#because like!! you write a line. you imagine how it'll be said

[mysticarcanum]

y'know im always so negative about my job but then i have a really good VO session and suddenly i never want to quit

[changbunnies]

Lowkey, I Need You (To Move Out) 18+

♡ Pairing: Changbin x Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: friends with benefits, friends to lovers, roommates to lovers, angst, fluff, smut with plot, mutual pining but especially lots of pining from binnie

♡ Word Count: 12k

♡ Summary: Changbin has a problem– he’s in love with his friend with benefits. And not only is he in love with her, but she’s also his roommate. Torn on what to do, the only thing he knows for certain is that something has to change soon– but is he even brave enough to spark that change, and risk their friendship?

♡ Warnings: miscommunication, but it's resolved quickly!, bin is lil insecure but we're here to make it better !!, gets a bit emotional because truly this is a love letter to changbin and how much i adore him

♡ Smut Warnings: multiple smut scenes, switch!bin with a heavy sub lean, as usual changbin is an extremely soft and perfect lover, pet names (baby, bun, bunny, honey, sweet + good boy), oral (m + f rec), fingering (f rec), nipple play, begging, a tiny bit of edging, spit as lube, cock warming, unprotected piv, creampie, praise kink, body worship, face sitting

♡ Notes: this was written in response to the topic of binnie being excluded, because as a bin biased girlie it's my job to show out for him when he needs the extra love! i've been wanting to write a fwb for SO long and in true changbunnies fashion this turned out longer than i intended it to be but i just had so much fun writing it and giving binnie the attention he deserves, so i hope you enjoy it too !!

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

What do you do when you realize you've fallen in love with your friend with benefits? And what do you do when said friend is also your roommate? The conclusion that Changbin has reached is simple: spiral.

Well, not that spiraling is an actual choice in this scenario– he can't stop it from happening despite how desperately he wants to. He knows you aren't looking for a relationship right now, that you like what you have together because it's casual and fun.

You swore off dating apps and relationships after having your heart broken one too many times, and the only reason you're friends with benefits with Changbin is because you trust him– a trust that he is loath to break by dropping the revelation that he's fallen in love with you.

You were away from your shared apartment for the past week and a half, on a trip back to your home town to visit family. It was exhausting, but fun enough when your parents weren't driving you up the wall by pestering you with questions about when you're going to start bringing a boyfriend back home with you, you told Changbin on the phone last night whilst packing to come back to the city.

He hated the way his heart sank to the pit of his stomach when he considered the fact that he'll never be the boyfriend going home with you to meet your family. And he wants to be, fucking hell, does he want to be yours.

He wants to tell you he loves you and have it mean something more than the platonic love between friends, to take you on dates and freely hold your hand when walking through the city streets together, to share a bed with you for more than just a fuck.

How many times has he wanted to pull you back to him when you start to get up from his bed? To reach out and beg you to stay when you start to get dressed? To knock on your door late at night and lay everything out on the line because the way it keeps him up at night is becoming unbearable?

Fuck, he can't keep dwelling on it– you've been on your way home since this morning, and you're due back any minute now. It'll be disastrous for Changbin if you walk through the door and realize something's off with him.

His heart twisted when he checked his phone and saw a new text, one excitedly telling him you're almost home and that you've missed him– but was it really him you missed, or just fucking him? He didn't know anymore, and he was afraid to find out.

Changbin jumps when he hears the lock to the front door click, taking a breath to calm his racing heart as he rises to his feet to help you with your luggage and welcome you back home. 

He’s spent enough time spiraling over what to do this past week, he can’t afford to anymore; not if he wants to keep his sanity intact, anyways. He can do this– once you get settled, he can have a heart to heart with you, and everything will be fine. Even if it’s too much to confess his feelings, surely there’s a way to go about things where you’re both still happy, right?

Changbin did a lot around the apartment to make it perfect for you upon your return– cleaned and dusted every common room until they were spotless, made sure not a single dirty dish was left in the sink, emptied every trash can.. He even unclogged the drains and scrubbed the tub! He just wanted to make sure you didn’t have a single thing to do, that you could just relax and unwind in clean comfort after your trip. 

But you don’t spare a single glance around the apartment once you enter– you look just at him, smiling as you kick the door closed behind you, and drop your luggage to the floor to squeeze him into a hug. 

He blinks a moment in surprise at how quick the action is– he didn’t even have the chance to get a word out before you were on him. Still, he quickly returns the hug while trying his best to prevent the happy, almost relieved sigh you let out as you bury your head into his chest from giving him false hope.

“You really missed me this much?” Changbin asks with a small giggle– why is he even asking? So much for not giving himself false hope. He just blurted it out without thinking, really; but he can’t pretend the way you affirm it doesn’t make his heart swell. 

It was the longest you’d ever been apart from Changbin since moving in together, and it put a lot of things into perspective. Like, you really did miss him, of course you did, he’s your friend! But there was something more– you don’t think you’d ever missed someone so fucking badly before. 

Like, staying up all night because you can’t stop thinking about him type of ‘I miss you.’ Wanting to text him or call him at all hours of the day just to check up on him and ask what he’s been up to even though you’re supposed to be focusing on your family and reuniting with childhood friends.

You missed everything about him– his smile and cute laugh, the way he smells, his big arms wrapped around you and squeezing you close. You wanted to hear his voice again, and not through the grainy speaker of your phone, wanted to see him without your parent’s shitty old wifi connection lagging your call, and making him pixelated and blurry.

Changbin is your home, you realized; wherever he is is where you want to be. As long as he’s there, you’d have everything you need to be happy. Is that too sentimental of a feeling for just friends?

Yes, you know it is– and every time you felt it for him before, you shoved it down as deep you could, not ready to get your heart broken again just yet. Better to hold onto him for as long as you can, before he cuts things off to start dating again.

But of course, you can’t deny you also missed him in other, less than innocent ways. The squeak he lets out when you surprise him with a kiss, the cute way he blushes and giggles when you compliment him or call him his favorite pet name, the way he’ll easily drop to his knees for you the moment you tell him you need him. 

He never cares what he’s in the middle of or what he needs to get done– if you tell him you want him, he’s ready for you, eager to please. Even if he loses sleep, if it makes him late for work, if it means the food on the stove is going to burn– none of it matters if you need his tongue on you. And you’ll reward him, you always do; with sweet words and touches that makes his heart feel like it’s going to beat out of his chest while his cock throbs.

“Missed you more than you know,” you say in a near whisper, pressing your lips to his like you’ve been eager to do since walking through the door. Changbin practically melts when you kiss him, as always; he just can’t help it– he’s forever going to be putty in your hands. 

Was he right in his fear that you only missed him for the sex? Maybe, but he can’t even dwell on the idea anymore– not when the urgency in which you start touching him underneath his shirt while sliding your tongue in his mouth makes him weak at the knees.

Fuck it, maybe that is all you want him for these days, but he’d never stop giving you what you want. Use him over and over, run his heart into the ground when it’s done, what does it matter? At least in this moment he’s yours, even if it’s only temporary. 

You grab Changbin by the waist and turn him around, pressing his back against the front door to the apartment. One of his feet very nearly gets caught up on your luggage on one of his steps back, but you kick it to the side, away from the two of you. His sound of surprise is muffled by your mouth on his, as is his gasp when your hands travel up to squeeze his pecs.

You can feel his body shudder when your thumbs brush over his nipples, letting out a whine when you pinch them between your fingers. He’s breathless by the time you pull away, watching you with that eager look in his eyes that makes you crazy for him. “B-Baby, what are you-” he tries to ask as you fall to your knees, though the last word dies in his throat when you look back up at him with a smile. 

He still remembers the first time he slipped up and called you “baby.” You were on top of him, riding him so good that all he could do was babble on and on about how good it felt while gripping the bed sheets beneath him. “S-So good, oh my god, baby, it’s– you’re so good, feels so good,” he whimpered, whining loudly when you stopped moving to just look at him.

Changbin was going to ask why you stopped, beg you to please, please keep going, but then it hit him all at once– he called you ‘baby’ when it was never something either of you had done before. And instantly, he looked up at you utterly mortified with himself, ready to apologize over and over again for crossing the line in your friends with benefits relationship.

While the arrangement didn’t come with strict rules, such as no kissing for example, he still was concerned that it was a touch too far in the ‘romantic relationship’ direction. But to his surprise, and relief, you smiled at him, calling him sweet names in return after picking your pace back up. You continued to try out names, gauging his reaction carefully until you found the one that seemed to make him react the most.

And now here you are, looking up at him with his cock pulled out of his sweatpants and throbbing in your hands, calling him the name that turns his brain and body to jelly. “Want to show you how badly I missed you, bunny,” you told him before pressing a lingering kiss to his already leaking tip, his pre-cum smearing over your lips.

Thank fucking God you pressed him against the door, because if he didn’t have the support he’s pretty sure his legs would’ve given out. It’s not often that you’re the one on your knees for him, and the sight is so erotic it makes his brain feel like it’s going to melt out of his ears– not to mention the way you’re talking to him on top of it.

“So hard and leaky already,” you comment gleefully, sticking out your tongue to lick over his tip, “you missed me too, didn’t you, bun?” 

“Y-Yeah, missed you, I missed you so much,” Changbin replies breathlessly, struggling to keep his hips still and not rut against your hands. He bites his lip, restraining the whimpers that threaten to endlessly spill when you open your mouth to take him in.

You don’t waste any time getting the corners of your mouth used to the stretch, or for Changbin to get used to the feeling after having gone without it for so long; you take him all at once, until his tip is touching the back of your throat and your nose is pressed against his pelvis. 

His head falls back against the door as he squeezes his eyes shut, slapping his hand over his mouth to muffle the obscenely loud moan you draw out of him. Normally he pays no mind to his volume because he knows you prefer him loud, but he’d be beyond embarrassed if any neighbors walking the hall heard him just on the other side of the door. 

You swallow around his length, and it takes effort to not gag given how thick and heavy he is, but you manage just fine. Breathing through your nose, you stroke his cock with your tongue whenever you need to give your throat a tiny break, sometimes pulling back to take a bigger breath and let more air into your lungs before sucking him into your mouth again. 

Changbin cards his fingers through your hair, but doesn’t pull– just holds your head in an effort to ground himself. His thighs are trembling, and he’s seemingly given up on trying to be quiet, or is simply too far gone to care anymore, the hand he was using to cover his mouth now clenched into a fist at his side.

“W-Wait, wait, baby, please wait, don’t wanna cum yet,” he pleads as his stomach clenches, the twitching and throbbing of his cock growing more in intensity. He’s lifted his head from the door, looking down at you now and meeting your gaze as you blatantly ignore his request and continue to swallow him down your throat.

“Please, please, your pussy– want your pussy, honey, please,” he tries again, chest heaving as he begs, the fingers threaded through your hair now clenching into a fist as well, but still, he doesn’t pull you off him. That’s one of the things you like most about Changbin– he’s so strong that it’d be easy for him to make you do whatever he wants, but he doesn’t. 

Even now, as desperate as he is to be inside your pussy, he’s obedient, first and foremost. How can you resist giving him what he wants when he’s so sweet, perfect and well behaved? You pull off him with a loud ‘pop,’ watching the way his cock throbs pathetically against his stomach as his impending orgasm begins to ebb away.

You expect him to take a longer moment to recover, but even with how breathless he is, he’s leaning down to pick you up from the floor. You can’t help but let out a squeal as you’re lifted from the ground– you know very well that Changbin is strong, but it always surprises you how effortlessly he can lift your weight. Excites you too, if you’re being completely honest. 

He has you in a full princess carry, one arm supporting your back while the other is under your knees. You know he won’t drop you, but you wrap your arms around his neck anyway for the extra security. He shows his appreciation for you with so many kisses over your face that you can’t help but giggle, and he holds you tighter when his kisses cause you to squirm in his grasp.

“Don’t tickle me with kisses when I can’t escape you,” you half-heartedly complain, and he giggles with you, pressing one more to your nose before he starts walking away from the front door. “We’re going to your room,” he informs you, figuring that’s where you’d prefer to me after having been away from home. 

Your luggage lies forgotten on the floor as he makes his way past the open kitchen and living room, and into the hallway leading to your rooms. Standing in front of your door, you lean in his grasp to twist the door knob, and he gently nudges the door open further with his foot. Your bedroom is just how you left it a week and a half ago, and Changbin sets you down on your bed carefully.

“Are you going to undress yourself for me?” you ask with an expectant tilt of your head, and he blushes ever so slightly as he shyly giggles and nods. It never fails to make him a little shy when you watch him undress like this, but he also takes pride in the way you look at him. Hungry, but somehow still tender and sweet. 

He starts with his sweatpants and underwear, considering his cock is still out from when you pulled them down just enough to get it out. Kicking his feet out once they’ve fallen to the floor, his shirt is next, and he very quickly pulls it up and over his head. “My baby,” you coo at him after beckoning him closer, and it makes his head spin. 

It’s the first time you’ve used a possessive term with him. Your baby.. Yes, whether you know it or not, he’s yours. Only yours. 

“You’re so handsome, you know that?” you continue, smiling when the pink on his flushed cheeks deepens, “And sexy, and adorable, and lovable.” You love complimenting him– even before you were friends with benefits, you’d tell him sweet things whenever you could. It took him a long time to grow into himself and get comfortable and confident in his own skin, and he deserves the pride and joy he feels now. 

Lovable is a new one, and he tries not to let it root itself inside his head– you certainly do love him, but just as a friend, he knows it. You’ve always been sweet to him, and he’s certain that your doting on him and sweet gestures increased only because of the slight change in your relationship, and no other reason. 

Regardless, does the reason matter? You’re complimenting him earnestly, and that’s enough. Even if it’s said without romantic intent, you do mean it– and that’s all he needs, really.

“Help me out with my own clothes now, won’t you, sweet boy?” you ask, and he gives you an excited nod that makes you giggle again. You lift your back off the bed so he can help you with your top and bra, then lift your legs so he can help you out of your pants and underwear when you let your back fall against the bed again. 

He kisses you the entire time he’s getting you out of your clothes, only breaking away when he has to. “Gonna get you ready for me,” he breathes out near the shell of your ear before planting a kiss there, and then trailing them down your neck. He slides his hand between your legs as he does, and you spread them apart for him to make his task easier for him. 

You both know you can handle the sting from his cock stretching you out, sometimes you even crave it– but you can never deny his desire to be sweet to you. If he wants to stretch you out on his fingers first, you’ll let him do it every time. 

“Oh, honey, you’re so wet,” he gasps as he runs his fingers between your folds. It shouldn’t be much of a surprise, really– you always get soaking wet when you and Changbin are being intimate. Still, it always surprises him as much as it did your first time together; he supposes there’s a part of him that still can’t believe you’re this physically attracted to him, even with how much you shower him with compliments. 

Of course, if you knew he had that thought, you’d shower him with even more of them, until there wasn’t a single doubt left in his mind. He’s perfect, truly; there’ll never be anyone who can compare to Changbin.

You don’t need him to start slow or careful, but he does regardless, starting by pressing just one of his fingers to your hole before sliding it inside. He knows you can take more at once, would even enjoy the sting that would follow, but he wants to be good to you! When you’re full of him, so thick that you’re full to the point it’s almost too much, he wants it to be pure bliss. 

Changbin pumps his finger in and out of you slowly, waiting until he’s certain you’re about to start whining for more before adding a second, and after just a little more he’s adding a third. He keeps his fingers still for just a moment, making sure you’re well adjusted before he starts to thrust them in and out in the way he knows you love.

And God, even though it’s you that’s getting fucked right now, he feels like he’s going a little crazy. He’s so addicted to the noises you make, the way your breathing starts to hitch and turn more shallow, how your eyes roll back when he hits that gummy spot inside you. You’re so fucking slick, and squeezing his fingers so tight that he can barely even think straight– not that he was entirely to begin with. 

Is it just because it’s been over a week since the last time you were together? He never thought himself so insatiable or easily worked up, but fuck, you just unlock something in him. He’s had sex plenty of times before you started sleeping together, had plenty of fun experiences with different partners, but only you make me feel so.. needy.

“Binnie, baby, want your cock now, give it to me, please,” you whine, voice impossibly pretty and breathless. “Ah but– are you sure, baby? Don’t want me to make you cum first?” he asks as he slows down the motion of his fingers. 

“We’ve both waited long enough, haven’t we?” you ask, rhetorical; it’s much more a statement than a question. You look at his cock, still leaking steadily and impossibly hard, and then look back to Changbin’s face. “Let’s cum together. That’s what I want,” you tell him, and you can’t help but notice the way his cock twitches from your words in your peripheral. 

Of course, he can’t resist doing whatever you want– especially not when there’s a promise to cum together at the end. So he slips his fingers out of you, and before he can even ask what you’d like him to do, you’re putting your hands on his shoulders and guiding him to his back. 

He falls to his back easily, swallowing as he watches you crawl on top of him. You’ve done it countless times at this point, but it never stops being sexy and exciting to watch. Your hands planted firmly on his chest, and your legs straddling his body, you move your hips back and forth, rubbing your pussy up and down his length to get it wet. 

His tip rubbing against your clit feels so fucking good too, but that’s not why you’re doing this; so you quickly move on before you get carried away and end up grinding on him until you cum. Reaching your hand between your bodies, you grab his cock at the base and angle it where you need it. 

Changbin watches with eager eyes and bated breath, his hands holding your hips for extra support. Even when you start to slowly sink down on him, and you’re both gasping and breathless from the pleasure, he’s careful to not squeeze you too hard. He’s always so tender and careful, even when doesn’t need to be, and you love him for it. 

And true to what he hoped, there’s no sting when you’re fully sat on him, the stretch nothing but pleasurable for you. Because of this, it also means you don’t have to start slow– and so within just a few short moments, you’re bouncing on him rapidly, leaning down to kiss him as you do. 

He has long since stopped being embarrassed about the noises you draw out of him, whimpering and moaning freely as the pleasure seeps into every pore of his body. Your tongue once again slips its way into his mouth, and he meets it eagerly with his own, happy to slide it around yours. 

Bouncing on his cock, and kissing him like this, he can’t help but be reminded of the very first time you slept together. You had just freshly agreed to the friends with benefits arrangement, both of you lonely and in need of some intimacy, but being done with relationships for the time for your own reasons. 

You took the lead, and it was the first time anyone ever had– he was so used to being the macho man in charge for his lovers, that he found it interesting and exciting that you wanted to be the one in control. You told him what to do, how to do it, praised him and guided him along, had him lay down while you crawled on top and did all the work for him after you were ready to take his cock.

And to his surprise, he instantly liked it– loved it, even. He never considered before then letting someone else have the leading role in bed, but after you started, it just felt natural. And when you leaned down and kissed him in that moment, when everything was so different for him and exciting, it felt like everything shifted, like the entire world titled on its axis. 

Maybe he’s been in love with you since then, but only fully realized what he felt recently. Maybe he’s been in love since even further before, but didn’t have the tools then to put that feeling together, because the line between friend and lover can sometimes be blurry. Maybe he’s been a fool this entire time, and continues to be one now– because he knows what he feels now for certain, but is still too scared to admit it to you. 

He’s thankful that your tongue in his mouth prevents him from speaking– because he’s certain if it wasn’t, he’d end up saying something he shouldn’t. It doesn’t stop him from having the thoughts internally, however.

“You’re so perfect, I love you, I love you so much, I need you, need you to need me, love you,” his brain is screaming as his orgasm approaches once more. The noises leaving him growing more in volume and desperation is enough of a warning for you on its own that he’s close, but you can feel him throbbing too, eager for release after how close he was to cumming earlier.

You reach your hand between your bodies once more, this time to rub your clit with your fingers. It makes your pace falter a bit, but Changbin is more than used to helping you in the last stretch like this. He helps you keep your pace with his hands, and thrusts up into you in time with the fall of your hips onto his.

“C-Cumming, oh, bunny, you’re making me cum,” you whimper, biting your lip and furrowing your brow as the circles you draw on your clit grow messy. You gasp when your orgasm hits you, your breath catching in your throat as your mouth hangs open in a silent cry. Changbin was already close, and the way you squeeze around him as you cum unravels him too. 

His cum shoots inside you, hot and sticky, his entire body trembling as he whimpers and whines beneath you. He’s not sure when he closed his eyes, but when he opens them he sees you looking down at him with such a beautiful smile that he truly feels like he died and went to heaven– because fuck, you’re an angel. 

Changbin reaches a hand up, tucks your messy, fallen strands of hair behind your ears, smiling when you coo and call him a “sweet boy,” again. You let your body fall against his chest, resting your head in the crook of his neck as you close your eyes and let out a content sigh. “Baby?” he questions, giggling a little when you mumble about being tired against his skin. 

“We have to get you cleaned up,” he reminds you, though the way he strokes your back surely doesn’t give you any motivation to get off him. “And you need to go to the bathroom before you fall asleep!” he adds, and you hum an acknowledgment, but still make no effort to crawl off him. Instead, your body relaxes even further, and soon enough you’re not even responding to him talking to you anymore.

You’ve fallen asleep much quicker than Changbin would’ve ever expected; he’s sure you’re tired from the days you spent away and the trip back home, and the fact that you fucked him immediately upon getting home likely didn’t do you any favors in keeping the fatigue at bay.

But he’s still here in your bed, beneath you, your body warm and soft and entirely limp as serene snores leave you. He’s not sure if he should try to wiggle his way out from under you, or just stay like this and sleep together. He knows what he wants to do, but.. he’s never spent an entire night in your room, nor have you done so in his.

And all he can think about while he looks up at your ceiling with you in his arms is how much he loves you but can’t tell you.

Fuck. What does he do now?

It’s been days since Changbin has had the chance to speak with you, but whether or not that’s entirely a good thing remains to be seen– because even with the distance to sort himself out, his mind remains addled and plagued by the desire to be with you as a lover. 

Thankfully, you haven’t noticed anything off with him– mostly because the distance since arriving back home was due to your own need to catch up on sleep, unpack your belongings, and get ready to go back to work and resume life as usual. Whenever you’re not sleeping, you’re busy, and that works for Changbin– or it was supposed to, anyways.

All he’s done the last few days is get back into his spiral. Confess his feelings or not, risk your friendship or keep everything to himself, move out before he loses his mind or stay until the day you decide you’re done.. He wishes there was a simple, easy answer. More than that, he wishes he could guarantee that you’d stay with him if he laid his feelings bare for you.

And he misses you. You’re only a room away across the hall, but he misses you. And he doesn’t fucking know what to do with himself anymore. He’s been trying to sleep for hours now, but all he can do is toss and turn and think about you, how bad he needs you– not just emotionally, but physically too. Because the moment he started thinking about you, it was only a matter of time before he began to reminisce about the sex you’ve had. 

Is his brain fucking against him, or what? As if it wasn’t bad enough he was in a spiral over the possibility of you rejecting his feelings, now he can’t stop thinking about how pretty you looked after your shower this morning. He only saw you in passing, as he had to head out for work and you had to get back to catching up on the work emails that piled up in your inbox while you were away, but God..

If it wasn’t for the fact that you really needed to get your work done before going back to the office when the weekend’s over, he would’ve dropped to his knees right there in the middle of the hallway and eaten you out until you were begging him to stop (or forcing him to by pulling his hair.) He wouldn’t even have cared about his own job– Chan would forgive him, he always did.

And truly, this is agony. Worse than agony, it’s torture. He needs to go take a cold shower and calm the fuck down so he can start thinking rationally again– as rationally as he can manage to in his lovesick state, anyways. With a heavy sigh, he throws his blankets off himself and reaches for his glasses on his nightstand. After putting them on, he rises from his bed, hoping the shower will be enough of a reset to let him get some sleep.

Opening his door, he’s surprised to see you’re awake. Well, he can’t see you just yet from the hallway, but he can see that the lamp in the living room is turned on, and can faintly hear the tv playing lofi focus music. And even though he probably shouldn’t, he can’t resist walking over to check in on you. 

He can hear you typing away on your laptop as he gets closer, and you look away from the screen and turn your head in his direction when you hear his footsteps over the softly playing music. “Oh, Binnie!” you smile at him, and it’s so genuine it makes his heart flutter. He’s so fucking screwed. “Couldn’t sleep?” you ask him, taking a small break from responding to emails to give him your attention.

“O-Oh, yeah, well I was trying to sleep, but..” he trails off when he sees you glancing down his body, to the painfully obvious erection straining against his shorts. “Had a problem?” you finish for him, and his face instantly flushes red. It’s not like it’s the first time you’ve caught him with an erection, but it always makes him feel so perverted when it happens this way. 

“I can help you,” you offer, shooting him that pretty smirk that always turns him into jello. Fuck, you’re a siren, and he’s helpless to resist you. But still, aren’t you busy? As much as he’s willing to fuck up his own work performance for you, he’d feel terrible if his neediness made your own work harder for you. 

“I-I was going to shower and take care of it myself, but I saw you were awake and I just wanted to see what you were doing and.. Anyways, you don’t have to! Seriously, I know you’re busy! It’s okay, I don’t-” he babbles, and you giggle at him. He’s just so cute, especially when he’s trying his best to be considerate to you. 

“C’mere. I can’t help you right this minute but good boys like you know how to be patient, right? You can sit pretty here until I’m done with my emails?” you ask, patting the spot next to you on the sofa. Shit, you always know just what to say to him. 

He listens to your siren song, coming to where you beckon him to sit like the obedient boy you know him to be. “Take your cock out for me, baby,” you instruct, and again he listens, not a single ounce of hesitance as he slides his shorts down enough for his erection to spring free. He watches as you set your laptop on the coffee table and stand up, curious as to what you’re doing.

Changbin gulps when you slide your own shorts down your legs, as well as your panties, and fuck, he’s excited, but more than that he’s confused. He thought you told him he’d have to wait until you were done with your emails.. So why are you undressing already..? 

