#even if it was a distraction you can see he was proud :)
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inkdrinkerworld · 11 hours ago
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Oh oh what about soft!dom remus and reader who’s upset over a conversation with her family and doesn’t know how to let it go and he helps distract/regulate her???
Not sure if this is soft!dom, but he definitely helps reader relax and work through it mentally
“You’re stewing dovey.” Remus murmurs as he reaches for you on the settee.
He’s got a plate in one hand, bread pudding you’d been asking for all weekend and some fruit on the side.
“I’m sorry, it’s just, they’re so mean and it’s fine when they do it. But when I stick up for myself suddenly I’m a raging bitch.”
Remus shakes his head, kissing your temple as you start to get angry all over again. “You’re not a bitch. They’re just close minded.”
He placed the plate in your lap and you sigh, leaning your head on his shoulder. “I just get so pissed because why it’s okay for them but I’m a pariah when I do it? I’m not immune to bad moods, I just don’t take it out on everyone.”
Remus knows from Sirius that family relationships are tough. Sirius’ situation was different but he can see similarities between yours and his.
Your family, mainly your siblings, expect you to be this perfect golden child and you can never make a mistake and it weighs on you.
It’s why Remus and you only see your mum when you visit and your sister sometimes. Your brothers are another story.
“And you’re better for that dovey. You’re not a pariah, you’re allowed all of your feelings even if they try to make you feel bad. You won’t get censorship here.” Remus nudges your knee with his. “C’mon, eat before it goes cold.”
You take a bite and your shoulders drop a little- Remus is a wizard at bread pudding. It’s somehow never sopping wet on the bottom. It’s a comfort food of yours and after today it was necessary.
Remus chooses his words carefully while you eat.
“I know you care what they think of you, but I think sometimes they need the reality check you just gave them. They can’t walk all over you and expect it not to get tiring.”
You nod, “I just, I don’t want to be a bad person.”
Remus smiles at that. “You could never be a bad person dove.”
You roll your eyes as you offer him the last bite. “You’re biased, and you’re supposed to think highly of me.”
Remus speaks around the bite, “I am biased, but we both know I’m not going to let you be a bad person if I thought that’s what you were becoming.”
It’s true. Remus has stopped many spirals and many mean rants the moment they got deprecating.
“So you’d tell me?”
Remus kisses your temple, “If I ever got a feeling that you were being a bad person I’d tell you.” You seem content at that. Remus holds you closer to his chest. “For the record, I thought you could’ve stood to be a tiny bit more stern on the phone, but I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself.”
You smile as you tip your head back to his chest to look up at him. “Ah, I had help learning how to do that.”
Remus rubs your chest at the admission. “Whoever they are, they seem very smart.” There’s a cheeky smile on his face, but mostly he really is proud of you for standing up for yourself.
“You would think so.”
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akawifeyy · 23 hours ago
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LUST | smau (OB87)
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description: this is a cutesy valentine's day themed fic, starring ob87 and y/n, his author girlfriend! (there are some inaccuracies as to what team ob87 is part of, but we're going to ignore that)
tropes: he falls first and harder, childhood best friends to lovers, author!fem!reader
face claim: millane
trigger warnings: suggestive content, swearing
| note: first fic! this took a while, so i hope you like this ❤️ more on the way soon
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@ yourusername: tis the season of love. happy february!!
tagged: @ olliebearman, @ yourbffusername
comments (109):
@ yourbffusername: stunning as always 💋
-> @ yourusername: all you!
@ olliebearman: Just got yelled at by Fred because I was too distracted looking at your pretty face. Can’t wait to see you soon
-> @ yourusername: counting down the days. miss you so much ☹️
@ user1: she’s sooooo prettyyy
@ user2: Body so tea that even the English are jealous
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@ yourusername: happy v-day... surprise coming later. 8pm est <3
tagged: @ olliebearman
comments (341):
@ user3: here before Ollie. This feels illegal.
-> @ user4: some of us are employed yk.. 🙂‍↕️
@ yourbffusername: so excited mwahaha
-> @ yourusername: i feel so devious
@ olliebearman: They're not ready 🤫
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@ yourusername: surprise surprise! my valentine's themed novella, "lust", will be releasing tonight at midnight est. you can read it at the link in my bio, just in time for my fave holiday of them all!
tagged: @ olliebearman, @ foreternitybooks
comments (488):
@ olliebearman: Love you more than all the chocolates and flowers in the world, darling 😘
-> @ yourusername: love you too 💗
-> @ user5: notice how she didn't say the same for him. Queen behavior 👑 👑
@ foreternitybooks: Congratulations! This book is a banger!
@ user6: Guess who's staying up till 3am...
-> @ user7: i'm going to be taking an exam, i'm SO mad
-> @ user8: Skip it.
-> @ user7: i honestly might.
Text messages between Y/N and Ollie
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@ olliebearman: Eventful week, prepping for the 2025 season. Best part of it all was seeing my girl again 🫶
tagged: @ yourusername, @ ferrari
comments (925):
@ yourusername: sorry that i bring chaos with me 🥹
-> @ olliebearman: What's life without a little bit of madness? Worth it all, a thousand times over.
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@ olliebearmanpriv: Happy Valentine's Day to my amazing, gorgeous, perfect girlfriend, Y/N. I can't believe that the girl who sat in front of me in second year chose me as her lover, and that I get to call her mine. I'm so incredibly proud of her for releasing her newest work, "Lust". Be sure to check it out if you haven't already!
tagged: @ yourusername
comments (112):
@ yourusername: ollieee you're the best 😭
-> @ olliebearmanpriv: Uno reverse, darling.
@ kimi.antonelli: Happy Valentine's Day to the happy couple! Now, when will it be my turn?
-> @ yourbffusername: fr, like get a room 😐 (joke, i swear!)
-> @ yourusername: so supportive of you LOL
-> @ olliebearman: I thought coaches don't play, Kimi?
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@ yourusername: now that "lust" has been out for 48 hours, i have some more secrets to spill... yes, wes brierley is based on ollie. and yes, ollie and i did have a passionate makeout session in the back of the library in sixth year. sorry, ms. lundstrom 😬
tagged: @ olliebearman, @ foreternitybooks
comments (509):
@ user9: Say WHAT 🫨
-> @ user3: I was not expecting to wake up to this news... Ollie, explain yourself!
@ olliebearman: We listen and we don't judge, right?
-> @ yourusername: they're panicking so much, but they don't know anything about the rest of sixth year...
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comments (1714):
@ yourusername: heaven forbid a girl have some fun with her boyfriend 😒
-> @ user10: I'm surprised they haven't PR-trained you yet
-> @ yourusername: i'll never let them.
