to fight against the wave of desire that was overwhelming him, but it was useless.

His body was responding to her in ways he never thought possible. His heart was racing, his skin was tingling. He wanted her, and he hated himself for it.

Leon's mind was racing, his body betraying him as he anticipated her kiss. His eyes slowly closed, waiting for the sweet touch of her lips against his own.

She was so close, but then she flung his head back, “You ever talk about me like I’m a piece of meat again, I’ll kill you.” She suddenly spoke, pushing herself off of Leon, walking towards her brothers-in-arms.

Leon lay there, stunned for a moment as he processed what had just happened. He could still feel the ghost of her body against his, the heat of her skin, and the taste of her breath.

He slowly sat up, rubbing the back of his head where she had grabbed it. As he watched her walk back over to Ghost, Soap, Gaz and Price; Leon realised one thing, he was completely screwed.

<— Previous Next —>

[the-californicationist]

Dearest, I find myself once again on my knees, hoping to scratch your brain for any crumbs of The Old Way universe. Just, have you had any thoughts on that au of how the characters are, what they're up to, or what dynamics have been built or are/would be shaping up to be?

I'm the same anon that asked a while ago and truly ignore this if this too much or annoying. I was just hoping if you could spare any crumbs of your goregous, genius mind. ilysm 🧎‍♀️💕 (also I'm in love with how you wrote priest/vamp price, amazing work on that!)

Hey anon! I’m so glad you liked vampire priest price! He was a fun one.

As for The Old Way, boy howdy, do I have thoughts!

Cause like, chapter two is obviously a hyper realistic exposition on the actual tradition of the bonded mating ritual between reader and Price, right?

Maybe this is a hear me out moment, but Omegaverse fics intrigue me for three main reasons which I will outline below and elaborate on in way too much detail:

1. The fuck-or-die element of the heat/rut cycle

2. The fantastical/unrealistic physical stretch required to take a knot

3. The fantastical/unrealistic duration (and lack of a refractory period) that a knot remains inside of its hole

To clarify…

As for the first, this is the true animalistic element, imo. And what’s hotter than sexual need, right? Like the feeling of sexual starvation being sated??? It makes my brain turn into literal mush. The first bite of food after a fast. The first sip of cool water after a march through the desert. The first gasp of air after swimming up from the deepest depths. The first touch of skin on naked skin when you’ve been writhing and needing and alone. Ugh. Fuck me up with that shit.

As for the second, I mean this is sort of personal preference and self-explanatory but I’m a girth>length fan. As is immediately obvious when you read anything I’ve written. But specifically in this fic; here’s a man who feels unworthy of love. His fat monster cock hurt someone he cared for. As fun as it is to haul around the State Fair Blue Ribbon schlong, no one likes being left out (or 13th-wheeling in Price’s case). And when he finds his glass slipper of a mate, he feels whole again. She saves him, and she saves the day, and it’s the happily ever after of my dreams. Yay, love!

But. Here’s the kicker. Number three. Number three keeps me up at night, y’all. It plagues me. It’ll sneak into my thoughts while I’m in the middle of my daily tasks, sucker-punching me right in the chest. Idk about other Omegaverses, but the idea that we could be stretched out and stuck on John Price’s Texas-sized dong for hours (and that there is a fantastical/unrealistic element of a pain-free, pleasurable experience on our end?) is delicious. Imagine, he’s trapped himself deep within you, oozing hot come, giving you that incredible feeling of fullness, and you are just basking in it together, enjoying the sparkling electricity of every twitch and jerk of his phallus. He’s reading Yeats to you and you’re grooming his soft, curling hair, he’s keeping your energy up by feeding you grapes and honey and wine and mead, he’s sharing his hand-rolled cigars with you, letting you feel the high of the nicotine and kissing you languidly, his lips so soft and pliant that you feel as if your two bodies might melt together like smooth chocolate, homogeneous in a way that no one else will ever know. All the while, your womb is full of his heavy load, stuffed and ladden with his seed, making your belly just the slightest bit round. He feels it with his wide palm, and you can’t help but imagine how you might be thus revered when you’re heavy with his child instead.

And how long?? I mean, what’s possible here — even if we abandon plausible? An hour? Two? A night? And how often? Would his rut drive him to mate with you repeatedly in a self-sacrificing/mindless sex-driven fury? Would bonded mates be capable of something more than normal ones? What are your true powers as the Apex Omega? So many questions.

So anyway. Sorry for the hear-me-out. I recognize that not everyone is as zealously curious about the implications of an Omegaverse as I am. I just think there’s so many different ways it could go. The universe itself has so many variable possibilities and that makes it easy to create and to be creative with it. It becomes even more interesting when you compound the sexual complications with the socio-cultural context of a community dealing with that sort of hierarchical environment. Just a world of interesting knots to untangle (pun intended and weaponized).