Maybe this is to keep him hard and eager– make him sit there with a view of your bare pussy so that by the time you’re done, he’s desperate and begging for you. Maybe you want to test the limits of your “good boy,” see how riled up you can make him while you work until he snaps and bends you over the sofa, taking you as he pleases. 

You stand in front of him with your back facing him, and though it’s a bit awkward and challenging, you reach behind and take his cock into your hand. “Spit on it, get it wet for me,” you tell him, and though his mind is still reeling from the unexpected development, he does as you ask. 

You spread his saliva around his length as best you can with your fingers, and when you’re content, you carefully press his cock to your hole. It takes you a second to get the angle right thanks to the position, but once you’ve got it, you slowly start to sink down. Changbin gasps and whines, bewildered by what’s happening right now. “B-Baby, I- what- what are you doing? I thought- I don’t-” 

“You’re still going to wait,” you tell him after you’ve fully sat in his lap, doing your best to keep your voice steady and firm despite how deliciously his cock is stretching out. “Be good for me, and stay still ‘til I’m done, okay? And then I’ll take care of you,” you tell him, and again he whines as he watches you lift your laptop from the coffee table and set it back in your lap. 

It’s a little awkward to type like this, but you think the fun that’ll result from it is worth it. Changbin eagerly nods his head, but then he remembers that you can’t see him in this position, so he speaks the best he can. “Y-Yes, I’ll be good for you,” he says with a shaky breath, biting his lip when you squirm ever so slightly to get more comfortable.

You lean back into him, his chest pressing against your back, his face close enough to your neck and shoulder that you can feel his labored breaths tickling your skin. He hears a click on your touchpad, opening a new email he assumes, followed shortly by the sound of keys resuming as you respond to it. 

Why is this so fucking hot? His dick is fully pressed inside you, and you’re not even paying attention to him– just continuing to type away on your laptop as if he’s not even losing his mind beneath you. Or should he say behind you? Both? 

He bites his lip and closes his eyes, trying his best to keep staying still like you told him to, his hands clutching the sofa cushions to keep them from wandering without permission and distracting you from your work. 

And God, he’s trying so hard to be quiet too, but it feels so impossible. The more you type away and click open new emails, the more he throbs. And the more he throbs, the more your pussy reacts by squeezing around him. And then he can’t help but whimper, his eyes rolling back when you adjust in his lap and cause the tiniest bit of friction. 

Click, more typing. A few more clicks, more typing. Click, click, more typing. How long has it even been? Since the moment you sank down on him and started working, he feels like he’s lost all sense of time. All he knows is that your pussy has been squeezing him so good– and it’s so wet now too. Is it just as exciting for you as it is for him? Do you like it? Or is it how good he’s being for you that’s making you soak his cock? 

“B-Baby, are you almost done? Please tell me you’re almost done,” Changbin whines, the desperation in his voice palpable. You chuckle as you click send on another email, wishing you could see his face right now– you’re sure he’s absolutely debauched. “Not quite,” you answer, and you can practically hear the pout in his whine.

Changbin is many things, but impatient and disobedient is not among the list. And he’s trying so, so hard to keep staying still, but he doesn’t think he can take it much longer. Honestly, you’re not sure if you can either– you’re quickly losing focus on your emails, and you’re fairly certain at least a handful of them were written less than professionally. 

Still, you click open another one, trying not to react to the way he desperately whimpers. He can’t be bad, he can’t– so his only option is to keep sitting here, and take it. “You’re- you’re almost done now, right?” he asks after another few minutes of waiting– at least, it felt like that to him. For all he knew, in reality it could’ve been more like 30 seconds. 

“What’s wrong, baby? Can’t wait anymore?” It’s a bit of a mean question, you know– especially since you already know the answer. But still, it’s fun to ask, and you love how whiny and breathy his voice has gotten in the time you’ve been sitting on his cock. 

“I-I’m sorry, I’m really trying, I just- I-I’ve never wanted to fuck you so bad before, I’m going crazy,” he practically cries, and you’re sure that if you turned around, you’d see his plump lips formed into the cutest, most devastating pout. “But I’m- I’m good,” he continues after taking another shaky breath, “I won’t move, not unless you tell me to, I promise.”

Fuck it– you still have work, but who cares? Surely your boss will understand if you couldn’t get to every email right? You got through most of them, and that counts for something, doesn’t it? That’s the justification you give yourself anyways as you close your inbox. 

“You want to fuck me, Binnie?” you ask him, and he eagerly nods just as he did before, remembering again at the last moment that you can’t see him. “Yes, yes! I really, really want to,” he replies, letting out a salacious moan when you start to lift off him. You shut your laptop and place it back on the coffee table before you turn around to look at Changbin.

Just as you expected, he looks deliciously debauched. Lips swollen and bitten red, face flushed, eyes sparkling with hope and desire as he looks up at you. “You’re right baby, you’re good. Such a good boy,” you coo at him, leaning down to kiss him sweetly. “How do you want me?” you ask him when you pull back, and his brain has to work overtime to stop itself from short circuiting from the question.

If you’re letting him pick, there’s one clear answer that’ll make him the happiest. “Lay down- on your back, please. Want to look at you, want you to look at me,” he says, and you smile at him as you lay back against the sofa, spreading your legs so Changbin can crawl between them. He kisses you as he takes his cock in his hand, pressing it against your hole before pulling away to look at you for approval.

“Go ahead, fuck me, bunny,” you encourage him sweetly. A shiver runs down the length of his spine as he starts to push back inside you, another obscene whine from deep in his throat leaving him when he’s fully inside. He leans down to kiss you again when he starts to fuck you earnestly, because that’s all he can think to do with his overwhelming wave of emotions. 

He’s thrusting fast from the start, all the pent up desperation and need for you pouring out of him ceaselessly. Your eyes always stay on his, even when he hits your spot in the way that normally makes them close or roll back, and it makes him crazy how you’re catering to his desire to have you looking at him.  

Your eyes are so pretty, so warm in the way they look at him. Everything about you is warm– your hands when they hold him, your body when it envelops him, your voice when you speak to him. The way you smile at him when he enters the room, the way you laugh at his stupid jokes, it’s warm, all of you is so, so warm. You’re home, you’re comfort, you’re bliss.

He feels like he’s unraveling in his entirety as he looks down at you, his pace quickly growing sloppy as his cock throbs. He can’t handle the way you’re looking up at him, can feel the tears threatening to well up in the corners of his eyes. He’s so overwhelmed by it all– by the pleasure, by the way you look lying beneath him, by how much he loves you. 

“You’re so beautiful, oh my god,” he whines, every thought that’s been running through his mind falling from his lips as he squeezes you in his arms. He knows he should shut up, should bite his lip or slap his hand over his mouth before he says something he shouldn’t, but the words just keep pouring out of him. 

“You’re so pretty, so fucking pretty, I can’t take it sometimes,” he continues, whimpering when you bring your fingers to your clit and start to squeeze around him tighter. “You- you make me so crazy, you’re perfect, so perfect, and- God, ‘m so close, love you so much, I love you,” he stutters, his eyes rolling back as he feels you start to cum with him. He presses his cock fully into you one last time, his cum spurting out in thick ropes until you’re full.

He’s panting, glasses fallen down to the tip of his nose, body trembling as he slowly starts to come down from the high. “Binnie,” you call him softly, and it’s not until he opens his eyes and looks at you again that what he said hits him like a ton of bricks.

He told you he loves you. While he was fucking you. He told you he loves you.

There’s no way to turn it out around as platonic in this scenario– it’s so fucking obvious how he meant it. To say he’s mortified is an understatement; and when he tries to speak, all that comes out are pathetic stutters, every explanation he wants to offer dying in his throat. Your eyes are watery as you look at him, and suddenly his throat feels impossibly dry, his hands clammy as he pulls out of you. 

He fucked up so bad. He ruined everything, he knows he did– this isn’t how he wanted to tell you, he wasn’t even ready to tell you. And now you know, and you’re looking at him with so much concern he feels like he’s going to shatter. Not anger, not sadness, but care– a care entirely different from what he’s seen on you before.

It’s pity, isn’t it? You don’t share the sentiment and you pity him for blurting it out like that. “You love me?” you ask him, your voice soft but cautious, unsure. “I..” Changbin tries again, but honestly he just wants to cry. Every emotion, every word, lodged in his throat and stuck, but still he tries to explain himself. “I’m sorry, I- I didn’t mean-”

You’ve always loved Changbin. Since the early days of your friendship, you’ve loved him. How could you not? You’d never met someone as sincere as him, his every action so affectionate and caring. A gentleman through and through, always making sure the people he loves are taken care of, always the first to offer a helping hand when someone is in need. 

But you’d given up on the idea that you could have something more so long ago– and becoming friends with benefits with him told you that he didn’t love you romantically. He was the first to offer, and people don’t offer that arrangement if it risks their feelings getting exposed; so he didn’t love you that way, you were certain. 

You told yourself you were okay with that. You were done with relationships, so tired of having your heart broken after pouring all of your love and faith into someone. And sure, you’d be heartbroken again when Changbin inevitably decides to move on, but at least it was a heartbreak you accepted would come, you’d be ready for it– that’s what you always told yourself.

But he loves you? Like, is in love with you? And he’s mistaking your surprise, your teary eyes, your struggle to wrap your head around the fact that he loves you as much as you love him as rejection. You can see it in the panic in his eyes, the way he stumbles over his words, the tremble in his voice– he thinks you don’t love him. 

How could he ever think you don’t love him? 

“Changbin, I-” you try again, and somehow the fact that you’re using his full name hurts worse; it's like a confirmation that you’re done with him, with this. It’s irrational, but the part of his brain that’s trying to talk sense into him is drowned out by the panic and fear of rejection, as if he can protect himself from the pain by accepting the fact that you don’t love him now before you say it out loud. 

“I need- I need a minute, I’m so sorry,” he blurts out, because even though he knows it’s coming, he can’t bear to hear it yet. He scrambles up from the sofa, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to spill as he rushes back to his room. He falls to his bed, burying his face into his pillows and lets out a trembling breath. 

Tomorrow.. He can’t avoid this, knows he needs to accept it sooner rather than later, but for this tiny moment, at least until tomorrow, he’s still yours.

Changbin isn’t avoiding you. At least, not on purpose– he just hasn’t gathered the courage to leave his room yet. He feels a bit like a hypocrite; he prides himself on his communication skills, and yet in the face of an honest conversation and acceptance of rejection, he flounders. Is he pathetic? You’d have every right to think so. 

Are you going to move out now? Should he? No, he should stop beating around the bush and just talk to you. You’re not in love with him, but you do love him– and that’s supposed to be enough, he told himself so many times that it is. 

You can work past this, can’t you? It has to be possible. He just doesn’t want to lose you, even if it breaks his heart he can take not having you romantically, is totally fine without the sex– but losing you as a friend? He can’t bear that.

He sighs, covering his face with his hands as he lies in his bed. He slept like shit, and he’s sure you didn’t fare much better– a thought that adds to the guilt he feels. But fuck, he needs to face this. The only thing that would be worse than losing you as a friend because being friends with benefits blew up in his face would be losing you because he was a spineless coward. 

Changbin grabs his phone, checks the time– it’s still early in the morning, but you’re usually awake by now. With another sigh to steel himself for what’s to come, he gets up from his bed and faces his door. He takes a breath, another attempt to calm his nerves, and walks to his door, quickly twisting the knob and pulling it open. 

“Oh!” you squeak in surprise, jumping where you stand before him. Changbin jumps too, with his own little shout of surprise coming out. How long were you standing outside of his door? Were you trying to work up the nerve to talk to him too? You blink at one another for a moment, and to Changbin’s relief, you’re the first to crack, letting out a little giggle. 

He giggles too, and though it’s a bit awkward given what happened late last night, it’s a relief that you’re not mad at him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Changbin explains through his giggles, and God, your smile is so cute. You cover your mouth as you try to stop giggling, eyes crinkling and sparkling as you look at him, “No, no! It’s my fault for standing outside your door like this.” 

It eases him, feels more like the normal he’s used to with you– the normal he hopes and prays you can still share after this. “Can I come in?” you ask him, and of course he lets you, stepping to the side so you can enter his room. Your body language is still relaxed, but when you look at him again, your expression is serious.

Part of him worries that the lighthearted moment you just shared was a lapse in judgment on your part, and that you’re about to chew him out for running away last night– not that he wouldn’t deserve it if you did. But what you actually end up saying is a much stronger shock to his system. “Why do you think I don’t love you?”

“Wh-What? I-I.. I don’t-” Changbin stutters, blinking at you in utter shock, not even entirely sure how to respond.

“Because I do. I love you so much, Seo Changbin. The idea that you think I don’t hurts me,” you tell him, entirely sincere. That’s the part of his impromptu confession that kept you up at night, the part that upset you? Not that he loves you when he shouldn’t, or that your friendship might be ruined?

“If you think you’re not enough for me, you are– if you think you aren’t deserving of love, you are. Tell me what it is, so I can make sure you never question how much I love you again. Okay? I need you to promise me that.”

Changbin blinks, frozen, a million thoughts and emotions running through him. If he’s being honest, he doesn’t know the answer. There was such a big chunk of his life where he wasn’t happy with himself– the way he looked, the soft parts of his personality, his desires that felt so grandiose and impossible.. 

He thought he had to live to what other people expected him to be, that it was the only way they would love him. It took him years of effort, of stumbling and falling and getting back up to get where he is now. More confident in his body, in the way he walks through the world, in the love he pours into his family and friends.

But there’s that part of his old self that still lingers– a part that calls to him late at night, that makes him question if he’s allowed to be this happy. That reminds him it’s still there when he’s weak and unsure, that crawls up his spine whenever you smile at him, that won’t let him believe that you could love him. 

Changbin isn’t the same lanky, insecure boy he was when he first met you, but maybe he is. He looks different than he did then, but maybe that part of him is still there, underneath the built up muscle and maturity. Maybe it always will be, maybe there’s no way to ever make it go away– but maybe he doesn’t need to.

He thinks of all the times you were there for him, from the very first day you met. How you always encouraged him to do what makes him happy, how you supported him through his every decision to better himself. 

“I think you’re perfect the way you are, but if going to the gym would make you feel better about yourself, you should do it!” you told him when he brought up the topic of trying to bulk up and fill out his body. “You’re so adorable Binnie, seriously, how can you be so cute?” you grinned, pinching his cheeks the first time aegyo slipped out in front of you. 

No matter which version of himself he showed you, you loved him. Each part, no matter how different and against expectations, you cared for. And even with all the work he put into himself, there was still the part of him that tried to change in his romantic and sexual relationships. Trying to live up to what he thought his partners wanted, trying to adapt himself to them. 

But so effortlessly, you dismantled the expectations he put upon himself. All the times you called him sexy and adorable in the same breath, made him believe that he could be both at the same time– that he could be manly and intimidating, sweet and loving, sexy and cute all at once, and it was all still genuinely him, all worthy of love.

Maybe it’s impossible to shove insecurity completely aside; it’s likely that it’ll always linger. Even when it’s small, and tucked away, and very nearly forgotten, it’ll be there, waiting. And maybe that’s okay, because when you have someone who loves you as you are, who reassures you and listens to you and comforts you, it’ll start to fade back out as naturally as it came in.

“I don’t know why,” he answers honestly, his bottom lip starting to quiver. His best guess is that his fear of losing someone he loves so much expounded upon his underlying insecurities, made them flare to the point that he felt like he could drown in them. 

“I just know that I love you. And I need you, and not like- not like that, I just- ..I never want to be without you,” he continues, refusing to get choked up by his emotions and let it stop him from saying what he needs to. “And I promise- I’ll tell you, anytime I’m unsure of myself, I’ll tell you.” 

You step closer to him, reach up and cup his face in your hands, rub the tears that threaten to fall from the corners of his eyes with your thumbs. His heart skips a beat when you smile sweetly at him, when you lean towards him to press a soft kiss to his lips, to tell him you love him. “You said I was perfect,” you say as you kiss him again, and then again, “but so are you. You’re the loveliest person I’ve ever known.”

You press more kisses over his face, complimenting each feature as you go. His deep, dark eyes that can be so piercing or so soft depending on the situation. His full cheeks, so cute and endearing when they’re pink from a blush, but so handsome and complimentary to his face. His downturned smirk when something amuses him that can easily turn into a fully bright upturned smile when he’s happy, and makes his nose scrunch adorably. 

“Honey,” he breathes in a soft whine, unsure of what to do with all the excess affection. You guide him back to his bed, crawling atop him when he falls back against it, continuing your trail of kisses down his neck. “You deserve this,” you tell him, smiling against his skin when you feel him squirm beneath you, “deserve it all, and more.”

Changbin brings one of his hands to the back of your neck when you pull back to look at him, bringing you back down to him so he can kiss you. He doesn’t want to hold back anymore, to try and hide how badly he needs you. He kisses you like a man starved, hungry and desperate. His desire is carnal, every inch of him aching for your attention. 

Your hands sweep over his torso, finding the hem of his shirt and tugging at it. He gets the hint, and separates from you so you can take it off him. He watches you remove yours too, heart thumping in his chest as you reach behind you to unhook your bra. He tries to lean up to kiss you again when you’re finished, but you push him back down.

He whines at first, but quickly swallows it down when you smile at him in that pretty way that makes his stomach flare with butterflies, his cock twitching as it hardens beneath you. Your hands travel his body, compliments about each and every inch of him freely falling from your lips. His arms, thick and warm and comforting. His chest, so strong and beautifully sculpted. His stomach, soft and cute, as perfect as the rest of him. 

You kiss him too– everywhere your fingers touch, your lips follow. Soft, tender, overwhelming– his heart is beating so fast and hard, all your words, touches, and kisses make his blood feel like molten lava, every inch of him unbearably hot. It chokes him up too, how sweet you’re being to him; you’ve doted on him plenty of times, but never like this.

You take one of his hands in yours next, bring it up to your lips to press achingly soft kisses to it. The palm first, and then his wrist, before you turn it over to kiss his knuckles. You kiss the tip of each of his fingers, and his breath hitches as he watches you, goosebumps erupting all over him when you gently put it down and pick up his other hand to repeat the actions. 

You treat him with so much reverence, shower him with more love than he knows what to do with. He’s trembling with emotion, aching with desire, overwhelmed by how much he loves you, how beautiful you look. He’s going to cry– seriously, he doesn’t know how much more he can take before tears start spilling out of him. 

“Honey, please-” Changbin whines, and to his relief, you pause to look at him. “Please, I- let me make you feel good, please? I want to, I- I want to show you how much I love you too,” he begs. You intended to take care of him, to shower him in affection until you inevitably made him cum, but you meant it when you said you can never deny him his desire to be sweet to you.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” you say, and you watch as he chews on his bottom lip, face heating up further as he considers what to say. He knows what he wants, he’s thought about it so many times– it’s just the admitting and asking for it part that makes him a little shy. Still, you treat him so well, and you always indulge him, so.. The only thing to do is just go for it. 

“I want.. Want you to sit on my face. Please? Please, please sit on my face,” he begs, and God, that has to be the sexiest thing he’s ever begged for. It makes your stomach flip, and if your legs weren’t straddling him, you definitely would’ve clenched them together. Lifting yourself off him, you make quick work of the remainder of your clothes. 

Changbin scoots down the bed, so your legs will have more room when you return to him, chucking his glasses away, not nearly enough care in him for where they land. He looks at you, with a devastatingly sweet and bashful smile, his arms reaching out to help you when you start to settle above him. Your knees on either side of his head, he wraps his arms around your thighs. 

The latter half of his face is obscured by your body hovering over him, but looking down, you can see his eyes, sparkling with eager excitement as he keeps your gaze. You lower yourself just a little, nervous to sit your entire weight on his face and suffocate him, but Changbin doesn’t want you to hover, he wants you to sit. 

So using the arms he has wrapped around you, he pulls you fully down to him. You gasp– partly because of the surprise, and partly from the feeling of his tongue meeting your pussy. He focuses on your hole first, lapping up all the slick that drips out of you before he drags his tongue up to your clit, licking in a long, fat stripe.

He wraps his lips around it, sucking and flicking it with his tongue until you're writhing above him before he alternates back to licking you up, bottom to top, drinking all you offer. You bury your fingers in his curly hair, and he moans when you tug on it. He squeezes your trembling thighs, letting out happy hums whenever you moan for him.

He sticks out his tongue and lays it flat for you when you start to roll your hips, letting you grind against his face and use him however you see fit to. You shiver when your clit bumps against his nose, your breaths becoming harsher as you drive yourself closer to release on his tongue.

“Oh bunny, you’re so good to me, so good, ‘m gonna cum for you,” you cry, voice whinier than you would’ve otherwise liked it to be, but the way Changbin whines eagerly in response tells you how much he loves it. A few more rolls of your hips, and you’re cumming, your thighs squeezing around his head as you keep a tight grip on his hair to keep yourself steady. 

Changbin enthusiastically laps up your release, continuing until you're squirming and whining from the sensitivity. He loosens his hold on your thighs when you do, letting you lift your leg over his head and fall to the side of the bed a little ways away from him. Both of you are breathless, but Changbin is the first to recover, and when he does he sits up and crawls over to where you landed.

He grabs your face, gently, of course, and pulls you into a kiss. His face is slick with your essence, and you can taste yourself all over his lips and tongue. “You looked so pretty,” he tells you softly between kisses, “You’re so gorgeous when you cum for me.” He carefully spreads your legs and slots himself between them, sliding his tongue around yours as he does. 

“Want to give you my cock now,” he breaths, pulling away just enough to look at you with those eager, pleading eyes that make you weak. “Want to keep making you feel good, want to- want to watch your eyes roll back when I make you cum again.” 

“Sweet boy,” you coo, spreading your legs wider for him, offering yourself to him, “do it, baby. Give it to me.”

He kicks off the remainder of his clothes in record time, taking his cock in his hand and spreading the dribbling pre-cum over his length until it’s completely wet. You’re more than ready for him, but he’s as careful with you as always, pushing each inch inside slowly. 

You reach out to him and pull him down to you, kissing him hard and sweet, drinking in the whimper he lets out when he’s fully inside you. His entire body is trembling, still worked up from all the attention you gave him and sensitive from fucking you just last night. There’s a part of him that still feels vulnerable too, but he’s safe with you, and he knows you always will be. 

He loves you well, but you love him better; and he’ll spend every moment he has showing how much he appreciates you. He doesn’t need to prove his worth, doesn’t need to do anything apart from be himself– the love you’ve given him has shown him that. You understand him, better than anyone ever has. 

You love him, you always have, long before who he is now, and will continue to long into the future. All he has to do to repay all you’ve given him is love you. Love you honestly, openly, freely– because he’s enough as he is.

When he starts to move his hips, you both moan, Changbin just the slightest bit louder than you. He tucks his arms under your shoulders and pulls you closer to him, chests touching as he steadily builds a faster pace. He’s squeezing you in his arms, whining in your ear about how good you feel around him.

He’s so high-strung and sensitive that he doesn’t think he’ll last long, but oh, is he going to try. But shit, he’s still so emotional too– he thought he would’ve recovered by now, but it keeps hitting him in waves. And when you kiss him, it makes him dizzy– not just with lust and desire, but with passion, adoration.

The way he looks down at you when he pulls away takes your breath away, so sentimental and loving. You take his face into one of your hands again, and it takes everything in him to not get choked up again. Your love is his greatest comfort, but it also makes him ache– because no one has ever loved him as sincerely as you do. 

“Do you need to stop?” you ask him tenderly, once again wiping the tears from his eyes. His heart feels like it’s going to burst from all the emotion, but he quickly shakes his head, offering you a sincere smile, “N-No, no, I’m fine! I just- I really love you,” he admits, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips to show you he means it.

“And besides, I might go actually insane if I don’t fuck you, cause seriously, how are you so fucking sexy?” he follows up. “Oh, shut up,” you giggle, playfully slapping his arm. “This is supposed to be about you, you know? My sweet bunny and how perfect he is- maybe I need to remind you?” 

Changbin curiously tilts his head at your words as you lock your legs around him and using what strength you have, and with the help of gravity and momentum, you force him to roll to his side, and then to his back. You smile down at him, your roles easily flipped, while he stares up at you, mystified and easily the most turned on he’s ever been. 

“Oh-” is all he manages to utter, his cock throbbing furiously inside you. He could’ve easily fought it– he’s physically much stronger than you, after all. But he just loves when you force him into the positions you want, loves to be malleable and pliant for you. 

You plant your hands firmly on his chest, bouncing on his cock fast, the sound of your thighs slapping together just barely louder than Changbin’s obscenely loud whimpers. “Oh God, ‘m gonna cum,” he whines desperately, too wound up and sensitive to resist it, his hands clutching at the bedsheets so hard his knuckles have turned white, “please, please, please, can I, please? Please, let me cum.” 

“I love you so much, Binnie, want you to cum for me,” you tell him, bringing one of your hands to your clit so you can cum with him, the way he always loves to. It causes you to squeeze tighter, and he gasps, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth as he trembles. “Give it to me, baby, be a good boy and cum for me.”

He does just as you ask, a messy string of “I love you”s falling from his lips until he’s too far gone to keep talking, tears streaming down the sides of his face as his eyes roll to the back of his head, and then close. His noises are high-pitched and pornographic, his entire body shaking with the intensity of his cum spilling inside you.

His vision is blurry when he starts to blink open his eyes, but soon enough you come back into focus above him, looking down at him affectionately. He smiles at you, a goofy, sweet one that makes you giggle. He wraps his arms around you and drags you down to him, pressing kisses to your lips over and over again. 

Changbin tells you everything he’s wanted to this entire time as he does; how beautiful you are, how much he loves you, how he can’t imagine his life without you in it. He blushes when you do the same, while once again making him promise he’ll tell you if doubt ever starts to creep up on him. 