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@ yourusername: life update! more to come in the "lust" universe. lots of inspo, iykwim 😜
tagged: @ foreternitybooks
comments (178):
@ yourbffusername: GIRLLLL
@ olliebearman: Let everyone know what we were up to in school, hm?
-> @ yourusername: shhh, you said i could. it was my valentine's day gift
-> @ olliebearman: The teddy bear, flowers, chocolate, and dinner was supposed to be your gift. The things I let you do...
-> @ yourusername: you know you love me 🤭
Snippets from "Lust", written by Y/N L/N (2025)
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Text messages between Y/N and Ollie
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─── ୨୧ ─── THE END ─── ୨୧ ───
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daryldove · 17 hours ago
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Distraction
daryl x gn!reader
summary: you keep daryl company daryl while he recovers in the farm house
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“cut it out,” you giggle, squirming under daryl's hand as he jabs your side playfully. after offering to take the injured hunter some dinner, you manage to convince him to let you stay and keep him company, something he'll deny enjoying if anyone asks. truthfully, you two had become rather close after everything. although from his perspective, not by choice. “You're supposed to be resting, mister,” you scold him with a smirk as you adjust your position against the headboard.
“can't when ya botherin’ me.” you gasp dramatically at his sarcastic comeback. daryl is incredibly charming, even when he didn't mean to be. it's one of the things you quite admire about him, as well as his sarcastic humour, something the others didn't get to witness to the extent you did. you're not even completely sure if they knew it existed. but he knew how to make you laugh, and he seemed to enjoy it.
“is that what this is now? and here I thought you loved my company, dixon.” that earns you a scoff in response. “admit it,” you continue with a proud tone, “im your favourite in the group.” he doesn't respond right away, forcing you to turn your attention from staring ahead to check on him. the sudden, unexpectedly soft look in his eye has you momentarily speechless.
“what?” you internally thank any god out there that your voice doesn't crack in that moment. gaze flicking over his dirty face, you can't help admire how oddly adorable he looks bundled up under sheets and wrapped in bandages. you feel your heart clench. eventually, daryl shrugs it away with a grunt, shutting himself back off. it's something he does often. you can practically see the thought piling up in his mind, but he always holds back. it stirs an unaccustomed feeling in your gut. complicated.
something feels different this time. maybe because for the first time since you met him, you feel safe. vulnerable. he's lying injured before you, both protected by four walls. it feels wrong to take advantage of this moment to open him up, but maybe that's what it'll take. “are your stitches bothering you?” his hand stops yours from reaching out to touch the bandage around his head, freezing you in place. his hand is rough and warm around yours, short circuiting your mind for a split second. you don't pull away, despite him probably expecting you to. instead, you lean closer towards him.
daryl's eyes flick between yours, as if answers to his curiousity reflects in them. you want to tease him, say something out of pocket that will turn him speechless. instead, you move your hand to rest against his cheek. he practically flinches as you cup his face, reacting like he's undeserving of the softness of your touch. but it doesn't appear unwanted. never.
“how are you feeling?” you ask with a light voice. it's not about his injuries, and he seems to pick up on that. he nods slightly and clears his throat before answering. “good… fine.” your smile grows at his shyness.
“that so?” finally, you let yourself be playful, reassured that he won't be so easily scared off. his gaze is intense and unwavering, and you find yourself unable to resist anymore. leaning down until your lips are barely inches apart, you give him just enough time to pull away. part of you expects him to, like the wall you spent all this time breaking down will be pitched back up in seconds. but he doesn't, nor does he shout and fling himself off the bed to avoid you like your anxiety is convinced he would. so you finally press your lips against his.
daryl's eyes widen in surprise and disbelief while yours subconsciously flutter shut. kissing him feels exactly like you imagined. you can feel your cheeks heating up once you finally pull away, a nervous giggle escaping you at how dazed he looks.
“what?” a smile creeps onto your lips as you question him again. you can practically see daryl's mind spinning as he speechlessly stares up back at you. there's an unreadable look in his eye as seconds pass. unable to help it, your eyes fall to his lips. this time, it's him who pulls you in with a large hand on your neck. his boldness pulls a surprised moan that he swallows.
“guess i am a good distraction,” you whisper after eventually pulling away, scoring a rare, soft chuckle from the hunter.
“guess so.”
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cvrnelians · 1 day ago
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nightmare pt. II
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dark!Frank Castle x reader: Months of confinement begin to make you question who your captor really is, and who he is to you.
warnings: kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, 18+ only.
PART ONE
He says he would never hurt you.
Somewhere deep down, though, you can sense that Frank understands. He is not stupid, nor does he live in a state of delusion. He is a confrontational person, you can tell, and he readily confronts reality. He knows how much you hate him. It hurts him, but you can tell he was fully prepared for it. He is kind and patient with you because he knows you don’t deserve this. He knows you deserve to be happy, to be free. He knows he is hurting you, in spite of what he says. He also knows he doesn’t have to cause you physical harm in order to leave a mark.
You used to think you were good at reading people. It was a gift of yours, your own little superpower. You were skilled at assessing for intention, at predicting what someone’s next move might be. 
Frank, however, is an exceptionally difficult person to read. 
Concentration can get confusing when you’re afraid. It’s anxiety inducing, it’s debilitating, it’s tiring. But mostly, being around Frank feels unbearable. Whenever he is around, it’s like your mind has forged a new path, nestled securely in a state of purgatory. Both hypervigilant and distracted, frantic yet focused. 
You don’t understand this. You don’t understand him. You don’t understand why you’re here, or what he wants from you. You become so frustrated you could cry, and sometimes you do.
You don’t understand.
Your nerves send your mind spiraling in one hundred different directions, playing out scenarios of what he’s going to do, what he’s going to say, how this is going to end. It’s too hard to focus on any single one. It’s too hard to narrow down what the most likely scenario is. It’s too hard to predict the unpredictable.
The silence between the two of you—even the little silences, the moments where you’re waiting for him to respond to something you’ve said or done—is like pulling teeth. It’s frustrating and complicated, but it’s also relatively simple. 
Whenever he is around, you feel like you’re going to collapse. 
And so you have. You’ve fainted twice now in his presence. Once when you first arrived, when you first found yourself in the dark of the basement. Once more when he came home—“home,” the word makes you feel ill—covered in blood and cuts and bruises. You knew full well why he allowed you to see him like that. It was a warning. An “I’m not hurting you, but I could.” A big, shining example of “look at what I’m capable of.” As if you didn’t already know.
He explained things differently.
“I want to know every part of you, even the parts you’re not proud of,” he had said. “It’s only fair that you know me, too.”
You’re perched up on a pedestal in his mind, and you can’t help but wonder when all will come crashing down. But then again, he’s seen you at your worst, at your most human. He’s seen you scream and cry and beg and barter. He’s seen you get violent—or attempt to, anyway. It wasn’t difficult for him to protect himself from your hits and blows, but he has never hurt you. Not once. 
