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parfaitblogs · 6 months ago

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false god ❀ s. reid x reader

in which spencer (literally) cannot wait to show you how pretty he thinks you are tonight.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: smut (18+ mdni) tags: established relationship. public stuff. fingering. the team is there. readers wearing a skirt. he looooves you. they're at a bar. kinda soft dom!spence but like only if you squint. i have never posted smut before if im missing tags tell meee word count: 1.9k a/n: biting the bullet. posting smut (shudders). i have a singular roman empire and it is spencer reid plus fingering. i think about it sooo often. i do not think he would be the type to actually do this in public so yes it is self indulgent yes u can all call me crazy!! idgaf!!! i feel like the pacing in this is kinda weird pls forgive i never write smut :< if it's bad don't tell me let me be blissfully ignorant thank YEW!!

You were pretty sure there was something wrong with him (Spencer Reid). Something fundamentally broken in his brain, because he had not said a word to you that made sense from the second he picked you up from your apartment that evening.

A lot of 'mhm's' and 'yeah's', which from maybe any other man would be normal, was not from him. He didn't speak incredibly eloquently, per se. But he did always respond to you in sentences. He liked to talk, so this lack of it was concerning you.

He was seated next to you, in the booth Penelope Garcia had scouted out the second she stepped foot into the bar you were all meeting at. It was supposed to be a simple evening. Some drinks, some talking, winding down after the awful case you had just come back from. Spencer's lack of talking had you feeling anything but (simple).

"Are you okay?" you had asked him when half the team stood up to go purchase the second round of drinks for everyone, and he wordlessly nodded his head, staring at the glass of water on the table in front of him, condensation sweating down to the wood.

He wasn't. But there was only so much you could do for him when he was shutting down, especially in a public setting, so you nodded your own head, and settled into conversation with JJ instead.

His hand found your thigh at some point during the conversation, and while you had flinched at its first contact, you didn't think much of it — he was never one for huge displays of affection, but he loved having his hands on you. An act as simple as a hand on your back had you swooning now, because you knew in his mind, he was thinking everything there was to possibly think about you.

What you did think much of, was the way it crept higher as the team returned with drinks, and the noise from your booth got louder as conversations clashed with each other.

Your head turned to the side, eyebrows furrowing, but he was still staring at his half-drank glass of water, with no real expression on his face. Frustratingly so.

He was never cruel, you learned. It was why his next action didn't occur until you had finished your sentence to JJ, as if to prevent what would've been your vocal chords tightening and lifting the octave of your voice as you spoke.

It was such a featherlike touch it was hardly there, and you probably wouldn't have noticed it if he didn't do it again. And again. And again. One of his fingers brushing delicately over the centre of your underwear in a quick swiping motion, that had your head snapping to the side, meeting his jawline and his unwavering gaze with his glass of water.

"Spencer," you muttered, and it was only then did he tilt his head down to look at you, raising an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

His hand wrapped around the side of your inner thigh and tugged you across the seat, closer to him, his head ducking down to speak.

"You're really pretty," he murmured, and your eyebrows only furrowed further at that.

"Thank you," you decided to say. "But what are you doing?"

"I just wanna touch you. Is that okay?"

You were silent for a moment. Maybe a moment too long, because he was already pulling his hand off your thigh, nodding his head.

"I mean, yes," you quickly say, catching his wrist before it could stray too far. "I was just confused where this was coming from."

"I really like the skirt," he explained, and your lips parted and an amused huff of air left them. Of course.

"Me too."

"Need you to wear it more often," he then said, his hand finding its way back between your thighs. "Please?"

"Maybe," you said, because it was all you could say, considering he was moving things along a little bit faster now that you had consented (not that you think you would've denied it).

His ministrations were small enough that you could keep your voice steady as you kept conversation going with JJ, but firm enough that you squirmed every thirty seconds. He, on the other hand, was acting as though he was doing nothing to you, engaged in a conversation about the origins of pasta, with David Rossi.

"I mean, in Greek mythology, it suggests that the Greek god Vulcan invented a device that made strings of dough. Which could be classified as the first spaghetti," he said, and at the same time, his fingers slipped beneath your underwear, brushing over your embarrassingly wet folds.

You watched him stiffen, only because you had killed your conversation with JJ with one too many 'uh-huh's', and his jaw locked.

You were merely observant as he circled your clit a few times, until you were picking up your drink and forcing yourself to sip on it in order to keep your mouth busy — instead of releasing a moan that you really didn't want the team to hear.

His gaze flicked to you for only half a second, and you met his eyes with an embarrassingly desperate look, and he laughed, oh so quietly, before a finger slipped into you.

It was so gentle you thought you would go insane, and he rested the finger there for a few seconds as he responded to an argument Rossi had made about the Italian's inventing bolognese or whatever. You weren't really listening.

The internal war you were dealing with; a pool of fiery butterflies in your stomach and the constant screaming to stay quiet in your brain was a stark contrast to Spencer's relaxed state. Because he had lazily began to move his finger like it was Sunday morning and he was easing you awake, and not in the middle of a Virginia bar with conversations amongst the team happening around you.

You hated him for that.

Your hips squirmed when he crooked his finger, and your free hand bolted to his wrist, holding his hand still just before he could do it again, and elicit a sound from you.

The second Rossi had become immersed in something Morgan had said, Spencer's gaze was returning to you, an amused smile stretched across his lips.

"You okay, honey?" he murmured, ducking his face down to kiss your cheek, heat blossoming on the spot.

"I am trying so hard not to make a noise," you said, and he smiled, and you could feel it against your skin, wonderfully so.

"And you're doing an excellent job of it."

"You know, if you just took me to the bathroom..." you trailed off, eyes flickering up to him.

"Not happening. Do you know how many germs are in public bathrooms?"

"Probably as many as the seat you're currently fingering me on," you hissed, voice hushed.

At that, he pushed the heel of his hand against your clit, and you choked out a mewl.

"I can stop," he said, though it didn't come out as a warning. You knew he only offered it because he would get the reaction of you violently shaking your head. "Right. No bathroom."

"No bathroom," you agreed with a flip of your stomach.

His attention was captured by a conversation again, and with it, his finger began moving again. He was moving it with such an expertise that if this was any other situation you'd be impressed. Unfortunately, you were a little preoccupied with trying not to make a sound to appreciate how well he knew your body.

Lazy pumps of his finger had you reeling and he was hardly doing anything, which was definitely going to be embarrassing to think about later on when he brings this up. Like you knew he would.

Your A+ streak of making no noise was interrupted — quite rudely — by him slipping another finger in, the uncomfortable stretch that only lasted a second eliciting a whimper you couldn't keep to yourself. His eyebrows shot up and you were thankful Rossi had not been looking at him when his gaze rested on you again, and that the music in the bar was loud enough to drown out the sound to anyone who wasn't listening for it.

"Too much?" he asked, but the second you felt him slowly pulling that second finger back, you were shaking your head, nails digging into the wrist that you still had captured.

"No. It's not. Promise."

He smiled, and wordlessly nodded his head as he allowed the finger to straighten inside of you. Then, he moved them in and out of you a few times, achingly slowly.

"Spencer," you breathed out, frustrated.

"Yes, angel?"

"Can you please... just... go faster," you bit out, heat flushing your cheeks. Again.

"That would make it obvious," he answered, and you let out a huff of air. You knew he was right. "But," he added, upon detecting your annoyance. "I can do this."

He was once again proving how well he knew your body, because his thumb so easily found your clit, and circled it in a way that shot sparks up through your body.

"Yes you can," you agreed, nodding your head eagerly, and he breathed out a chuckle.

It seemed to be a lot easier to do that fast enough and hide what he was doing to you at the same time, because his fingers bent upwards at the same time he flicked his thumb over your clit, and whatever self-control you thought you had was swindled.

Your teeth bit down on the disintegrating paper straw, just to stop the moan that caught in the base of your throat from leaving it, and at that, he did it again.

Spencer Reid was good at a lot of things. Making you come from the lightest of touches seemed to be joining that long list. Your head buried itself into the forearm of the hand that was touching you, at the same time he used it to push your hips back into the seat when they had begun to lift upwards.

"You're making it obvious," he said to you, and what you're sure would've been a wonderfully eloquent argument died in your throat when he flicked your clit again.

"I can't," you managed to get out, shaking your head as your fingers dug perhaps a little too hard into his wrist.

"No?" he mused, though didn't stop his movements. You shook your head. He smiled. "So you want me to stop?"

"No."

"Mm, you're conflicting yourself, angel," he said, and you groaned for more than just how he was making you feel because you knew that.

You bit down on his arm through his shirt to silence another moan when he pushed his fingers in a little harder than before, and if it hurt, he didn't say anything. You decided it must not have, because he repeated that movement.

You were fighting against the need to squirm as your stomach tightened. And he must've figured out what was happening, because he masked your incandescent need to moan by using his opposite hand to entangle within your hair, bringing your face into his chest, acting as a hug to anyone who could see you.

"There you go," he murmured, awfully gently, in your ear, as your walls fluttered around his fingers.

You weren't sure if you were imagining your hips jerking until he was slipping his fingers out of you and pushing them down into the seat again.

He wiped his fingers against his pants, and your lips parted, eyes staring at him, dumbfounded.

"What?"

You shook your head, regaining a little self control as you settled down. "Nothing. I'm wearing this skirt again, though."

"Good."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡

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eevenus · 2 months ago

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Like You, Love You - {B.C.}

pairing: nonidol!roomie!bangchan x reader genre: fluff turned angst, mutual pining, jealousy jealousyyyyy summary: After moving to Seoul for a new job, you grow close with your ever so handsome roommate. Close enough to develop feelings. What happens when anxiety and insecurities get in the way of you both confessing? warnings: small mention of insecurities on both sides, shirtless chan (gasp), and some arguing toward the end (lemme if i forgot something) word count: 5.6k notes: this will probably end up being a lil mini series if you guys want a second part!! but yeah this is my first official fic here so aaaaa please let me know if you like it by liking and reposting theenk yew!! also Joon is a random guy i swear he's not Namjoon but you're so free to imagine him as Namjoon. theenkz, byeeee. dividers by @sister-lucifer

“And now this?” The silence following ripped all the air from your lungs, the sharp look in his eyes seemed to judge every part of you.

When you first moved to Seoul, offered the opportunity to transfer from your small cubicle job to your current job as an assistant to a bank CEO, you would have never expected to have such an immature argument with your roommate. This was not what you envisioned for yourself when you had packed your entire small town life into a bunch of cheap cardboard boxes, and drove your beatdown car you’ve had with you since your teens into the city. Not at all, when you carried said boxes, a couple at a time, through the lobby of your new apartment as the rain poured down with such heavy winds you felt like one misstep would have you and your boxes flying down the sidewalk. Nothing like what you had pictured, when you finally got all your boxes upstairs and unlocked your door that greeted you with a wonderful oaky and cinnamon scent.