The journey to loving yourself isn’t easy; it’s a long winding road, uneven and easy to stumble on. But when he falls, you’ll be there to catch him. You’ll remind him how loved he is, the value he has simply in being, how he brightens every day you share just by existing. 

You’ll always be here, growing older with him, supporting him as he continues to grow and change, each experience turning him into a newer version of himself. And in every change, in every season of his life, you’ll continue to love him. Always.

network tags: @ksmutsociety @skzstarnet

[miikapie]

"Its not gonna fit!" with Geto, Choso, Toji and Gojo! (NSFW)

Just posting this because ive been thinking about writing it for weeks. Enjoy this tiny drabble while I stress over college!

Cw:.. fem!reader x various jjk men, they're mean :(( (toji, gojo too kinda..), choso being too sweet, cunilingus (choso), bad grammar ofcourse, SEX SMASHING INTERCOURSE BABY MAKING FUCKING MAKING LOVE i hope you get the point.

/MDNI//NSFW UNDER THE CUT!!

Gojo is so mean to you. If you say absolutely anything related to his size, or not being able to accommodate to his girth, hes seizing the opportunity to brag and belittle you while doing so.

"Awh baby.. it can't fit? hmm? Is my cock too big? Its okay, cutie, I know I know.. Maybe we just need to pay attention to your little clit, and we'll stretch you out too yeah? Im gonna make sure your little cunt remembers every single one of my veins no matter how long it takes to get in aallllll the way."

Geto (sighs dreamily) I LOVE THIS MAN. Totally much nicer than Gojo, but unintentionally mind-breaks you. His voice btw is so sexy can you imagine how husky it is duirng the deed??? drooling rn.

"Oh, what was that? It wont fit, hm? Thats okay, love. We'll find our way around it. Just gotta stretch you out some more so i can hit that spot you love so much, mhm? Right there isnt it? Yeah, I can tell with the way you're tightening around me. Or what about this? Maybe I'll touch your clit a little more. God... I love seeing you like this. Thats a good girl.. lay down juuust like that. You dont need to think for yourself anymore when I've got you."

Toji is SO mean, and incredibly cocky. Despite knowing damn well he's way too big to bottom out immediately in you, he takes this opportunity be snarky fun of you while destroying your insides.

" 's too big? We'll make it fit, doll. Stop moving like that, you know its just gonna hurt more. Give it a few minutes and you'll be crying like a bitch in heat. Fine. I'll be nice i guess, but im still going all the way in. 's not my fault your pussy's too damn tight. Fuck.. so good.. Yeah, see? Told you you could take it, wipe those tears 'fa me and keep your legs up here on my shoulders, yeah?"

Nanami... ah. He tries so so hard to be nice to you, by slowly bullying his way in your walls, but no matter how many times you do the deed it seems like you can never keep up with his size

"Too much, honey? Its okay, sweetheart. Look, I'll put a pillow just under your back here.. and it'll make you feel much better. Whats that? Feels nicer now? Ill take it slow as always honey, just take your deep breaths... God.. you're always so tight... It feels nice when I touch you right here doesn't it?..Feels deeper? Yes, love, thats the pillow under your back helping you relax. We're gonna have to use that trick next time wont we? Thats it, sweet thing, see? Im almost bottomed out and you haven't even noticed at all."

Choso is too much of a sensitive lover to even think about ever possibly pushing your boundaries. If he ever heard you say anything along the lines of 'too big' he'd pull out immediately and instead eat you out as an apology. (even though you've told him its just something you said in the heat of the moment) (he still leaves you shaking tho.)

[aniharas]

𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥

pairing: miguel o'hara x fem!reader

summary: on your first day back at spider society hq, your male colleagues are inexplicably drawn to you. your boss, miguel, seems to be affected more than anybody. surely there's an explanation and solution, but who were you to resist?

warnings: explicit language, sexual tension/content, use of pheromones (please let me know if i need to add more!)

wc: 9.6k+ oneshot

a/n: apparently there was a rumor that a body butter named Delícia Drench (hence name of the fic) attracted wolf spiders! somebody on reddit said it's because there might be two ingredients that imitate the pheromones of a female spider and it'll bring all the thirsty boy spiders to your yard. and with miguel being 50% spider, how could i resist writing? (shoutout to scarlet for the wonderful prompt!) however DISCLAIMER! these claims are unfounded, i just thought it was a fun prompt to write off of. anything i say in the fic referring to the butter is purely fictional and im just talking out of my ass. with that being said, enjoy!

Just before the sun began to rise over the city line of Earth-766’s New York, your hand shot out to slam the snooze button of your annoying alarm clock before it could even go off. The silky sheets you were laid in were far too comfortable, reluctant to release you from its dreamlike embrace, but alas, duty was calling. The holidays had come to a close, and your peaceful vacation back in your home dimension was a bliss escape away from your tiring job.

You didn’t hate your job; in fact, it was just the opposite. Since you were in middle school, you always had an unrivaled passion for chemistry, as many Spiders were. Your life before getting bitten by that spider was mainly winning science fairs, calibration rooms, and working towards your Ph.D. Even after becoming your New York’s one and only Spiderwoman, your academic pursuit never ceased, eventually landing yourself at the prestigious Alchemax. However, it was because you had secured such a high-profile job that you caught the attention of the Spider Society, in the form of its leader, Miguel. He somehow knew that you were on the path to creating a more stable version of Rapture, and because of this, he was persistent in roping you into his ranks.

At first, you had declined profusely, briskly walking away from where he had approached you in Central Park. The brisk walk eventually turned into a full-on Spider chase, although the uniqueness of his abilities seemed to distract you. The talons that protruded from his fingers that tore through metal like paper, the neon-red nature of his webs, and his fangs. His fangs were what intrigued you the most. Eventually, you were pincered by him and another Spiderwoman named Jessica, who would later become one of your best friends.

Alas, you accepted, although not until being lured in by the offer of all the technology and scientific advancements you could imagine in Nueva York. The first time you had entered the HQ’s lab, you were like a kid in the candy store. You loved your job, which involved tailoring different types of chemical equipment, unique for each Spider that came by, as well as equally unique medicines and antidotes for the medical ward. 

Your main job, however, was developing the Rapture injection, the one you were recruited for, almost daily. And for who other than your broody boss? Even though he hadn’t left the best impression after chasing you like a madman in your hometown, you were required to work with him. And in the beginning, it would be an understatement to say it was challenging. Miguel was a whirlwind of sarcastic remarks and impatience who constantly nagged you for any updates. And to make it worse, each morning, you would make your way to Miguel’s office and inject him with your experimental Rapture of the day. Then in the evening, you would return to observe the effects. The days consisted of constant complaints that you were late, that the injection didn’t have the intended effect, and that Rapture was your top priority, all of which were grating on your soul. 

Since your daily routine started and ended with Miguel, your relations grew slightly amicable over time. It started with silent gestures of gratitude: a cup of steaming coffee left in your office in the lab, bringing extra dinner for him during the end-of-the-day check-ups. After 3 months of your stay at the Society, you both started communicating with your watches (He was insistent that you call the watches gizmos, to which you adamantly refused). At first, it was only about work and your Rapture progress. The conversations then slowly changed into more casual ones, topics ranging from your pets back home to him venting his frustrations about the shenanigans of whatever Hobie was up to that day. Sure, he was slightly more friendly (which wasn’t a feat considering who he was), but his irritable nature was still a turn-off for you, and the sarcasm leaping into every evaluation didn’t help either. You considered him lucky that he was quite the eye candy. He was actually pretty attractive whenever he shut his mouth.

This particular morning was your official return to Nueva York after two weeks, so you decided you would put a bit more effort into your routine. Reluctantly, you rose from your bed and stumbled towards your bathroom, wincing at the harsh cold of its floor underneath your feet. You allowed yourself a moment of bliss under your hot shower, trying your best to wash away any stress you were anticipating that day. Once you had finally stepped out of the shower, you quickly dried yourself off and wrapped a plush towel securely around your body, trying your best not to slip as you trudged over to the bathroom counter. Admittedly, you weren’t the most graceful Spider; you were on the smarter side.

Then it was the usual sequence of your routine. Brushing and blow-drying your hair, skincare, and makeup. Just as you were about to make your way to your closet, you realized that you had forgotten your lotion, which you would’ve considered disastrous. Nothing bothered you more than your own dry skin. By habit, you were about to reach for the usual bottle until an unopened box tempted you from the corner of your eye. As you turned it around in your hands and delicately unpackaged it, you silently chastised yourself for almost forgetting. It was a body butter, given to you by Jessica during a surprise visit on Christmas day.

“This is from Lyla. She says to thank her later,” Jessica had said on that day vaguely before giving a brief hug.

Unscrewing the lid from the jar, you smiled to yourself. If there was anyone other than Jessica that you truly missed over your break, it was Lyla. The hologram assistant never failed to make you smile with the many ways she’d tease Miguel, but she also never failed in constantly bringing up asking him out. “I don’t care if he’s your boss,” Lyla would say. “I’d know more than anyone if he has the hots for you, and he guess what? He does!” Which was hard to believe, considering his persistent stubbornness in your day-to-day interactions.

Once the lid was finally off, a waft of vanilla with a hint of sandalwood drifted into the air. Inhaling the scent of the butter deeply, you felt oddly touched. This was undeniably a scent that was up your alley, and it was very thoughtful. As you worked it into your skin, you made a mental note to thank Lyla. It was when you were just about finished that you noticed something peculiar. You had caught a subtle whiff of another note, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. It was elusive, teasing your senses as you racked your brain for what it could possibly be. Figuring it was just an ester you smelled in your various experiments, you left the bathroom to get dressed, with a more confident aura around yourself.

–

Your first day back couldn’t have started any more peculiar.

You had barely gotten the chance to take in the surroundings of your beloved HQ before you were instantly greeted with Hobie swinging in as he called your name, landing just in front of you.

“Evil genius. Heard you’d be back today,” Hobie greeted with his signature half-smile, his lanky arms immediately opening to embrace you. Which was weird, considering he was more of a handshake-y/shadowboxing type of greeter. But he was a joy to have around in your lab (despite him not particularly having too much interest in your work), so you didn’t refuse.

“You’ve gotten taller,” you replied with a grin on your face, happily accepting his embrace. While it was comforting, you noticed that it was taking a while for him to pull away. Passing it off as mere affection, you pulled away and looked up at Hobie’s face. He seemed almost bewildered as he stared down at you, almost in some sort of trance. Was he looking at your lips? Was he looking further down?

“Uh, Earth-928 to Hobie? Helloo?” you called out, snapping your fingers in front of him repeatedly in an attempt to wake him up. It wasn’t until the 5th or 6th snap that he finally seemed to jolt awake, although still fixated on you.

“Oh. My bad, fam,” he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. You raised a brow at his mannerisms; it was extremely unlike him to act so nervous. You then gave him a reassuring pat on his shoulder, and you swore you saw him slightly tense at the feeling.

“So, you got a new cologne or somethin’ like that? Hold on, not cologne…what’s it called? Perfume? Toilettes?” Hobie began rambling, seemingly in a desperate attempt to cover up his uncharacteristic awkwardness.

“Oh, Lyla got me-”

You were cut off by another voice shouting your name to your left. It was one of the many Peters. “How’s my favorite scientist been? How was your vacay?”

“Just stayed at home,” you answered, a bit startled as you tried to split your attention between Peter and Hobie. “Anyways, Lyla-”

Another voice chimed in behind you. “I heard your universe is one of the most beautiful. You were definitely up to something.” Then another. “It’s been forever since I last saw you!” Another. “Wanna come eat with us at the caf?”  You even heard Ben’s voice, to which you were surprised he had taken a break from his usual moping to join the ever-growing commotion around you. “You smell nice!” Soon, all the greetings and compliments became a garbled mess in your ears, your view obscured by a wall of Spiders.

You tried your best to force on a polite smile as you tried to weave your way through the oncoming traffic of people. To you, this was completely unexpected and foreign. Sure, you had made lots of friends in your time at HQ, but people weren’t exactly buzzed to see you. At most, you’d get a friendly wave as you passed by each other in the twisty pathways. Now, they acted like you were an oasis in a desert.  As you whipped your head around, you noticed something in the ever-growing crowd around you: it was all Spidermen. That irked you slightly; you had made many Spiderwomen friends as well. Where were they? Becoming slightly dizzy with the growing clamor around you, you were just about ready to web yourself up to the ceiling and swing your way to your lab.

As if your prayers were miraculously answered, the familiar rev of an engine overpowered the clamor of the Spidermen, and they immediately parted ways down the middle to reveal Jessica, staring at you with an amused grin as she sat on her motorcycle.

"I’ll take you to HQ if you tell me what the hell’s going on!” Jessica offered, her voice raised so that you could hear.

Instant relief flooded through your body as you nearly sprinted your way to Jessica, planting a grateful kiss on her cheek before hopping on the back of the motorcycle. As you both sped away, you still waved goodbye to the Spidermen, despite how weird you had felt mere seconds prior. As if things couldn’t get any weirder, you noticed that the crowd you had left behind had almost immediately dispersed, with only some lingering around to chat.

“God, Jess. I’ve been here for two minutes, and I think I’ve already had the weirdest day out of everyone here!” you remarked loudly with a heavy sigh. You linked your arms around Jessica’s waist to remain stable on the motorcycle, eyes squinted from traveling at such a high speed.

Jessica only seemed to chuckle in response as she steered through the complicated structure, towards your lab. “Yeah? Try being pregnant!” she called out over the wind, her curls tossing about in the wind.

Your eyes widened immediately upon the revelation. “You’re lying, shut up,” you scolded, immediately feeling over Jessica’s stomach to verify it. Lo and behold, your hands smoothed over the beginnings of a bump, which caused you to squeal out in excitement. “Oh my god, Jess! When is it due?!”

“6 months! So don’t hold on so tight!” Jessica chided playfully as she effortlessly navigated her way through the building, shouting at countless Spiders to move out of her way. You held on for dear life, but of course, not too tight.

Eventually, you reached your beloved lab, to which you both entered. The door hissed closed behind you, and after you had set your bag down, you immediately sprung into action. This was simultaneously your sanctuary and your training, where you were at your best. Jessica watched from a nearby stool, gently holding her stomach.

“So this is where you cook up the good stuff, hm?” Jessica quipped, her eyes glued to the liquid that was poured into an instant syringe.

“Somebody’s gotta keep the boss alive,” you chuckled, your meticulous hands carefully measuring out just the right amount of Rapture before sealing it closed. This was the new batch that you had been working on at home, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t eager to show Miguel. “Speaking of which, I’ll need a lift there.” Packing the syringe into a box, you motioned for Jessica to come with you as you began to walk toward the sealed doors. That was until you were stopped by your pregnant friend’s hand in your face.

“Hold up, hon. You still never explained what was going on out there,” Jessica reminded you in a stern tone with an equally stern look.

“Jess, I wanna know as much as you do.” You paused, taking a deep breath as you recounted the event. “Maybe it's just a…welcome committee thingy.”

Jessica gave you a pointed look as a scoff left her lips. “Welcome committee, my ass. Those guys were like pirates, and you were a siren. It was more like a…’Welcome Back, I Would Die For Your Attention’ committee.”

As much as you wanted to bite back, it was unfortunate that she was right. While most of the Spider-folk were kind, as they tended to be, they were never that eager to see you before. People you thought you could never shake were in the crowd. Did it feel nice? You were ashamed that it did, just slightly, but perhaps for a different reason than you thought.

Perhaps Miguel would be the same.

Noting your silence and your brows creased in thought, Jessica gave you a reassuring smile as she stood to pat you on the back. “Alright, alright, I’ll stop messing with you,” she chuckled, giving you a gentle push toward the door. “But something’s up, and I’ll get to the bottom of it.”

“Yeah, yeah, let me know when you figure it out. I’d like to know too,” you said as you narrowed your eyes at her, although you could never keep a serious face with your best friend as you broke out into a smile.

With that, you both stepped out of the lab, only to be immediately greeted by another crowd of Spidermen that had gathered outside the entrance. Your face twisted into annoyance as you looked to Jessica for help.

“Move, people!” she shouted out above the onslaught of chattering Spidermen. “Unless you want to work with Miguel for a week!” With that, the crowd easily dispersed, scattering like…well, spiders. Despite the situation you were in, you were glad that many of them felt the same way about working with Miguel. Outside of work, he was bearable, but his free time was rare.

After another short ride on Jessica’s motorcycle through the complex, you reached Miguel’s office. You took a deep breath, giving your friend a firm nod as you prepared to walk through the automatic doors. As soon as you were about to take a step, Lyla apparated in front of you, sliding down her heart-shaped shades to get a good look at you.

“It’s been forever! Just know I’d hug you if I could,” the assistant exclaimed with the widest grin you’ve ever seen on her. Her playful antics were infectious, and her cheery tone seemed to wipe away the stress the day had accumulated so far. “Sooo, how’d you like your gift?”

“Oh! Right, uh, I’m wearing it right now,” you stammered out, feeling terrible. The morning had been so hectic that you forgot to seek out Lyla and thank her properly. Your response made Jessica raise a brow and lean over toward you, taking a whiff. You looked at her. “What do you think?”

“You smell sweet,” Jessica remarked, then paused, as if analyzing your scent a bit more. “And…womanly.”

Lyla seemed to nod eagerly at this statement, her virtual eyes glinting with curiosity as she prodded at you further. “And what’s it like?”

Perplexed by the wording of the question, you hesitated to answer. What on earth did either of them mean? Everyone was acting strange today. “Um, the vanilla is really nice, I had no idea you knew that I liked that sort of stuff. It was very thoughtful, Lyla.”

Lyla continued to stare at you a bit more intently, seeming to wait for another answer from you until she seemed to give up. “That’s good, I’m glad you love it,” she replied, though there was a hint of something enigmatic in her response. As if she were physically standing in front of the door to the office, Lyla stepped to the side, gesturing for them to go in as the doors slid open. “You can come in, but consider yourself warned. Miguel’s cranky at the moment.”

“When is he not?” You muttered, mostly to yourself, but you could hear Jessica snicker at your side as you both strolled in. The familiar hum of Miguel’s futuristic machinery filled your ears, the metallic interior of his office coldly greeting her eyes. When you first spotted your boss up on his platform (which was redundant, in your opinion), he was already wearing his suit. You swore he always wore it to show off his physique. He had his back turned to the both of you, seeming to intently stare at the screens and holograms in front of him blankly.

“Does he ever not do that?” Jessica muttered under her breath to you as you both stared ahead. It was so simple for her to break your resolve, pressing your lips together in a tight line to prevent yourself from letting out even the smallest sound.

“Are you ever not late?”

Miguel’s sharp voice immediately cut through the playful nature that surrounded the two of you. The smile immediately dropped from your face, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. How could somebody already be so irritated? The day hadn’t even started.

You glanced toward Jessica briefly before answering, trying to keep your voice steady. “I was just stuck in the lobby-”

“Yeah, I saw,” Miguel interjected coldly as he turned his head toward the hologram-screen that displayed the security feed. With a simple flick of his hand, the screen swiped out of view as he turned to face you, his face twisted into an unfamiliar emotion, albeit clearly not a pleasant one. “Really glad you had the time to mingle. Not like we’re on a schedule or anything.”

If Miguel hadn’t been 6’9” of almost entirely pure muscle, you swore you would’ve swung up and lunged at him like a rabid animal. Would it have killed him to be just a bit understanding? He was watching you through the feed, how was any of that your fault? His mockery and grumpy attitude were things you’d grown used to, but today, it was particularly biting. It seemed…personal.

Jessica seemed to feel the same way as you heard her snort audibly in response. This directed his attention towards her, his glare unwavering. “And you,” he began, pointing a finger directly at her. “What did I tell you about riding that thing through my building?”

“ Our building,” she bit back, her posture nonchalant as she lazily examined her nails. “How about you yell at the people who got in her way, smart guy?”

Miguel rolled his eyes at her remark, seemingly ready to go back and forth until he glanced down at her stomach. He then shook his head, gesturing to shoo her away. “I…I don’t even wanna get into it with you. Just…get out.”

Elbowing you lightly, Jessica leaned closer to you with a smirk. “See? Pregnancy perks,” she joked. “But I would’ve preferred a vacation.” You clamped a hand over your mouth to stop the fit of laughter you felt rising.

“¡Oye! Are you even listening?!” Miguel hissed at Jessica, pointing towards the doors. Genuinely, you admired her patience, as she didn’t even flinch. Giving you a look that clearly meant “good luck”, your best friend gently patted you on the back before taking her leave. You stared until her figure disappeared behind the automatic doors, and then you became all too aware that you and Miguel were alone. The air in the room grew tense as you attempted to quell the irritation rising within you.

Once you turned back to look up at Miguel, he was running his fingers through his hair, pushing it back in somewhat of a stressed manner as he was fixated on another screen. Without sparing you another glance, he spoke up again, the words barely even louder than the quiet buzz of the hologram projectors. “The Rapture. Get up here,” he muttered, slowly pacing back and forth on his levitated platform.

Tucking the box securely in your (thankfully) deep pockets, you made sure to secure it tightly, the contents too delicate to leave dangling so carelessly. Mentally preparing yourself for the incoming 5 minutes you had to spend with Miguel, you flung your wrist towards the edge of his platform, a silky web instantly connecting the two. Pulling on the tensile web, you gave yourself enough momentum to fling yourself up onto it, landing opposite to where he was standing—one of your more graceful landings.

His back was still turned to you as you pulled the box out of your pocket, carefully extracting the syringe with your latest creation. Staring down at it proudly, you stood on your feet and cautiously approached Miguel. “Worked on this one during vacation,” you said, not necessarily caring if he had anything to say about it. “Think it’s my best one yet.”

Miguel’s shoulders rose and fell as he took a deep exhale, intent on reading the details of his upcoming mission. “It better be,” was all he muttered, holographic nature of his suit fading away in a patch on his left shoulder, his usual injection site. Placing your right hand tentatively against his shoulder blade, you held the syringe up to his skin, ready to administer until you noticed something. You gently pressed a finger against his skin, and it was almost as if the muscle was made of rocks.

“You need to relax your shoulder, boss,” you remarked, your focus beginning to trail across the expanse of his back. It almost seemed to ripple constantly from how tense they were. Usually, this process was the easy part, and you both had done this dozens of times. 

“Yep. Got it.” A muscle in his neck flexed slightly.

“Is something bothering you?” you asked cautiously, observing his odd behavior. Seriously, him too? What was up with everyone today?

“ Mierda , just get on with it,” he grumbled, an obvious strain in his tone.

“If you say so,” you whispered, injecting the green liquid into his system. Once again, it was different. A sharp inhale escaped his lips as he winced; you caught a glimpse of his eyes flashing a bright red in the reflection of his monitors. The eyes were normal, it happened every time. But it never caused him discomfort before. Concern was etched across your features as you took a step back, your eyes scanning over his body. 

“Seriously, Miguel. Is there something I should know?” you asked with a huff, placing a hand on his other shoulder to turn him around. However, when you were finally able to his expression for the first time, it was nothing like you had ever expected. His eyes were clouded over as they locked onto yours, a rawness in his gaze that made you shudder. His jaw was clenched, muscles taut, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed deeply. You even noticed the cadence of his exhales, each one sounding as if he was barely in control. Was this an adverse reaction to the Rapture? Uneasiness began to settle into your skin. Was this your fault? You worriedly placed a hand against his forehead to feel his temperature, now noticing the sweat that had begun to dot across his forehead. 

He wasn’t even stopping you or making any snide remarks. Something was definitely wrong.

“Lyla?” you called out into the void of his office as you retracted your hand. “Show me his vitals.”

“No, Lyla, don’t even think about it,” Miguel objected through gritted teeth. You both were only greeted by Lyla’s familiar giggle as a hologram screen materialized behind Miguel, displaying his various vitals.

“You’re supposed to work for me ,” he grunted.

“Misclick! Oops, gotta go-” Lyla taunted, the sound of her program shutting off following. You swore you heard him mutter “chinga tu madre” under his breath.

As you read through the different stats, you only seemed to confuse yourself more. His body temperature was slightly elevated, but nowhere close to a fever. No production of histamines, so no allergies. Nothing from the injection seemed to affect any aspect of his body. His heart rate, however, was through the roof. Surely Spider-people don’t get heart attacks, right? You were about to instruct Lyla until a certain statement in his vital report caught your eye.

Elevated levels of oxytocin present.

Those words seemed to knock the wind right out of your stomach, struggling to find the words to say as you froze in place. Was there something you missed when you were gone? Miguel just suddenly had a thing for you? Racking your brain, you tried to think of any way this could have developed. Maybe distance does make the heart grow fonder. Would you be disrespecting yourself if this was fine with you? 

Suddenly, images of your time with him began to pop up in your mind, but they were now corrupted. You thought of the way his quadriceps flexed as he carried boxes into your new office, the hitch of his breath every time you gave him a new injection, and simply how large he was in comparison to you. Your free hand began to fidget with the hem of your shirt, letting your gaze fall anywhere but him. You were certain your cheeks looked like they had been pinched. The both of you stood there, unsure of what to do, an awkward silence engulfing the room.

As if unable to endure this situation any longer, Miguel muttered a curse under his breath before he moved swiftly, hopping down from the platform. He seemed eager to escape his office, which was strange; this was where he usually holed up before and after missions. The sound of his footsteps rang in your ears, finalizing the fact that you were now standing alone, your mind a whirlwind of chaos. But with each step he took, the more you felt your heartbeat in your ears, the steady rhythm urging you to follow him. To demand one ounce of clarity from him. He couldn’t just leave you here.