Not anywhere anyone could see. 
Not like anyone else had seen much of you lately. In fact, no one had seen you for quite some time now, no one but him. You weren’t sure if it was out of sympathy or malice; knowing Frank, he probably thought it was the former. He saw it as doing you a kindness. He let you keep track of time. 
Six months. 
Six whole months, you had been here.
He says that he never does to people that which isn’t deserved. You are still not sure what he means by that, but the injuries he comes home with give you some ideas. 
You know he’s been through something terrible. He has to have been. People don’t become this twisted without having endured some sort of traumatic event. You just don’t know what. You know he’s deathly afraid of losing those he loves. You know you are included in that category, for whatever reason. 
It’s weird in retrospect. To you, Frank was just another guy at the bar. He was one of your regulars, stopping by for a drink or two every few nights for the past two years. You had just barely gotten to know him by the time he made the decision to alter the course of your life entirely. 
He had kept to himself. He gave off the impression that he didn’t want to be bothered, and yet, he made it clear that he liked you. He was a good tipper. He made you feel safe and protected when patrons would get rowdy, when they would get rude with you. He even fixed up your car once when it broke down in the parking lot. 
“I take care of you,” he said. “You see that, don't you?"
He wears his guilt like a blanket. It’s not hard to see. Shame dictates everything he does, from the careful way he speaks to you to the gentle way he holds you at night. He is soft with you, affectionate. When you’re in the quiet of your home—“home”—all of his hard edges are stripped away. It makes you feel a little special. You wonder who else has seen this side of him.
He says he would never hurt you, and he’s remained true to his word. 
Concentration can get confusing when you’re afraid. It becomes difficult to sustain. You can start to go into shock, a state in which you forget why you are where you are and why. When you’re being told one thing and experiencing another, you naturally begin to question your reality. Your days are filled with “I love you’s” alongside escape attempts, your nights filled with moments of comfort in the arms of someone you despise. 
You dread Frank’s presence, and yet, you jump at every little noise when he’s not around. And sometimes, when you’re in that warm, heady space between sleep and consciousness, you are simply there—just you and the man that loves you.
You are alive. You are awake. You are afraid. You are loved. You are confined, trapped, terrified. You are a lot of things.
“I want to know every part of you,” he had said.
You’re not even sure you know every part of you.
Not now. 
Not anymore.
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charmac · 1 month ago
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thoughts on charlie learning how to read?
As to the effect, I think we’ll have to wait to see what really comes of it, considering the very final joke of the episode is he thinks “guest” on the scoreboard says “ghost,” they definitely made a point to make it clear he’s not necessarily literate by any means beyond “enough to graduate kindergarten”
I do like what Justin and Patrick, the EPs for Abbott said about the longevity of that establishment:
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In the end, it’s definitely what Sunny and Charlie Day decide to do with this canon. We know the Abbott ep was filmed before any of the episodes for Season 17 of Sunny, so it’s not out of the realm of possibility that they do stick with the idea that Charlie doesn’t struggle as much with reading and writing and maybe has a little kick in him to keep practicing.
Personally on the existence of the storyline now incorporated into Sunny canon, I think they did it in such a fantastic way it’s hard for me to argue anything against or say anything negative. I loved watching it. The thing I love about Abbott is the heart they have in the stories and how real a lot of what they address and tackle in childhood-into-adult development is, and you feel that here, for sure. And we’re watching Abbott, not Sunny, so it’s something removed from the purgatory of the bar.
For those of us that know and love Charlie, I think it’s hard to not feel soft toward this idea that (even if it doesn’t stick or it’s so so basic) there really truly are ways for the Gang to develop and improve on their faults/stubbornness to change, provided it’s treated the right way. And that can only be done (and maybe only continue) in a completely different environment, like Abbott.
The tragedy of Sunny and the Gang is that they’ll never treat each other in that way and therefore can rarely develop. It’s not that they don’t necessarily care, but that their communication methods are so crude and fulled by (often trauma-born) selfishness, they can never give each other the support needed to help improve each other. They make each other miserable in most cases, but they’re also content with that because they almost equally inflict what they take on....
Though Sunny isn't all complete misery, as we all know. They do love each other in fucked up ways and (maybe) almost wish they could help each other in certain respects. Mac's support and encouragement of Charlie being able to read is evident in many Sunny episodes, so it really warmed my heart that Charlie was so eager to show Mac how he had learned and could do a more difficult part of the book for him :) In my opinion, they kept it well aligned with Sunny canon. The Gang don't have the tools to teach Charlie to read, but they do all support and even partly enjoy him learning if they don't have to do it themselves.
I think what we see of Charlie in the Sunny episode will be interesting. Since he's the A plot in Abbott, I have to imagine he has a minor role in Sunny, but will certainly be present. If the idea here is that everyone other than Dennis is serving to distract the teachers, and Charlie only learned to read for the week and goes back to his baseline state of illiteracy, I think I would accept that too.
The lasting effect of the plot doesn't matter too much to me. I think instead the idea that, in the right environment, Charlie can learn to read (and even gets some sense of pride and excitement out of being able to read) but Paddy's and the Gang are really what hinder him from being able to do so (despite the Gang not necessarily against the idea, and considering the fact that Charlie contributes to and prefers the environment they've created) reinforces the Sunny that we hold dear.
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bi-writes · 3 months ago
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anatomy of us (1) | alpha!ghost x f!omega!reader
we cannot change who we are at our core.
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type: limited series, part 1 (6.4k), AO3 in an attempt to tame an unruly alpha, you are given. he did not come with warning labels. but neither did you.
series cw: reader described as plus-sized/curvier, alpha/beta/omega dynamics + universe, dark!simon, mature language and content, suggestive language and content, graphic depictions of murder + violence, military criticism, protective!simon, possessiveness, dom/sub dynamics, size kink, praise kink, unprotected piv, cumplay, oral (fem!receiving) 18+
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Whenever she woke up marked the last day of the rest of your life. One moment, the world inside of your head was unnervingly quiet. The next, someone else was there, whispering in the dark, taking over.
You aren't proud of her. No, you hate her. There is no one you hate more, you don't think, because she lets the direction of the fucking wind distract her from what really matters. She paints her environment in a soft, glazed picture, and she tries to hold up her canvas and convince you that her reality is real. But then you blink, and you get flashes of how dull the sky really is and the dirt that stains your shoes, and you know that she's just a liar.
A controlling, desperate thief.
When you heard her voice for the first time, you begged your reflection in the mirror to just kill you already.
If you were an alpha, maybe you could've just drawn away into yourself and lived a quiet life in the middle of nowhere. If you were a beta, perhaps the weight of nothing would've given you a little more freedom to do the things you wanted to do.