Finding an apartment right in the business district of the city was rather difficult, or rather expensive, to handle all on your own. What better way to manage it than to find a roommate? Luckily this particular apartment building offered a special kind of service, a questionnaire of sorts that pairs you with a roommate that would share similar interests, within the same age range, and the option to decide if you want someone of the same gender or not. When you had first filled it out you had figured you would be at work for most of the time during the week, and you wouldn’t interact much with your roommate besides hellos and goodbyes. So it didn’t really matter much to you who they were, if you would get along, but you completed the form anyways. A week later the apartment complex approved your lease agreement, met with you for a down payment, and paired you with a random roommate.

That first day was quiet, save for the squeak of your rain soaked shoes against the laminate floors and your own grunts and groans as you carried your moving boxes in. No one had seemed to be home, but the warm, masculine scent that filled the open air was enough to comfort you. Reminding you much of the cozy warm nook you would sit in to watch the sun go down in your childhood home’s kitchen. Luckily, you didn't have to investigate which room would be yours as your roommate had kindly left you a note on the empty room’s door.

“Hey there, Roomie! I’ll be in the room just across the hall if you ever need anything. I work long nights and sleep during the day, so you might not see me often but it’ll be nice to have someone else around. I was starting to go crazy up here all alone. Hope we bump into each other soon! - Chris”

The handwriting was a bit sloppy, and a bit shaky on some letters, as if it were written on his way out and taped to this door in a hurry. Which would make sense then, as when you had first arrived the sun had already begun to set and by the information given in the note…your new roommate wouldn’t be home until tomorrow. But you had a name to note, and though you hadn’t met yet…Chris sounded kind enough.

The days would carry on like this for a little while. Both of you tended to miss each other due to conflicting schedules. You had even begun to find that your five am alarm was useless when you were woken up just before it rang obnoxiously on your nightstand by the thumping footsteps of your roommate, and a secondary thud of his duffle bag, that he’d always leave by the front door, hitting the ground. It was like clockwork. 4:58 am would glow on your phone just as his keys roughly jiggle at the lock and with a little shove your door would creak a high-pitched cry as it opened. Chris had left you a few notes here and there, scribbled on sticky notes and scattered around, letting you know things about the apartment the longer you stayed.

A sticky note on the fridge read that the light goes out once a week, he promises to fix it soon. A sticky note on the toilet had read that the tank is a bit too small as he had to replace it one night after a house party where his friend, Changbin, had run into it on a drunken stumble into the bathroom and consequently broke it. It had been loosely installed even when he moved in, so it was bound to happen. You have to flush twice at times. A sticky note on the front door that told you of how when the weather changes and gets too hot, too cold, too rainy, the door needs an extra little shove to open and close. The material the door is made out of flexes and the building is due to replace them.

After a few weeks, you grew to anticipate his loud homecomings. Still yet to catch his face, you could hear him talk sometimes as he discarded his shoes and jewelry by the sofa. You had noticed a small ceramic plate that sat on the coffee table the first few days after the move in, it was always filled with several rings, a watch, and several pairs of earrings. He was tidy at the least, that you appreciated, but your curious mind was begging for you to find what he looked like. So some mornings you’d wake well before he came home, and listen on your bed for him to come home, but it always seemed those were the mornings he’d simply drop his shoes and duffle bag and walk straight to his room. You had only been able to catch his back the first few attempts, broad and covered by a black tee that hugged his shoulders nicely.

It was a month before you met him properly, after you were given a Friday off for Chuseok celebrations. Allowing yourself to sleep in, you were greeted with the smells and sounds of cooking in the kitchen when you rustled awake. Your phone read it was just past noon, and the salty scents of whatever your roommate had been cooking pulled you out into the common

area like a siren’s song. Your hair was in all directions, an indication of a good night’s rest for once, and your pajama shirt and shorts hung haphazardly on your body. It had been years since you had a true home cooked meal, with all your time dedicated to work it was just easier to buy takeout or convenience store foods on the way home than cook.

Only when you had reached the cold tile of the kitchen did you open your eyes, and there he was. His bare back to you, the muscles you hadn’t noticed before tensed and defined as he worked between the two pans on the stove. A pair of dark gray sweats barely clinging to his hips, just low enough to see the waistband of his boxers. You had only noticed your staring when he sniffled in an attempt to clear his nose, which had sounded a bit irritated and slightly clogged from the changes in the weather. A quick attempt to fix your clothes and pat down your hair in the time before he turned around to put a used dish in the sink within the island to your right was almost useless. Your clothes were a bit better, but your hair wouldn’t have gone down without a good brush through.

“Smells good.” Was all you had managed to get out when he finally turned your way, a hand still trying to pat down your hair. Chan had paused halfway through putting the dish in the sink, the bowl almost slipping out of his hands when he saw you. Suddenly he had felt incredibly naked in front of you and haphazardly slipped the bowl into the sink so he could quickly cross his arms over his chest. The two of you had stared as the bowl rolled around in the metal sink for a few seconds before settling on its side. “Thanks-” He cleared his throat, leaning his weight into his left leg, “Thank you.” You noted then how the tips of his ears and the tops of his cheeks grew a dark pink color the longer you looked at him, and moved your gaze around his waist to the pans behind him. Taking a few steps closer, and one step to the side, you inspect what was in them. “You’re welcome.” You smile at him, slightly bumping sides as you close your eyes to breathe the scents once more. “What is it?” “Haemul-pajeon.” He mumbles, moving off to the side to leave you more room to inspect everything. You could feel his eyes on you as he scratched at a spot just above his elbow. “I only made enough for myself, I thought you were at work. Um, if you want…I can make you some too.”

Your eyes hesitantly tear away from the delicious savory smelling pancake in the pan to meet his own, not able to help the smile that pulls at your lips as you finally get a good look at his face. Even now, you remember it feeling like such a win. As if you’d been running a marathon the last month and finally hit the bright white ribbon of victory. This face you’d been imagining and drawing up in your mind was nothing compared to that of the real thing. His dark eyes that opened themselves to you, his large nose and sharp jaw that seemed as if chiseled by the gods, and his lips that seemed so plump and soft that it had taken everything out of you to not touch them. Everything about him just seemed so warm and inviting, including his voice. With that lulling, relaxed Australian accent.

“You don’t have to, but I would…really like that. It looks like it tastes as good as it smells.”

He had been quick to pour you a cup of coffee after that, asking how you take it and making himself repeat it a few times to remember for the future, and assure you that you could go ahead and sit while he finishes up. Even telling you to pick something to watch before running back off to the stove, stealing glances with you every now and again as he hummed a random tune under his breath. Indecisive on what would suit both your interests, you had selected a random nature documentary. Everyone loves a good film about baby animals, right?

It wasn’t long after that that Chris was back in the living room with a plate for each of you, some silverware, and the biggest smile on his face. As you accepted the plate a small breathy laugh escaped you, he had drawn a big smiley face with some sort of creamy brown sauce on top of the pancake (seemingly homemade). “If you told me a month ago I’d be living with a shirtless roommate who makes me food I would have smacked you.” You silently thanked him with a nod as you took your utensils from him, as you went to take a bite you noticed he even cut it into little squares for you. He coughed a bit as he sat beside you on the sofa, leaning forward to drink his coffee to calm it.

“I should go…get dressed.” He mumbles, setting his cup down next to the plate that now sat on the coffee table in front of you both. Attempting to stand before he feels your soft hand on his arm. “It’s fine, Chris. This is your home too, you should feel comfortable. At least you have pants on.” Your hand moves from his arm as you go back to eating your food, which had made you sigh with every other bite. The warmth of it spreads through your body as if to encase you in the feeling of home. “Plus…your food will be cold by the time you get back.” Chris blinked for a moment as he studied your expression, aside from the little microexpressions you made while eating. “You remembered?” “What?” “My name. From the notes.”

Trying to not speak again with a full mouth, you cover your lips with the back of your hand and swallow. “Of course, it meant a lot to me back then, that you took the time to show me around even if you couldn’t physically be here. It was nice, and you signed every note. So yeah…I remembered.” Chewing at the inside of his cheek, he wiggles just a bit in his seat as he reaches forward to grab his food. Dimpled smile shining as he stares at his plate. “I’m glad it helped. I know I would have wanted someone to have told me when I first moved in a year ago, so…I’m just- I’m happy it helped you get more comfortable here.”

A mumbled thank you between bites was the last of the conversation that afternoon besides any small comments regarding the documentary you two were watching. It was nice to finally put a face to the name that had made you feel so at home, and so quickly. You had retired early that evening, after some more food and tv binging, to prepare for the long drive home the following day to visit family for the holiday. But you couldn’t help the feeling that you wish you would’ve stayed up just a little longer.

The following months had you and Chris growing closer and closer everyday. Chris would stay awake a bit longer after he’d come home, enough to make a quick breakfast and eat with you before you leave. In return you’d stay up a little later as well when you’d finally get home to make and eat dinner with him before he was running off to his own job. It grew into a routine. During these times, you’d learn tidbits about each other. A little more each day.

You learned Chris adored music, and even worked with pretty well known singers to produce tracks for them at a local studio. In his spare time he writes his own lyrics and songs, shared with his friends who create with him at times. You also know that although he loves his decently slow life, he hopes his own tracks will make their own history one day, but how he worries about the risk of losing his connections to his family and friends. You shared how working around banks wasn’t exactly your dream but it paid well enough, and how you adored travelling. Choosing to live in South Korea was a move that not only you made but your family, as they share your travel bug, and how one big family trip to Seoul sold everyone on the move. A few days later you share how you would have rathered a creative job like his, and how you hope to one day pursue a passion job…if you could only find time to find what your passion is.

“I like you.” He had said one morning, causing you to snort the orange juice you had just poured yourself. “What?” You asked, ignoring how he laughed at your mishap and walked across the kitchen to wipe your nose with a napkin.

“I like you. Like- Okay-” Chris chuckles out, stumbling over his words when his brain moves quicker than his mouth, “I like how you balance things. How you’re able to work so hard and yet make time for your family…and me, I guess. That’s what I meant. I like how your brain works.”

“Oh.” You simply sigh, clearing your throat of the slight pain it still had from the orange juice, “Thank you?”

“You’re welcome! Keep letting me pick your brain like this, and I’ll make you anything you want for breakfast.” He beams, taking a quickly animated bite of the omelett he’d made that morning.

“Anything?” “Anything.” “You’ve got yourself a deal, Bahng.” “Glad to hear it. Now eat up and eat well, you’ve gotta leave soon.” A final warning as he checked the watch on his wrist, and one you had followed before waving and rushing out the door.