“Miguel, wait,” you called out, shooting a web to the floor and flinging yourself after him. Once you had landed, you kept pursuing him, but he quickened his pace. Your mind flashed back to when he had chased you through Central Park, and a smile snuck its way onto your lips. It only made you even more relentless, your gait quickening.

Once you were close enough to him, you reached out, your hand gently tapping the broadness that was his back, a silent plea for him to acknowledge what had just been uncovered between the both of you. After receiving no response, you sighed in exasperation. “Miguel, please,” you implored. “Could you tell me-”

Miguel pivoted abruptly, the intensity in his gaze disorienting as you felt him tightly grip your wrist. Despite not having done much, his breaths were almost ragged. His eyes were glazed over, dropping down from yours just for a moment, stealing a glance at your body before returning it to a respectable place. 

“What the hell are you doing to me?” he grunted through his teeth, his voice low as it wavered with a hint of vulnerability. Despite his efforts to keep it down, the question echoed throughout the confines of his empty office.

As you tried to wiggle your wrist away, you realized it would be a waste of effort to try, so you let him. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you stared up at him with wide eyes. You knew for a fact that he could feel your heartbeat with the way he was gripping it, and you were certain it beat like a rabbit’s. Hopelessly caught off guard, you stammered, “I…I don’t know. It isn’t the Rapture, I promise, I did every-”

“Don’t you give me that,” he cut you off, his words seeming to slice through whatever resolve you had left. “I know it’s not the damn Rapture. It’s you. I know it’s you. You’re in my head.”

The admission hung in the air between you two, another thing that only seemed to confuse you further that day. Miguel’s eyes bore into yours, its murky depths desperately searching yours for any answers. But he was only greeted by ones who were as clueless as he was. As he stared down at your wrist that was so easily enveloped by his hand, it seemed to spur him on. Impulsively, Miguel gripped you by your frame and whirled you around, pushing you against the metallic wall, his arms forming a cage around you.

You felt like you were caught in the eye of the storm of emotions that were building up inside him. You were utterly dwarfed by his figure. Sure, you always knew that he was tall, but you never had been this up close and personal before. As you glanced over at the arms that had caged you in like an animal, you fought the urge to run your hand over the ripple of his biceps that were almost staring at you right in the face. Realizing you were definitely focusing on the wrong thing, your eyes met his once again, each time becoming more difficult than the last. Whatever he had to say, you had no choice but to hear it.

“I can’t control it,” he continued, the words escaping like a reluctant exhale. That part was obvious enough. “The moment you stepped into HQ, every damn thought is you. Coño , I can’t even read one sentence of the mission brief with you right behind me. I’m doing things before I even think. I want to hate it.”

The weight of his words settled over you, sinking deep into your skin as you felt yourself burn up again. His sudden infatuation made you realize all the flirty comments and gentlemanly gestures that had been following you all morning. Sure, it was similar, but none of them seemed to be affected more than Miguel. What was it? Swallowing thickly, you mustered the courage to speak, to test the waters. “But you…don’t hate it?” you breathed, your chest seizing with regret as soon as the words left your lips.

Miguel’s brows furrowed, and you had trouble discerning what emotion was causing it. “I don’t,” he choked out, his voice dropping to a whisper. “So fix it.” “What?” His demand hung in the air, a fervent and pleading demand. “I said, fix it,” he insisted, his words taking on a rougher tone. One of his hands slid down from the wall, and he poked accusingly at your chest, just at the top of your sternum. “Whatever you’re doing, fix it,” he persisted, his voice akin to a low growl that sent pleasurable tingles down your spine. “Or I will.” “I don’t know how,” you shamefully admitted, your words laced with sincerity. Your eyes were blown wide upon seeing how intense he was up close, you could hear his labored breaths. The silence that followed your answer lingered between the both of you, both searching each other’s expressions just for one hint, a clue as to how to proceed from that moment. Miguel had always made the decisions, not you, and seeing him at a total loss for words had also stumped you. “I– um, you said that it was when I arrived, right?” you sputtered out, desperate to say anything to ease the heavy tension that was beginning to crush the both of you. Your eyes tried to lock on anywhere that wasn’t Miguel, but it proved difficult when his figure loomed over you. “I can just, uh…go home? Yeah! I can go back home for the day, and I–” And then, with a suddenness that left you without your words, Miguel’s hands retracted from the walls at your sides, cupping your face. Without letting another beat of your heart pass, he surged forward, all too quickly, then his lips were on yours. 

At first, your mind tried to make sense of what was happening. This was Miguel O’Hara, your boss, and a rude one at that. The same guy who always scolded you for the smallest of reasons. Not only would it be inappropriate to continue, but a blow to your self-respect. Yet, in the moment that followed, you felt his tongue gently graze against your bottom lip, and all logic seemed to dissolve and wash away, surrendering to his kiss. You should have been embarrassed that you had to reach up so far to wrap your arms around his neck, but he hunched over to make it easier on you.

He seemed to have been waiting for any sort of response from you. His hands moved with purpose, falling from your face to claw at your body, exploring the curves of your back as if he wanted to burn every detail to his memory. The fevered kiss he gave you ceased for a moment, a curse just barely able to escape from his lips before he began to bury his head into your shoulder. He began to leave openmouthed kisses to the smooth, delicate skin of your neck, his canines gently prodding at the skin. The sting seemed to tease you, to ask you how far you were willing to let him go.

“So you are a vampire,” you remarked breathlessly, whining softly at each slow, tantalizing kiss.

You aren’t able to see it, but you feel the way his lips curve up into a smirk against you. The laugh that followed was mind-bogglingly euphoric, the vibrations rippling against the expanse of your neck so deliciously that the heat building between your legs became nearly impossible to ignore. Your hands trail down from his shoulders and smooth over his chest, an action that you found to elicit the prettiest sounds from your boss. You didn’t even know he was capable of such a thing. You wanted to know what else he was capable of.

“You want it here?” you asked, your hands gently pushing against his chest in an attempt to make him pay attention to your words. But it was like he couldn’t pry himself from you. You were given a mere grunt in response, and you felt his calloused hand hold the back of your neck, stroking your nape tenderly. With his face still buried against your skin, he inhaled the scent of you deeply. That alone seemed to make his yearning nature worse, his words barely escaping past the low whine that resonated in his throat.

“Wherever I can fucking have you,” Miguel said as he grasped you, hands cupping just beneath your jaw as his thumbs smoothed over your cheeks. The way he looked at you, half-lidded, pleading, and absolutely drunk off of your body, sent your mind reeling and melted your limbs as you pushed yourself into him. Your eyes darted around for a suitable place, but Miguel’s office wasn’t necessarily 5 stars when it came to comfort. Raising your head, your gaze locked onto the platform you both were just on. Meekly, you point up towards it, unsure if he would satisfy your request. His head followed as you reached out, and he vaguely scoffed.

You were about to suggest another place until his strong arm secured its way around your waist, and suddenly, you were being hoisted into the air alongside your boss. A yelp escaped your throat out of shock, desperately gripping onto Miguel’s body despite knowing you wouldn’t fall. The gesture made him chuckle in a way you had never heard before, the sound hearty and resounding deeply in his chest. And it seemed to drug you and fill your veins with such an unyielding desire; it made you wonder how something so simple as a laugh further fueled this indecorous addiction to him.

Before you even knew it, you were seated in the middle of the platform with him kneeling beside you. As you stared up at him, you were unsure of what to do. But it was like he had read your mind, resulting in a roll of his eyes and his sarcastic nature making a brief return. 

“You planning to just sit there?” Miguel huffed as he dragged you closer to him. “Lay down.” His tone is so enticingly irrefutable, so you comply, your back hitting the platform, the cold metal making you shudder. You stared up at him, curious as to how he was going to do this.

Slotting himself in between your legs, his fingers desperately tugged at the waistband of your pants before doing away with them entirely, barely noticing that he had taken your underwear with it. He marveled at what he had revealed, carefully tugging your legs apart as if he wanted to worship it further. His eyes flicked up to your face for just a painstaking moment, and it was hot from anticipation, worsening as he hovered between your legs, pressing kisses along your inner thighs.

“You want this?” he murmurs, his words deep and gravelly. You eagerly nod, fighting the urge to shiver from the coldness that overtook your lower half.

Suddenly, you didn’t have to worry much about the cold the moment you felt his warm breath graze you in just the right way. He pressed a wet, languid kiss to your heat, the saliva his tongue was slathering you with mingling with the arousal that began to pool. You were amazed at how effortlessly his ministrations manipulated your body, your chest rising and falling rapidly with each pleasured exhale. When did he have the time to be so good at this sort of thing?

Soon, you were introduced to his fingers, so lengthy and thick that they had your eyes rolling into the back of your head as they plunged inside you. Each call of his name seemed to spur him on, increasing his tempo and the lewd, obscene noises that echoed across his office. Before you even knew it, all of it was too much; the subtle curling and pumping of his girthy fingers, the flick of his tongue; it was like a wave had crashed over you, sending your thighs into convulsions. He slowed his movements as each thrust of his fingers grew more wet, easing you down from your high. The delicate touches lasted for a mere second before you were flipped over, your hips being dragged back as you felt your behind press against the outline of the stiff, rock-hard muscle at his crotch, a testament to how much he had been craving you.

What followed was a sweetly painful, visceral blur. You had heard the sound of his holographic suit retracting itself, and you turned your head, curious as to what you’d see. He smiled smugly at your doe-eyed expression upon seeing his goods, and the only thing occupying your mind was if he could fit at all. It wasn’t like you weren’t expecting it, he was a behemoth of a man after all. But seeing it up close, anticipating its entry was an entirely different beast.

But Miguel was experienced, having dutifully prepared you to take him, making it a more easy experience as his tip prodded your entrance gently, slowly easing himself in. The stretch was undeniably painful, your fingers clutching at the floor, desperately looking for something to hold onto. But as he pushed in further, the feeling transformed into a euphoric ache. He had been trying his best to remain silent to not attract any attention from the outside, but your name managed to fall from his mouth in a hoarse groan, harmonizing with the pathetic whines that you had been letting out. His hands pinned your wrists against the floor, the freezing nature of the floor beneath you contrasting with the heat that bounced between your bodies.

His vigorous pace slightly rocked the platform beneath you, threatening to tip over if Miguel had a mind to get rougher. However, he seemed to know his limits, effortlessly filling you up in a way that could satisfy you for lifetimes. Crude phrases left your swollen lips, each one a way to praise the man that was fucking you like his next mission was his last. The sound of your skin colliding with him was growing filthier with each second, more carnal. For a fleeting second, your mind filled with worry, anxious about anybody that could have been waiting outside his office. Anyone who stood within a 5-yard radius from the entrance could hear just about anything that was going on inside. But his fingers then came up to slither their way into the roots of your hair, yanking your head back far enough so he could whisper in your ear. “Keep talking, say you want me. Say it.”

And soon enough, you were begging for him, arms shaking as you struggled to hold yourself up as ripples of your orgasm traveled throughout your body, your slick absolutely drenching the both of you. Your pleas were what had done him in, his rhythm stuttering and his length pulsing inside you, unsheathing himself as he emptied himself all over your ass, the viscous liquid dripping slowly down its curve. For a moment, the both of you stayed where you were, worn-out breaths being the only thing you both could exchange as you tried to wrap your head around what you had done.

Surprisingly, Miguel had a thought for aftercare. He had retrieved a gym towel and cleaned you up, wiping away his release and your sweat as best as he could. “Still think you have to shower, though,” he commented, the smug undertone in his voice not going unnoticed.

“Back at you,” you quipped, though the smile never left your face as you redressed yourself.

You never thought you would have to try to sneak your way out of Miguel’s office, but considering how disheveled you were after your tryst with him, it was the only way to keep your dignity intact. The air outside was cooler, freezing against your skin that still burned with the residual warmth of his hands all over you. You shuddered. You definitely needed a cold shower.

After grabbing your spare clothes from your office, you found yourself in the ladies’ room. Stripping off your sweat-ridden clothes (you had a mind to scold him for not taking them off), you hopped into one of the showers and slid the privacy curtain shut behind you. The warm water was comforting, easily washing away the feeling of sex away from your body, but what remained emotionally was unexpected. The thought of seeing him again.

A nervous energy gnawed at your heart as you mindlessly lathered soap all over your body. The both of you just had a steamy hookup, but what would happen now? Your insides seemed to twist as you remembered the fact that seeing him at the end of the day was inevitable. The water from your showerhead seemed to pelt down at your skin now, creating an atmosphere perfect for overthinking. Was it a one time thing? Did he want more? Did he like you? Would he fire you? Thankfully, Miguel was due for a mission today, so you wouldn’t have to worry about seeing him before your scheduled time. That would give you enough space to cool your head. 

“Relax,” you told yourself, barely able to hear your thoughts over the pitter-patter of water droplets around you. “You just screwed your boss. Tough it out. Forget about it. Act like it didn’t happen.”

However, the memory of his hands tracing the contours of your back seemed to follow you like a ghost, sending shivers down your spine no matter how much you cranked up the heat of your shower.

–

Enclosed in the white, sterile walled haven that was your lab, you buried yourself in work, hoping that the hum of calibration machines and the countless lab tests were enough to get your mind off of your tumultuous morning. You decided that it wasn’t enough, sliding your headphones over your ears and blasting your favorite playlist on repeat just so you wouldn’t have to hear your inner turmoil.

And it worked, the hours effortlessly passing by in a blur. Holographic displays and paperwork filled your visions, the very tasks you used to complain about becoming a solace on your first day back at your lab. You didn’t expect to get much done considering the crowd you had easily amassed earlier that morning, but strangely, that stopped, and you were thankful. Your usual visitors came in: Gwen, a few Peters, and even Hobie, who apologized profusely for how much of a “halfwit” he was being earlier, all while simultaneously swearing that you would never tell another soul. You agreed, stifling a laugh, knowing you could never be upset with him. Despite feeling confused for what had seemed like the millionth time that day, things seemed to be falling back into place, and it would have been comforting if it hadn’t been for one thing. You couldn’t exactly unfuck your boss. You chastised yourself quietly for thinking about it again; you were doing so well.

Once again, he was consuming your mind to the point where you couldn’t set your mind straight as you tried to come up with a new substance for one of your Spiderwoman clients. She had asked for a chemical that could help her easily attract and control actual spiders in her vicinity. You had a vague idea of how to bring her idea to life, with cetyl acetate sitting in one of your beakers, but you couldn’t quite remember the other component no matter how hard you racked your brain.

You retraced your steps, checking and double-checking the labels of the countless chemicals that sat preciously in your lab. You felt frustration coil up within you as you consulted your reference binder, embarrassed that you even had to look such a simple thing up. By the time you had located the constituent, many a Spider had begun to leave, the chatter outside of your lab winding to a hush. After squeezing a few drops of farnesyl acetate into your beaker, you gave the substances a quick mix, noting how nice it smelt. And how familiar.

Everything building up in you had left you seeking refuge in your dainty office that sat in the corner of the lab. As you closed the door behind you, temporary relief washed over you, and it was then that you decided it would be best if you went home for the day. Retrieving your bag, you sighed as you sank into your chair, weariness finally settling in after hours of constant work. Fishing around your bag for your office key, your fingers brushed against a jar-shaped object. You brought along Lyla’s gift for retouching throughout the day, but it slipped your mind amidst the chaos of the day. Hoping the vanilla scent would ease your thoughts, you unscrewed the cap with purpose, hoping it would ease the tension in your skin.

Just as you were about to apply, the sound of the entrance doors hissing open disrupted your serenity. Ready to tell off whoever was disturbing your peace, you set down the jar, twisted the doorknob open, and stormed out of your office, only to be frozen in place as you were greeted by the one and only Miguel, his expression uncharacteristically sheepish. A new cut adorned his face, already in the process of regeneration as it had already scarred over. Different parts of his holosuit were damaged, leaving behind a glitch-like static; were those claw marks? He definitely had a rougher day than you.

Clearing your throat, you spoke up. “You alright? That looks like it hurt,” you remarked, tentative as you were unsure what the conversation would lead to.

Miguel simply shrugged, his eyes unable to find yours. “I, uh…the anomaly was more intense than I thought. Was a bit distracted, got roughed up,” he said, his voice a rare mix of honesty and humility.

Your brows furrowed together in sympathy despite the unspoken words between the two of you. “Did you need me to whip something up for you?” you offered, moving towards your box of plastic gloves.

It was only then that he looked up at you, his hand coming up, gesturing for you to stop in protest. “No! No, it’s okay. I’ll live.” He met your eyes, and you immediately knew that he was just as unsure as you were, the uncertainty giving way to a hint of vulnerability.

After a hesitant pause, Miguel finally spoke, the moment you were waiting for finally happening. “Look, about earlier…I’m sorry,” his words stumbling out. “It was unexpected.”

Although you had anticipated this answer, you couldn’t help but deflate upon actually hearing it. You weren’t expecting him to fall on his knees and ask for your hand, but you would’ve at least liked to hear him say that he enjoyed it. “You’re sorry? Would you rather have not done it all?” you accused, much to his chagrin.

“I– no, carajo , that’s not what I meant at all,” he sighed in irritation, running a hand through his hair. “I mean, it’s just…it caught us off guard. I’m not sorry it happened, I’m sorry that it was just…sudden, that’s all,” he huffed, not wanting to get into it with you.

For a moment, you pondered over his words. So he wasn’t opposed to sleeping with you. With impulsive thoughts bubbling up inside you, you were prodded to take the leap again. “Would you do it again?” you asked genuinely, an offer to him.

Miguel’s eyes widened in surprise, an exhale of relief shortly following, a chuckle mingled with his words. “Yeah, I’d do it again,” he answered, moving to step closer to you, and you didn’t mind. Just as it seemed as if he was about to sweep you into his arms again, he stopped in his tracks, his head turning to your lab bench as he fixated on the beaker, the one that was carrying your latest project.

Initially, you thought that Miguel was some sort of a stickler for cleanliness, so you felt embarrassed, reaching for your disposable gloves once again. “Oops, I’ll just put that away–”

“No,” he ordered with a familiar intensity in your voice, making you retract back to your original spot. He inched closer to the workbench, nostrils flaring as he sniffed at the mixture in the fragile glass. “What is that? Tell me,” he demanded, the urgency in his voice increasing tenfold.

Although you were weirded out by how much this seemed to matter to him, you answered earnestly. “Some…strange project one of the Spiderwomen wanted me to work on. Something to attract spiders, but just the males to prevent them from fighting. Synthetic pheromones, essentially.”

“Huh. Smells like how you did this morning,” he remarked almost immediately, raising a brow in confusion.

You stood there, utterly winded by his words, unsure of what to say. Was he saying this figuratively to flirt with you? But judging from the look in his eyes, he was deadly serious. As your eyes locked onto the concoction that you had made that morning, your mind went to the jar that was sitting on your desk, opened. Without another word, you rushed to your office, taking the jar of body butter and inhaling its aroma deeply. You felt your heart drop to your stomach in terror, the scents were strikingly similar. Turning the jar around in your hands with haste, your eyes scanned for the list of ingredients, silently praying you weren’t rubbing what you thought you were rubbing into your skin.

As you searched, you felt Miguel’s presence right behind you, leaning over your shoulder as he examined the jar with you, inexplicably drawn to it. “What’s that?” he inquired, the strain in his voice from before making a return.

“The lotion I put on this morning,” you said dreadfully, turning your head to look up at him sheepishly. Still confused, he met your gaze only for a moment before he searched through the neverending list of ingredients.

“What did you put in that beaker?”

“Farnesyl acetate and hexadecyl acetate. If it doesn’t say hexadecyl, try cetyl.”

After a minute of searching, Miguel hunched over you to point at a specific spot on the jar. Following his finger, you sighed, laying your eyes on the very thing you didn’t want to see.

“So…” you began awkwardly, unable to wrap your mind around the information bouncing around in your brain. It started to connect like dots: how you attracted the Spidermen in the morning by the dozen, Jessica’s remark about you smelling like a “woman”, Miguel’s sudden lust for you. Then the notable absence of your eager Spider-crowd after your shower. “As your head chemist, I can conclude that spider pheromones can work on…us.”

“Evidently,” Miguel responded, visibly dumbfounded. Seeming eager to prevent more chaos from occurring, he took the jar and its lid from your hands, screwing the lid tightly shut before placing it on your desk carefully. “Where’d you even get something like that?”

“I didn’t. Lyla got it for me,” you confessed. Your mind went to that mischievous hologram. Did she know? Was this a clever attempt to kickstart something between you and Miguel?

“Lyla, that minx...” Miguel trailed off, and you caught a glimpse of his eyes rolling before he squeezed them shut, pinching his nose bridge in an attempt to quell what presumably was a string of curses toward his assistant. Immediately, he swiftly turned around, muttering quietly to himself as he made his way towards his exit. “I ought to give her a piece of my mind…”

You stared after him, about to leave him to his own devices before a thought crossed your mind. You remembered Miguel’s biology, the very thing that made him Spiderman in the first place: his DNA was spliced with one of a spider, effectively making him 50% arachnid. The pheromones you had been unknowingly emitting would affect him more than anyone else, and it proved to be true. An uneasiness settled into your stomach, was that the only reason why he wanted you?

“Wait,” you called after him, your voice betraying your attempted nonchalance. Miguel paused at the doorway, leaning against it as he turned to look at you with an arched brow. His eyes silently asked you to proceed.

“Is it… just the pheromones?” you asked, feeling your stomach twist and turn into knots as you awaited his reply. “You know, about everything, uh, earlier.”

Miguel pushed himself off of the door. “Well, it definitely gave me the push I needed,” he admitted, sauntering over to you with a grin so smug you wanted to smack it off his face. “But, if we’re being honest, I would’ve done it eventually.”

You blinked, processing his words.”You mean that? But you’re kinda mean.”

He sighed loudly, stopping just in front of you. “Idiot. Yes, I mean it,” he muttered, leaning down to cup your cheeks in his hands, his face levelling with yours. “You drive me crazy.”

And the kiss that Miguel left on your lips afterward was more gentle than the hungry, needy one he gave you before, dispelling any doubts you had about the true nature of his feelings. His lips were like heaven, slightly chapped from the labor of his mission from earlier, but you didn’t care. When he pulled away, there was a soft playfulness in his eyes you had never seen before.

“You got it?” he teased, his thumb smoothing over your cheek.

You managed a nod, resulting in Miguel gently patting your cheek before releasing you and turning to leave, still insistent that he give Lyla a piece of his mind. Giggling at his antics, you were about to grab your things to leave until you saw his head pop in the entrance once more. “Yes?” you called out.

“Bottle that thing up and label it as a hazard,” he ordered in response, pointing toward the open beaker on the bench. “It’s damn near chemical warfare,” he mumbled before disappearing again.

“Yes, boss,” you complied, unable to fight the grin that was now plastered to your face. As you bottled up your concoction, you made a mental note to thank Lyla. Again.

originally posted on ao3! first fic i'm ever posting on tumblr and i'm so excited! feedback and suggestions for more stories are more than welcome!

[luveline]

Hi Jade! Your writing just got me hooked on criminal minds so can you do something with badass!reader and something related to how Spencer deals with her closing herself off because she jus doesn’t know how to be emotionally vulnerable? I can’t think of a specific situation but I trust ur talent 🫶🏼

ty! �� fem, 1k

Spencer can't see your face when you curl away like this. You've turned your head to the window, your arm wrapped around your waist and your shoulder in no danger of touching his. 

Despite this, he knows you want him near you. You'd pulled him aside casually before entering the jet to ask if he'd sit with you. So, you can continue your slouched cold shoulder if you like, but Spencer's confident that you don't mean it personally, he won't take it that way. 

It was a kid, this time. Whenever the BAU fails to pull through and a child dies, you take it hard, as does everyone else. The only difference with you is that if it were any other situation, you'd soldier through, pretending that it didn't hurt you. When cases like this happen you don't bother pretending.

You're taking it especially hard, perhaps because you were reprimanded. You edged your way into somewhere you shouldn't have and accused the wrong man. Spencer doesn't know what Hotch said to you to wound you this deeply, but he can imagine it was something along the lines of forsaking your hot-headedness. Spencer knows from personal experience that it's going to stick around, a what if like cancer in your head that grows and grows. What if Hotch was right? And what if your bad decision was the weight that tipped the scale out of favour? 

He makes sure that no one can listen before he leans in toward you. "You okay?" he asks quietly. 

"I'm fine," you say, shrugging without looking away from the window.

He checks behind him. Hotch is in the kitchenette, a cup of coffee and a case file balanced in one hand, a tea kettle in the other. Morgan lays across the couch with Emily in the chair adjacent, reading. JJ texts to Spencer's right. She can definitely hear everything he's about to say, but he'll get over it. 

"You remember when he yelled at me in Tennessee?" he asks. "In front of the team? I thought he'd be mad at me for weeks, but–" 

"It's not Hotch I'm thinking about." You lean back in your chair properly, tipping your chin up. You look as though you've swallowed something sharp. 

"I know," Spencer says. He digs through his messenger bag for the drink he bought before take off, a half litre of your favourite. 

He presses it into your hand. 

"I'm okay," you say, taking it. You weigh it back and forth, the liquid sloshing heavily, your eyes tracking the wave.

"Just drink it. It'll help your headache." 

You unscrew the cap of your drink. "How did you know I have a headache?" you ask between little sips. 

Spencer just knew. Same way he knows you don't want to talk about the case, no matter how badly you need to. 

Your hand lays restless on your thigh, twitching like you're in the midst of a bad dream. The jet is dim but not dark, the lines and valleys of your face gently shadowed. He knows he could kiss your cheek and cheer you up if he had the courage. He thinks about it until he goes half mad. 

"I wish I was like you," he murmurs. "I know it doesn't always work out, but you're not afraid to mess up. That's a good thing." 