But no. You're an omega. Nature's servant. A natural follower. Destined for nothing except to open your legs and say, "yes, alpha, all for you," because if you are anything but complacent, you're unwanted and a waste of your very being.
Your eyes stung when you took your first little pill. They rattled in different colors in a little orange bottle, and it felt like sand as it dissolved under your tongue. Even though it makes you sick, you take them anyways. Even though the pills change colors and shape and efficacy because you buy them from someone different every time, you take them because it makes your omega shut the fuck up finally.
You bury her. And you won't let her out.
The truth of it is that you're only fighting yourself. Your omega, she is you, isn't she? She's a part of you, she makes up your very genetic makeup, and to hate her is to hate yourself. But nature is cruel–it gave you years of freedom. Years to know what life was like without her, when she was dormant, asleep, just waiting for you to finally wake up.
Then your very self locked the cage. Your fingers claw at the bars, but it's no use. It's your very own punishment. So in turn, you bury her, too, silencing her cries, quieting what she wants most in the world, because it isn't fair, fuck you, you whiny bitch.
She's a pathetic puppy; and you are more than happy to step on her fucking neck.
Your aim is off today. The sound is muffled through the earphones you wear, but they've never thrown off your balance before. When you lean over the railing and squint at the target papers towards the back, you can see the bullet holes just a few inches off center.
You're never off-center.
"Getting rusty on me, Kit?"
You turn around, setting the gun down, and you smile wide when you see a familiar face. You pull the headphones off, putting them aside before making your way towards her.
Kate Laswell is surprised when you throw your arms around her and hug her tight. She smells good; she smells like chocolate, dark chocolate, something bittersweet. She's got that edge to it that they all do, something a little heady and all-encompassing, but she's the only alpha that you've ever found comfort being near. You see her nose scrunch a little when she embraces you back.
You must stink like synthetics. You care, only because you hate to make her nose sting this way. It's never been meant for her. At times, you thought maybe you could do a little convincing; maybe if you batted your lashes enough, she’d take pity on you, hide you away in some CIA shack with her deep on a Montana farm and play house. You’d cook, and she’d protect, and you’d be perfect little alpha and omega until the end of your days.
But Kate doesn’t like baggage. Not even the sweet kind, and especially not the kind that makes it even more difficult to make the hard decisions.
Kate isn’t a soldier. She makes choices based on the greater good, the lesser evil. She doesn’t get to be selfish. She doesn’t have that luxury.
When you pull away, she looks down at you strangely. She looks tired. Her dark hair is in a mess of a braid tucked under a cap, and she looks like she hasn't slept in days. Her attempt of a smile emphasizes the lines around her eyes. You open your mouth to tell her something, but she shakes her head.
"I'm not here as a friend," she says softly, and you frown a little.
"Aren't...haven't we always been friends?" You ask, and Kate lets out a shaky sigh, nodding her head behind her.
"We need to talk. C'mon."
You retrieve the gun and holster it, fastening it into your thigh holster before you follow her. She has a car waiting outside, a big, black SUV with the door already open for her. When you get inside, she knocks on the divider, and the car immediately starts moving. You brace yourself against the side of the car as it speeds off, reaching for a seatbelt.
"Jesus, Kate, what's going on? I-I have training later, I can't–"
"You're not...going back to base," she says evenly. You frown a little, leaning back in your seat, and you put your hands in your lap as you try and get a read on her. Even exhausted, Kate is hard to decipher. She has a stone-cold expression, calm and unbothered, and you curse her CIA training for making her impossible to understand, to even get a glimpse of what she might say next. Her face makes you anxious, and the scent in the car that changes puts you on edge.
"Okay," you scoff a little. "Then where am I going?"
Kate sniffs a little, crossing her arms over her chest. She doesn't break eye contact with you when she says, "Wheels up in 30. I have an assignment for you." She reaches under the seat, pulling out a manila folder, setting it down beside you. When you pick it up and flip it open, you narrow your eyes.
"I'm..." You shrug your shoulders, "I'm not really CIA. You don't give me orders."
"As of one hour ago, you're mine. And this...this is your duty."
Your eyes blur as you skim the text on the pages. You flip through the papers flimsily, getting more and more irritated until you throw it at her, your chest rising and falling fast as you pant, barely able to see her through your tears.
Program. UK. Field assignment. Mate. All the keywords to make your stomach curl and your autonomy shrink in front of your very eyes.
"Kate, don't do this," you beg her softly. You soften your voice, and you let your omega drip syrup into it. You want to see her eyes dilate–you want to make her protectiveness kick in just enough that she might just appease you. It’s desperate, and you know it’s wrong, but you do it anyways, you have to. "Please don't do this. Please. You fucking promised me, you promised–"
"You need to understand that I don't have a lot of fucking choices," she says sharply. She pities you, that much you can tell. She looks pained, but it doesn’t matter how pained she might feel because it isn’t happening to her. It’s happening to you, and she put you on that base so that it wouldn’t happen to you, and she tricked you into getting into this car, and now it’s her–
"Kate, I'll do anything, please," you gasp. You reach over and grab her hands, tugging her towards you. "You know. You know what...w-what I've been through, what this all is, you know...please. Please..."
You promised me. You gave me your word.
"I can't–"
But the CIA can’t be trusted for shit.
"I'll be yours," you try, squeezing her palms. Appease. Beg. Bare your neck. Give her what she really craves. "Just claim me yourself, a-and...and we don't have to do this, w-we can...I-I can go back to–"
Her face contorts, offended, disgusted. You try and swallow down the sting of her rejection, but you cannot help yourself. You would do anything to not be subjected to this fate, to the fate she promised she'd save you from. The only alpha you have ever trusted, and she's pulling away from you, bit by bit.
"I could never do that to you," she interrupts, shaking her head. "I couldn't."
"But you'll do this instead?"
"It's the lesser evil," she says finally, pushing your hands back. It aches. Despite you never leaning towards her, it is still an alpha turning their nose up at you, and the thing inside of you cries at the feeling; she begs you to do more, but you swallow her down, fingers itching for another pill just so you can really squash her singing. "And in my world, that is the best I can hope for."
"It's punishment!" You cry, and she reaches over, cupping your cheeks, pulling you close. You scrunch your face at her touch. Her hands are cold, and they do not welcome you. "A-And for what? For being something that I can't change?!"
"It's mercy," she whispers. Her thumbs stroke your cheeks in soft circles. "I can't protect you anymore, do you understand? They don't want you there, and I can’t take you with me. Even taking meds, even spraying yourself to shit, they don't want you, and I can't protect you if they send you away, do you understand me?" You start to cry, closing your eyes, and you hear the familiar voice in your head preening. She's desperate, slipping through the cracks, and you squeeze your eyes shut as you try and force her backwards. You’re panicking, and maybe she’s trying to help, but you hate her. "I have to get you out of there, and this is the only way."