Weeks pass, and months too, as you learn each other’s quirks and routines. You picked up on Chris’ hums and claps when he eats good food, and he picks up on how your nose scrunches when you laugh at his stupid jokes. The more time passed the more you realized how your heart would ache at the thought of having to leave breakfast, leave him, for work. How you were drawn to want to hug him before you left. You had done it once just to see what he’d do, and with no hesitation he accepted it. You’ve hugged him every time either of you leave now. The need to always be near him almost annoyed you, but how could that feeling last long when he would turn and smile that bright dimpled smile at you. With you following him around in his free time, Chris noticed that despite having weekends off you never seemed to go out. He asked one day, and you had told him that in your move to the big city you hadn’t made many friends. Chris was determined then to make you meet his rather large ‘group of rowdy kids’, as he called them.

You’d grown into a different relationship with each of them. Most of your chats about music and art landed with Hyunjin, Han, and Chris. Silly niche social media jokes that were heavily repeated went with Felix, and Jeongin. Playful arguments went with Changbin, Minho and Seungmin. Though, they all would drag you and Chris out of the apartment for some late night food on the weekends, regardless of if you actually wanted to go or not. Changbin once actually pulled you by the arm, still in a big tee, pajama pants, and some humongous teddy bear slippers, to get you to go eat some three am convenience store food with him. It took Chris tossing you over his shoulder and locking the apartment door for you to go. Minho still picks on you for giving in so easy for Chris to this day.

In fact, it was Minho who first sniffed out your crush on your aussie roommate. The night of a regular group movie night, this time at Felix and Seungmin’s place, he had met you in the kitchen as you were refilling your glass with water. Trapping you between him and the counter, you had stared up at him in feigned annoyance.

“What is it now, Minho?” “You are so obvious.” He stares blankly, a small smirk twitching the edge of his lips. “I’m sorry?” You questioned with knitted eyebrows, setting your glass on the counter.

“You’re in love with Chris.”

You scoffed, folding your arms across your chest. The design on your shirt creases from the movement. “I am not.”

“So if I told him, and it really is just a rumor, then you have nothing to lose right?” Minho tilted his head as he spoke, studying you as he waited for a response. Knowing he was getting to you by the way your brows twitched. You could only assume it was Han that spirited these thoughts into Minho’s head when you noticed him staring at the two of you talking from the corner of your eye.

Sure, you’d grown close to Chris over the last few months. Sure, you’d wondered what it would be like if you simply walked across the hall and slid into his bed…would it be warmer? Would he pull you in, just like he had when you hugged him? Would it feel as safe as you had imagined it to? The ache in your gut from just the idea of Minho telling Chris before you could was confirmation enough…you were falling for Chris. And falling hard.

“Tell him soon. There’s no sense in just waiting around. Worst case is rejection.” “You say that like getting rejected is easy.”

“You’ll live.” Minho mumbles before turning back around to sit back with everyone else, once sat he gives you one last look to encourage you to spill your feelings.

That night you tried. Many times. But you simply couldn’t bring yourself to do it in fear of ruining the mood, the holidays were just around the corner and if you had to spend the Christmas season alone in the apartment you’d go crazy. So you gave yourself the task for another day.

But then November passed, and Christmas was just a few weeks away. And still you have yet to tell Chris. It wasn’t like he had a girlfriend or anything, Han was quick to correct that to Chris’s embarrassment during a drinking game a month prior, but you just couldn’t pull yourself to do it. What if you were simply mistaking his kindness and care for romance? You’d seen how well he took care of his friends, how similar it was to how he treated you. Aside from a few instances of hand holding and a lingering hug or two…nothing seemed different from his otherwise normal behavior. And it was driving you insane trying to piece together every little thing he did.

So when Felix had joked one night about the only way he’d meet someone would be a speed dating event, due to his own busy schedule with modeling, you had an idea. Doing your research online to find the closest event that wouldn’t be too far of a walk, maybe you would even have someone to bring to the Christmas party Hyunjin was hosting at his place. Of course, Chris had thought it odd when you blew off the group with some awful excuse and in the most gorgeous dress he’d ever seen. Your hair and makeup had made you look like you walked right out of a movie. The jealousy that tore into his stomach had sat with him all night, and no amount of food or alcohol could make it go away.

On the other side of town, you were also struggling. Guys who were either trying too hard, being a bit creepy, or simply not your type were all that seemed to fly by your table. Truthfully, there were only so many more times you could state your name and MBTI before it started to not even sound like real words. It wasn’t until your last date of the night slid into his seat that it felt like things were really looking up. A twinge of guilt hit you when his cologne hit your nose, so similar in musk to the one you were used to from Chris. But surprisingly this new guy, who eventually introduced himself as Joon, was so genuine compared to anyone you had talked to that night. Not to mention, he wasn’t awful looking. With tousled black hair, a bright smile, a beauty mark just above the right side of his smile, big brown doe eyes and just enough muscle to notice in the outlines of his clothes.

Suddenly, the solution of distracting yourself from your feelings for your roommate seemed like an incredible idea.

In the following weeks you went on at least two dates a week, Joon was patient enough to understand you were a busy woman with a tight schedule and a want to not rush into anything too serious before the holidays. But of course, the distraction from your work life and unrequited feelings was more than enough for you. Joon was a gentleman after all. Greeting you at the door with flowers, opening doors for you, fixing the buckle on your heels when it unclasped on one of your night walks. You’d even begun to skip your late night dinners with Chris for movies and takeout with Joon, and headed out even earlier for work just to meet the same man for coffee the next day. His own early riser schedule lining up perfectly with yours.

Come to find out, Joon is the son of a large conglomerate family that takes care of most of the commercial real estate throughout Seoul. Set to inherit the company even. Chris had found out when Jeongin had decided to look Joon up on the web, spewing facts about his rich, perfect family and shiny appearance. Felix had caught on, that night, to the way Chris tore at the edges of his shirt until it ripped a bit along the folded seams and more to how the eldest of the group retired early that night.

It was driving Chris crazy. How did everything change so fast? He had been so cautious with his heart since you moved in, what with how nasty his breakup was a year or so ago. He would never feel that kind of heartache again. But you just…snuck up on him. With your shiny eyes that always looked at him as if he could do no wrong, your soft hand that fit so perfectly inside his own, your bright smile that was a thank you for the breakfast he’d make you. A breakfast you haven’t eaten in two weeks. He wondered if his cooking skills declined somehow, no that couldn’t be it. Changbin had just praised the meal he had cooked for everyone a few days ago, and said it reminded him of his own mother’s cooking.

Was it him? Did you not find him attractive? Should he have put even more effort into how he looked every day? Pajamas are such a lazy thing to wear, why did he have to wear them so often around you. Maybe if he’d gone shirtless more like you asked, to be “more comfortable” in his own home…he wouldn’t be in this predicament. It had to be him. Chris found he had a hard time looking himself in the mirror most days, maybe you had started to feel the same way. All these thoughts swam around in his mind and built pressure around his heart, his already horrid sleep schedule ruined further by the anxious thoughts that plagued him when left alone in the night.

Until we reach the present. A Saturday night, he took the day off in hopes of stealing you for himself once you got home, when his ears were met with the squealing giggles of you behind the front door. Joon’s own deeper voice was heard not too far behind yours, a rumbling chuckle just echoing your own. Chris shouldn’t have, but he paused the movie he was watching and straightened his back to listen intently to what conversation would have you laughing as hard as you were. He couldn’t make out anything worthwhile besides a thank you and what seemed to be a goodnight. The jingle of your keys against the door as you turned the lock brought him back to reality.

‘This is crazy. You’re crazy.’ He thought to himself, the heels of his hands rubbing at his eyes as if to wipe the thoughts away. The jealousy just seemed to squeeze on his heart more and more when you walked in and closed the door. Your sweet perfume swirling around him, and God, how much he realizes he missed you today. The scent of you, the warmth of your presence, the song of your voice. But it all seemed to rot in real time when he could hear you sigh against the door. “What did I do in my past life to deserve my current life playing out like a movie?” You mumbled to yourself with a smile as you leaned in to smell the flowers Joon had once again given you. This time they were lilies. The nice dress and shawl, both gifted by Joon, wrapped around you as if their whole purpose and creation was to hug your body. “Dunno.” Chris spits out shortly, turning off the television in front of him and grabbing the dishes he’d eaten out of from the top of the coffee table. His heavy steps the only indication of his irritation.

You pause, setting your shoes down by the door and hanging up your shawl. Silky, soft and flowing, it swishes as you turn around to face him in the kitchen. “What’s up with you?”

The dishes hit the sink bottom with a rough clinking sound, you’re surprised they weren’t broken as you stepped closer. His hands tightly grip the counters as he stares up at you through his brows. Not only were ears a dark red, but his cheeks and shoulders as well. Easily seen in the black tank top he was wearing, along with the basketball shorts in the same color.

“What’s up with me? What’s up with you?” He states, straightening his posture to fold his arms across his chest. His jaw tensing before he continues to speak, “You miss a few group hangouts, fine. But bailing on our routine, our meals together? Y/N, I didn't peg you as someone to leave everyone behind just because you got a…boy toy.”

“Leave everyone behind?” You start, slamming the flowers in your hand down onto the sofa before stepping closer to the island with curled fists, “Is it so wild for me to have something of my own to enjoy, Christopher?”

“It’s not-” A huff finishes his sentence as a hand comes up to wipe down his eyes, “You had everything you needed! Here!” As his voice raises, your own anger bubbles up to his level. A defensive spark in you to protect what you’ve built for yourself, to protect your heart…from him, of all people.

“What are you even talking about, Chris? This unspoken, oddly close friendship we have? Because if so, I got tired of chasing after you like some abandoned puppy. I wanted to have something of my own, that I helped foster and create. I love the guys, trust me, but is it so awful of me to want something that isn’t yours?”

His hands pull through his hair as he makes his way around the island, they settle at his sides, “Why are you making this out to be my fault? How was I supposed to know how you felt when you never even spoke to me about it? Huh?”

Chris steps closer to you, a few steps away now, with a rasp in his voice and darkened eyes, “I kept myself from moving further with you because I thought you wanted nothing like that from me, and now you’re gonna make me the bad guy for not reading your mind? While I was finally starting to really open up to you and let my guard down, and then you bailed for some speed dating dinner?”

His hand juts out to the flowers that now lay on the sofa, “And now this?” The silence following ripped all the air from your lungs, the sharp look in his eyes seemed to judge every part of you. As if he was disappointed more than upset, that you’d let yourself be wooed by this stranger and not accept the possibility that all of the love you wanted was right in front of you.