You turn your cheek into the chair. For the first time in hours, he can see all of you. Your shoulders relax, your eyelids slightly droopy. 

"Maybe I'd mess up less if I weren't," you say. 

"But you do more good taking a chance on things than bad." Spencer can't summon the courage to kiss your cheek, but he can take your unhappy hand into his. 

You close your eyes. Tentative, Spencer presses the back of your hand to the front of his, drawing half circles into your palm. You let him do it for long, slow minutes, nothing but the hum of the engine and his skin brushing yours. 

When your lip wobbles, he curls his hand closed around yours. 

You aren't upset about Hotch, he knows that. You're upset about something they couldn't change, because they weren't fast enough. It's a team failing that you've taken onto your shoulders, and it isn't right. Spencer gives the plane one last look before he darts forward. He stops short, his face next to yours, and sighs. 

You turn away from him before he can kiss your cheek. 

You've never had a problem bragging about how much you like Spencer. When somebody tells him to stop talking, you listen. When others roll their eyes, you smile and poke at his sides teasingly. Usually, you'd let him kiss you. He grits his teeth and buckles up. If you can't be vulnerable, he can be twice; failed kisses don't bother him if it's in an attempt to cheer you up.  

"What can I do?" he asks, pulling your joined hands to his chest. 

"Nothing. Sorry. Nothing, I'm fine." 

"Can we please work on the assumption that you're not fine? And that I'm here?" 

You frown at him. Slowly, your frown turns to a less horrifying impassiveness, and not long after that you're pressing your cheek to his shoulder. 

"Can we not talk? Would that be okay?" you whisper. 

"Sure. Of course it is." 

You nod gratefully into his arm. He lets his nose sink into the top of your head, not giving much thought to how uncomfortable it is. His arm comes up to stroke yours, but when JJ stands he drops it. 

"Thank you, Spencer," you murmur. 

"You're welcome. Now be quiet." 

He can feel the shape of your smile against his arm, small but real. 

[dnd-smash-pass-vs]

Have you seen Dungeon Meshi? Laos is such a monsterfucker I can’t get over it. He asks one of his companions if it felt good to be caught by the tentacle-vine plant monster. He waxed poetic about how cool animal-hybrid monsters are. (I’m sorry if you don’t like a show or this feels irrelevant to your blog, but also I can’t tell my friends ‘hey I like this character because I also think it would feel good to be caught by the tentacle monster’)

Anyway he’s how I imagine this blog’s audience would approach an IRL dungeon expedition

Sorry to take this way too seriously, I mean no ill will. But I've been a MASSIVE fan of dungeon meshi for... oof, almost 7 years apparently, It's a perfect storm of everything I love with fantastic writing and characterization, and I don't think I could disagree with that more. I think you missed a primary running gag of the series. He keeps saying lines that, if anyone else said them would be sexual, but the people around him know he's just a super obsessed wildlife researcher. He does not want to fuck monsters, that's kinda the entire point. Like you need to understand that some biologists will happily and unnecessarily lick poison, get bitten, and pick up dangerous things without hesitation. It's not that they get off to poison play, it's that they love the topic so much that it's their life and they want to know every aspect. When he's zealously asking what it's like for the vine monster to grapple and stab you with seeds, he's saying that because he's just that into learning and wants the firsthand experience! He's here because he doesn't want to just read about his special interest, he wants to live it, be PART of the ecosystem!

...actually, incredibly relevant spoilers below for a monster later on (chapter 58-60, so likely end of this season or start of the next)

They later find straight-up succubi. Chilchuck talking about how they turn into your perfect match, you ALWAYS have to fight them as a pair or you're just screwed because of irresistible magic charming powers. One finds Laios alone...and he's completely unaffected, immediately chokes it and goes to kill it without any issue. The only hesitation is a bit of embarrassment that "Oh no, it misinterpreted my feelings as attraction, if the party finds this it'll lead to a HUGE misunderstanding. This could ruin my friendships, I need to immediately kill it and hide the body." That gives it enough time to convince him "hey, it's impossible to resist a succubus, so obviously I'm not a succubus right?" And it works because he knows that yes, nobody can resist a succubus charm. Except apparently him. Even trying again by combining his thoughts with his all time favorite monster didn't daze him like it did the others. It had to convince him that it could turn him INTO a monster, and that everyone else was ok with it too, to get him to hesitantly submit to being drained. They didn't have to reason with marcielle or chilchuck, but lust just didn't work with Laios, not as a person or as a monster. It's like how nobody gets panty shots except Senshi. it's a subversion joke. There are quite a few in this series, especially ones centered on Laios.

[chiriwritesstuff]

The Girl in IT - 6. The Adults are Talking

A Boss! Joel Miller x IT Specialist F! Reader AU

The LIST │ Series Masterlist

Chapter Rating: E (18+, MDNI)

Chapter Summary: Sugar finds her voice amongst the people who want to see her fail.

Chapter Warnings and Tags: No outbreak AU, Boss x Employee Relationship, Sugar Daddy Lite, Smut, SO MUCH SMUT, Age Gap, Older Man/Younger woman, So much dirty talk, Office sex, Breeding kink, Sugar's parents are the worst and treat her like garbage, Sugar finally finds her voice and stands up to her father, Some angst, No beta we die like men!

Word Count: 5.3K

A/N: And here we go, the chapter where Sugar and Joel finally face off with her parents. This does edge onto angst, as I really wanted to showcase just how Sugar's upbringing really affected her mental health, and how she overcomes it. I cried writing this chapter, because I know how it feels to have people in your life just waiting for you to fuck up, and it's something Sugar has had to deal with all of her life. Honestly, this chapter makes me nervous because I know you all are expecting all of the fluff and smut that Joel and Sugar should be having, but I promise this will probably be the only chapter with heavy stuff. It'll be smooth sailing after this!

"So, I heard an interesting rumor floating around the club lately."

"Good morning to you too, Mother," you mutter, keeping your eyes on the road. "Who's the poor unfortunate soul this time?"

There's a brief pause before your mom responds, her voice almost hesitant. "Well, darling, you know I usually don't pay attention to the ladies and their gossip, but-"

"Just tell me already, Mom!" you exclaim, turning into the office parking lot.

"Well," she starts, "I heard that Joel Miller has gotten himself a... what do you call them? A Sugar Baby? Marcia told me that Lenore from Neiman Marcus said they had-" she clears her throat, "sex," she whispers, "in the dressing room! How scandalous! I heard she's a pretty little young thing! I swear, if that was my daughter, I would die of embarrassment!"

You slam on the brakes suddenly, your eyes widening in shock. Someone honks behind you in response, but you can't pay it any mind. The blood rushes to your ears as you start to hyperventilate.

"Sugar? Are you there? Is it true? Have you noticed anything at work lately?" you hear your mother from across the line. "Hello?!"

You take a deep breath, pulling into the nearest empty stall. "I'm here, Mom," you say shakily, cutting the ignition and resting your head on the steering wheel.  

"Well, it's shameful, that sort of behavior," your mom continues, "It's a good thing your father and I raised you right!" she tsks, and you imagine her shaking her head in disgust as she inspects her nails. "Besides, I have nothing to worry about when it comes to you, baby."

That's what gets your attention. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, come on, baby. That kind of behavior isn't something I would associate with you," she coos, "besides, the girl they said Joel was with was really pretty-"

"Are you implying that I'm not attractive enough for someone like Joel?" you ask incredulously, your hands gripping the steering wheel until your knuckles turn white. "What if that girl in the rumor was me, Mom? What then? Would you actually die from embarrassment?"

"... but it wasn't you, Sugar. I raised you better than that, no matter how pretty you could be. I mean, if you just weren't so plain, maybe I would believe that it was you that was in that dressing room with him, but those kinds of girls, baby, that ain't you-"

"Mom," you sigh, feeling the impending headache that usually accompanies conversations with her, "I'm hanging up now."

"Wait!" your mom sputters, "Don't forget about the dinner tonight!"

"What dinner?"

"Oh, don't tell me you forgot!" your mother exclaims, a hint of outrage in her voice. "It's our Ruby wedding anniversary! I sent you an invite. How could you forget? Your father is looking forward to seeing you. Now that you have your big girl job and live on your own, acting like we don't exist. You would think after paying for your education, you would be more grateful-"

"Fine, Mom, I'll be there! What time is it?" you cut her off, the tears already forming at the corner of your eyes. You don't want to be subjected to another one of her guilt trips, fully aware that she'll win, every time. "And I assume it'll be cocktail attire?"

"Oh, yes," your mother purrs, "At 6. I'll make sure the caterers add a place setting for you. Do you need to borrow anything of mine to wear? I'm not sure if you were able to shed those ten pounds I've been telling you to lose. I don't know if anything I have would fit those hips of yours-"

"Two."

"What was that, darling?" you take note of the hesitation in your mother's voice.

"Tell the caterers to put two more settings at the table, Mom."

"Why?" your mother asks, clearly in shock. "Sugar, are you seeing someone? Who is it? Is it someone we know?"

"I guess you'll have to wait to find out," you say, a hint of satisfaction in your tone. "See you at 6!" you say hurriedly, hanging up before she could pry further.  

"Fuck." You mutter, slamming your head against the steering wheel once more. "Fuck my life."

Groaning, you snatch up your phone and purse, slamming the door of your Tesla as you stride into the office. With a determined look etched on your face, you attempt to breeze past Connie, resolute in avoiding another interrogation as you navigate down the hall.

"Good morning, Sugar!" she chirps. "So, about yesterday-"

"Not now, Connie!" you mutter, briskly pushing past her, laser-focused on reaching Joel's office. He's already at his desk, his gaze intensely fixed on his iPad, an apple pencil dangling from his mouth as he reviews schematics. You slam his office door behind you, his eyes darting toward you as you drop your purse on the floor. You discard your blazer, shove his office chair back, and settle onto his lap. Burying your face into his neck, the tears you've been holding back start to flow earnestly from your eyes.

Joel's arms instinctively wrap around you, drawing you close as he gently pulls back to get a good look at your face. "Baby, what's wrong? Why are you crying?" he asks, his face etched with genuine concern. "Did Connie corner you in the lounge again? I swear Tess gave her the warning of a lifetime yesterday-"

"Are you busy tonight?" you cut him off, gasping for air, the weight of anxiety from your mother's conversation finally sinking in. "I know this is really last minute, but my mother-"

"Baby," Joel repeats, his hands firm on your arms, steadying you. "Breathe. What happened?"

"They know, everyone in Austin knows about us," you admit with a sniffle. "My mother called, mentioning that her friends at the club were gossiping about you having a sugar baby, and I completely forgot it's my parents' wedding anniversary tonight. I might have told her to add another place setting for you..." you stammer, "... and now I have nothing to wear. I can't borrow anything from her because I didn't lose the ten pounds she asked me to"

"Easy, Sugar," Joel murmurs, his lips grazing your forehead as his hands trace up your arms, providing a soothing touch. "Start from the top," he suggests, leaning back in his chair and gently pulling you against his chest, his fingers rhythmically rubbing your back. "You spoke to your mother today, and she mentioned a rumor going around about us, right?"

"Lenore might have let slip to one of her clients about our... moment in the dressing room," you confess against his chest.

You feel him sigh deeply, the gentle rumble of his chest against your face. "If they only knew that wasn't the case," he murmurs, kissing the top of your head. "You know that, right? You're everything to me, baby. You ain't no sugar baby, not to me."

"I know, Joel," you reply with a tiny sob. "It doesn't mean it hurts any less, though. It's like they want to see us fail, see me fail."

Joel pulls you away again, a serious look in his eyes. "Are you ashamed of this? of us? Do you see yourself as how they see you? Do you think I care what those old bitches say about me?"

You shake your head frantically. "No, Joel-"

"No one gave a damn about my life before all of this," he gestures toward his office, taking your hand in his, "and now that I finally have some worth in their eyes, it's like... I'm cattle being led to slaughter. I'll never get used to it."

"I grew up surrounded by that shit my entire life," you whisper sadly. "Every move I made was up for debate – what clothes I wore, who I decided to bring into my life. It was always dissected and analyzed as if everything I did could have a double meaning. I hated it, this constant scrutiny. I always had to be 'good,' never step out of line, and always know my place."

"Is that why you always felt the need to hide yourself all the time?"

"It's what made things easier, honestly." You fiddle with the button of his flannel. "I hated the attention, I hated that my mother would go into my closet every day and make sure I wore certain things that wouldn't embarrass her, that she would only feed me rabbit food so I wouldn't 'let myself go'. She came from nothing, you know? She was my father's secretary, getting swept away with his money and his connections. She was in my place, once. You would think that she would show me mercy." You laugh to yourself, bitterly. "I was always an embarrassment in my parent's eyes, not pretty enough, not smart enough, not driven enough. I worked my ass off, and they still treat me like they did when I was a kid. "

"Yet, here we are," Joel murmurs, a gentle understanding in his eyes as he reaches to caress your cheek. "You've overcome so much, and you're not defined by their standards. You're your own person, and you've earned your worth on your own terms."

You lean into his touch, finding solace in the warmth of his hand. "I never thought I'd find someone who sees past all that, someone who appreciates me for who I am. Crazy family and all."

Joel smiles tenderly. "Well, you have, and I see a remarkable person in front of me. The past is just that – the past. We're building our own story now, and you're not defined by anyone else's expectations."

You smile sadly at Joel. "I hate thinking about this, about my parents. It always puts me in a terrible mood. Can we talk about something else, please?"

"What do you need me to do, baby?" Joel breathes, "Do you want me to help you forget?" He helps you onto your feet, leaning your body against the edge of his desk. He pushes the hem of your dress up your thighs, the edge of your stockings being held by a garter exposed as your breath hitches on your throat. "Fucking exquisite," he says, his lips kissing your thigh. "What do you need?" he repeats, almost begging.   

"I need you to fuck the pain away, Joel," you whisper, spreading your legs further. "Help me forget, please," you beg, your back arching as his hands travel up beneath the fabric of your dress. His fingers make their way up to your core, and his fingertips graze the gusset of your thong, adding pressure as he traces along your slit through the wet fabric. Your legs start to shake as his finger slips beneath the fabric, the edge of his fingertips probing at your entrance. Joel hums in satisfaction. He slowly inches his fingers into you. "Do you think you can come, just like this?"

"Yes," you moan, hitching your leg higher as you place your foot on his desk chair. He slides his fingers into you, the squelch of your wetness echoing throughout his office walls as he prods into you, his eyes dark as he watches his fingers being swallowed whole in your pussy. "Fuck Joel, just like that-"

"Should we check something off from my list?" he asks, moving his fingers away from your pussy as you whine from the loss of sensation, putting the glistening digits into his mouth, savoring your taste.  

You nod eagerly. "Yes, Joel. Please-"

"Turn around for me, Sugar," he softly commands. "... and grab onto something." You oblige, slowly turning so you are facing his desk, his hands pushing your back so your chest is resting on its surface. Your hands grab onto the edge of it, pushing your ass higher as he lifts the hem of your dress, exposing your ass. You swear you can imagine his smirk as his hands travel up the globes of your asscheeks, his grasp harsh, squeezing the plumpness of it. He grips your thighs and spreads them wider, lifting your ass to be level with his cock. He starts to grind into your core, your body trembling in his wake.  

He hooks his fingers through the elastic edge of your panties, ripping it off your hips. You turn your head to face him, watching as he pockets the scrap of lace into his back pocket. "You won't be needing this," he whispers, and you watch as he unzips his jeans, pushing it down along with his boxer briefs, his cock swollen and leaking at the tip. You gasp at the sight, rolling your bottom lip against your teeth. He rubs his erection through your folds, notching the tip of your entrance. "I'm gonna need you to breathe, okay? Can you do that for me, Sugar?"

He slides in before you can reply, and your voice gets caught in your throat, the feeling of him inside of you so delicious you moan out in pleasure. He starts to fuck you slowly, deeply. "Fuck Joel, just like that-"

"Fuck baby, you feel so fucking good, so fucking tight!" he harshly grabs onto your hips as he begins to cant his hips against yours, the angle he set hitting you just right. The entire desk starts to shake as he pounds into you, and you have half of a mind to say something, but Joel continues his pace, his head thrown back, eyes closed.  Thank god for the carpet, you think to yourself.  

He gathers your hair, pulling your body towards his as he continues to thrust harshly into you. "You're so good like this, baby. So fucking good for me, right Sugar?" he rips your dress from the front, the buttons flying throughout his office, pulling your breasts from the cups of your bra. He's pumping into you relentlessly, his mouth latching onto your neck. He grabs your breasts, kneading and squeezing. "One of these days you'll let me fuck these," he breathes in your ear.

"Joel, my dress!" you exclaim. "I can't walk around the office with my tits out!"

"We're going shopping after this, baby, don't you worry. You can wear the shirt off my back for all I care, gonna have to teach Lenore a lesson for having a big fucking mouth-"

"Can we not talk about another woman when you're balls deep inside of me?" you whine, meeting his thrusts as you pull on his shirt, trying to keep your moans as silent as possible, not wanting the entire office to hear Joel railing you into oblivion. "Fuck Joel, can you fuck me harder?"

Joel halts, pressing his cock deep inside, his hands harshly grabbing onto your hips. He reaches behind him, rolling his desk chair towards him to sit as he pulls you onto his lap, impaling you. "You're gonna have to be real quiet for me, okay baby?" he whispers against your throat. "We shouldn't be doing this, but I can't fucking get enough of you. Want to claim you on every fucking inch of this office, do you want that, baby? for me to fuck you on every single surface of this office?"

"Yes!" you scream, hopping on Joel's cock as he thrusts up into you, the position allowing you to feel all of him. "Fuck Joel, I feel so fucking full, how are you this massive? Fuck-"

"I'm going to fill you up, make you take all of my cum, make you mine completely. Remember when I sang you that song all those years ago? I looked into your eyes and swore I saw my future children in your eyes, fuck, It's all I've thought about," he groans, and it stirs something deep inside of you, the thought of your children, with Joel's brown eyes and smile, running around in the house, laughing, playing, living a life you were denied as a child. "Are you going to be the mother of my children?"

"Yes! Yes, fucking fill me up, make me yours, I can take it, I can take it! Fuck a baby into me, baby, I'll be so good, so so good-"

Joel's hand goes to your clit, his fingers rough against the nub, rubbing it furiously as you chase your release. "Then fucking come for me, Sugar," he commands. Come for me on my cock and I'll give you the entire fucking world-" He covers your mouth with his hands, his thrusts slow and deep as you fall apart completely. He braces your hands on the edge of the desk as he kicks his chair backward, pounding into you as he chases his release, his face in your neck as he sucks on your pulse point. "You think it'll take this time? You gonna give me baby?"

"Yes! Fill me up, I want all of it!"

Joel groans at that, thrusting into you once more as he falls apart, coming into you deep. You feel his cum fill you so much to the point that it starts to leak out of you. Joel keeps himself inside, panting heavily against your neck. "Fuck baby, I love you so fucking much." He kisses your cheek, pulling himself out of you slowly as he slumps onto his chair once more, his head thrown back in exhaustion. He unbuttons his flannel, throwing it towards you. "Put this on," he says, shrugging his jacket on as you straighten yourself. You raise your eyebrows at him as you button on his shirt, drowning in it. Joel gives you a wry smile. "Cancel all of your appointments, we're going shopping."

"Oh yeah? Just drop work, just like that?"

"Yeah," he replies nonchalantly. "I think it's time we visit our good friend Lenore. Have a little chat."

"Are you ready?" you nervously ask Joel as the two of you stand at the front door. "We can always turn around, say that I'm sick or something-" You fiddle with the hem of your dress, straightening yourself. "Don't you think this dress is a little much?" you ask absentmindedly.

"I think the real question is if you're ready, baby," he replies, a small reassuring smile on his face. "I've been telling you that I've been wanting to scream from the rooftops, yelling that you're mine-"

"I am yours like you are mine." You smile, placing your hands on his chest as you pull him towards you, his lips meeting yours. "I've never been so sure in my life, Joel. I think it's time we stop fucking around, right?"

"I've been yours since the first day I saw you, I was a goner-" he leans in for another kiss as you greedily accept, kissing him deeper, and deeper, and his hands travel lower, and lower, and your hands travel higher, and higher, until they reach the hair at the nape of his neck, and you're pulling, pulling, pulling, getting lost in his embrace. How can something that feels so good and so pure be so terrible to those around you?

"Sugar?!" Your mother's surprised voice slices through the air like a warning shot, abruptly shattering the enchantment between you and Joel. "Mr. Miller?!?" Her exclamation hangs in the tense moment, her gaping mouth and contorted expression revealing a mix of shock and embarrassment. "What on earth is going on here?"

"Mom, I-" you stammer, clearly struggling for words.

"Ma'am," Joel interjects, cutting through the tension. He gracefully presents her with the bouquet that rests on the bench, the vivid orange lilies contrasting against the soft pink of the Rhododendrons he had chosen at the florist. "How do you say 'Fuck you, I've won?'" he whispers with a smirk to the florist while sliding his black Amex across the counter. The resulting display is a beautiful arrangement, yet it carries an unmistakably direct message – as if declaring, "I love and desire your daughter, but I loathe you, so stand the hell back." Joel continues, "It's been a long time; I see the roof is holding up nicely-"

"Yes, well," your mother chokes, hastily grabbing the bouquet from his outstretched hand. "These are beautiful, Mr. Miller-"

"Come on, we're past pleasantries. Call me Joel," he smirks. "Happy anniversary, by the way... and thanks for the invite. Sugar said you guys were talking about me earlier today, so she thought she could surprise you by bringing me along with her."

"Joel. Right," your mother mutters to herself. "I was just asking how she was getting along working with you since she's been so busy, she barely comes around now!" She clears her throat, straightening herself, and glances at you, her eyes darting to the tightness of your dress. "Sugar, baby, what a... beautiful dress you have there. Are you not cold with how short it is?"

Joel squeezes your hand in his, giving you a wink. "Doesn't she look stunning in Herve Leger? Lenore has a great eye, right?"

Your mother fidgets nervously, chuckling to herself. "Lenore at Neiman Marcus? Yes, yes, well... she certainly knows how to flatter the female figure. I wasn't aware you were a client of hers-"

"Well, I had to introduce her to Sugar, you know, considering she always takes good care of me and my girls," he muses, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. You could swear you see your mother gulp at the gesture, her gaze dropping to her nails as she struggles to formulate a response.

"Well, what are we doing out here? Come in, come in!" she says suddenly as if her role as a doting, perfect entertaining housewife finally reboots in her brain. "Sugar's father will be surprised to see you after all these years, you made quite a name for yourself with your multi-million business-"

"Yeah, we did okay, I expect that this government job that we're bidding on might just push us over a billion next year if all goes well." He smiles widely, putting his arm around your shoulder. "Shall we, Sugar?" 

You nod aimlessly, letting Joel gently guide you towards the dining room, the laughter of your parents' friends echoing through the foyer. Your body starts to shake slightly, the nervousness of facing your father gradually taking over.

"Stop shaking, baby. I'm right here, alright? I ain't gonna leave your side for a second, okay?" Joel whispers suddenly in your ear, pressing a reassuring kiss to your hair. You nod once more, tightening your grasp on Joel's hand, finding comfort in his presence.

"Everyone, you remember my daughter, Sugar?" your mother announces abruptly as you enter the dining room, her gaze immediately meeting your father's as she holds up the bouquet. "Joel bought us a lovely arrangement. I'm just going to find a vase. Why don't you sit by your father, baby?" A wave of judgmental eyes from your parents' friends descends upon both of you, and you can't ignore the audible gasps of shock that fill the suddenly quiet room.

"Joel Miller," your dad suddenly remarks, his eyes narrowing at your clasped hands. "Now, that's a face I didn't expect to see again." His gaze lingers on yours, a subtle twitch in his eye revealing his displeasure as he presses his lips together. "Sugar, care to explain why your boss is gracing us with his presence tonight?"

"Uh-" you stammer, closing your eyes briefly. "Everyone, I would like to introduce you to my boyfriend, Joel."

The sound of glass breaks in the distance, your mother's surprised gasp shortly following, as if she was hovering past the kitchen in an attempt to eavesdrop on the inevitable showdown between your Father and Joel. You see your mother's maid run towards the door, excusing herself as she attempts to help your mother. You see your mother's friend from the club whispering to the man beside her, shaking her head as she links two and two together, a knowing smirk on the man's face as he looks at the both of you.  

"I see," your father responds, adjusting his collar to maintain composure. "Well, what's keeping you both standing there? Take a seat!" he commands, a forced smile directed at his friends. Joel moves to the chair beside your father, a playful raise of his eyebrows as he settles in, and you follow suit in the adjacent seat.

"Sir," Joel murmurs, his hand extended for a shake. Your father eyes the offered hand, clearing his throat before accepting it, engaging in a handshake with Joel. "It's been what, ten years?"

"Has it truly been that long? I recall warning you to steer clear of my daughter even then," he retorts wryly, sipping his drink leisurely.

"Honey," your mom interjects shakily, taking her seat beside you, opposite your father. "Our guests might prefer not to dwell on the past-"

"Dad, stop." You say softly, your head cast down. The emotions that you are going through are reminiscent of the emotions you felt when you were a kid, and you find yourself anxiously fiddling with your hands under the table, your bottom lip quivering slightly. "Please stop."

"What was that?" your dad asks menacingly, setting his fork down harshly. "If you have something to say, you might as well look at me! How did I end up with such a weak-minded naive little girl who opens her legs at the first rich old man she can find-"

"That's enough." Joel cuts in suddenly, his fists clenched together tightly, his knuckles white.  

As you glance at your mother from the corner of your eyes, you notice a slight tremor at the edge of her mouth. It's at that moment that you realize you share a vulnerable connection with her. Your mother looks just as horrified as you feel, her hands shaking while your father continues his tirade. The tears start to well up at the corners of your eyes, making your vision blurry. It's a tough moment, and you can't help but see a reflection of your own emotions in your mother's eyes.