"Please..."
"I can't protect you," she says gently. "But he can. And he'll be good to you. I promise, this...this I can promise."
You rip yourself away from her, curling into yourself as you scoot away from her as far as possible. You press yourself against the door, tucking your knees into your chest. Whatever passes by outside is a blur, and your brain doesn’t register any of it. The only thing in your head is betrayal, traitor, those sick, stupid bastard alphas, all of them–
"Fuck your promises," you whimper, and when she reaches out for you again, you flinch, burying your face into your hands.
Kate is a liar. She never keeps her promises; that’s her job, it is what she does. The CIA is nothing if they aren’t incredible liars–it’s what they’re known for, and Kate takes to it like a fish to water. As far as you are concerned, she lured you in with bait, and now she's shut the door on a trap. It is lined with padding, soft, delicate, but it still holds you back, it still keeps you still and stagnant and forever chained to an existence that you detest more than anything. She used you; it was in her best interest to keep an omega under her thumb, to do with you as she pleased when she needed one, and you suppose once you are taken, she will find another to do the same with. She will give another desperate one like you false hope, and when she needs another omega to keep someone else complacent and willing, she will offer them up with her signature on paper–just like that.
She tries to touch your hand before you board the plane. She tries to meet your eyes, get your attention, anything. You cower when she reaches out, and when she steps backwards, you walk on.
You never look behind yourself. Not even when you sit, and not even as the ramp closes shut.
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Fighting is futile when you are who you are. It's unexpected. It's frowned upon. You are made up of something that is intended to be docile, to be big-eyed and soft. If you were a dog, they would want you to roll over and bare your belly and forget how to do anything but obey, but that is not the kind of thing that you ever wanted to be, even when you were small, even before you knew what you really were.
You hate what you are. You medicate yourself to the point of being incoherent, you bare your teeth and aggravate the submissive nature you inherit to deter any kind of match. You make yourself undesirable, not just in your physical nature but in the very essence of yourself.
You want to start over, as something else, or you want to never have been at all. You hate this place, you want them to cast you out, you want to be left to your own devices because dying alone and unwanted is better than submission; it;s better than the imprisonment that your kind subjects themselves to, willing or not.
It sickens you. You watch your own kind fall to their knees, close their mouths, and allow their very being to disappear just to make another satiated. Happy. Their entire lives, reduced to being someone else's waiting hand, someone else's property. It's sad, it's pathetic, it rocks you to the very center of yourself, and you demand more of it, you reject this life and the voice in your head that fights with you every single day of it.
She hates you, too, your omega. She claws at your insides and begs for something to drink, but you dry her out. You don't allow her to even breach the surface of the wasteland you've suffocated her with. She is naïve; she doesn't know what is good for her, she doesn't know that you are saving her from a life of constant torture. She screams for you to let her out, but you take another pill and force her back into the dark.
Or at least you did. You haven't taken a pill in days. They won't let you, even when you asked, even when you began to beg. You promised to be good if they just appeased you. You promised to be quiet if they just slipped it under your tongue, even if they injected it into your very veins, anything, just please, please, I don't want to–
Everything is surreal. You feel like you're seeing everything in color. What used to be dull and uninteresting now sparkles in your very eyes, it glows under the sun. Everything is sharper and less blurry. Sounds are clearer. You can hear the wind more loudly in your ears and feel it under the soles of your shoes. But what dizzies you the most is your sense of smell.
Everything before had been so bland. You have been under the effects of suppressors for so long that you don't think food has ever smelled so bad and so good (eggs make you gag now, and the crisps they give you make your mouth water).
They keep you confined in a small room. You are not allowed in the presence of any alphas; you can smell them passing by the door, but whenever the stink of one of them lingers, there's loud voices, lots of heavy boots. A beta comes to collect you to do a daily workout and to shower, and then you are back in your room, your meals delivered on a tight schedule (and the food, after a few days of your tray being barely picked at, gets so much better–it's better quality than you've seen on any military base, and when you asked, all they said was "lieutenant's orders").
Today is different. Today, along with your breakfast, a large black hoodie is folded underneath the tray that they leave on the end of your bed. You set the food aside, picking up the hoodie, and when you unravel it, you spread it out, gawking at the size of it. Whoever this hoodie belongs to is more bear, more beast, than human. An enormous thing, but when you pick it up, you immediately pick up on its strong scent.
You press the front of it to your nose. Your eyes flutter shut, and you sink into the bed a little as you take a deep breath of it. Warm, but gritty, like charcoal. Cigarettes. Military-issue soap. Clean. Eucalyptus. Fire. Something with depth, something with teeth. You don't realize what's happening to you until it's too late.
Alpha. It smells undoubtedly like alpha, and you're certain by the size of it that it belongs to one. You nuzzle your face into it a little, instinctively, and you don't even register your omega knocking, peering through the door that's been cracked open for her.
She squeals with delight. She's getting dizzy, drunk, and you feel a soft noise in your chest bubble as she pets the back of your mind, keening at the introduction of it. She’s giggling. You can feel her tugging at your insides, whispering in your ear–See? I told you. I told you that you’d like it.
They smell strong. They smell capable. They smell pure.
When you put the hoodie down, your legs are pressed together, shaking from how hard your thighs are squeezed. When you relax, you refrain from the need to touch yourself, but you failed before you even started. You can feel how wet you are; your panties must be soaked, and you feel yourself pulsing with some sort of distinct urge to give in, give in, give in.
It's unnerving, the lack of control you have. Your omega has always been a few feet underwater, but she's breaching the surface now, her lips gasping for air.
You try to push her back.
Stay down.
When the clock strikes for dinner, you aren't surprised by the knock. But you are surprised that when the door opens, there isn't a beta in uniform holding your tray. Instead, you cover your nose a little, blinking harshly as a large man comes into the room. He's got a strange beard and a floppy hat, and when he smiles, he reminds you of a teddy bear. You can tell just by his physique what he is, but his eyes are kinder than you're used to.
You will yourself not to trust them. You trusted kind eyes before, and now you’re locked in a prison of your own making.
"'ello," he introduces himself, holding out his hand. "'m Captain John Price. 's nice to meet you."
You glare at him, not saying a word. When he figures you won't shake his hand, he just nods. He lets his hand drop, hooking his thumbs into his tact vest, and he rests at ease.
"I've come to collect you," he says lowly. "It's time."
You pick up your tray of food from behind you and hurl it towards him. He ducks just in time, moving one shoulder backwards as the metal hits the wall behind him and clatters to the floor in a splattered mess. John shakes his head a little, scratching the back of his neck, and he clicks his tongue. You’re unnerved and a little pissed off when a hint of a grin flickers over his face.