“Now I have to watch you almost every night and every morning, leave me for him. To watch you smile because of him. To watch you laugh because of him. To hear you go on and on about him. When all this time all you had to do…was ask. It took one conversation.” He continues with gritted teeth before sighing and rubbing his hands down his face once more. “Chris-” “Save it. I’ve said all I needed to say, and I’ve heard everything I need from you. Enjoy the rest of your night.” As he spoke, he walks around you to gather his things. Slipping on a few rings, grabbing his apartment keys, pulling on a jacket hung by the door and some sneakers. “Where are you going?” You ask, though it was quiet enough that it had come out closer to a sigh. Arms wrapped around yourself as your legs screamed to move toward him, to hug him, to confess, to apologize, to go back in time even.

“Somewhere that isn’t here.” He states shortly, his hand on the door handle. Even in his crazed mind, he knew that if he stayed the resentment and pain would just fester. And that would hurt worse than the heartbreak that he’ll go through when he walks out that door.

“When will you be back?” “Don’t wait up.”

And with that the door creaks open and slams shut behind him. Leaving you to wonder when he’ll be back…and what life will be like now. It’ll never simply be the gentle mornings, and rushed evenings. And that felt all too real.

“I love you….” You whisper to no one and nothing, the act of immersing yourself in Joon’s treasures and kindness had fallen and now you were left alone and cold. Wishing that Chris would turn back and walk through the door to hold you and tell you it was all just a nightmare. All that showed in response was the suffocating silence of the apartment, and the smell of cologne, cinnamon, and rain.

taglist: @torialefay @moon-jellies915 (lemme know if you'd like to be added to my general taglist or the taglist for this specific series!!)

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celestialprincesse · 11 months ago

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WHEN I SAY NEED I MEAN NEED!!

The 141 + Konig with their s/o wearing a pheromone perfume just to tease them or simply just for fun to see their reaction while they are turning FERAL to get another wiff of that addictive smell.

(u could just skip this but if you have free time and willing to is an absolute)

Thank yew besty, i can sleep in peace now. 😌

Anon baby?! You cute toot little genius megamind?! Also I can't believe this is my first time writing for König? Anywho💕

Price buys all of his s/o's perfumes, knows the scents they like and their favourite notes and therefore buys them a perfume for every occasion or at any airport duty free he manages to browse. Because of this, he has a tendency to bury his nose in their neck, or kiss the insides of their wrists, the smell of them alone allowing him to think back to the day they got married or the night he proposed. When he stuffs his nose between the crook of their neck and their hair, and doesn't recognise the scent they're wearing, he's immediately confused, leaving his face smooshed against them whilst he tries to work out what it is they're wearing that smells so delicious. They're just trying to reply to some emails whilst he's literally got his face buried in the back of their neck, sniffing loudly as he tries to get their attention. "You got new perfume?" He grumbles lustfully, voice halfway between a low grunt and a breathless rumble. "Mhm. You like it?" "Smells fuckin' delicious - smells like sex." "Sex?" You giggle incredulously. "Sex. Speaking of which, come to bed."

Gaz loves when the smell of his s/o lingers around their home and reminds him of them. He loves when his head hits the pillow of the bed and their sweet shampoo lingers in their shared space, or when he puts on one of the hoodies they've borrowed and it still smells of them. When he comes home from an errand to them sat watching their favourite show on the TV, he practically lays on top of them like some kind of human weighted blanket, stuffing his face up their shirt with a deep sigh. "Smell good." He grumbles into the warm skin of their sternum. "Yeah?" Your hum, scratching your nails soothingly into his scalp, to which he only gives a contented hum of approval. He spends the afternoon just sort of nosing at their skin, and ends up falling asleep in their shirt.

Johnny is just generally feral. This man uses all of their fancy creams and lotions, just generally doesn't share the boundaries that some couples would have. He'd spot the perfume on their bathroom counter straight away, probably brush it off too. He doesn't really pay it much mind how good they smell until they're both pottering around the kitchen together making dinner. He'll just sort of inch closer until he's grabbing their wrist where they've spritzed a tiny bit of the perfume that morning and proceeded to forget about it. He's so weird about showing his affection too, probably nipping at them and licking them throughout the day, confused as to why they're more alluring and attractive than normal. His mind races with thoughts of maybe they're ovulating or he's got some kind of weird hormonal guy thing going on. Whatever it is, he's all over them all evening, and practically pawing their clothes off when they get to bed.

Simon gets grumpy when he can't control himself around them. He's a man who prides himself on his ability to remain stoic and impassive, not to mention the fact that he hates feeling like some out of control, lovesick teenage boy. He gets all huffy and puffy, and his s/o is like genuinely concerned for him, so much so that he walks in on them in the bathroom scrubbing at their neck and wrists with a loofah. "The fuck are you doing?" He grunts with an inquisitive, amused raise of his eyebrow. "I - um - spilled something?" "Like that 'pheromone' stuff I got the purchase notification on my bank app for?" "Whaaaaaat? No! Maybe." He just sort of chuffs at their oversight, and the fact that he'd literally seen them browsing these faddy pheromone perfumes on the sofa right beside him.

König literally is just an animal. This man has very limited social decorum as is, at home? Yeah, no, gone. His boundaries are non existent, and he has a tendency to paw at his s/o, slip his hands down their pants or up their shirts daily. Wearing pheromone perfume doesn't help their cause. He spends the day following them around the house like a needy puppy, whining when they swat him away so that they can work or cook or go to the bathroom. He acts all grumbly and wounded and pathetic, and they promptly hide the pheromone perfume, deeming it more of a hindrance than a help, although it is kind of entertaining to see their nearly seven foot, sniper boyfriend so needy over something that they thought was a total scam. It doesn't stop him from practically dragging them to bed by the scruff of their neck, huffing about how he's been wanting them all day.

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apollocabinrep · 8 months ago

Text

PJO PRIDE HEADCANONS (FEATURING CAMP HALF-BLOOD) Pt1?

The Apollo cabin is by far the one filled with the most lgbtqia+ members. They hold late night gossip sessions and will tease each other /relentlessly/.

Followup for above; Austin, from canonical characters, as the resident aroace sibling has the most blackmail on his siblings because of these sessions.

Camp Half-Blood has always been a safe place for lgbtia+ demigods no matter what time period (the gods have had lovers of both genders since ancient times + Chiron training Achilles & Patroclus). Members of the community were often year-rounders for this reason, because even if they died young they could be their authentic selves.

Drew Tanaka is on the aroace spectrum and when she was younger thought there was something wrong with her due to not falling in love like her siblings. Silena Beauregard is the one that helped her through it.

Annabeth has to be careful in the state of Florida because a camera caught her beating up a homophobe. (Yes, it was a mortal. She had gone with Malcolm as support for him to come out of the closet to his mortal dad and step-mom.)

Every year before Manhattan, Jake (Mason) and Michael (Yew) would risk getting eaten by harpies to stargaze on top of the Apollo cabin roof. After the Battle, Travis and/or Connor would help Jake get up there and let him stargaze for the night. Mysteriously, the harpies avoided the area as if they had orders to leave it alone.

Cecil is the biggest ally in camp, so much so that he says things no straight man would ever dare.

Cecil: "I'd kiss a guy to show my support."

Lou: "That's not how it works. Also, you're dating me!"

Cecil: "Yeah, but allyship Lou Ellen. Don't be homophobic during pride month."

Lou: "I'm literally pan!"

The Hermes cabin has a list with everyone's flags and are like pride flag fairies.

Clarisse was the first person Will came out to as bisexual. She found him crying by the lake because he didn't think he would be accepted. They got to talking and she told him she was bi as well. "Take a look around, Solace. Times are changing and we can like who we like. Hades, look at your own cabin. You guys may have a single straight ally in there, because the rest of y'all sure arent straight."

Katie and Miranda help everyone decorate with flowers and put bouquets together.

Mitchell and Valentina have a betting pool on which couples are going to 'do the most'.

Nico's first pride month is definitely interesting. He had no idea that the camp would be so accepting or that there would be so many others like/similar to himself. (He spent most of it in a state of shock and talked Jason's ear off over Iris message.)

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teencopandthesourwolf · 1 year ago

Text

LOVE YEW

on ao3 HERE

“Here!”

Stiles slams something down on the coffee table to the left of Derek's (Stiles's) laptop.

Derek is searching online, only a little psychotically, in the hope of finding a store that sells these very specific organic coffee beans he tried in a hipster coffee house recently. Derek isn't a hipster—he isn't—he just likes nice coffee, is all. Really, he should have asked the barista to find out not just the brand name but their supplier's address too because this is driving him insane. Maybe he is insane? More likely just incredibly shit at the internet, but he thinks he'd prefer to plead insanity if challenged.

Derek unknits his eyebrows and looks down at… a green thing. It's sort of feather shaped and has many spindles with bronzed edges.

It's a leaf.

His eyebrows knit themselves back together as he blinks down at the thing a couple of times.

“It's a leaf,” he says, because he doesn't know what else he's supposed to say.

Then he looks up—and back and forth at Stiles who is now pacing the apartment and alternating between clicking his fingers and flicking his thumbs and shaking his arms out at the sides of his body; his stimming can get pretty extra when he's anxious.

Derek's frown deepens with immediate concern. He must've really been deep in it with the infuriating Google searching to not have noticed the smell of Stiles's distress when his mate first arrived home.

“Hey, what's—”

“Yes, Derek, it's a leaf. It is a leaf that I brought all the way home. For you. From the cemetery.”

He's still pacing.

“Okay, well do you want to tell me—“

“It's an Apology Leaf. Obviously.”

Obviously.

“And, Derek, do not laugh, because—"

“I won't but could you just—“

“—this isn't funny. I'm ridiculous, I know, and I know that that's funny. But this? This is decidedly deeply unfunny, alright? This is totally not at all funny, Derek. It's like, a thing without one tiny ounce of humour in it, as in not the slightest bit funny in a gazillion sombre years. Do you hear me?” He inhales deeply, holds the breath, then blows it out harshly via puffed-out cheeks as he clicks and flails some more.

Derek hears Stiles and is of course prepared to wait for him to explain whatever this is, because Derek would wait for Stiles until the end of time, if he had to. Although that's not likely a thing to happen in any reality as this is Stiles who can't go for longer than fifteen seconds without talking. But still, Derek thinks it's the sentiment that counts.

“You, Derek Hale, are good, and someone as good as you deserves somebody far, far better than a ratbag like me. Hence the leaf,” Stiles now tells him in a rush of even more confusing words, his chemo-signals tinged with shame for some worrying reason Derek is yet to discern.

Stiles glances over anxiously from his place of animated, mysterious penance—and then looks away again just as quickly while still trying to wear footprints into the recently painted varnish on the wooden floor of their new apartment.

Derek is clueless as to the cause of Stiles's meltdown, but neither things are a first. Stiles struggles sometimes—just like Derek does, who has plenty of his own outbursts (albeit more moody than vocal) that Stiles has to Private Dick his way through.