"Tell me Miller, how long did you wait to seduce my daughter after you hired her at your firm?"

"Honey-" your mother interjects, shifting in her chair uncomfortably. "We have guests-"

"Or how long did you take until you seduced poor Mr. Miller here?" your Father spits, shaking his head in disbelief, his gaze going to your mother's shaking form. "What can I say, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree..."

"THATS ENOUGH!" you suddenly scream, slamming your fists on the table. You wipe the tears from your eyes, not caring about the mess it'll make at the makeup that the woman at the Laura Mercier counter meticulously placed upon your face earlier when Joel took you on an impromptu shopping trip for your cocktail dress. "Just stop it, STOP IT!"

Your father rises from his seat, his eyes drunkenly narrowed at you as he points at Joel. "You know, when they were talking about the little slut that was fucking Joel Miller at some dressing room who looked a lot like my daughter, I thought to myself, 'No, it couldn't be my little girl, she should know better', but then I see you in front of me, wearing that," he motions to your dress, "Maybe I misjudged my daughter after all. Congratulations, I guess, you managed to sleep your way to the top, just like your mother-"

"I said THATS ENOUGH!" you scream, rising from your seat, meeting your father's gaze.  

"Baby," your mother calls out in near tears. "Just let it go, you know how your father gets when he's drunk-"

But it's like you can't hear her.

"So it's okay for you, a rich man in a powerful position to 'seduce' a young woman, make her your wife, and force her into a life where she plays the doting perfect housewife, never allowed to pursue her dreams, always under your thumb? Is it okay for you to think so poorly of your child, your flesh and blood because I decided to fall in love with someone you don't approve of?" you're full-on crying now, not caring that you have an audience, tired of being that scared little girl who never spoke up, never had a voice of her own.  

"I did everything right. I wore the clothes you wanted, stayed away from any scandal, followed the rules, and earned an advanced degree at a decent school—all on my own merit. Only to be reduced to being seen as your 'little girl', unable to stand on my own two feet? Is it so bad that finally, I found someone patient enough to wait for me? Do you have any idea how long I've loved Joel? Only for you to tear us apart? Joel Miller is not like you, Father. He's built himself up from the bottom, proving himself to everyone who doubted him. He works tirelessly, supports his family and friends, and is the best boss anyone could ask for. And most importantly, he loves me, never gave up on me, and worked hard to prove himself. But here's the truth—I would have loved him even without all of this," you motion to the opulent interior, "richer or poorer. He never had to prove himself to me. I love him, and that's all that matters."

You glance down at Joel, who's clearly in shock by your confession. His mouth is agape, but there's awe in his eyes, and you know he's proud of you for standing your ground and finally finding your voice. He clears his throat, taking a sip of wine. "Thank you, baby," he whispers. You nod, wiping away the last of your tears.

Surveying the now silent room, your mother's eyes downcast, and your father staring into the distance from his seat, you offer a smile. "I apologize for the outburst, but I believe Joel and I have overstayed our welcome. I'm sorry for disrupting your dinner, Mom and Dad, but I don't think I belong here anymore." You raise your hand to Joel, who is already two steps behind you, and he rises from his seat, taking your hand in his. "I won't be part of a family that doesn't accept me any longer. Let's go, Joel."

"Sugar, baby, please-" you can hear your mom call out behind you as you lead Joel away from the dining room, determined to get the hell out of there. You hear your father telling your mother to sit down, to just let it go.  

"What are we gonna do now, baby?" Joel asks, engulfing you in a hug, and kissing the top of your head as you stand in the foyer.  

There's a glint in your eyes as you take his face in your hands, meeting his lips in a kiss.  

"Do you want to dish out some sweet fucking revenge?" you ask, your hands traveling down to his bulge in his slacks. "Give my poor father one last parting gift?"

His eyebrows raise in curiosity, groaning as you grab onto his cock harshly. "What did you have in mind, baby?"

"Follow me," you whisper, looking around to make sure no one is around, grabbing his hands as you lead him up the stairs, stopping at the door of your father's study. "Shall we?" you ask, opening the door. Joel nods eagerly, a small smirk on his face as he follows you into the room, closing the door behind him. You start to strip out of your dress, pushing the fabric slowly as Joel watches from behind. You push the fabric off your hips, sliding it from the slopes of your ass until the dress falls onto the ground, only leaving you in the black lace thong you asked Lenore to get you, a surprise for Joel. Joel groans in satisfaction as you lean against your father's desk, a wicked smile on your face.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" you breathe, "Are you going to fuck me on my father's desk or not?"

Joel smiles, unbuttoning his shirt. "I thought you would never fucking ask, baby."

Taglist:@sarcasm-theotherwhitemeat, @gwendibleywrites, @joeldjarin, @brittmb115, @thewiigers,

@auteurdelabre, @quicax3, @casa-boiardi, @amyispxnk, @untamedheart81,

@paleidiot, @bbiophiliaa, @laurrrra, @la-vie-est-une-fleur29, @missladym1981 (I apologize if I missed anyone, but if you are looking for any of my fic updates, please feel free to follow my updates blog @chiriwritesstuffnotifs!)

[javier-pena]

in plain sight, chapter i

Pairing: Tommy Miller x f!reader | Joel Miller x Tess Servopoulos

Word Count: 6.2k

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You’re back home in Austin for the summer and you start dating Tommy Miller, a boy you know from high school, a boy you had a crush on when you were a teenager. All you’re looking for is an uncomplicated summer fling, just some fun, until you have to go back to college in the fall. What you didn’t know is that Tommy has an older brother. And that older brother can’t keep his eyes off you right from the start …

Warnings: mentions of food and alcohol | smoking | reader has hair that can be grabbed | car sex | semi-public sex | a little bit of dirty talk | reader is a tiny bit bratty (in a blink and you’ll miss it kind of way) | two (2) pussy slaps | a tiny, tiny bit of degradation | oral (m and f receiving) | p in v sex | voyeurism | exhibitionism

Notes: The story of how I came up with the idea for this fic is actually very silly, so I'll spare you the details, but I will say it had something to do with a certain movie from 1978. Anyway, I'm so so excited to finally be able to share the first chapter of this!! I can't remember the last time I was this excited about a story, so that's a good sign I'll manage some semi-regular updates. I want to thank Angela @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for answering some of my questions about Austin, and, of course, Dani @alexturner who said it'll be good for me to write a story like that 🤭

[Masterlist] [Chapter 2]

***

“Back for the summer, eh?” was the first thing Tommy said to you after the both of you hadn’t spoken in seven years.

You were standing in line at the ice cream truck, holding your niece’s hand who was jumping up and down, giddy with excitement. Tommy was driving past in his red pick-up truck, a car you’d seen around the neighborhood, unaware it was his. Hell, there wasn’t a lot of awareness where it came to Tommy Miller in the first place. You almost didn’t recognize him that early June day leaning out of the window of his truck, elbow propped up against the door, a bright smile on his face. The boy you remembered from high school, the boy you had a crush on all those years ago, looked so different. Scrawny, lanky, greasy hair, a face full of spots. Sometimes you scrolled through old photos, laughed at yourself because you had lain awake for nights, imagining how he would confess his love for you, ask you to run away with him. The man in the truck that sunny afternoon was just that … a man. His tight, stained shirt was clinging to his arms and chest, grown big with muscles over the years. His hair that used to fall into his eyes, obscuring half his face, had been cut short. His tight curls were hidden underneath a baseball cap that had the logo of a local brewery on it. His face was tan, a dark golden color; it made you do a double take, made your palm grow sweaty against your niece’s hand, embarrassed by his attention. Because surely, he had mistaken you for someone.

“Tommy?” you asked, stumbling forward a few steps when your niece yanked on your arm. “Tommy Miller?”

He laughed so hard his chest heaved. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Then he ran a hand across his sweaty brow, his dirty cheeks. “Don’t tell me I’ve aged that badly.”

Of course he asked you for your number that afternoon, and of course you gave it to him while your niece was busy with her ice cream. You scribbled it onto the palm of his hand, thinking it was a quirky, romantic gesture. It had nothing to do with the fact that you wanted to touch him. The heat of a Texan June afternoon smudged the pen so badly before he got home that evening he couldn’t decipher your number. Luckily, he knew where you lived and came by the next day with a bouquet of flowers to ask you out on a date – officially.

That date went well – more than well. He took you to the movies, to a steakhouse, to a new bar in town. He was so different from the boys you met at college; he had been to war, he had his own company that he was running with his brother, he wanted to know about you and didn’t use your time together to talk about himself and his grand plans for his professional future. You hadn’t laughed that much in a long time, hadn’t enjoyed a guy’s company that much in … well, if you were honest with yourself, you couldn’t remember ever having had that much fun with anyone. You didn’t want the night to end, and when Tommy dropped you off back home afterwards, he kissed you in his truck, then said, “Tomorrow’s my day off. Let me take you somewhere.”

You had skipped up the stairs to your parents’ porch while his truck had idled at the side of the road until you were safely inside.

What followed the next day left you hungry for more. Tommy took you hiking, then he took you to a small ranch outside Austin because you had mentioned you’d never been on a horse before, but would like to try. You stayed there until the sun had sunk beneath the horizon and a bonfire was blazing next to the barn. You drank beers and watched the stars come out. Then someone pulled out a guitar and Tommy asked you to dance. That night, you got home well past midnight, feeling like you’d been somewhere very far away.

You didn’t see Tommy for a week after that. He was busy at work. You were busy telling your friends from college about him. “Just a bit of fun for the summer,” you said. They either cheered you on, asking for the saucy details, or reacted with, “That’s so typical. Anywhere you go, men fall for you.” You didn’t let that bother you because it wasn’t true. Besides, if anyone was turning heads it was Tommy.

The next Friday, he picked you up later than usual and a broad grin spread across your face when you saw him. He had decided to grow a mustache after you’d admitted to him that you used to have a crush on this handsome teacher in college who happened to have a mustache. Tommy handled your laughter well, said, “Get in the truck, college girl,” and sped off toward an unknown destination. You felt excitement wash over you whenever you glanced over at him. Because you hadn’t been idle that week either. You were wearing a matching set of underwear, a deep red color, delicate, hiding only what was necessary. Because Tommy had admitted to you that he had a thing for women wearing nothing but high heels and lingerie. You hoped just one of those would do the trick too.

That night he took you to a small concert, just a guy with his guitar and a cream-colored cowboy hat up on a brightly lit stage. He sang about the open plains, proposing to his wife, about how women don’t want a man in a suit, they all want a cowboy. And he had a point, you thought, after Tommy dragged you off into a dark corner during a brief break and kissed you until you could hardly breathe. None of the boys at college had ever kissed you like that. For the rest of the night, Tommy was hovering by your side, finding excuses to touch you. And when the concert was over, he led you back to his truck, opened the door for you and said, “Listen, my brother is out of town this weekend. Would you like to come back to my place?”

You didn’t even make it to the bedroom. You made it to the couch in the living room where you sat pretending to be interested in polite conversation while your heart hammered against your ribcage and Tommy kept shifting, trying to hide a growing bulge in his pants. Your friends had warned you, “Don’t sleep with him before the 4th of July. The summer is still so long and he’ll lose interest.” Yeah, there was no way you’d be waiting for almost another month for this.

Tommy made the first move but only because you waited for him to make it. His hand was high up on your thigh when he leaned over you to kiss your neck, and you quickly pushed him back against the couch, straddling him, taking off your shirt. His appreciative gaze told you you had gotten it right. That he later took your panties off with his teeth was just the cherry on top.

He made you come four times that night, twice on the couch (first with his tongue, then with his cock buried deep inside of you), one time in his bed (you rode him until he pushed you off and took you from behind), and one time very softly (with his finger, just before you fell asleep). It was obvious the next morning – he wouldn’t lose interest in you and you would have the best summer of your life.

*******

A week later, you’re putting the finishing touches on your makeup when you hear the doorbell ring. This is only your third weekend going out with Tommy, but you would be lying if you said you hadn’t recognized the sound of his pick-up pulling up in front of your house. The memories from last weekend are still fresh on your mind and it makes you giddy with excitement to wonder about what he might have planned for tonight.

When you come downstairs, Tommy is sitting on the living room floor, cross-legged, while your niece is introducing him to all her toy horses. Your sister is leaning against the doorway to the kitchen, shooting you a knowing look. You ignore her. Because no matter how much fun you’re having, you’re lightyears away from thinking about Tommy as anything more than a summer fling.

“Ready?” you ask, and when he looks up at you there’s that hunger in his gaze. Self-consciously, you tug at the hem of your very short dress.

“You’re really going out in that?” your sister asks you, and you can hear the thinly veiled jealousy in her voice.

Tommy gets up, slings his arm around your waist, and places a soft kiss on your cheek. “I know I’m supposed to call you beautiful,” he mumbles into your hair, “but you look so fuckin’ hot, darlin’.”

Your face heats up at hearing that pet name. To hide how flustered you are, you tousle your niece’s hair and say, “Don’t wait up for me,” to your sister without looking at her.

The smell of Tommy’s truck engulfs you when you climb inside, and you relax against the seat. It’s funny, really, how a scent you were unfamiliar with just two weeks ago can make you feel so much at ease now. In the driver’s seat, Tommy rolls down the window and lights a cigarette before he looks back toward your house.

“Your sister, is she divorced?” he asks, fidgeting with the lighter.

“Why? You interested?” you tease.

He pulls a face. “She needs to loosen up. Maybe a good fuck would help with that.”

You playfully slap his arm. “You’re impossible,” you laugh. “My brother-in-law takes good care of her.”

He shoots you a doubtful glance, then starts the truck.

The suburbs of Austin are quiet this evening. People are staying inside to escape the lingering heat of the day or they are already in town. You hardly see anyone, hardly pass any other cars as Tommy drives slowly, an old country song playing on the radio.

“You were on my mind all week,” he finally admits, pretending to keep his eyes on the road, but you notice how he glances at you.

You touch your neck, surprised by how hot your skin feels. “Nothing bad I hope.”

He chuckles. “Depends on your definition of bad.”

You briefly close your eyes and let your memory take you back to last Friday, to the image of him kneeling before you while he spread you open on the couch, tongue buried deep inside of you.

“Well.” You clear your throat. “I’m not usually like …” You trail off, suddenly worried you gave him the wrong impression, your head buzzing with your friends’ advice on how to keep him interested in you.

“You don’t usually sleep with a guy after the third date?” Tommy inquires.

“I don’t usually come more than twice in one night.” You whisper the offensive word.

“That’s hardly your fault,” Tommy replies with a shrug. “Those college boys are dull.”

“Who says I’m sleeping with college boys?” you ask.

He glances at you, the words, “oh come on,” written all over his face. “You don’t seem like the type of girl who would go after their dads.”

That comment sparks something in you. “Who says I’m not going after their moms?”

He laughs, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Now that’s a sight I’d love to see.”

“Do you think those college boys taught me all those things we did last week?”

Tommy clears his throat. “I think there’s a couple of things I’d like to teach you. Just as long as you promise not to use them on any college boys.”

A brief silence settles over you. Then, “Who taught you how to do all that, by the way?” you ask.

“All what?” Tommy teases.

“You know …” You shrug, but shift excitedly when he puts his warm hand on your naked thigh. His fingers are rough from his daily work, but his touch his so gentle that something melts inside of you.

“I’m afraid I don’t know.”

You sigh and glance up at the roof of the cabin. “Now don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re … what we did last week was the best sex of my life.”

Tommy squeezes your thigh. “There’s a wrong way to take this?”

“Don’t let it go to your head is what I’m saying.”

“It’s too late for that.” He pulls a grimace, brings the car to a stop in front of a red light. “Tell me more.”

“I’m not telling you anything until you tell me where you learned all that.”

“What? Eating pussy?”

“Oh my God.” Your face heats up because of him for the second time that evening. “Yes, that, but also … I’ve never been with a man who was so concerned about my … my pleasure.”

“I was in the Army,” Tommy answers.

“And they teach you that there?” You can’t quite tell if he’s being serious.

“If you’re on leave in some Godforsaken place, and there’s fifty other strappin’ young men you’ll learn fast enough how to please women. Or you’ll spend every night alone.”

You nod slowly. “Where are we going?”

“Oh no, missy, you’re not changing the subject.” Tommy’s hand climbs higher on your thigh; he’s almost touching the hem of your dress now.

You shrug. “You’re right; those college boys are boring. You’re … you know what you’re doing.”

“You’re just sayin’ that because you have no one to compare me to.”

Now it’s your turn to laugh. “No, I’m saying that because it’s the truth.”

Tommy glances at you again. “I don’t like that laughter.”

“Jealous?”

“A bit, yeah,” he admits.

“Don’t be,” you tell him, your voice suddenly soft. “There’s no reason to.”

Tommy pulls off the main road then and onto a dark parking lot. You’re about to make a teasing remark when he turns the car and suddenly the glistening Austin skyline is sitting right there in front of you, like a mirage in the desert.

“Wow,” you breathe and sit up straight.

“Did I promise too much?” Tommy wants to know.

“You didn’t promise me anything,” you remind him.

Your gaze wanders to take in everything, the dark trees shielding you from the road, the city that sits right there as if it wants to tempt you to reach out and touch it, the nearby bridge where a car passes in your direction.

“Wait a minute,” you say slowly. “I know exactly where we are.”

“And where’s that?” Tommy asks, a barely concealed smile on his face.

“I’ve heard stories about you and this place.”

“What kind of stories?” Tommy grabs a can of beer from a cooler on the backseat and opens it with a sharp hiss. “Only good ones, I should hope.” He hands you the can and you take it, but pull a grimace at him at the same time.

“What?” he asks.

“You used to take girls here when we were in high school,” you answer after taking a sip from the beer. “Lots of girls.”

“A handful, at most,” Tommy corrects you.

“More like a handful at the same time,” you mumble.

Now it is Tommy’s turn to ask, “Jealous?”

You take another sip before you answer. “I was back then. I had the biggest crush on you.”

“I’m flattered.” It sounds as if he’s mocking you but the flush on his cheeks tells a different tale.

“You never noticed me, of course,” you go on.

“You were a bit young,” Tommy points out.

“And now I’m not?”

“Now you’re a well-traveled woman who’s back in her little town for summer.” You open your mouth but he goes on. “Now you can tell when a man is takin’ you for a ride and when he’s serious about you. Do you still have a crush on me then?”

You shrug. “A different kind, maybe. I definitely don’t fantasize about you confessing your love for me anymore. Or about us running away together.”

“Why not?” Tommy takes a big swig from the can. “I think you should start doin’ that again.”

“Or I could fantasize about other things, less innocent things.”

Tommy shifts and clears his throat. You can’t help but smile at how little it takes to shift the mood.

“Like what?” he asks, and the beer can cracks in his grip.

“Like how you held me down last week,” you answer, fighting to keep your voice steady. “Or how softly you touched me afterwards.”

“You don’t have to fantasize about those things. Give me somethin’ new.” The slightly commanding edge to his voice sends a shiver down your spine.

“Well … when we were in high school, I used to wonder what it would be like to be taken here by you. What did you do with the girls you drove out here?”

In the distance, you can hear the sound of another car gliding across the bridge.

“Can’t you guess?”

“I was very innocent back then,” you remind him. “My thoughts never went past a small kiss on the lips.”

Tommy licks his. “Yeah, but now? What would you like me to do with a woman I take here?”

The tension has become unbearable and you giggle, searching to relieve it. It doesn’t work. Tommy’s hungry gaze wanders down to where your dress has ridden up your thighs and you inhale sharply.

“I still think a kiss would be nice,” you answer finally, your voice no longer steady at all. “But it doesn’t have to be all that innocent.”

Tommy puts one of his warm hands on your naked thigh, then leans in closer until he can hear your breath hitch. “Where would you like that kiss, darlin’?”

“How about you figure that out for yourself?” you tease him.

His lips are firm against yours, the pressure insistent until you open up for him. He tastes like the beer he just downed, the cigarette he just smoked. He also tastes like Tommy, and you relish how familiar you are with it after just two weeks. You sigh into the kiss, feeling all the tension leave your body. His teasing remarks and slight bravado are backed up by his skills, and you shudder remembering what else he can do with that tongue. You bite his lip to draw it out of him, but he only huffs and pulls back.

“Careful, darlin’,” he warns, his voice deeper now.

“What? Too wild for you?” you ask with a small laugh.

“Don’t get into somethin’ you can’t handle.” The tips of his fingers are under the hem of your dress now and you squirm, but he digs his nails into the soft skin. “See? I haven’t even touched you yet and it’s already too much for you.”

You raise your chin. “It’s not.”

“Have you ever fucked someone in a car?” Tommy asks, his hungry gaze fixed onto your face.

“No,” you reply slowly.

It’s not as if you didn’t know this was where the evening was going. It’s not as if you didn’t want it to go there. But now you’re here, you’re very aware of how exposed you are, even inside Tommy’s truck, and how many laws you would be breaking if you took this any further.

“Relax,” Tommy chuckles. His dark eyes are glistening in the lights of Austin. “You said it yourself: This isn’t my first time doin’ this. I’ve never been caught.”

“Oh, so I’m just another one of your conquests.”

“You can be anythin’ you want to be.” With that, he pushes his hand between your legs and places the tips of two of his fingers straight against your clit.

It’s as if your legs follow their own will when they spread open to give Tommy more room. He doesn’t need it, moving his fingers in a small circle, not breaking eye contact once. When he increases the pressure, one of your hands flies up to grab his shoulder, the other finds purchase against your seat.

“You like that, huh?” Tommy teases.

You nod, pushing your hips forward into his touch.

“Is it worth the risk?” His touch is lighter again, his fingers move slower.

Now it’s your turn to warn him with a, “Careful, Tommy.”

“Why?” His touch is feather-light now.

You move your hand that’s on his shoulder up to his jaw, cupping it. “You don’t want to turn me into a bad girl, do you?” You feel silly when you say it out loud like this, but his eyes light up.

“As I said, you can be anythin’ you want.” The tremor in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

“How about we start by turning me into someone who gets fucked in a car?”

Suddenly, he turns his head, biting into the heel of your palm, making you squeal. When your laughter dies down, you notice how his fingers are moving faster again, accompanied by a wet sound.

“God,” Tommy groans. “Look at you. I’ve barely touched you.”

Something tells you that you should be embarrassed by how little it took for him to turn you on, but then he increases the pressure on your clit, and your eyes flutter shut with a moan.

“I can see you overthinkin’ this,” Tommy whispers, so close you can feel his warm breath on your neck and ear. “Don’t. You’re fuckin’ perfect.”

“Tommy …,” you groan, and you don’t quite know why. Do you want him to go faster? Slower? Do you want him to make you come?”

He doesn’t allow you a single second to find answers to those questions. “I love it when you say my name like that.”

You roll your hips into his touch, and his other hand grabs your thigh with a firm grasp. “Don’t. Tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you.”

You open your eyes to find his gaze fixed on your face, eagerly licking his lips. In that moment, you don’t remember ever wanting anyone as much as you want him. Out of curiosity, you try to roll your hips again, and he lands a soft slap against your pussy in retribution, one that makes you groan with pleasure.

“Do that again,” you pant.

He hesitates for the briefest of moments, then does as you ask, a little harder this time. You fold, your upper body bending toward your knees, your head fuzzy with pleasure.

“I need you … inside of … of me, Tommy, please,” you stammer. You feel yourself clench around nothing at the thought of him filling you up. He only rolls your clit between his fingers, making your hips jerk involuntarily. “Please, Tommy, please.”

“Shhh,” he makes, and kisses your temple. “Later, darlin’. I want to see you come in your panties first.”

You grab his shoulder, feeling yourself tumble toward the edge. His fingers are moving fast enough to drive you insane with pleasure but it’s not quite enough to get you there. And he must know that, judging by the smug look on his face.

“Please,” you whimper.

“What do you need?” he asks, his voice thick with arousal.

You risk a glance down between his legs, the obvious bulge in his jeans making you clench again. Then you press your hand against his moving between your legs, just so the pressure becomes a bit more …

Tommy slaps your hand away. “Harder, Tommy,” he says in a voice mocking yours. “Come on, say it.”

“Harder, Tommy,” you moan immediately.

And you’re rewarded with an orgasm so intense you see stars dance in front of your eyes. Your moans make your ears ring, and when Tommy doesn’t stop, they turn into desperate whimpers. It’s only when you grab his wrist that he stops and you try to catch your breath with a shuddering sob.

“Fuck,” you groan and close your eyes.

“Yeah,” Tommy agrees. “Can’t believe you really just came in your panties for me.”

You laugh, your voice breaking when you can’t get enough air into your lungs.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful right after an orgasm, you know that?” Tommy goes on, and you want him to keep talking like that more than anything.

“Why?” you ask, then gasp, when he presses his fingers against your clit before removing his hand.

“You’re so perfect,” he answers without hesitation. “I guess I like seein’ you come undone.”

You straighten your dress and look at the glistening Austin skyline in front of you. “You bring out the worst in me, Tommy Miller.”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s almost impossible to take the good out of the girl.”

You glance down at his bulge again, lick your lips at the thought that it’s just sitting there, waiting for you. “It’s much easier than you think,” you reply, then begin to unbuckle his belt.

His hips jerk in response. “Careful, darlin’.”

“What? Can’t handle it when the tables are turned?” you tease.

He shoots you a crooked smile. “Don’t bite off more than you can chew.”