"Fuckin' hell," he breathes. "Yeah...you'll do."
"The fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"Let's go," John snaps. "Won't ask again."
When he reaches for you, you swipe the fork from the bed, stepping close and sticking the little prongs up against his chin. You aren’t satisfied until you can feel his scratchy beard against it, piercing the skin just enough.
"If you touch me, I'll shove this right up your chin through your goddamn nose," you threaten, and John’s nostrils flare, his hands going up flat beside his head.
"Easy," he murmurs, and you feel like he’s talking to a skittish mare. "Just need to guide you, that's all."
"Well, I don't want to go anywhere."
"If you don't do this, I have to send you back," John explains. "And Kate made it very clear that is supposed to be my last resort. And you don't want to go back."
"Anything is better than this," you hiss, and he narrows his eyes.
"Not this. What they do to unruly omegas..." He leans forward, snarling a little. "Ones like you. Ones that bite. And scratch. They don't deal with them. They'll sedate you and use you as training practice. And while Kate might have a heart big enough to keep you outta that place, I don't have it. So get your arse moving. Now."
You put your hand down, dropping the fork, letting it clatter to the floor. He grips you by the collar of your shirt, urging you forward, and all the hairs stand up on the back of your neck as he gets dangerously close to scruffing you. It's enough of a threat that you immediately relax, your own body betraying your emotions as it tries to make itself smaller. To appease. To submit.
"This can't wait any longer," John mutters. "Has to happen today."
Your lip trembles.
"What has to happen today?" You ask.
"You're meeting your mate," he says. You know that was the answer, but you had to ask it anyways. You think of the hoodie you received all those hours ago. The smell of him, complete intoxication. "Simon."
Simon.
"Sounds like an asshole," you snap, irritated, and John chuckles a little.
"Mmm. He is. You'll adore 'im."
You flinch at the flickering fluorescent lights as he leads you down a narrow hallway. When you pass other soldiers, John puts you in front of him, glaring and baring his teeth a little. You're confused by this sudden display of aggression on your behalf, but when you spot the looks in others’ eyes, you're grateful for it nonetheless.
You know your scent is strong; piercing the walls around you, displaying your displeasure, discomfort, fear so plainly. It's an awful thing to not be able to hide how you feel, to not feel like you have any control over how you present to others, but you have no practice masking any of it. You have been drowning your omega for so long that you didn't realize the strength of her building up behind the synthetic walls you had built. She's livid, angry, permeating the spaces in your mind that you thought were solid and now are broken and hollow inside.
You stop in front of an unmarked door. John looks over you, eyeing the jacket you wear.
"Take tha' off," he says lowly. You frown, stepping back, but he nods again. "Take it off. You'll get it back, just give it to me."
You shrug your jacket off gently, handing it to him. John holds out his hand for yours, and when you cautiously give it to him, he rubs the fabric against your wrists to soak it in your scent before disappearing behind the door. You wait outside, pressing your ear to the metal, but you hear nothing but low mumbles. You do hear a heavy gait, big feet moving around that don't belong to Captain Price, and you close your eyes as you try and see if you can hear his voice.
You don't.
The door is opened just slightly, John cocking his head to the side.
"He wants to see you."
You raise a brow.
"Your mutt?" You ask smartly, and John scoffs a little, kicking the door open wide finally. Behind it, you can see a small little office situated. Dozens of file cabinets, a stained wooden desk, a peeling leather chair. There are papers everywhere, a disorganized mess and walls filled with medals, plaques, letters, pictures of faceless men. And standing beside the desk, towering over it with his head nearly hitting the ceiling is a bear.
A fucking bear.
He's so tall. Over six feet of hulking man, big shoulders taking up too much space. You can tell just by looking at him that he has to duck his head and move his body sideways to get through the doorway you're standing in. He has big hands and thick thighs, and your lips part when you realize his thigh holster has been released as much as possible just to still fit snugly around him. He's wearing dark jeans and a thick black hoodie, and he looks even bigger with a strapped tact vest that holds numerous little gadgets, weapons (fuck, he looks like he can kill you with the pencil laying haphazard beside him).
You can't see his face. He covers it with a mask, a snug covering tucked under his hoodie with the plastic front plate of a skull sewn to its front. He's holding your jacket in one hand, the other clenched in a tight fist as you step through the door.
"Is this your dog, Captain?" You ask finally. Simon doesn't speak. He tilts his head to the side, eyeing you, taking in the way you look from the tips of your combat boots all the way up over your head. His gaze lingers on your middle, the wideness of your hips and the curve of your body.
John crosses his arms over his chest.
"Suppose so," John shrugs, rolling his eyes a little. You blink, finally making eye contact with Simon. His eyes are dark and beady. He's intense, just as his scent had been. Your omega warms your throat and screams in your ear.
Grab him. Latch onto him. Don’t let him go. Do you see him? Look at him–
"Does it bark?" You wonder, glaring. Simon unclenches his fist, rolling his fingers out a little. They twitch beside his leg. His face twitches a little, too, you can see the mask move just slightly.
"When he wants to."
"Does it bite?"
John snorts. "Mmm. Afraid so." He opens the door behind him. "Don't kill each other. If I don't see her for supper, Simon, I'll hold you to it."
When you are alone, Simon still remains silent. He hasn't moved from his spot by the desk, still in a strange staring contest with you as you stand there trying to read him. Like Kate, he's impossible; this time, you don't even have the luxury of looking over his face, although you suspect even without the mask, he must have mastered some kind of expression of nothingness. He seems like the kind of brute to give nothing away. Not even his displeasure.
"Hope you're good on a leash," you say finally, crossing your arms over your chest. "I like to go on walks."
His face moves under the mask again. Finally, he moves. He unravels your jacket in his hand, holding it open for you to put on again. You eye him strangely before coming closer to fit your arms into it.
When you turn your back to him, you realize how much of his shadow you're tucked under. When he drops the fabric back on your shoulders, you still as he leans over one side of you, bending. Without thinking, your head tilts to the side, giving him more space into the side of your neck. You do it without even thinking. Your omega bleeds through you, and you feel her warmth everywhere now, making you move, but you let her this time.
Your scent gland pulses there under your ear. He can see it, hear it practically, rushing like the blood in his ears. You close your eyes when you feel him come closer, the cotton of his mask just barely grazing your neck as he takes a deep breath.
The growl he lets out shakes you to your core. Your pupils get blown wide at the sound, and your head flops back slow, exposing more of your neck. He uses the opportunity to bend just that much more, until the front of his mask is pressed against the gland, and he can breathe you in, right at the source.