Derek is also trying his best not to worry too much about thinking that this is somehow his fault, so now sets his mind on attempting to marry these seemingly unrelated things in his head.

He thinks about the facts he's been presented with:

What is, at an educated guess, a Pacific Yew leaf.

and

Stiles's rather unhinged and self-deprecating dig at himself-slash-compliment for Derek.

...Yeah, no, he's not getting better at this game any time soon.

“Uh,” he says helpfully, and Stiles rolls his eyes in that Do I really have to do everything myself around here? way of his which, rude.

Good job Derek loves the kook.

“It was just sitting there, on top of my mom's gravestone when I got there,” Stiles says quietly, incredulously, gesturing at the innocuous leaf.

Then he's off again with the pacing.

“And I knew, straight away, I knew,” he says, getting louder again and laughing in this accusatory sort of way, pointing somewhere into the ether, eyes manic.

Derek scratches his nose. He hopes he will soon know, too, because honestly, he's kind of blindfolded in the dark here.

“She was obviously telling me what a dipshit I was! What a douche I am! A massive ass-hat! Total loser!”

“I mean, that's mostly fair, but maybe total loser is a little strong.” Derek will often speak Stiles's language when Stiles is freaking out, using humour to try and ground him.

Stiles carries on as if Derek hadn’t said anything.

“And I was like, Come on, mom, give me a break, will you? and she was like Seriously, Mischief? You really wouldn't let the special person in your life, your special little guy—”

“You can just say boyfriend, Stiles.”

“—come with you to the cemetery to visit me? Like, as if with that leaf she was reminding me that you are the one person who actually gets this shit, which, I do know. Of fucking course I know. And then—get this—I swear to God, Derek, I felt her literally slapping me upside the head! No fucking word of a lie, man. Like, thousands wouldn't believe me. Millions. They'd say that it must have been the wind or my incredibly vivid imagination. But I know, Der. I know that it was her,” Stiles continues with the confession without stopping for breath.

Derek has thought it before and he'll think it again: the kid's lung capacity is seriously impressive.

“And I also know that I totally should've said yes when you asked me if I wanted you to come with me to the cemetery this morning. Because the thing is, I did want you to. I really, really did. But I just… I just…”

Stiles starts slapping himself on the forehead with both his hands and Derek has had enough of that already. He gets up off the sofa and walks over to Stiles, catching those slim wrists in his grip, gentle yet firm.

“Please don't,” Derek says, imploring Stiles to stop. Derek can understand frustration, but can't stand Stiles hurting himself.

Stiles deflates a little. He then takes a step towards Derek and leans in, resting his forehead against Derek's, their noses lining up like penguins.

“I just—I should have said yes to you when you asked because I honestly, truthfully wanted you there. It's just that I've only ever been there with my Dad. And even then, not as many times as you might think. Not even Scotty has been there with me. It's just a place—it's usually something I do alone. You know?” Stiles' front teeth worry at his pretty lip.

And yes, Derek does know.

So he says, “Because you feel guilt, right? Even though there isn't a thing in this universe or any other that you should feel guilty about.”

Guilt just for being alive.

Slightly cross-eyed with the proximity and angle, Stiles looks at Derek in a way that says he knows just how much Derek knows about this stuff.

“Yeah. Yes, exactly. And I guess I didn't know how to be that with somebody else around.”

“But Stiles, that's completely—”

“No, Der. It isn't, actually. Because you're not just somebody else. It's you. And I'm in love with you.” Stiles finally takes a breath while Derek's heart is busy swelling to twice it's size. He will never tire of hearing Stiles Stilinski say those words to him. “And I absolutely should've trusted in that. In us.”

It is, of course, completely fine that Stiles went to the cemetery alone to visit his mother, but Derek also gets where the kid is coming from. He too takes a breath, now, a big one, because this kind of stuff doesn't come as easily for him as it does Stiles.

He swallows his nerves and pushes on.

“I love you, Stiles. And it's alright that we're not perfect. Neither of us are. Us—you and me—we're both just… Finding our way.”

After a moment, Stiles adds, “Together.”

They smile at each other like huge dorks.

“Yeah.” Derek breathes, and his heart might just burst.

Derek scents Stiles, and Stiles breathes deeply too, now. “Thanks,” he says, then Derek kisses him, just as deep and for a long while, because it's his favourite thing to do in the whole damn world.

Eventually Derek pulls back, runs a thumb over Stiles's mouth and says, “You know what?”

Stiles's brow lifts inquisitively.

Derek lets go of Stiles's wrist and takes his hand instead, leading him back to the sofa and sitting them both down squarely by the coffee table where he had been sat fruitlessly Googling not so long ago.

“I believe you,” Derek says.

Stiles frowns. “Huh?” It's his turn to be confused.

“Millions wouldn't, but I believe you, Stiles. About your mom.”

He reaches across and picks up the Apology Leaf, cradling it for a brief moment in his palm before nudging at Stiles's hand and urging him to take it, which he does.

Derek then grabs the laptop, side-eyeing his previous Google search—WHO NEAR ME SELLS PHOENIX ROAST ORGANIC COFFEE BEANS THAT TASTE LIKE HOME—and forcing himself not to get instantly sucked back into that particularly vexing nightmare, while also trying his best to angle the screen away from Stiles who, if he saw, would fall off the sofa laughing at Derek's admittedly pathetic research skills.

Not everybody is a… Technophile? Cyberpunk? Derek has no fucking clue about any of this shit.

With Stiles now passing comment on the aesthetic qualities of the Apology Leaf, Derek uses both index fingers to tap out the words of the thing he wants to look up, taking no notice of Stiles who is trying his annoying not-very-best to smirk at Derek's sorry efforts in Derek's periphery. Clicking through a few different links, this time Derek manages to find what he's after without any trouble, amazingly. He then hands the laptop over to Stiles, who carefully places the leaf down on the arm of the sofa beside him before fully taking the computer from Derek.

Stiles purses those pretty lips of his as he scans the information on screen, squinting a little.

“Uh, well yeah. It's like you said, Der; It's a leaf. From a Yew, according to this.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “Your mother's ghost is infinitely more clever than you.” Stiles's squint deepens further. “Stiles, she is absolutely spot on about this. Just—scroll down the page a bit, dumbass,” and he ducks his head and smiles, seeing as accusing Stiles of Internet-related Dumbassery is really fucking funny because, irony.

Stiles tuts but does as he's told.

Derek gives him a minute to read the passage on the website he found. It says:

The Yew tree can live for many, many years. It has deep connections with magic and the universe. It was regarded as the protector of the soul by the ancient Greeks. You’ll find this tree planted at many burial sites throughout the world as it’s recognized as a guardian of the dead.

It is believed that Odin (from the Nordic legend) hung himself from the Yew for nine days and nights. It’s symbolic of its everlasting and regenerative properties and is often associated with transformation and change after a difficult time. The Celtic tradition honours the Yew tree for symbolising death and rebirth.

Stiles is smiling this gorgeous, open smile by the time he's finished reading, and Derek makes an unrealistic wish to be able to keep it there forever.

“So, you were right,” Derek says, “when you said that she knew. You were just a little mixed up about what, is all.” Derek takes another deep breath. “What your mom knows is that you got the chance to begin again, Stiles. After all the shit we went through, you actually got to start over. With somebody who will absolutely protect your soul with their life.”

Stiles suddenly blinks furiously, like somebody just threw salt in his eyes.

“And you knew it, that she knew... something,” Derek smiles back, lovingly, before that smile turns a little wry. “It's just that you were kind of—now, how should I put this…?”

“No. Do not do it!” Stiles shouts—instantly catching on because he'd easily be the brightest bulb in any box—and he's pointing again, at Derek this time. “Puns are my stupid thing, you charlatan, and I can and will sue!” he warns, outraged yet smiling again as he wipes at his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt.

“—barking up the wrong tree,” Derek finishes, his smile now positively wolfish.

Stiles shakes his head and narrows his eyes, but he's chuckling, too as he says, “You do remember that it's you who's the canine in this relationship, right, 'wolf? If anybody's going to be making barking sounds, it's you.”

“Speciesist,” Derek quips.

Stiles pokes his tongue out. Then he's quiet for a few seconds (but definitely no more than fifteen).

“You know, I really was wrong when I said you deserve better than me. We actually absolutely deserve each other, Hale. Because it turns out we are both humongous assholes.”

After a moment, Derek grins more.

“Well, I would have answered that with I love my asshole, but you had to go and use the word humongous, and there's no way I would say that about my asshole—even though I would have technically been talking about you when I said it, seeing as it's actually you that is my favourite asshole.” And he pulls a rare, goofy face, just for Stiles, who laps it up. “Also, thinking about it, I would also have to say that loving my actual asshole is, in fact," he points at Stiles, “your job.”

Stiles dramatically slaps a hand over Derek's mouth.

“Oh my God, Derek, stop! My ghostly mother could be listening in to us right now! Jeez, dude, have a little decorum, won't you?!” And if Stiles saying that isn't ironic, Derek really doesn’t know what is.

“Sorry, mom!”

Grinning even more, Derek pushes Stiles's hand away from his face.

“Hey, wanna know the coolest thing?” he asks.

“Why in the name of anything sacred did you bother posing that as a question, Der? Like, when would I ever say no to that?”

Derek leans over and kisses Stiles again, soft and languid this time. The boy's lips are dry and warm and he tastes just like autumn.

Stiles hums and smiles into Derek's mouth as if he really, truly does love Derek.

After another glorious moment, Derek pulls back, looks at Stiles and says, “Yew trees aren't even native to this part of California.”

for @greyhavenisback my beloved <3 sorry i'm a dipshit, douche, massive ass-hat and a total loser, sometimes xp

(i got the info on tree symbolism HERE btw)

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pedriache · 3 months ago

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idk if you’re hispanic/latino buttttt i NEED a pedri fic based off the song la santa by bad bunny (if you don’t know spanish you can just translate it and it’ll work jst fine) tyyyy i loveee ur work 🫶🫶

La santa — Pedri Gonzalez.

Pairing: Pedri Gonzalez x Fem!Reader

Summary: You weren’t supposed to fall in love with Pedri, but it happened nonetheless. You knew what you were getting into when it all started and you both knew despite nothing ever going further than casual, you would always come running back.

Word count: 710

Disclaimer/s: Slightly Suggestive (?) , angst

A/N: OOOOH this song is lowk girl i’m nodding my head thank yew. i also really had no clue how to go about this .. i actually hate it so much sorry this was so bummy

Pedri was dressing quickly. Too quickly. You knew you shouldn’t have even proposed the idea of taking the relationship or… whatever you could call it, further. He always got jumpy when you’d ask for him to stay even a few extra minutes.