But, I’d also like to explore the other interpersonal relationships between our lovable companions. What’s Johnny’s big loving family like? How do the kids interact with each other? Is there a leader emerging from the MacTavish clan? What about Gaz and his three Omegas? Ghost and his mini tactical squad? All of them together? What drives them to help other clans? What’s their underlying mission? How will they ensure peace across the land? How do they allocate the obviously limited resources?

It would be a fun project to navigate. I’ve written scenes here and there for it but I’ve gotta finish these other long WIPs before I start something else.

Thanks for asking! I hope this answered your question.

[fictionalcharactersaremypassion]

My Husband's Brother

This crackfic was requested on ao3

---

“You wanna head down to the pool later?” Ian said casually over breakfast. “Bet we could have a couple beers down there before that bitch Melanie comes to force us out.” 

Across from him, Mickey made a noncommittal noise, typing on his phone. 

That was weird, Ian frowned. Mickey was spending more time on his phone than usual. Not that he suspected him of cheating or anything, it was just not typical for him. 

“Who are you talking to?” Ian said nonchalantly, or tried to be. 

“Your brother,” Mickey said without looking up. 

“Carl?” 

“Nah, Lip,” Mickey said, then snickered, which Ian assumed was directed at something Lip had sent him.

“What? Why?” 

“He’s alright when he’s not being a complete dick,” Mickey shrugged. 

Ian felt like he was having trouble processing this. “Lip?” He repeated, dumbstruck. “You’re talking voluntarily to Lip?” 

“The fuck is so hard to understand about that?” Mickey did look at him now, like he thought Ian was the dumbest fucking guy on the plant. 

Ian followed him when he got up to put his dirty cereal bowl in the sink. “Nothing. I just didn’t think you liked Lip enough to talk to him.” 

“Yeah, well,” Mickey grumbled, turning on the faucet. “He has his uses.” 

“Such as?” Ian pressed. 

“Bitching about you.” 

****

“Uncle Ian, I’m hungry,” Franny said on their way up to the front gate. He’d taken her to the park so she could run off some steam, now she was walking with him, cheeks flushed and a bright smile on her face. 

“How about we make some sundaes, Franny?” Ian suggested. “You can have all the fudge and sprinkles you can eat.” 

Debbie will kill him for this but Ian was her uncle, it was his job to spoil her. 

“Yeah!” Franny cheered, picking up her pace. “With lots and lots of ice cream!” 

“Yeah!” Ian agreed with a chuckle. He bent down to swoop her up in his arms, holding her at an angle like she was an airplane. Franny squealed happily. 

They went into the house like this, laughing together until he set her gently on the ground. 

“Go wash your hands and I’ll get everything out.” 

“Okay, Uncle Ian!” She raced up the stairs, skipping a couple to get to the top faster. 

Ian went ahead into the kitchen, eyebrows flying up to his hairline when he came face-to-face with his husband laughing along with Lip, a beer in Mickey’s hand and a nonalcoholic one in his brother’s. 

“Hey...” Ian said slowly. 

They barely spared him a glance. 

“How was the park?” Lip managed to get out once he sobered up, wiping tears from his eyes.  

“Fine,” Ian said, his curious gaze on Mickey. It was nice to see him laughing and enjoying himself, but it’s not something he expected to find with Lip around. “Me and Franny are having sundaes. You guys want any?” 

“Nah, man,” Mickey declined. “I’m good.” 

“Mickey ordered us pizza,” Lip added. 

“Oh,” Ian began getting out the bowls, the utensils and toppings. “That’s cool. I could use something-” 

“We already ate it, Red.” 

The bottle of fudge got squeezed a little. Or a lot. The cap might’ve flown open, some of it oozing out onto his hand. 

****

Ian had Mickey right where he wanted him- underneath him and breathless. 

It’d been too long of a day, too long of wanting his husband all to himself and needing to readjust himself whenever he looked at Mickey doing the most mundane of things like standing against a wall with a cigarette in his mouth, that infamous Milkovich glare on display. 

Unable to take much more of it, Ian shoved him on the bed, not letting him take a moment to shimmy out of jeans. 

“Damn it, Gallagher,” Mickey’s pupils were dilated, lips swollen and pink. “What’s gotten into you?” 

“I want you,” Ian growled. “I’ve wanted you all day.” 

“Should've taken me out back then,” Mickey mumbled, recapturing Ian’s lips with his own. 

The stress was literally just falling away. Ian was back at the apartment, enjoying some alone time with his husband. 

And then Mickey’s phone softly dinged. 

Ian could only gawk when he was gently pushed away so his husband could check out who’d messaged him. 

“What the fuck?” 

“S’Lip,” Mickey said, absentmindedly, sitting up slightly and ignoring Ian entirely. 