He's snarling under the mask. You can hear his teeth knock together, his tongue wetting his lips. You shiver, leaning into him, your hand raising up to caress the back of his neck as he nuzzles his nose there, taking another deep breath. You step back enough that he presses up against you from behind. You can feel his pelvis right against your ass, and you arch your back just enough to fit him right where he belongs. A gloved hand catches you at your waist, and you put your free hand on the desk in front of you until his cock is right there between your ass.
Your omega is panting. She's clawing, right there at the edge, fighting against quicksand as she's desperate to meet him. The feeling of him, the scent of him so close, it's an aphrodisiac, potent, suffocating. Something warm is wrapping around you, sliding along your skin, tickling your toes. It's between your thighs, in your mouth, wetting your tongue. You're not sure what this feeling is, but it's thrilling.
He's purring. Big, rumbling sounds coming from deep in his chest. More animal than man as his tongue comes out under the mask, and you can feel him lick a nice stripe over the raised, warm skin under your ear. Your omega is being pulled to the forefront. She’s like a magnet to him. The closer he gets, the stronger she bites into you. Your mouth drops open when his hand falls between your thighs, gripping onto you and pulling you up against him in one, slow grind. You can feel the length of him, fucking enormous, and you’re leaking into your cargos as his fingers squeeze the fat of your thigh.
"Fuck–okay!" You pull away abruptly, turning to face him. You put your hands on his chest and push him back a little. He doesn’t move at your touch, but your voice startles him enough that he moves his hands up and away from you. He straightens up, blinking away the haze in his eyes, and you swallow hard. "T-Too much..."
He huffs, moving forward to bury his face into your neck again, but you step back, putting a hand on his chest firmer this time. You have stepped out of the cloud that surrounds him, but you can still taste it, and it’s pulling you back, and you’re losing control.
"Simon," you say his name gently, and he stops, his face scrunching a little under the mask before he stands back up again. "If I have to be your mate...we need to set some boundaries." He blinks, saying nothing. "Like...a-asking for permission."
You can tell by the way his mask twitches that he doesn't usually ask for permission. He wants, and he receives.
Typical.
“What?” You ask, scoffing. “You don’t talk?”
He doesn’t move. You crane your neck to look up at him a little better, and you smooth your hands lower on his chest. You can’t help but appreciate what you feel. He’s wearing a tactical vest, but you can still feel the deep breaths he’s taking, the strong, fatty muscle under your palms. He is the epitome of sheer strength and undeniable ability. Your omega draws your hands back up his chest, over his pecs that pull taut, and they wind up around his neck as you stand up on your toes and lean into the curve of his jaw. You put your nose to it, barely. Simon moves his hands down, cupping you under your ass and picking up your weight with not even a grunt until you can press your face deep into him.
Fuck, it’s like a drug. It’s addictive. His scent impales you. He smells like war. Like chaos and smoke, and your mouth starts to water as you keep breathing him in. You pull back just enough, blinking up at him. You look a little dizzy and intoxicated, and he squeezes your ass to hold you steady as he puts you back onto your feet.
“Uhm…” You sniffle a little, holding onto him. Your hands curl around his shoulders, and you keep yourself upright like this. “I didn’t wanna be here. I don’t…I don’t want this. I never did.” You blink away tears, but he sees them when you draw your eyes back up to his. “T-They made me. It hurts.”
“Wot hurts?”
His voice scares you when you finally hear it. Your lip shakes, and when you blink again, your tears fall down your face. Simon snarls when he sees them, reaching up with hands too rough and wiping them off your face, but they keep coming.
“I’ve never been o-off my meds–” You gasp, and your breaths start to come in panicked and too fast. “Everything hurts. T-The lights are too bright, everything hurts my nose, the sheets are too itchy, and I-I can’t breathe–”
Simon moves away from you immediately. He closes a fist and pounds the lightswitch, and only the yellow glow of the lamp on his desk illuminates the room. You curl into yourself, hugging your own arms, and Simon comes back to stand in front of you, narrowing his eyes.
“I did not want you either.”
“That’s just grand, this is perfect,” you hiccup, and Simon grunts.
“But I have orders.”
“You act like your Captain is just debriefing you for a fucking mission,” You snap, glaring at him. “I’m a fucking person. I know your kind may not see us that way, but I am. I’m not a mission. I’m not something for you to win or to conquer, you fucking asshole!”
When you raise a hand to hit him, he catches your wrist before it lands. He squeezes just enough to hold you at arm’s length, and you lean forward and spit on him instead. It wets the mouth of his mask, and he nearly loses himself as his eyes flash with something dark. He looks away from you for a moment to collect himself. When he turns back, he uses his other hand to cup the back of your head, silencing you.
“You listen ‘ere, omega–” The way he says your title makes the fight in you shrink. Your omega squeaks, ducking her head, that bubble of submission pilling in your throat as he holds you so close to your naked scent gland. “Dunno wot anyone told you, but I don’t have to win you when y’r already mine.” He ducks his head, pulling you closer, and you freeze when he presses his masked mouth at the base of your pulsing scent gland. It wafts into his nose, dilating his pupils, and he snarls. “And when you inevitably lose control of yourself–you already fuckin’ are, you reek of it–I’m goin’ to sink my teeth right ‘ere, and then it won’t fuckin’ matter ‘ow you feel.”
Your eyes blur with angry tears. You gasp, your breaths hitching, and Simon seems to feed off of your fear, your misery. If he wasn’t wearing a mask, you imagine he’d be licking your tears for a chance to taste your sadness. The worst part of it all is that your omega adores it. She’s been aching for so long for this kind of authority. For that edge to tickle her right under her chin where she likes it. The whiff of alpha that she’s getting is driving her out of control, and you don’t know how make her quiet down. She’s so loud in your head, banging against the walls–give it to him, give it to him, give it to him.
“You’re a fucking monster,” you whisper, glaring up at him. It’s no use–you will never scare him. Simon is what scares other alphas into submission. In one paw, he could crush your windpipe if he wanted to, with just a squeeze. Simon hums, and you imagine him smiling under that mask, some kind of vicious grin that you would love to smack off of him.
“Tha’s right, swee’eart,” Simon mutters. “I am. ‘n now you belong t’me. Everything that you are–” He smooths his hand down your neck. You seize when his hand slides over the curve of your waist until it cups under your ass and forces you up against him. “‘s mine. Your omega–’s mine. Your mouth–mine. Your arse–mine. That cunt that’s going to take my knot like a good little omega should–mine. So y’r gonna get y’r things, and y’r gonna move them into my quarters, and then we’re gonna go get supper, and y’r gonna shut y’r fuckin’ mouth.”
“I hate you. You’re the biggest son of a bitch I have ever met in my entire life, you are exactly the kind of asshole I knew you would be, you are no different than I thought. You’re a terrible, awful, horrible–”
“I can smell you,” Simon snaps. “Don’t try to be fuckin’ smart with me, I can smell how wet your cunt is, so why don’t you just be a good girl and do as I say?”