You leaned back against the headboard, a frown planted tightly against your lips as you watched him zip up his jeans. “Jesus christ, Pedri. It was a simple suggestion! You’re acting like I told you I was pregnant.”

The mans eyes widen as they shoot in your direction, “you aren’t.. pregnant. Right?” That elicited a loud groan from your lips.

“Oh lord.” You rub your temples before looking back to him. He still wore the same expression, nearly making you laugh as you shake your head. “No! I am not.”

“Thank God.” He huffs, reaching for his t-shirt.

You chew on your bottom lip, suddenly annoyed. “You know what? This has to stop. For good.” He continued dressing like you weren’t even speaking, so you add, “I’m serious.”

Pedri sighs, tugging the shirt over his head. “You said that last week, last month, and matter of fact, two days ago. You know damn well it’s not stopping.” His lip twitches at the corners, a smug grin forming ever so slowly.

That just furthered your annoyance because, unfortunately, it was the truth. It also pissed you off because if he’d just take you seriously and stayed away, you wouldn’t crawl back to him every time.

You’d tried to stop sending him that text or responding to his, but you were weak. Your resistance only lasted about five minutes before you caved. You simply couldn’t stay away from Pedri.

“It’s different this time, and you know it! I can’t wait around for you to feel—“

“Woah!” His hands shoot up, stopping you mid sentence. “Don’t finish that sentence.”

Your lips clamp shut and your arms cross over your chest. “Well—“

“Cariño, you know it’ll never be reciprocated. You knew this the second we started the whole thing! Cut the lovey dovey act, I don’t need you doing that because I don’t know how to reciprocate it.” He finishes his rant, running a hand over his face as if the whole conversation was one big inconvenience.

Pedri leaned against the wall a few feet from your bedroom door, antsy for an escape yet also not wanting to leave you pissed off at him.

“This was only meant to be a fun thing.” He adds once the silence became deafening.

Pulling your knees to your chest, you frown. “Why though? Why is it such a terrible concept? You care about a lot of things, a lot of people, why would it be so different?”

His eyes dart to the door, he really needed to get out of here. “You know why. Just.. let’s keep this going and you’ll get over it, no? Why are you trying to mess with something thats fine just as it is?”

You were desperately trying to ignore the way your stomach churned at his words. The more he talked, the more you felt your heart sink. You knew damn well there was no changing Pedri and you most definitely knew better than to even have a sliver of hope.

“You’re right.” You finally force out, “no, yeah. I’m sorry I even thought about it.”

The hurt in your voice was unmistakable. Pedri heard it loud and clear and he almost felt guilty. Almost. But at the end of the day, he’d told you how he felt about relationships at the beginning of it all. He knew and you knew, exactly where he stood.

“I’ll see you when I get back from Sevilla, okay?” Pedri sighs, pushing himself off the wall.

Not daring to look at him, you stay quiet for a moment. A weak attempt at pushing him away, but you were just that. Weak.

“Yeah.” You huff, “make sure you lock the door on the way out.”

Pedri lifts one hand as a parting gesture, but you don’t return it and he leaves anyways. He leaves you feeling like an absolute idiot because you know when you get the text that he’s back in town, you’ll be waiting right where he left you.

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in any of my fics, specific or all.

DTS , @halfwayhearted , @spidybaby , @gadriezmannsgirl !

#pedri gonzalez #pedri #pedri gonzalez x reader #pedri gonzalez x fem!reader #pedri gonzalez one shot #pedri gonzalez x you #pedri gonzalez imagine #pedri x reader #pedri angst #football #blurb #fc barcelona #fc barcelona fic

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gaymurdersalad · 1 year ago

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Hey Jack! I think Dave is.. looking for you. You should probably check on him-

>Looking for me?

>The bastard practically wanted me dead on Monday when I refused his little kid-killing scheme. Straight up left the restaurant and didn’t show his face again, he was so mad.

>Why in the hell would he suddenly be looking for me?

>Even if he was, I wouldn’t know the first place to fucking—

>Mmmmyyy body lies overrr the ocean, my boooody lies over the seaaaaa—

>I’mmm no gooood at astraaaaal projectionnnn, so brrriiiing back my bodddyyyyy to meeeee!

>Oh, holy fuck, I’vvvve nevvvver felt ssssooooooo… Un-Coporeal. Wuwuuuuugghh, what issss… Within it me is outside o’ me… And whaasss inside of mmmmeeeee is SOOOOOOOO much LSD.

>Hooooow’d I even ennnndup here? What the hell did you get yourself int’, you big clown? I’m not surrrre, I just woke up out hereeee, again… What would Henry think? Who cares! He hates mmmmeeee!! He pushed me aside he did, he did! How’d he do that, then? He says “Get ouuuuutta here, you purple menace you, and leave me the hell alone for as long as your pitiful life stays clinging to this wretched Earth!” Why’d he say such a thing? I duunnoooooo! Was it something you did? You’re always getting yourself into trouble, you. Please leaaaave me alone, leave me to rot here, you… Yew… Schtewpid bastard, you caaaan’t stop bothering me, both you AND him…

>I’ve never done nothing to warrant this! I’m yer friend, Davey! Yer nothin’ but some bassard keepin’ me angry, you rotten fuck you, I wish you’d both fuck off hand ‘n hand and go… Go stuff yourselves in a waterlogged springlock suit, fuck you!

>A VISSSSITOR. Who— Who arrives?!

>… Dave?

>Sportsy! Old Jack! Whateerrr yoooouuu doin’ here?! You smell different. Yer wearin’ that coat!

>… Jesus Christ, dude. I’ve never seen you this bad.

>Aannnnnd I’ve never seen yew so good lookin’, handsome.

>Alright… Let’s… Let’s get you up, it’s freezing out here, man.

>Ohhhh, yer sooooo warm, Sportsy… I juuuusssss wanna crawl inside yer skinnn and wear ya as a jacket… Heh! Jack-et!

>… Thank… You…? I’m going to ignore you for a bit, is that alright dude?

>Yew can do whateeeeeever yew want, cowboy, I juss love ya soooo much…

>We’re gonna go back to my place, okay buddy? Get you under some covers and make sure you don’t accidentally… Hurt yourself. Let you sit the rest of this out someplace comfortable.

>Yer… Yer takin’ care of me, baby?

>Only ��cause I know you won’t remember it.

>Yer… Yer sucha nice boy, sucha sweet sweet tangerine, you…

>Y’know, I wus… I’ve been… feeling preeeety rancid lately, Sportsy. Henry… Kicked me to the curb again, said I don’t wantcha here, and I wus… wanted… spend time with ya, Sportsy, like old times, I wanted t’… I missed… yew. ‘Nd yer dumb stupid clementine face, that schtewpid beard— If… If Henry don’t want me, then I know… I wus always thinking, I thought— Sportsy’s there! There’ll alllllways be Sportsy! B— Because there ain’t Sportsy, it’s just me, and just me makes me wanna die. I don’t wanna die. I don’t wanna die when yer holdin’ me.

>I’m… It’s pretty fuckin’ radical… that yew still care. Still the… same rotten orange I knew and loved.

>…

>… I…

>I still care. It’s okay.

>It is?

>It’s okay.

>… Let’s… Get you home. Try and relax, we’re only a block away from my car. You can sleep when we’re on the road.

>Gnnaaaaarly… Road trip with Old Sport!

>Yeah, man, sure. Gnarly.

#murder salad #gaymurdersalad #salad lore

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gatitties · 9 months ago

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Haihaiii! Ive been reading ur op stuff for a while now and i really love the way u write the strawhats and the wbp, i wanted to ask if i can i rq the WBP and/or the strawhats with a young (like around 14/15) isekai'ed reader whos like a really bad procastinator? Like theyll be telling the crew how they have this project they have to do till *random date*, and the crew (specifically marco & thatch/robin nd sanji if u can 😓😓) will ask them from time to time if they alrd started doing it and theyll be like "yeah dw imma do it tmr" then theyll just draw or do smt else rather than do the thing they have to do, eventually when its 1 day till they gotta send it they'll panic but eventually get it done?

Thank yew ^^ !!

─Strawhats & Whitebeard Pirates x young!reader (platonic)

─Summary: There is no need to stress yourself unnecessarily, you just enjoy until you have no options left but to move forward with your task.

─Warnings: none

─ The moment you were sent to this world full of pirates and adventures you knew that your procrastination would only get worse, but who wouldn't prefer exploring another world full of fantasy things to doing class work?

─ This crew doesn't know what it's like to leave everything to the last minute until they meet you, you will simply block all kinds of activities if you find one much more entertaining or better.

─ Many of them don't understand it because you seem so calm and then so stressed about being able to finish your projects, stress that you would not have been exposed to if you had kept up with your tasks.

─ Sanji refuses to give you any type of drink or food that could stimulate or vary your sleeping hours just because you didn't start doing your homework sooner, he probably reminds you all the time that you have pending homework.

─ Robin will offer to help you with anything, but knowing that someone as smart as her would help you only made you think that the job would be done quickly and that's why you delayed it further.

─ Even though they scold you for your poor time management, they will help you complete anything pending if they see that you are going to tear your hair out if you keep pulling it, Chopper and Jinbe are usually quite reliable.

─ Luffy will only be one more cause of your procrastination, he gives you the opportunity to do what you want when you want, although your world cannot always be governed by that rule, you can afford to do it in this one.

─ Temporary vacation in another world? It sounds a lot better than that assignment you have to turn in in two days.

─ You will leave even the simplest task alone to see how this crew does the most trivial things like cleaning or cooking.

─ Whitebeard never thought that he would find someone lazier than Ace, although you are not lazy, you just enjoy things until the last moment.

─ Marco scolds you a lot because he says that it is not healthy to go through so much stress in a short period of time for something that you could have done before calmly, the excuse that you work better under pressure is not valid for him.

─ Ace tries to get you not to stop doing what you're doing for something else more entertaining, but you also find his narcolepsy much more entertaining than some of your pending works, he tries to help but it's also a distraction.

─ Thatch will also try to help you with your homework when he has free time, but one, either he doesn't know how to help you because he doesn't understand what you're learning, or two, he'll start blabbing about any gossip with you.

─ If you really want to do your tasks on time and calmly, Izou is probably the one who will let you have the least distractions, but for now you still prefer to be a chaos of anxiety because you don't know if you will complete the work on the deadline.

#op #one piece #one piece x reader #strawhtas x reader #whitebeard x reader #young reader #platonic reader #one piece x platonic reader #sfw #reader insert #request

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armoricaroyalty · 8 months ago

Text

For some reason, when she kissed him, he thought of Theo.

Previous | Chapter Start | Beginning | Next

Transcript under the cut.