“Oh, I intend to.” You grip his hard cock and pull it out of his jeans, relishing how his hips jerk again. Your mouth waters when you run your thumb over the glistening tip and hear Tommy inhale sharply. Your short, tight dress makes it hard for you to climb up onto the seat while still preserving some of your dignity, but one glance at Tommy tells you he couldn’t care less. His pupils are dilated and his mouth hangs slightly open while his chest rises and falls rapidly. All that just because you’re holding his cock in your hand. You stroke across the tip again, then move your hand down toward the base and lock your lips to his, capturing a deep groan. Tommy’s eyes flutter shut and you lower your head, closing your lips around his cock.

“Fuck,” he groans, one hand immediately tangling in your hair.

You shift, trying to find a more comfortable position, but it’s hard, even if the bench of the pick-up is bigger than most car seats you’re used to. Tommy doesn’t care. He pushes himself deeper into your mouth and you swallow around him, his sharp taste overwhelming. It’s hot in the truck, and you can smell his sweat, smell your own arousal on his hand resting on his thigh. You pull off him until only his tip is still between your lips, then move down again, while he pushes, almost impatiently. Your neck strains uncomfortably, but you want to make this work. For him.

“Stop,” he says after his tip hits the back of your throat and you gag. “I want to be inside of you.”

You straighten your back and smile at him. Your lips feel swollen. “You are, Tommy.”

With his thumb, he swipes away saliva and pre-cum from your bottom lip. “Not like that.”

The way he looks at you, heated, yes, but also with an unguarded softness in his eyes, makes something flutter inside your chest. “What did you have in mind?” you ask.

He leans forward, his mouth so close to your ear his breath tickles your skin. The presumed forbiddenness of what he’s about to tell you makes you hold your breath. “I want you on top of me,” he whispers in your ear, voice low. “Use me however you want.”

A pleasant shiver runs down your spine and you nod, cheeks burning up. What have you done to deserve a man like him in your life?

You move to climb on top of him, but he stops you, his hand spread across your chest. “I think we’d be more comfortable on the backseat. Don’t you?”

You glance over the front seats at the dark space beyond and nod again. It’s also harder to spot you back there should someone decide to drive into the parking lot.

With practiced movements, Tommy tilts his seat, then climbs over it, briefly struggling with his loose jeans. You grin and follow him, body humming with pleasant anticipation. Tommy pulls his shirt over his head and kicks off his shoes and jeans, but when you start to take off your dress, he stops you.

“No. Just your panties.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Oh?”

You can’t really tell in the dim light but he looks flushed when he searches his trouser pockets for a condom.

When you finally lower yourself onto him, you can feel his chest vibrate with a deep groan under your palms. He jerks and shifts trying to adjust himself, but you hold him down and roll your hips from side to side until he nods. For a while, you both just sit there and look at each other, his hands stroking your sides, your fingers playing with the coarse hairs on his chest. To you, this is the definition of paradise.

You roll your hips in small, slow circles at first, so imperceptible it takes him a while to notice. But when he does, he jerks his hips upwards, urging you to go faster, so you press your knees into his sides.

“No,” you tell him, and when he opens his mouth to protest, you put a raised finger against his lips. “Let me take care of you.” For a second, you think he’ll reject you; but then he nods. “Good,” you say, brushing your thumb across his bottom lip before pulling your hand back. His chest and neck are a deep red now.

It’s not like you’re planning on torturing him forever. You roll your hips a little faster, and with every deliciously lewd sound he makes for you, a little faster still. Soon, your resolve crumbles, and you allow him to stroke your naked thighs, to squeeze your clothed breasts, even to play with your clit. The humid air in the truck clings to your skin, and to Tommy’s, and you’re transfixed by a bead of sweat making its way down his cheek. You capture it with a kiss, then throw back your head with a moan when he rolls your clit under his thumb just so.

That’s when you notice it – the other truck parked next to yours. Was it already there when Tommy pulled into the parking lot? Did it pull up afterwards and you just didn’t notice because you were occupied with other things at the time? Whatever the answer might be, it’s not important right now, not when you notice the other truck isn’t empty.

A man is staring at you with an intensity that makes your breath catch in your throat. He looks older than Tommy, but not by much, maybe a few years. His face is framed by dark hair and a dark beard, very prominent on his upper lip, less so on his cheeks and chin. His eyes are dark too, hidden in the shadows of the driver’s cabin, but you can feel them on you, watching every twitch of your hips with intent. And he definitely isn’t alone.

You can’t see the person he’s with; she’s kneeling in front of him, hands and knees on the backseat, and he’s holding down her head with his outstretched arm. All you can see is that she has dark auburn hair that the man uses to hold her in place. The back of your own scalp prickles at that sight and you wish someone would hold onto you like that.

You should stop and tell Tommy about the stranger in the car next to yours who is fucking a woman you can’t see while watching you fuck a man he can’t see. Or you should move to the other side of the car where he won’t be able to see you. The least you should do is look away. But you don’t do any of these things. Later, when you’re alone, you’ll ask yourself why, but there is no answer other than not wanting to break the connection you feel to that stranger at this very moment. You’ll think it a weak excuse then, but right here, in Tommy’s truck, it feels like the most sensual experience of your life. You’re both fucking other people and yet it feels like you’re fucking each other.

Beneath you, Tommy groans deeply, and he twitches inside of you. “Keep goin’, darlin’,” he mumbles.

You don’t know if Tommy is watching you or if his eyes are closed, you don’t know if his mouth hangs open, you couldn’t name the shade of red coating his neck. Instead, you watch as the stranger bites his lip, watch as his eyes flutter shut after a particularly deep thrust, watch how he presses the woman’s head down further. You can almost hear his pants and growls, and in turn your breath comes in short bursts. Why doesn’t he look away? And why don’t you?

His thrusts come faster now, and it’s not as if you’re consciously changing your pace too, but suddenly you catch yourself matching the roll of your hips to his. You groan when you see the smirk on his face, and your upper body falls forward, forcing you to brace yourself against Tommy’s chest. Why did that stranger’s smirk set the base of your spine on fire and why did your small moment of weakness make his face darken with resolve?

When you look up again, he has his eyes closed, so you close yours too, and for an instant, just one brief moment, you imagine it’s him thrusting up into you. That vision is so powerful you half expect it to be him below you when you open your eyes again, but it’s Tommy, and he’s watching you.

“Feel so good,” he mumbles. “So, so good.”

A twinge of guilt gets mixed in with that already explosive cocktail of feelings brewing inside of you, and you’re not sure what to do about it. Are you crossing a line with this? You don’t know; you’ve never heard about anyone in a situation like this. All you know is that when you lift your head, the stranger’s gaze hits you like a bolt of lightning. You feel it tingle in your fingers, up and down your legs, on the tip of your nose, and at the back of your neck. But most importantly, you feel it deep in your core that clenches with desperation. He lifts his chin and rolls his shoulders, pushing his chest forward, like he’s showing off to you, and you can’t help it – you dig your nails into Tommy’s skin and he groans with pleasure.

The air in the truck is so heavy it is becoming hard to breathe. You only realize that when you would need it most desperately. Over there, in the other car, the man’s hips suddenly still and you watch as he throws back his head, as a deep, dark flush climbs up his chest and neck. You can almost feel it, how he empties himself into that woman he’s fucking, how he empties himself into you. And before you can fully grasp what is happening, you’re clenching around Tommy hard and fast, making him snap his hips up into you.

“Fuck, fuck! Fuck!” he swears, holding you in place with two hot hands on your sides.

Your orgasm is still making your entire body shake, but it also feels like it doesn’t belong to you at all. You’re praying for the stranger to look at you again, one final time, but he has disappeared. All you can see is his back from time to time, and the woman’s knees that look like they’re trembling, as he goes down on her. You can’t help the jealousy that is clawing at the inside of your stomach.

Tommy pulls you down and gives you a searing kiss. “You’re fuckin’ amazin’, you know that?” You giggle and bury your face against his neck, trying to shake off that strange feeling of desire and yearning. “I’m very sorry I doubted you,” Tommy goes on. “No college boy could’ve taught you that.”

“That good, huh?” you ask, running your hand through his curls.

“Good’s an understatement,” he mumbles.

Carefully, he lifts you off him and takes off the condom. You’re on the other side of the truck now and can barely see the top of the other one. That loss is strangely irritating.

“Take off your dress,” Tommy orders.

You look at him, at his flushed cheeks, at the drunk desire in his gaze. “Ready for round two already?” you tease.

He shakes his head. “No, but I won’t make you wait for me.”

His mouth is hot against your sensitive clit, and you roll your hips up against his tongue eagerly. Above you, the roof of the truck is cast in shadows. You stare up at the boring gray, eyes wide open, because as soon as you close them, you see the stranger, as clear as if he was still right in front of you. And you refuse to give him that kind of power over you.

***

joel miller taglist: @almodovarispunk | @chippedowlmug | @daimyosprincess | @giggly-otter | @girlbossnancy | @hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmsstuff | @jennaispunk | @lexloon | @mandalaur | @mandinlore | @n7cje | @sin-djarin | @swimmjacket

in plain sight taglist: @shellshocklove

permanent taglist: @alexturner | @amneris21 | @din-jarhead | @harriedandharassed | @martellthemandalor | nyfeeer | @nobodys-baby-now | @od-ends | @pedrorascal | @pedrostories | @radiowallet-writes | @xoxabs88xox

[krispycreamcake]

yeeees! Please go for the headcanon!!

From author: Was secretly wishing you'd send this 🙏🏼

If you killed someone in the Sakamaki household

Shu Sakamaki

🎻- Honestly just like every other brother, it heavily depends on who was killed

🎻- If it was Reiji, he'd be ecstatic, kind of

🎻- His relationship with Reiji is extremely strained and that's without him even knowing about him "killing" Edgar

🎻- He'd be impressed that you managed to kill someone like Reiji which initially makes him extremely wary of you

🎻- His immediate reaction to finding out would be disbelief but then escalate into one of satisfaction

🎻- He'd probably say something along the lines of "What would that woman think if she knew you died by the hands of a mere mortal, I wonder?" And cue insane laughter please

🎻- If it was someone less relevant to him, then I'd say he's the type of guy to not care until he actually sees the body dressed up and ready to be buried

🎻- Now I'm not saying he'll go into grieving or anything, but it'll actually hit him that his brother is in fact dead

🎻- Now for his reaction towards YOU

🎻- That's a completely different story

🎻- Like I said before, his reaction would differ and if you really did manage to kill Reiji, he'd be ever so grateful but he'd never say it. Ever.

🎻- He'd probably be curious though as to what drove you to killing him, or any of his brothers for that matter

🎻- He'd analyze the situation in his mind and pick out the flaws that led to their demise

🎻- Realistically he'd care but not for too long. Give him about less than a week to get accustomed and he'll be fine

🎻- He'd never underestimate you again though, he'll make sure of that

🎻- If it was Yui however, then that's a lot more complicated

🎻- If his relationship was well developed with her, you'd be dead, without a doubt

🎻- If he was still in his almostgivingafuckbutnotreally stage, he wouldn't care a lot

🎻- He'd be kinda irritated that you killed his prey though and then Karl would just send another troublesome woman to bother him

🎻- But like I said, if he really did start to warm up to Yui or was already warmed up, you'd be dead in an instant

Reiji Sakamaki

☕- Surprised and concerned

☕- This may honestly seem like a shock to some people but Reiji actually does care for his brothers and has stated that he enjoys living with them

☕- Going off of this information, we can assume he'd be at least a tiny bit distraught even if he doesn't convey it outwardly

☕- Like Shu, he'd want to know your motives and additionally, how you even managed to do such a thing

☕- He'd honestly miss their presence and picking up after them. He would probably cope in some weird ass way

☕- Maybe he'd start writing letters to them and keep them sealed away somewhere extremely safe

☕- Initially, his face would go 😨 and then you'd have to deal with him mourning

☕- He'd probably avoid you realistically until he has thoughts in an order

☕- This process can take either a day or a month depending

☕- God forbid it was Shu that was killed however

☕- Once again, cue insane laughter

☕- Seeing your lifelong rival die is something I'm sure is hard to process

☕- I'm not saying he wouldn't be relieved that his good for nothing brother died, especially since it meant he was now the oldest and had more opportunities opened up to him

☕- But as much as he does hate Shu, it's still his brother and at some point in their lives, they weren't rivals

☕- Now I'm not saying he'll be even slightly upset with his death but

☕- Actually let me backtrack a bit

☕- Imagine hating someone so much because all they do is show you up without having to do anything and in a second, they're gone

☕- Reiji would almost throw a tantrum

☕- Their relationship can be comparable to Joker and Batman in a sense

☕- Let me elaborate on that for a second

☕- Building your life around a certain person and making sure you come out on top no matter what

☕- Having the very reason that you're the person you are today, be ripped away from you is something that's always hard to process whether your relationship with them is negative or positive

☕- Reiji needs to feel the satisfaction of killing Shu so he can translate onto him the years of pent up rage and resentment and pain and hurt and jealousy

☕- Killing Shu would mean to Reiji that you took away the one thing he could've owned for himself without being overshadowed

☕- If you take away the very thing that makes Reiji, Reiji, then he'll lose the foundation for all his successes in life

☕- If you killed Yui however, obviously death

☕- I feel like I shouldn't have to say it each time, but expect to die in some twisted malevolent way

☕- Let's say he didn't have that bond with Yui, he'd still be pissed

☕- Probably lock you in the dungeon without food so you could "understand" the extent of your crimes

Ayato Sakamaki

🏆- Ok so I'm not sure how many people know this, but Ayato is the most sympathetic of his brothers, I'd go as far to say even empathetic

🏆- Now I'm not saying this makes him a morally good person and whatnot, or that he'll cry everyday and bring flowers to his brother's grave, no

🏆- We learn that Ayato is actually quite understanding and sympathetic when he states that he understands why Cordelia did certain things and even pitied her

🏆- With that in mind, it'd hurt him, a lot

🏆- We all know Ayato is one to wear his heart on his sleeve no matter wherever or whoever

🏆- He'll be outwardly upset but that doesn't mean he'll be seen mourning

🏆- To break it down, he's the type of person to stare at the empty seat in the dining room and can't help but realize that chair will always be empty

🏆- Or he'll realize that he'll live long enough to forget his brother's voice, sometimes stand in front their bedroom door, not saying anything and then walking off

🏆- He'll notice how the living room feels slightly bigger when there's family meetings and how he'll never get to shout at that person again

🏆- Due to him being conditioned to being number one, he'll have extremely mixed feelings

🏆- As a competitor, the game isn't fun without other opponents, even if it's a game you know you'll win because then you coming first means nothing

🏆- Dying or in this case, 'dropping out the race' would make Ayato stop running for once and look back at the other players

🏆- That's if it was someone he wasn't as close with

🏆- Now let's say you killed Laito for instance, he'd have quite a different reaction

🏆- He would actually mourn his brother but never let anyone see him

🏆- His relationship with Laito is complicated but not an enigma

🏆- He feels as if he owes Laito something from not being able to help him in his past

🏆- Knowing that he died meant that he failed as a brother

🏆- If you killed Laito out of self defence, he'd be upset that his brother was dead but not because you defended yourself

🏆- Like I said earlier, he's the most understanding and sympathetic

🏆- If he could go into the shoes of the woman who abused and made his life hell

🏆- He could understand why you did what you did

🏆- If however it wasn't out of self defence, like Reiji he'd need to take a while to compose himself

🏆- He'd wanna know why and how and then just sit on his bed not knowing what to feel

🏆- He'd be upset at you if that was the case and you'd probably have to work to regain his trust again(if you want it)

🏆- But like I said, still the most understanding, so he had a feeling you might pull something like this if you started getting pestered too often or showed signs that you weren't doing okay

🏆- And oh God if it was Yui, yeah you're not coming out alive and I know I've said this like 2 times already, but let me be clear

🏆- You will wish he killed you

🏆- Prey or not, taking something that belongs to Ayato is never ever a good idea

From author: Guys it's 2am, I'll upload the other brothers tomorrow I promise, just please don't kill my family. (Ps, I love you guys❤)

[l0v3tast3]

*Peeks into the ask box* Hey, I got a request.

How would the 141 propose to their partner?

ARIZONA THIS IS THE CUTEST ASK EVER I LOVE YOU. this was so sweet to write i loved this so so much thank you lovely!!! ＼(≧▽≦)／

✎ tags: gn!reader, uber amounts of fluff !!

✎ word count: 1.2k words (not proofread)

masterlist | requests are open!

♡ simon "ghost" riley — simon proposes to you quietly, in the privacy of your bed, swaddled in blankets together while you lay on his chest. it's the most serene he's ever felt in his life, the both of you laying in a state of half-consciousness together just to be close. he'll look down at you and trace the line of your cheekbone lightly until your eyes crack open blearily and you tilt your head up to him with a content hum. — it'll take him quite some time, years of building an unbreakable bond of trust between the two of you, years of working on healing not just for you but for himself, for any future children you may have. simon will be so hesitant to settle down with anyone, to try to start a life of his own outside of taking others. so after long enough that he realizes things do work out, he'll cup your face and bend down to kiss you, soft and slow, filled with all the love he has for you. — when he draws away he'll say the words, so quiet you wonder if you imagine it: marry me. your eyes widen and simon presses his forehead to yours, noses brushing together as his thumbs trace the graceful lines of your face, and he says it again, only a tiny bit louder. when you finally say yes, he'll smile with a level of joy you've never seen in him before.

♡ john "soap" mactavish — johnny is not the kind of man to hide his love for you. once he knows how he feels for you, he wears it proudly, always boasting about how lucky he is to have you, how wonderful of a partner you are. his shows of affection are boisterous and grand, spoiling you with lavish gifts and more hugs and kisses than anyone could possibly count. the way he proposes is, of course, no different. — so much planning goes into it. of course, johnny makes sure to ask your friends to confirm that you're okay with a public proposal before it all, but once he gets the go ahead, he doesn't hold back. he'll throw a gorgeous party around a holiday or a significantly happy anniversary, your first date or kiss. he invites all your friends, family, anyone either of you care for and love all in one place. they're all in on it, there's no doubt about it; your friends help you plan your outfit and johnny pays for it all (which isn't unusual, thankfully). the engagement ring is either handed down from your family or bought from an absurdly expensive store with a design pre-approved by your best friends. — he'll bend down on one knee near the end of the party and when you turn back to him he's holding the ring up, looking at you with all the love he has in him. johnny says that all he needs is you, and when you say yes and let him slip on the ring he scoops you into a tight hug, tears of happiness pricking the corners of his eyes.

♡ kyle "gaz" garrick — kyle doesn't have the same flare for dramatics as johnny; he's a quiet man, so much so that he was practically given his callsign because of it. that being said, he's not as low-key as simon, either. kyle isn't a man with many close relationships (by his own choosing). the people he does keep close, though, mean everything to him- you especially. so while he won't throw a huge party or propose in front of your family and friends, kyle still makes sure he shows just how much he loves you. — it isn't abnormal for kyle to take you shopping like johnny does, so he takes out like usual and gently suggests the dress or suit he thinks you'd like best to get engaged in (for the pictures, if that's your thing). the night he plans to propose, kyle starts it off by taking you to the upscale restaurant that you swear puts crack in your favorite dish. after whatever dessert you choose and a bottle of your favorite wine or champagne, he'll suggest a detour on the brief walk back to your shared downtown apartment. — he brings you to a quiet little viewing spot along a river leading into a bay; the place you first met, classically bumping into each other at this very spot. kyle tries to prepare a little speech as a declaration of love before he asked you to marry him, and he swears it's the first time he's fumbled over this many words in years. when he sees the gears in your head turning and starting to realize, he chuckles nervously and says a quiet "fuck it" before he kneels down and pulls out the ring. kyle will unashamedly admit that he cried when you said yes, if anyone asks.

♡ john price — john won't throw a party, but he will throw a "formal gathering" consisting of close friends and family. it's something that he secretly plans months in advance; he won't admit how proud of himself he is, but over the course of those months he subtly finds out every specific detail he needs of what your favorite thing is for the not-party, and you still never figure it out. if you're close with your family he gets your parent's blessing and a handed down ring if they have one (if not, he isn't shy about how much he spends on your engagement ring, and he gets what you'd like it to be out of you too). he even gets your friends in on it too, to help him with their own knowledge of your likes and dislikes. — it's planned from the beginning that john proposes to you right at the start of the not-party. he plans it at a beautiful small venue and keeps it all as a surprise, but he's certain that it'll be obvious from the moment you step foot inside the place. so when you get there he pulls you to the balcony that overlooks a gorgeous lake and cups your face. despite your friends and family watching with dewy eyes, john will make this moment private. the words of how hopelessly in love with you and devoted to you he is shared quietly just between two lovers. — he doesn't even bother kneeling (because honestly you'd be crazy to not already be saying yes) when he pulls out the ring, and when you say yes as soon as he has the four-word question out he kisses you, pulling you as close to him as he can. the rest of the party is spent popping bottles of champagne and basically being inseparable from each other. john spares no expense and does everything in his power to make this the happiest night you've ever had, and will promise you that he'll do the same for every night for the rest of your lives.

[reel-fear]

Bendy And The Power Of Representation

So those graphic novel pages huh? Seems I posted my cover post at just the right time because literally minutes after I was informed the preview pages came out and uh. This is Buddy and Norman!

Oh dear... I'll put the full graphic novel pages down below but I have so much to say on how awful this is it'll need several posts. However, right now I want to mostly talk about representation and briefly touch on why it's so damn important + inform others about the current shit Mike and Meatly are saying about the books n such.

Now note: All the things I'm saying below are based on my personal experience, maybe some people don't care about seeing the representation of their identities in the media they consume. Maybe some will think I'm merely being dramatic and I might be but I'm not lying when I say I personally believe being represented and seen in the media you consume can be one of the most wonderful feelings in the world.

Look I'm not here to argue with people who think that Norman in particular was never meant to be a person of color, I would argue he is very coded but the points I'm making here are not about how Norman particularly had to be black. The point I want to make is the lack of diversity in our cast in general and how Norman's design has heavily dwindled it considering most people [including myself] rightfully assumed he was at least one of three black characters in our cast. Not according to this though and looking at the the rest of the pages our chances of seeing any kind of decent diverse character designs dwindle more.

So firstly... Buddy a character who has been said to experience discrimination for being Jewish, lacks any kind of ethnic features at all. That's... Cool but yeah I think this shows a rather grim future for the character designs as a whole.

Also, Norman... As I mentioned he was largely assumed to be black due to his southern dialect, his voice, and other factors. But nope, he's a generic white guy. With... Gross looking hair tbh...

Sadly this is not the first time the topic of poor representation has come up concerning Bendy either.

[note how he disregarded the other mentioned minorities and specifically cites LGBTQ+ characters]

This sucks as a response but sadly considering Mike's recent behavior it seems to fall in line with the Bendy team's general lack of care towards representing anyone who isn't straight and white.

So how did Mike respond to all of this? Well...

TDLR - "Who cares if the Graphic Novel we're selling to our fans for full price sucks, we now no longer consider the books canon."

This is horrible, I know Mike and Meatly are only really in this for the money, the fact BATIM is in the state that it is proved that, but they really couldn't have been less obvious about it?

So basically when it benefited them, AKA when it meant people would have to buy the books to understand important lore like Boris' identity... [the character you spend all of chapter 4 trying to rescue] They were considered canon... At least the author sure thought so.

Hell even in the tweet Meatly made here he doesn't say the books aren't canon, he just says they're not needed to understand Bendy's world. Now Mike is using that as a shield instead of doing the right thing and saying "You're right, the poc in our fanbase deserve better we'll have it fixed right away!" Like most reasonable people would considering how his studio has literally been accused of bigotry, poor rep, and general lack of diversity before. Why risk making more people avoid this franchise?

Also just... Imagine how insulting it would be to be an author who helps flesh out so much of this world and gives its characters depth like NONE of the games have managed to do, filling in plot holes, creating a timeline for events, etc... Then because they couldn't bother to change the graphic novel for ur story to be better they instead throw out all ur writing and declare it non-canon.

If I were her to put it bluntly I'd feel insulted and horrible. Why make her do all the work of making sure her works align with the timeline and game's canon if they're not part of it?

I can't speak for her obviously but Meatly and Mike know of her account, so speaking out against this could very much risk her being fired or at least not allowed to work on Bendy anymore... So I would take all her tweets on this situation with a grain of salt. She very much is not in a position where she could be honest if she was against this.

So with all that history now, the question I'm sure many are wondering is... Why does this even matter? Who cares how diverse the characters are when it doesn't affect the story?

Well for one thing, if you think like that consider having more empathy for your fellow human beings but also it does affect the story. One of DCTL's themes is about the bigotry of the period it is set in.

Now the Bendy team has managed to make the discussion of this book centering around their bigotry which is ironic in a way I almost find funny... Though this entire thing is just a bit too hurtful and upsetting to find any humor in, at least for me...

But another thing is representation can bring people such joy when it's done with care. It really shouldn't be understated how far it can go to make people feel more comfortable in their own sense of self to have a franchise choose to represent them and their experiences. I know this from personal experience.

Now if you've been following me for a while, you know I'm a big fan of Transformers. I no longer engage with it much due to baggage from the fandom's awful treatment of me, but before I left I remember being able to witness the release of Transformers: Earthspark first few episodes.

These introduced the Maltos the family who meets the Transformers and serve as our protagonists and guess what?

It's a family of Filipinos!

Now look I'm not Filipino, but I am half Mexican and I have a lot of love for that part of me. So seeing the representation of any Spanish culture in this franchise I loved made me so happy! I remember just watching the first episode I was happily telling my partner how fun it was to see people like me and my family in a world I love!!

But it didn't end with the Maltos in fact... There was another character who spoke to me, their name was Nightshade. Their pronouns are They/Them and they spoke about it on the show! Not just mentioning it and moving on but actually sitting down to speak about their experiences...

This clip in particular really turned them into an absolute favorite among fans and well... I'll let you see it for yourself.