“So answer him later!” Ian said, frustrated. Mickey smirked, typing away. “Mickey!” 

“The fuck is your problem?” Mickey raised a brow. 

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s the fact that my husband is texting my brother when he should be paying attention to me instead.” 

Mickey stopped texting, looking at Ian with no expression for a few seconds.

“Get out of here with that needy shit.” 

****

“Do you know Mickey and Lip have some kind of secret handshake?” Liam said during a visit to the Gallagher house. 

“What?” Mickey didn’t do things like that. “No way.” 

Liam gestured for Ian to follow him. “See for yourself.” 

True to his word, Lip was doing the aforementioned handshake with him. 

What the fuck? Lip never did a secret handshake with Ian. 

****

Mickey wasn’t in the apartment. Ian had racked his brain, trying to remember if his husband had mentioned he would be going out while Ian was out at the store.

He couldn’t recall him saying anything. 

Just to be sure, he looked out the window which gave him a view of the pool. He spotted Mickey down there and grinned. 

Oh, is that what he wanted to do tonight? 

He put on that black speedo Mickey liked seeing him in, grabbing a towel and headed down there.

“Hey, Mick,” Ian called out seductively, “get ready for some-Lip?” 

He stopped dead in his tracks, staring at his brother and husband in the pool together. 

“Jesus, Ian,” Lip said in disgust, for he was only clothed in the speedo. “Cover up, will you?” 

Ian wasn’t feeling too merciful right now. “What the hell are you doing in there with him?” He said to Mickey, who was drinking his beer like he didn’t have a care in the world. “We decided to go swimming. Didn’t wanna wait for your ass to get back here.” 

“Are you guys friends or something?” Ian couldn’t take much of this, eyes flickering from Mickey to Lip in disbelief. 

Lip didn’t think about it very long. “Yeah. He’s not so bad.” 

“Back at you, Gallagher,” Mickey flipped him off. 

Ian pressed his lips together. This wasn’t how he imagined this evening going. He’d thought Mickey was out here by himself. 

Fucking cockblocker. 

“Eh, Ian?” Lip brought him out of his thoughts, “mind getting in or covering up? I had enough of seeing your dick like that.” 

Ian flipped him off too, turning on his heel to go back up to the apartment. 

[zeroseuniverse]

Play To Win

Word Count: 456 Summary: Jongseob shot her a pleading look. "We’ve come this far, don’t leave me hanging!"She raised an eyebrow. "Okay, fine. One more try." Pairing: Jongseob X Fem Reader

Navigation

Jongseob and Her were knee-deep in a video game marathon, and so far, it wasn’t going well. The screen was flashing with "GAME OVER" for the third time in a row. Keeho, on the other hand, had already died five times but kept respawning with that irritatingly calm expression like he was above all the chaos.

Jongseob was gripping his controller so hard his knuckles were white. "Alright, this time for sure. We can do it!" he said, his voice oozing fake confidence.

She had just been knocked out by a particularly ruthless boss, flopped back on the couch, casually tossing the controller onto the coffee table. "Oh well, at least we tried," she said with a shrug, staring at the ceiling as if this whole video game thing was a lost cause.

Jongseob whipped around to stare at her in disbelief. "Wait, what? No! We're not giving up yet!" His eyes narrowed, determined, and he gripped the controller even tighter.

Keeho, who had just respawned, looked over with a raised eyebrow. "Wait until he's actually dead to give up, jeez! You two are way too quick to throw in the towel!"

Jongseob shook his head, clearly offended by her lack of effort. "Come on! We’re so close to beating him!"

But she, still lounging, said nonchalantly, "Nah, man. I’m good. It’s over. We can just... start something else, maybe?"

Keeho, after managing to dodge an attack and avoid dying for once, let out an exasperated sigh. "Alright, alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn you when you’re over here crying about not beating the game."

Jongseob shot her a pleading look. "We’ve come this far, don’t leave me hanging!"

She raised an eyebrow. "Okay, fine. One more try."

And with that, she picked up the controller and proceeded to get knocked out within seconds by the boss. She just stared at the screen. "Yeah, no. Definitely not worth it."

Jongseob, in his last-ditch effort, took a deep breath and dove back into the fray, dodging and attacking like his life depended on it.

Keeho, who was casually checking his phone, looked up and said, "Jongseob, you can do it, but only if you actually play like you want to win."

The room fell silent for a moment. Then, with an explosive battle cry, Jongseob managed to land the final blow on the boss.

"See! I told you we could do it!" Jongseob yelled, jumping up in triumph.

Unfazed, she said, "Cool. But I think it’s time for a snack break, right?"

Keeho, who had already checked out, just muttered under his breath, "Jeez, you guys are a handful."

And with that, the trio took a well-earned pause, ready for the next round—whatever it may be.