WOMAN 1 | ...for real, I've been like, completely obsessed. WOMAN 1 | Like, there was hardly any wedding coverage for Jacques and Vivi, right? And that was my first royal wedding! I thought it was normal! I didn't know I was missing out. WOMAN 2 | Right? It feels like everyone's been saving up all their hype. WOMAN 1 | Has anyone else been following the dress rumors? WOMAN 2 | [ sighs ] I just hope Emily's dress isn't as boring as Vivi's was. WOMAN 2 | Vivi's whole wardrobe is boring! She dresses like a toddler, it is so unflattering. WOMAN 1 | I know, right? She should ask Lady Em to take her shopping. WOMAN 3 | Lady Emily is soooo gorgeous. WOMAN 2 | She's too good for him. He's always been such a scrub. WOMAN 1 | Whatever! I'm just glad it's a real love story, not just a shotgun wedding. An office romance... [ dreamy sigh ] Like, it could have been me! THEO | [ scoffs ] [ The conversation died immediately, and the silence solidified into something like hostility. Theo turned to see five pale, contemptuous faces fixed on her back, and her heart jumped up into her throat. Fighting to keep her expression neutral and her voice even, she stood and announced to no one that she was going to lunch. They pretended not to hear her. ] WOMAN 1 | ...she is such a stuck-up b-word. WOMAN 2 | Did you know that she used to date Prince Frederick? WOMAN 1 | Oh my god. Her? WOMAN 2 | Yeah. That's how she got hired here after she got disbarred or whatever. WOMAN 3 | Yeah. And her mom dated the King before he married the Queen. WOMAN 1 | Oh my god. She's a second-generation royal girlfriend? Gross. WOMAN 2 | D'you think her daughter will actually land a prince? WOMAN 3 | Why not? [ giggles ] Third time's the charm! [ Even in the warmer months, the gardens at Yew Court Palace stood empty. In February, the fountains were dry and the ivy dormant. Fat crows stirred in the bare branches overhead. Somewhere nearby, muffled by hedges, came the low hum of passing traffic. ] [ It was a food place to be alone. ]

THEO: I am going to kill myself or my coworkers, havent decided yet FREDDY: Nooooo dont do that FREDDY: Id have noone to text if you were dead THEO: Aw, no friends? FREDDY: Nope :( THEO: Pobrecito FREDDY: O baby. Talk dirty to me THEO: Lmao THEO: For real though THEO: Gonna kill my coworkers THEO: Or myself FREDDY: What did they do this time THEO: They are just openly talking shit about me now THEO: IN FRONT OF ME FREDDY: Wtf???????? FREDDY: Want me to have them fired lol THEO: I can fight my own battles tyvm FREDDY: Whats your battle plan? Stapler in jello? Sign them up for boner pill emails? THEO: Find a new job and leave them here to choke on their own incompetence FREDDY: Love when you talk about choking :heart_eyes: THEO: LMAO perv FREDDY: Cant help myself lol FREDDY: Anyway…sorry about your terrible job. Mine kinda sucks rn too THEO: Isn’t your job rn wedding planning?? FREDDY: But it’s not it’s actually mediating between my mom and Emily THEO: Do they not get along? FREDDY: No they get along fine but it’s like. FREDDY: My mom clearly has Ideas (tm) about how the wedding should be and em clearly wants something completely diferent and it is just constant FREDDY: Theyre killing meeeeeee THEO: That sucks. Are you at least getting your own ideas in too? FREDDY: Not really…altho tbf if i was getting my way it’d be like. Courthouse wedding. In and out. THEO: My parents got married at city hall FREDDY: Dreams really do come true THEO: They sure do THEO: Okay this is going to sound weird but...I felt like the wedding plans didn’t really seem like you THEO: if that makes sense? THEO: Like I get that you're a prince but a huge formal wedding isn't your vibe at alllll FREDDY: You know me…my kind of party involves a lot more helicopters and blow THEO: LMAO I thought there was just the one helicopter FREDDY: See this is why we’re friends lol FREDDY: You keep me honest

#sims community #ts4 #ts4 story #ts4 storytelling #ts4 royals #ts4 royal family #armorica story #chapter 4 #behind the scenes #character: theodosia adams #character: frederick st. fleur #character: emily chandra

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thearcaneenthusiast · 5 months ago

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BOY DO I HAVE SHIT TO TALK ABOHT.

ARCANE SEASON 2 OFFICIAL TRAILER ANALYSIS

(to my best efforts..)

Now I'm by all means a shitty analyser but I've still gathered enough to make a post about the trailer so here we go ganf

THE SCENE I REALLY WANNA YALK ABOUT

I do wanna quickly point out how good the fucking art of this stupid show is its actually diabolical

But this shows a bunch of people passing their respects onto jinx, (pls look at the blue hair)

In protests, even irl, people tend to do face painting, or some form of logo is presented so people can identify what they are protesting for.

After one singular Google search, the color blue represents open spaces, freedom, intuition, imagination, inspiration, and sensitivity

-> I think the different fonts I've highlighted is what I think Zuan is fighting for (or terrorising for idek)

Open spaces, because zuan is really really really underground, shitty air, very very claustrophobic.

Freedom is very very very unbelievably self explanatory

Sensitivity, Sensitivity as in they are fighting for their right to having some sort of right to feel victimised, so piltover can be Sensitive towards their situation (maybe idek you get what I'm saying.)

It also sets the tone for the scene I guess OK MVOIN ON

THINGS I POINTED OUT

"The arcane is waking up"

Personally, UHM!

I think these two scenes finna go hand in hand, I'm not rlly sure what's gonna go down with the arcane since bro I wasn't expecting all this BUT I'm so open to theories if you guys have any

OK HO BECAUSE WHO IS THIS I wanna say this is powder but I lowkey don't know it might be a protester with jinx but I deadass huh. This is something else I need help with so AGAIN REBLOG ??? COMMENT PLS THANK YEW

Shit screenshot sorry

This is most definitely during the (final)?? Battle. Like the one we see in the teaser trailer deadass Idk what's going on here right but I think it's gonna be Jinx's ult/idk whatever you league players call it. But it's gonna fuck vi up, and she's gonna breakdown to caitlyn, which leads to the "My sister is gone" talk

Big showdown between vi and warwick, again THE COLORSSSHUCWVCVUWC7HWFU

Blue is the color of the sky and ocean, and it can represent purity, truth, and clarity. Alternatively, it can represent sadness or coldness

Red is often associated with passion, love, and vitality and can also represent anger, danger, and aggression.

So yeah! The meanings definetly contradict eachother, but they all correlate with eachother in some weird cool way. We know warwick is vander, Vander loves his secondhand family, he has so much fight for them, he openly protects them. But now that he's Warwick, he's easily seen as dangerous and he's most definetly angry I'll tell u that

So before the trailer I thought these two wpuld be on opposite sides I WAS WRONG I WAS SO WRONG AND IM SO GLAD I WAS GENUINELY CELEBRATING

I think this is the thing that wakes up the arcane I'm reaching idk anymore

Idk if anyone else point this put

HES TALKING TO JINX LOOK AT THE FORNER LOOK AT HTW CONCNERJW

#vi #ekko #ekko arcane #vi arcane #arcane #jinx arcane #arcane ambessa #caitlyn #caitlyn arcane #mel #arcane theory #fan theory #vi the piltover enforcer #caitvi #cassandra kiramman #caitlyn kiramman #vi x caitlyn

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multiwreckedmess · 24 days ago

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[9:42pm] Prologueish

i'm so sorry cheater!yunho this is all i can write right now

a prologue of sorts. OHHHH they're so fucked UUUUUP

WC: 1.4k

because it's a prologue you probably DON'T need to read the previous entries, I'll link everything at the end though do not worry.

Standard disclaimer, this is meant for 18+ and my blog is 18+ please do not interact if you are not 18+ because I AM OLD. You don't WANT to interact with me just as much as I don't want to interact with YOU. This content is not intended for YEW.

This fanfic is, as the genre defines it, FICTIONAL. It is in no way a representation of Yunho or any Ateez member.

TW/CW: Fem!reader. Voyeurism. More details below the cut.

TW/CW: cnc voyeurism? Idk how to tag it but shit's fucked up. PIV sex, protected sex (ayyyy change of pace), yn is called babe and princess, backshots. Use of terms "bad girl" and "naughty girl".

There's too many people and you can feel a slow sickening trickle of sweat slip down your spine. Curse this cheap Shein sweater made of essentially recycled plastic that suffocates you along with the eyes of the crowd.

Realistically it's a medium sized mixed party but really mixed party is enough to start the waterworks for you. It's not so big that it would break the imagined firecode of the house you're in. Yet the combination of fabric and pressure starts to strangle you slowly.

Of course Yunho is here. He's always here. Thats what you get for fucking within the friend group. Mistake number one, or maybe number two after allowing yourself to stay friends with him after your break up. Not that there was a choice, shunning him would be social suicide. The mear suggestion of casting yourself as the ice queen, cutting out a staple member of the gang. Worse, allowing yourself to be pitied. The poor girl who couldn't keep her man's eyes from wandering, and what good were you if you couldn't keep someone as good as him.

He's here chatting up some girl, as usual at this mixed affairs. He's smart, you see, he fucks people never to be heard from again. Randoms at bars or parties or friends of friends that don't care to know the history. Girls who just want to fuck a guy not lying about his height for once.

Hanging on your newly minted boyfriends bicep you find yourself smiling and nodding along with a conversation that you've long forgotten the point of. Surely it can't have moved too far away from some simple small talk. Sports or entertainment, something uncontroversial and benign. Your boyfriend laughs, you laugh. You follow his moves and before long you'll be home and asleep safe in your bed.

You can feel Yunho's eyes even as he's leaning casually against the wall. That bitch touching his chest. No, she's not a bitch and he isn't yours. Really she's doing you a favor. He's moved on and so have you. Clearly you've moved on, you have your new beau and he's here with you and clearly you're in love because you're laughing so much with him. Your smile brightens at the thought.

"Right babe?" your boyfriend turns his head towards you, nodding. "Whatever you said, hon," you smile and lay your hand on his chest. Eyes darting you make sure that Yunho is still watching this pageantry. With a wink you kiss your boyfriend's cheek for good measure. "She's too good! Too funny!" The other person laughs, seemingly satisfied with this answer.

When you look back, Yunho is gone. Disappointing waste of an excellent performance. The girl is gone too. Good, good riddance. It was only right that both of you had moved on to dating outside the friend group. Who didn't like to expand their horizons and it certainly made breakups less awkward. It wasn't like you were avoiding him, you just needed to make sure your boyfriend didn't feel abandoned.

As if on cue your boyfriend squeezes your arm, leaning over to whisper to you. "Hey, if you need a break I can hold my own just fine."

"Yeah I think I'll just grab some air, it's a little warm right?"

He leans over, his lips aiming for yours but you lower your gaze and they hit your forehead.

"You know how I feel about PDA," you whisper.