This scene... Fills me with a joy I cannot describe. It is the creators of a franchise I love telling me they see people like me and find the stories of people like me important enough to include in this series. There really is nothing like being able to say there are Non-Binary characters in a franchise I have so much love for. I was far from the only one too.

This is amazing, this is wonderful, this clip and character were moving to so so many people and...

This is a joy the Bendy creators have no interest in giving their audience. They don't care how you feel as a queer and/or black person, which... Hurts...

I... Discovered I was trans while in the Bendy community... It was where I learned the word Non-Binary and started using it for myself. To me Bendy will always have that connection... But the devs themselves seem to hate the idea of being forced to actually represent that in their games... And I still haven't really gotten over that pain or betrayal if I'm being honest.

So...

With Norman now being portrayed as white here, we are down to two black characters. Thomas [who Meatly has claimed is white in the past] based on a vague conversation with Sammy in DCTL they could easily ignore... And Jacob.... A book exclusive character which according to Mike means he is non-canon.

If we don't count Thomas' vague talk with Sammy about disrespect as confirmation he's black [which the devs don't seem to think so] then we have one black character in all of Bendy... And he recently got retconned into non-existence. Great.

Look... The Bendy fanbase has always been full of wonderfully diverse designs for the staff and even more diverse people creating them. Bendy's fandom was built with the work of queer people from all kinds of places.

If the Bendy team continues to show how little they care for anyone who isn't straight or white... I wonder who they are counting on to buy this book or in general financially support their franchise?

I know right now, I am furious, I am hurt and I most certainly don't feel like buying a book that's currently just a massive fuck you to the fans and I hope I've expressed why I feel this way in an easy-to-understand way here...

Either way, I will not be forgetting this anytime soon and I hope the fanbase does the same. Maybe just maybe, if there's enough backlash to this series of horrible decisions they'll learn better.

Right now, it's kinda of our only hope for a better future, and if you know any poc who are into Bendy right now... Maybe consider making sure they're feeling okay.

I know from experience how much this sort of thing hurts, to have the creators of a world you love straight up tell you they don't intend to fix the fact no one in their stories represents your identity or life...

What I'm trying to say is...

This is a really low point for Bendy and its fans... Even more for the poc who have to witness such ignorant and careless attitudes from Mike and Meatly towards their feelings.

Please don't forget them when you discuss these tweets or this situation. That's exactly what Mike and Meatly want right now.

For them to be unrepresented and therefore... Unheard.

[misc-obeyme]

Once again, I got to choose the prompt this time! I chose "hot chocolate" from my autumn themed back up list 'cause it sounded so cozy lol. I really wanted to write a scene with Levi that was set somewhere other than his room or MC's room, so this is what I ended up with. Just a short but sweet lil scene. Also I definitely made up some details I'm sure you'll be able to tell immediately which ones lol.

FLUFFTOBER 2023

GN!MC x Leviathan

Warnings: none!

You stood just inside the door to the House of Lamentation, wrapping a purple scarf around Levi's neck. He frowned at you, clearly not at all pleased with how the situation was going.

"I don't see why we have to go to a cafe for hot chocolate when we can make some here," he grumbled as you tucked the scarf into his jacket.

"Don't you think it'll be nice to get out of the house for a bit?" you asked, smiling happily.

Levi shuddered. "I'm an otaku, MC! Why would you ever think I would like getting out of the house?"

You laughed, completely unbothered by his complaints. "It's a good excuse to wear this adorable scarf of yours. You hardly ever wear it and it looks so good on you!"

Levi groaned. "Why do I have to wear it anyway? You sound like Asmo."

"You have to wear it because it's cold outside," you said.

"Just another reason to stay home!" Levi declared, tugging on the scarf like he was going to unwrap it.

You grabbed his hand, which distracted him and made him blush. "Come on, let's go!"

You pulled him out of the front door, down to the street. You kept your hand clasped in his, threading your fingers together. You were rewarded by the deepening color of the blush on his cheeks.

Levi mostly stopped protesting now that you were already outside. He let you lead him down the street, holding onto your hand like a lifeline.

When you finally reached the cafe you had in mind, you were pleased to see that there wasn't much of a line. You felt Levi squeeze your hand hard. You smiled at him, pulling him close as you went inside and got in line.

You pulled Levi along as you got to the counter. "Three Ruri-chan special hot chocolates, please," you said to the demon taking orders.

Levi looked from you to the barista and back again. "What?"

The barista simply nodded, took your money and name, and told you it would be out soon.

You tugged Levi over to a table and sat down. You didn't want to let go of him, so you just held his hand across the table.

"I'm surprised you didn't already know about it," you said to Levi, grinning happily at him. "This cafe is doing a collaboration with the studio that makes Hana Ruri. They got the recipe for the hot chocolate they show in episode 15 of season 8."

Levi tugged down on his scarf so he could speak more freely. "The hot chocolate that Ruri-chan and Azuki-tan drink after they defeated the snowman from space?!"

You laughed, but before you could respond, the barista called your name. You let go of Levi's hand, patting it before getting up to grab the drinks.

You came back shortly, putting the drinks on the table.

Levi exclaimed excitedly. "These mugs!"

"They're limited edition souvenir mugs," you said. "You get to keep them."

Levi looked up at you, his eyes a little teary. "So that's why you ordered three."

"One to keep, one to display, and one to use," you said.

Levi put his hands over his face in an attempt to hide his blush. "M-MC… why didn't you tell me this was why you wanted to come here?"

You reached across the table to pull one of his hands away. "I wanted it to be a surprise! Now hurry up and drink some of this before it gets cold!"

Levi picked up one of the mugs, reluctantly letting go of your hand to do so, and sipped at the chocolatey liquid. You were thrilled to see the smile spread across his face as he closed his eyes happily. "Just imagine. This is what Ruri-chan experienced after the harrowing battle with the space snowman…"

You took one of the mugs and sipped your own. The hot chocolate was actually really good. By then it had cooled off enough that it was the perfect temperature, a delicious sweetness that filled you with warmth. Even so, it wasn't as sweet as the emotions you saw in Levi's eyes when he finally opened them again.

"Thank you, MC," he said quietly, a shy smile on his face now.

You smiled. "I'm just happy you're enjoying it. I guess it was worth leaving the house for, huh?"

Levi groaned and put down his mug. "I'll never complain about leaving the house with you again!"

You laughed.

Later on, when you had walked home with a little bag that carried the souvenir mugs, the two of you washed them carefully.

You were about to leave one in the kitchen and bring the other two upstairs, but Levi took one of them out of your hands. He placed it on the shelf next to the one he was going to be using.

"What are you doing?" you asked.

Levi blushed. "That one is yours." He lifted the one in his hand. "I can display this one."

You cocked your head. "But-"

"I would just pack it away anyway," Levi interrupted you before you could protest. "I'd rather you use it."

You smiled, reaching out to grab his jacket and tug him closer to you. You leaned in to kiss him and his arms circled around you, one hand still holding on to the third mug.

flufftober | kinktober | masterlist | Thank you for reading!

taglist: @anxious-chick @t0tallycoolname @libidinous-weeb

[vrmxlho]

So can you make a fluff headcanon about blue lock with bachira and/or isagi. Your choice Feel free to ignore this have a nice day/night and take care of yourself

i'm gonna be honest w y'all i have no idea if i'm good at fluff cuz my bf and i are not fluffy at all (i don't think???) so if this is shit don't be afraid to tell me lmao T-T +++ btw thank you sm for requesting <33 SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG TO MAKE THIS I WAS SCARED TO WRITE IT LMAO ++ i couldn't stop writing once i started so this is hella long

MEGURU BACHIRA 蜂楽廻

bachira's love language is 100% physical touch like you cannot tell me he doesn't love just holding you or kissing you or holding your hand

he could be in a really shit mood but as soon as he sees you and is able to feel your presence next to him, he's forgotten about whatever was pestering him before

if you like flowers he'll get you flowers every. fucking. time.

and if you don't like them or are allergic, that's what lego flowers are for!

i can just imagine him buying those lego flowers and staying up till like 4 making them for you because he just wants you to be happy

i also feel like he's scared of abandonment :((( and that just means he's always with you, always pestering you, always talking to you

he just needs reassurance that you'll stay with him

ok when i said his love language is 100% physical touch i lied, it's both physical touch and quality time

gosh he will come up with the most weird and complicated reasons as to why he has to see you right now

he mostly does it cuz he loves being around you but also because of how annoyed and petty you get, he finds it so so funny 😒

"i broke my foot, i can't play football anymore" "WHAT? ARE YOU OKAY? I'M COMING OVER, I KNOW FOOTBALL MEANS THE WORLD TO YOU </3333" turns out he had not in fact broken his foot, he just wanted to see you. god, this boy is so oblivious he just needed to text you something simple like "come over" and you would've been on your way, there was absolutely no reason to lie about it LMAOO

omg ok hear me out

bachira does not have an ideal date as long as its with you

when asked the question "how would you like to spend a whole day with your s/o?" he just thought 'wtf' like???? i love them sm, i could be picking up garbage and still enjoy it if i'm with my s/o

all his friends called him a simp, but he was proud abt it, after all who wouldn't simp for you

he's also really spontaneous, yk with his 'ego' and everything

y'all could just be hanging out and then suddenly out of nowhere you're at a theme park, or at the beach, or a kiddie park

once during the summer, when it was too hot to do anything except complain and eat ice-lollies, he pulled you all the way to a theme park just to have a change of scenery

"please bachira, it's like 30º, we're gonna die" "will you shut up about the heat? you're like a little baby, i promise it'll be fun" and oh was he right. it was getting warmer and warmer but not even a heat wave couldn't ruin the fun. you had gone on all of the rides at least twice but nothing could beat the relaxing water log one. the two of you kept cutting the line as soon as you were done, jumping over the metal barriers and running from the security guard who was sure he'd just seen you (am i going crazy he thought). after about the fifth time he was just so done with the two of you he gave up. you'd be drifting on the log, splashing each other with the kinda gross water. neither of you could stop laughing (nobody knows why), everyone around you thought you were maniacs, but neither of you cared.

although he's always happy when receiving presents, he prefers giving you presents

and by presents i don't mean rlly expensive things but more like little things that remind him of you

he saw a paperclip that was shaped like a heart? present material

your favourite soda? present

you really liked that one song??? well he knows about three more like that, he's making you a playlist as we speak

is it any good? um excellent question! not too sure about his music taste...

just like him it's all over the place

your music tastes do not go well together but that's not gonna stop either one of you from trying to brainwash the other into liking your favourite songs

"this is ass, i can feel my brain melting" "y/n, this song saved my life" "and it's pushing me off the edge, please get a grip" he gets really pouty and pretends he hates you, but that lasts about five minutes because deep down he knows you're right 😭

omg and his kisses

he's never awkward of hesitant about it, he just goes straight for it

your very first kiss was a bit random, the two of you were just talking before he leaned in and quickly pecked your lips, you were a blushing mess, and he liked seeing you like this so he did it again, and again, everywhere this time, your eyes, you forehead, both cheeks, the sides of your lips that were super ticklish

and he does this every time

one kiss isn't enough he needs at least 8!

he does not care about PDA, in fact the more ppl who know you're his, the better

if y'all were any trope it would definitely be childhood sweethearts, yk when you marry your best friend in like primary school? yeah, he probably proposed to you

"to y/n i give my most prized possession, my football" "bachira, i'm tired, i don't feel like playing today" "nonono this is just a gift for the bride" oh silly child, he's not asking you to play with him. he's in love with you <33333

his mother (yu bachira) is literally molly weasley incarnate

like she's out here locking you in their house, there's no way she's letting you go back home?? no, you're her guest!

has a list of foods you like and don't like just so whenever you're home she can cook for you and everything 🥲

she's currently teaching bachira how to cook your favourite meals, she'd never want you to raise a single finger, ever

YOICHI ISAGI 潔 世一

the world's purest, but also the world's most talkative person ever

homeboy has an average of 10000 words spoken per day (fyi that's a lot)

he just wants to tell you about everything <333

if anything, even the smallest thing, happens when you're not there with him he's 100% filling you in later

hosts a daily ted talk where he just tells you about all the other guys and how they suck 🙄 and how he's getting better at football and like he's pulling up stats you've never heard of???

"and i checked his stats and the only thing he's better at is aerial duels, but it's only by 0.2, so honestly who cares right?? i mean its negligible" "like the charge of a neutron" "wtf is a neutron?" no babe, wtf does 0.2 aerial duel mean??? since when can you fly??? (it's when players fight for the ball while jumping btw)

but don't get me wrong that does not mean he doesn't listen cuz he's such a good listener omg, the best one honestly

why's he good at everything dammit

he loves hearing about your day

he'll ask you about it without fail every single day and he genuinely listens it not like he's doing it out of common curtesy he just loves hearing from you

to him, you could make the most uneventful day sound interesting

he'll be looking at you in awe like a little child being told about magic or smth like that (this was not a great analogy help)

and that makes him supper attentive too

he can instantly tell when something's even slightly off and somehow he knows exactly how to make you feel better

omg he's the type of boyfriend who has a polaroid of you in his phone case and he just stares at it from time to time

OMG I CAN IMAGINE HIM TRYING THOSE FUCKING TIKTOK FILTERS WHICH ARE LIKE "THE INITIAL IT LANDS ON IS YOUR SOULMATE"

and he takes them soooo fucking seriously, unless it's not your initial, no, then that's bullshit 😰🫡

he's 100% husband material, marry him rn like actually

unlike bachira he already knows how to cook and he's gonna get physical if he ever sees you doing anything, he's more like bachira's mother in that way

his ideal date is walking around and going on cute ass picnic dates

ESPECIALLY IN AUTUMN WHEN THE CHERRY BLOSSOM FLOWER PETALS ARE LIKE GENTLY FALLING AND FLYING IN THE WIND OMG

he loves when y'all go on dates when it's a bit chilly

"why didn't you wear a jacket?" "it would ruin my outfit" :(((( "ugh, just wear mine then, i don't want you getting a cold" it really wasn't cold that day. you just wanted to wear his coat. little did you know that isagi too was praying that he'd be able to pull of that move, he'd been thinking about it ever since he saw those stupid rom-coms where the guy gives his crush his coat and then they fall in love or smth. my silly children 😪

his love language is quality time, he hates being ignored and he wants to be with the people he loves at all times possible

lucky for him everyone loves him, he's such a sweetheart

his favourite pastime (apart from football ofc) is lying in your lap while you read him a book, gossip or just sit in the silence

he loves looking at you from below especially after that one time he saw the sun shining from behind your head and he swore you looked like an angel (you really did, i was there)

omg listen to this

y'all have a bit of a rivalry when it comes to bowling

you're both so god awful at it but you're both also convinced you're better than the other

"you're supposed to be aiming at the pins, not the hole..." "okay in my defence, when shooting you usually aim for the place with no defenders, so you can score!!" "don't pretend this is about football, you just suck 😒"

he loves kissing you, its the best thing ever

your first kiss was a bit awkward but it had its charm

you both had already been together for a while now but neither of you knew how to initiate the kiss

until you both were laughing at the dumbest joke he'd ever made in his whole life (he still cringes at the memory of it)

you just looked so fucking beautiful, with small tears in your eyes from laughing too much, a smile wide and that cute laugh

he couldn't help it so he just pushed himself onto you

and keep in mind there was some distance between the two of you so when he kissed you the two of you fell

but i mean, at least it was memorable???

gosh you both are the definition of first and last love <3333

[sing-you-fools]

Hi, I saw your post that Neil liked. I am sorry but I haven't read Terry's works and I'm curious, how do his themes in works connect to your post? Because you started the post saying you were thinking about his themes. So how exactly does it connect to what you have realized? I didn't quite understand. Thanks!

so i finally figured out how to access my inbox. sorry if it's been a little while!

i definitely wasn't expecting more than ten or so people to see that post, and i'm very much on the Discworld Side of Tumblr, so i didn't bother explaining. then person number 8 to like the post was @neil-gaiman himself, so...it went differently than i expected. so, sure! i'll do my best.

my first piece of advice is to read Terry Pratchett. and if you specifically want to understand what i mean in my other post, read the Witches books starting with Wyrd Sisters, or skip straight to Witches Abroad (Discworld books typically stand well on their own, though the more you've read, the more you'll pick up on). look up the Discworld Reading Order Guide 3.0 for further instruction. (it'll tell you to start with Equal Rites for the Witches, and you can, but it's less the first book in the Witches series and more the book the Witches series spun off from. personally, i like to treat it as a standalone prequel.)

in the Witches series, cackling is what happens to witches when they're too isolated and don't talk to other witches enough. they start to get a little unhinged. it shows in small ways at first, but it can get dangerous if it goes too far. specifically, the one time we actually see a cackling witch, she's forcing the world around her into literal fairy tale plots (sound familiar?). so when i said Aziraphale is cackling, i was drawing a connection to that specific book - i don't think Aziraphale is that far gone, but he's desperate and he's pushing things into a shape they're not supposed to be. he's so desperate for his happy ending, and i can't really blame him.

now, drawing this out to Pratchett's larger body of work - the thing to understand is that he was a master of archetypes. you know Aziraphale's "not just a southern pansy, the southern pansy!" line? that's all Pratchett's main characters. Vimes isn't just a bastard cop, he's the bastard cop. Moist is the slippery conman. and the witches, they're the three witches. the maiden, the mother, and...the other one. (there's always a twist, of course. archetypes without a twist would get boring.)

and he works with these archetypal plots, too - again, especially with the witches. and an overarching theme is that the characters need to work with the narrative they're in to bring it to a conclusion. if their solutions try to fight the shape of the story, they don’t work. the most common element on the Disc is narrativium, which serves to ensure that stories follow the narrative. stick to the proper shape. it, for example, forces Granny Weatherwax to be the good twin when her sister went dark side even though she wanted to be the evil one, because there has to be a good twin, because that's how stories work.

(as a writer, i can only imagine this was at least partially inspired by how hard it is to get your characters to do what you want them to.)

so, taking it back to Aziraphale. he's fighting the story they're actually in so hard, forcing it into another shape entirely. that was never going to work, because Good Omens is a Terry Pratchett story. it's a Neil Gaiman story, too, obviously, and Pratchett may not be here to help write it anymore, but Neil knows how to write a Terry Pratchett story, and he's not about to let his friend's spirit disappear from this world they created together. narrativium may not exist in Roundworld (Earth), but i'd bet it exists in heaven and hell, and probably Aziraphale's shop.

QUICK SNEAKY EDIT: if you're wondering if you should read more Pratchett, the humor in Good Omens is very much reflective of his writing

[acourtofthought]

Hi! I sent you an ask a couple of days ago and I'm not sure if you saw it because it was just before mother's day (btw, belated happy mother's day!!), but I'm interested in your opinion so I'm sending it again.

Although, if you simply didn't want to answer that particularly ask I'll understand and I apologize in advance for any inconvenience.

I've seen some Elriels using the line 'that love would trump even a mating bond' as some kind of foreshadowing or even a confirmation of their ship, but it's kind of starting to irritate me because I really can see it making a reference to Elucien.

Maybe I'm so desperate for an announcement that I'm grasping at any possible crumbs, but here's my logic:

Feyre and Nesta ran away from their mating bond the moment they found out or were confronted about it because it was the last shred of their humanity to hold. Imagine this situation amplified with Elain, who loved being human and the mundane things correlated with her humanity.

I can see her in denial regarding the bond until the last minute, but what she will not be able to control is the love she will eventually feel and nurture for Lucien once she gets the chance to really know him. It'll be her love for him, their love, that will finally allow her to overcome her prejudice against the bond and to finally be open to the magical, sacred, and eternal tie she has with Lucien.

So love would indeed trump a mating bond.

I'm sorry for my delay in responding and thank you for the Mothers Day wishes ❤️

It is a silly argument, isn't it? It's their big catch phrase to try to make E/riel more romantic than they are but with Sarah's writing, love always trumps the mating bond especially because as you said the mating bond is the thing that often puts a wedge between the FMC and MMC (at least in the ACOTAR series). To your point, Feyre was nearly ready to open her heart to Rhys then ran away from him when she found out about the bond. Nesta was willing to love Cassian but got into a big fight with him when he tried to call her mate. Elain is avoiding Lucien for the sole fact that they have a bond.

So these sisters are not picking these guys because they have a mating bond when it's the thing they are running from. The mating bond is the equivalent of a meet cute, fate saying "Hey!! This is someone I think you should meet!" but it's not the reason any of them fall in love. They fall in love for who the person is, their bravery, their kindness, their selflessness, etc.

How can E/riel's love trump a mating bond when it can't even trump a regular kind of love? I've never read Az or Elain giving a single reason for why they have feelings for the other. Elain has never spoken of Azriel's kindness towards her or his bravery. Az has never mentioned Elain's intelligence, humor or her bravery. I couldn't give you a single canon reason for what they like about the other whereas in the Cassian bonus he noted Nesta's steel and cunning mind. Where Rhys tells us he fell in love with Feyre, not because she was his mate, but because she wasn't afraid of him and she was defiant towards Amarantha. The Az bonus would have been a perfect time for us to witness exactly what it is they're drawn too but instead we have Az letting Rhys think he just wants her because he's jealous he didn't get a bond, that he was preparing to use her in place of a pleasure hall, we have him noting GWYN'S charming irreverence. And in the actual book we have Elain giving credit to Feyre for her rescue, Az claiming Elain shouldn't search for the trove with Amren reprimanding him and Az giving credit to Nesta for killing the king in HOFAS. So I am truly left confused because I don't see either of them saying anything complimentary about the other. Az likes how she looks and that she got him a gift but beyond that.....?????

And really, love on its own can't trump love with a mating bond because without a bond it's just love.

Not that there is anything wrong with "just love" but it's kind of like saying we're both eating brownies when in fact mine is a brownie sundae.

Brownie's are delicious, no one is turning their nose up at a brownie. But if my brownie has ice cream and hot fudge and whipped cream, there is something that sets my brownie apart from yours and no matter how good your brownie is, you still can't call your brownie a brownie sundae.

Love is love and all of it is beautiful.

But love WITH a mating bond is always going to be something a little extra and trying to spin it any other way is simply someone pretending they are eating ice cream with their brownie when they are actually not.

At present Elain and Lucien only have a mating bond, not love with a mating bond. But if their characters fall in love in one of the next books, they would have the brownie sundae, not just a brownie and the same cannot be said for e/riel.

[wexhappyxfew]

Okay that 3-parter sounds interesting!! 👀 Anything you can share about that?

HI KILLY!!!! <33333 thank you so much for sending this in omgggg!!!! please know that when this idea hit, i was like ..... yes this is absolutely becoming a 3-parter - so i am so so happy to yap about it!!! :D thank you SO MUCH!!!!!

@b17boys mentioned something about my OC, Judy Rybinski, who becomes turret ball gunner for Rosie's Riveters, would ultimately drop in between those German/Russian lines and I SPIRALED and was like - this needs to be written. AND HERE WE ARE!!!!!

I think, in comparison to my other writings, I really wanted to take time to dig into both the characters (Judy and Rosie) along with the surroundings, the general environment and situations and struggle around them and what that means to them individually and together as characters. We take it from Judy's POV - just because her youth and past really plays an important role in her life and how she approaches this situation as whole.

I'm going to take us a bit of a character study of Judy through the beginning/middle of what was Episode 9 of MOTA. Really fleshing out moments and scenarios and developing an even deeper connection of Judy and Rosie as well as simply the one Judy has with herself, along with morals, realizations and aspects of her life that are important to her. I also want to pull at the heartstrings a bit - we come into the first part with a view of Judy just in a straight-up not-fun situation. She's lost, just waking up from being passed out, no clue where she is (nor can really remember), half-remembering her whereabouts along with wondering - where is Rosie?! And I think that's an aspect about this that makes it interesting to write. We see Judy on her own, having to navigate this all. Trying to figure things out and most importantly - stay alive.

BUT -- I couldn't help but then want to make a piece (the 2nd part) where we focus on their reunion together, that being Judy and Rosie, who genuinely just do love each other. And being separated, fearing for their lives and one another's - really brings them closer together and that worry, fear, desperation and wonder really bring forward how much they mean to each other even more so.

And also just because I can imagine Rosie absolutely losing his mind at the thought of not knowing where Judy is and doing everything he can to find her again - and then, finally finding her and it's like everything has fallen into place. Yeah. Lol. I would consider this purely self-indulgent with the heavy-dose of angst/whump/comfort we'll be getting - BUT IT'LL BE WORTH IT!!!!!! SO consider me both excited and absolutely losing my mind!!!!!

Please enjoy a small snippet!!! <3

"Spy." he whispered, the word on his tongue enough to make panic ensue.

"No." she whispered, before clearing her throat, "No! No, no, no. No spy! No spy! American. I'm American!" Judy was frantic in her own defense of herself. "Born and raised! Red, white and blue, all the star-spangled bullshit. Down in North Carolina - you hear my accent?!" she called frantically again, desperate for the rifle to be removed from touching her uniform and for her to get a better idea of where she was and what was going on. "Carolina?" "Yes!" Judy said, going to sit up, but letting out a strangled cry and going to reach for her shoulder instantly - she watched all the rifles uphold, aiming at her again at her quick movements and she couldn't help the tears that welled in her eyes - with the confusion, the pain, the desperation. Between freezing and being confused and in pain enough to make her pass out - if she died out here, she'd be thankful. Anywhere was better than this snow-capped and war-torn field.

Safe to say Judy Rybinski is nothing but a smol bean who simply needs to be back home, snuggled up with a warm mug of tea and FAR from here. But -- she's got this so, I have no worries for her!!! MUST SAY - I love getting into this type of writing again though (reminds me of my Landslide-era writing days haha!) THANK YOU AGAIN KILLYYYYY!!!!! <333333

ask about one of my WIPs! [here]