He squeezes your ass with a smile, "I know but can you blame a guy for trying? You look beautiful."

The sliding glass door is already unlocked, the early autumn night air hits your face like a drink of ice water. Some distance from the party would be good. It's good that your boyfriend noticed. It's good that he cared. It's good that he wanted to kiss you. Everything is good even though Yunho was there talking with, well, who he was talking with didn't matter. It doesn't matter because you're doing so well.

There's a light on in a second floor bedroom.

The light shouldn't be on.

The second floor was also technically a break from the party. Someone should make sure that nothing was being stolen. But you're the only one in the yard, you're the only one who would know. The bathroom was also upstairs, you could use a quick bathroom break. Really you were just being a good samaritan it wasn't that out of the way, not being nosy at all.

You keep repeating that thought as you go up the stairs. Fingers gripped to the bannister as if you were in your own personal horror movie. Isn't this how most heroine's die? The din of the party masks the sound of your feet and the groan of the floorboards. The bathroom at the end of the hallway is wide open, warm lights lovingly winking at you. The bedroom door is partially cracked open, you'll just take a quick look.

But why is your heart beating so quickly? Really you aren't doing anything wrong. And if the light was just left on, you can quickly turn it off, save the host some on the electricity bills.

You look through the crack in the door.

It takes a second for your brain to process what your eyes are seeing. At first it's just a strange dark moving mass on the bed. As you stare you start to make out two bodies, moving together. Two people, fucking. One curled over the top of the other, hips landing hard blows while the other is face down in the duvet, gripping for dear life. And then the person on top looks up and makes eye contact with you through the crack.

Yunho.

Standing frozen, trapped, watching as he leans down and bites the shell of the woman's ear, eyes still locked with yours. Her entire body reacts, twisting in pleasure below him. It's wrong to keep watching. Your cunt throbs. The woman doesn't know you're watching, it's wrong to keep watching. But you aren't watching her, you aren't registering her, you're locked on him.

"You like that?" He purrs. It's clear that it's as much for your benefit as it is for the woman below him. He unfurls from on top of her, steadying himself with his hands on her hips. "God I love watching you," his lips twist into a sickening smile, "bad girl."

Legs bolted to the floor your can feel your core slicking. Yunho adds a particularly loud groan just for you. You know it's for you. He pushes his bangs from his sweat slicked forehead, pausing to let his cock sink deeper into the woman below him. She tries to scramble to her hands, into a more dignified position, maybe even to crane back into his chest to steal a kiss.

Yunho places one of his massive hands between her shoulderblades and shoves the weakened woman into the duvet again. Pushing her head into the sheets and snapping his hips into her for good measure. You hear her squeal, it's clear she's loving it.

"Gunna cum? Gunna cum for me?" He smiles as he looks at you, still stuck.

Your fingers twitch. The growing pit of shame and arousal itches in your veins.

He looks glorious, sweaty and panting. Mouth dropped and eyes rolling as he tries to focus on you. "Take it. Fucking, just like that, fucking take it."

Pulling out you watch him continue to pump his length, peeling the condom off and tossing it casually to the side. Fully engorged, prominent vein running up the top, still as delicious looking as you remember. He sighs as he cums, spurts of release spraying over the woman's upturned ass. "Fucking love that don't you, naughty girl?"

The spell breaks and you scuttle to the bathroom. A layer of slick coating the gusset of your panties. Your pussy puffy and sensitive as you try to clean yourself. Washing your hands you can't look at yourself in the bathroom mirror. For once you don't care how you look.

Yunho is leaning against the wall as you exit. A smirk crosses his face. All it takes is a stretch of his long arms to bar your path. "Nice to see you." "Likewise." He brushes a few stray hairs on your head into place. "I think we'll be seeing much more of each other." "Yunho," you voice warns, unable to look up at him. "Let me go." He quietly steps to the side, motioning you forward. "After you, princess."

related stories: kinktober | [12:39AM] | [10:45PM] if you liked this and wanna see this just get worse and worse....yeah there is the order.

a related ask as well here

#ateez smut #ateez yunho smut #atz smut #atz yunho smut #ateez fanfic #atz fanfic #mean yunho #yunho smut #yunho x reader #ateez x female reader #kpop smut #cheater!yunho

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kairiscorner · 2 years ago

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HELLOOOO I JUS STARTED READING YOUR WORKS AND i have been OBSESSED !!!!!

COULD I REQ a e1610!miles x fem!reader, where it’s a bit of a she fell first he fell harder sitch? reader and miles are pretty close friends and reader has been crushing on them for as long as she remembers 😅 miles DOES have feelings but he brushes them off as “just friends feelings”. they could have a bit of an argument cozzzzzz reader was getting mixed signals from miles 😢😢 but then once he does realize his actual feelings, he plans a little something to ask reader if he can court her? (filo!reader twist ? 🧐)

THANK YEW SM !! 🤞⭐️💘

HIII THANK YOU !! OMG WAIT I LOVE THIS?????? my second favorite trope after the "he fell first" one >:)) OK I HOPE THIS IS ANY GOOD !!

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

we're truly, utterly, pretty much just friends

summary: you have loved miles for the longest time, and guess what? he likes you a lot, too. he wasn't sure at first, though. he joked about it a lot, until you had enough, now he has to come clean and admit everything to you.

word count: 1,200

oh the pain of being in love with your best friend, it's excruciating. nothing is more suffocating than being in close proximity with the boy who has your whole heart wrapped around his finger with him being none the wiser. you two have known each other practically all your lives, and for most of it... you've spent it admiring him, finding all kinds of reasons to keep falling for and loving him in ways you never thought were possible. when high school came around, you wondered if it would be worth it to tell him your feelings; surely, you wouldn't be affected if he didn't like you... right?

oh, who were you kidding? it'd hurt like falling from the sky and landing in an active volcano's magma chamber. like hell you were ever admitting your feelings to him, you wanted to keep the status quo. why would anything that wasn't broken need fixing, right? you kept up the act of being his 'closest friend' that truly loved him, in all ways, but at a distance. you felt a suffocating catharsis with him, a contradiction that haunted you whenever you felt your heart flutter when you two were together, and you feared that so badly.

you wanted to stop feeling this weirdly about him, especially when he told you he thought of you practically as family. it made you feel like you were betraying him for falling for him. well little did you know... he's betrayed you too, then, in that sense. miles has always found you amazing, just overall wonderful company and the best friend he could ever ask for. you always take care of him when he doesn't feel okay, you always listen when he has to blow off some steam, and your touch against his... it feels electrifying, it feels like home.

he does get confused sometimes why he feels a little hot in the face when you look at him for a beat too long, or why he has the urge to want to wrap his arm around your shoulders, lay his head on one of them, too, maybe... wait, why is he thinking this? he hadn't really thought of you like that before, or has he? when he pictures doing things like that with his other friends, they feel alright, but not exactly the right kind of alright he feels with you. "i just... i just care about them a lot. yeah, they're just, they just mean that much to me." he'd tell himself when he overthinks it sometimes.

but sometimes, those feelings of his take over, and sometimes, he'll do things that make your heart beat a whole lot quicker. he'd sometimes compliment you unironically for no reason, even if you didn't change anything about yourself. he'd joke about what a pretty couple you two would look like, though he'd tell it was a joke, he meant nothing by it and he'd say sorry if it put you off. 'he should be sorry for giving me hope every time,' you'd think to yourself in frustration.

you weren't exactly angry about him showing you so much affection--you were angry because he gave you hope, every time, that he'd like you back--only to be greeted with a punch in the stomach as he brushed them off as 'jokes'. you had the last straw when miles made yet another 'joke' about him falling for you. "it's just... you're quite a catch, okay? you're pretty, smart, strong too. now, i'm not saying i do like you, it's just--" "can you stop?" you asked with a stern voice as miles immediately stopped talking when you cut him off mid-sentence. your eyebrows were furrowed together angrily as you looked at his concerned expression. "what did i do?" he asked you, genuinely unsure of what he did to warrant your anger. "that. it's that obliviousness of yours. don't you get it? you're... you're giving me..." you decided not to finish that thought, in fear that you would give yourself away.

you cussed under your breath as miles bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from saying sorry, because he knew you hated it when 'sorry' is all one can say while you were chewing them out. miles gently put a hand on your shoulder, and with a hung head and an absolutely anxious mind... he went out with it. "...i like you. so much." he admitted, placing emphasis on every syllable, hoping it sank in to you that he likes you the way you have always liked him.

he darts his eyes from your feet to his as he shuffles them a little out of anxiety, and he sighs as he looks up at your flustered face, trying to sound confident, sure of himself, but he was everything but that--and it showed. "i didn't think i'd... actually be in love when i thought about you like that, those... those thoughts i shared with you. you know, the... the 'me dating you' ones, the 'oh, you're so darn pretty, smart, strong, and everything' ones... the... 'i kinda wanna ask you out ones'... yeah... i just realized recently it meant... i like you." he said as his voice quieted and softened, as a small smile cracked on his face as he felt it growing hotter and hotter the longer he spoke.

"if you'll let me, and this is not a joke this time... if you'll let me, can i... can i court you?" he asked you in the softest voice he could muster, so scared of what you'd say. he poured his whole heart out to you, hoping you understood, hoping you'd say yes... "morales, i am going to hit you." you threatened him lightly as you tried to take your shoe off, feeling your own face get flustered as he chuckled. "i'll take it, just... i want to earn your love, i wanna do it right." he said as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. "...is it bad you earned it long ago already?" you asked him, which caused his eyes to widen as he pulled back a little.

"wait, so you mean to tell me that--" before he could even finish, you planted a kiss on his lips. it was brief, it was abrupt, but all the love you pent up for him over the years was put into that very kiss. you still looked angry at him, and rightfully so, for causing you so much excitement that he'd like you back only to just recently realize it. "you'll buy me lunch today, morales." you said as you took his hand and began to trudge forward with him following, smiling all the while and getting super excited for what this meant for the both of you. "i'd buy you lunch every day, walk you home, cuddle up with you if you wanted... i'd make every day about you, that's what i mean when i say i wanna court you, mahal." he said as he interlocked his hand in your own, which made you super flustered, but you wanted to keep it under wraps--gotta make him pay for giving you so much hope from back then, of course.

a/n: MY BOYYYYYY

tags !! @k4tsu3 @luvstarrstruck @toneystank-3000 @ii01vq @maxoloqy @solecitoszn @q2ie @zalayni

#miles morales #miles morales x filipino reader #earth 1610 miles morales x filipino reader #earth 1610 miles morales #miles morales x reader #earth 1610 miles morales x reader #atsv imagines #atsv #atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #atsv fluff #earth 1610 miles fluff #miles morales x you #earth 1610 miles morales x you #miles morales x y/n #earth 1610 miles morales x y/n

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