You bare your teeth a little, and Simon sticks a gloved thumb into your mouth. Without thinking, you relax. You suck it into your mouth and sigh, and Simon rubs his thumb against your tongue, shutting you up nice and well. He traces your teeth with it, and you start to cry. You cry because you don’t know why you can’t fight. Your grip his forearm, but your nails won’t dig. Your feet are planted to the ground, and you can’t move. Your mouth sucks, and he pushes, and you’re frozen here.
He knows what to do. Doesn’t he taste so good?
He seems to like your teary eyes. The big, fat tears. His eyes crinkle, and you know he’s smiling, and you wish you could rip that expression off his face, but all that stares back at you is death. Simon growls, and every bit of resistance in you fails. Slow, like molasses, your knees buckle, and he catches you. He pets your mouth, and when he leans in and presses his mouth to your ear, all you can do is cry.
“That’s it. Good kitty.”
NEXT
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sincerelyneo · 3 months ago
Text
diet pepsi | n.jm
“losing all my innocence in the back seat”
📀now playing: diet pepsi by addison rae
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❯ summary: Jeno has one rule — his little sister is not allowed at street races. Jaemin knows this, and still, he can’t help but feel a thrill when he spots you sneaking out to watch him race. That is, until he sees you with another guy, and suddenly, he’s all in favor of Jeno’s rule. And he’s pretty sure that rule also means he should intervene and give you a ride home.
❯ pairings: jaemin x virgin fem!reader
❯ genre: brother’s best friend, smut, racing!au
❯ words: 5.6k
❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, swearing, arguing, jealously, pet names, car sex, unprotected sex (don’t do this!), oral sex (fem!receiving), fingering, virginity loss, slight corruption kink, bit of angst, ‘daddy’ mentioned once but not in a kink way?, jaemin is lowkey a dramatic asshole in the first half, mention of marking, reader uses she/her pronouns, literally just a jealous brother’s best friend trope because it eats every time
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Jaemin’s blood runs cold when he sees you—wait, what are you even doing here?
He’s never been so tense in the driver’s seat before. He’s usually all calm and controlled, razor-focused on the track, with only one thing on his mind: winning. And he’s pretty damn good at it. But today, he can’t seem to focus. Not with you—Jeno’s little sister—standing right there on the sidelines, sticking out like a beacon in a crowd of rowdy onlookers.
So out of place, timid and awkward. Normally, he’d find it cute if he wasn’t so pissed that you’re even here. You don’t belong among his reckless racer friends, the ones with wandering eyes; and the girls with short skirts, heavy perfume, and sharp eyeliner.
He’s never been this distracted at the starting line before, never found anything particularly interesting to gaze at through his freshly cleaned windshield. But there you are. 
Ripped blue jeans clinging to every curve that he’s spent years thinking about—too many nights with his hand wrapped around his cock, imagining how his fingers would mold and print into the soft flesh of your skin. And those cherry-red lips—they make pride swell in his chest, a small thrill from knowing he’s the only racer here with a red car. It’s probably just a coincidence, but Jaemin lets the possessive part of his mind take over, because he wants nothing more than to see that red smeared around your cheeks as he kisses you—wants it to stain him like a claim.
God, what’s he even thinking?
You’re his best friend’s little sister. Off-limits.
Speaking of which, why are you here? Jeno’s not racing tonight, and he’d kill you if he found out. Actually, Jeno would kill him, even though Jaemin had no idea you’d even show up. Jeno hated you being at the races on a good day, let alone when he wasn’t here to keep an eye on things.
And maybe that’s why, for the first time, Jaemin’s gaze drifts to his side mirror as he speeds off. Because Jeno’s not here to watch over you—so he has to. Yeah, that’s it. It’s for Jeno’s sake. Definitely not because he’s worried about you. And definitely not because he likes the way your cherry-red lips part in a cheer—a cheer he likes to imagine is all for him.
Who’s he kidding? Jaemin loves knowing you’re here, watching him race. Honestly, it’s the biggest rush he’s ever felt—the purest shot of adrenaline—and he’s never pushed this hard on the track. But right now, he only wants to win for you.
And he does, slamming on the brakes, coming to a screeching halt the second he crosses the finish line. A few friends clap him on the back as he gets out of his car, congratulating him, but he doesn’t care about them. He only wants you—to hear you say he did great, to see that proud look in your eyes. He wants you to beg him not to yell at you for sneaking in tonight… or worse, promise he won’t tell Jeno.
Except, Jaemin’s not so sure he can negotiate on the “no yelling” part of that deal. Not when he spots you in the crowd, looking up at Jisung. Jisung, who’s got your attention on him instead of his win. Jisung, who’s making you laugh—and Jaemin knows he’s not that funny. Jisung, who’s handing you a can of Diet Pepsi—and you’re just taking it, smiling at him with those red lips, lips that don’t belong to him. 
Jaemin knows Jisung doesn’t have a bad bone in his body—Christ, the guy wouldn’t hurt a fly, and he’s one of his racer friends. Still, he doesn’t like the way you lean in when you laugh or how you’re looking up at him with pretty eyelashes fluttering. It makes something stir in him, something sharp and possessive. Without thinking, he storms over, snatching the damn can from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours in the process.
You gasp, the sound almost too soft, "Woah, Jaem–"
"What are you doing here, Y/N?
You stumble back, heart skipping in your chest. He’s looking at you like he’s about to devour you whole. Gaze locked with yours, primal and urgent, scanning you with a heat that makes your breath hitch, throat going suddenly dry. You came here to see him—no one else. But the way his eyes are on you now...you don’t know whether telling him that would be a good idea. 
You swallow hard, feeling small beneath the weight of his stare. “I—uh, I—I’m just… here to watch,” you mumble. "I didn’t think it’d be a big deal..."
Jaemin doesn’t respond right away, his eyes narrowing as they flick over you, then over to Jisung, then back to you. "Alone?" he finally asks. "You just showed up here by yourself?"
“Well yeah–I didn’t think anyone would mind..."
"Jeno’s gonna fucking kill you when he hears about this," he mutters exhaling sharply, the tension in his jaw is visible as he crosses his arms. "You know he doesn’t like you being here.” His eyes flicker to Jisung for a moment before they shift back to you, a little colder. "And I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to know you’re accepting drinks from other racers, huh?”
Your brow furrows, a tinge of annoyance creeping in. "It’s just a can of Diet Pepsi, it’s not—"
Jaemin cuts you off. "It doesn’t matter what it is," he snaps. "What matters is that you’re here, without telling anyone where you were going. Without Jeno knowing." He shakes his head in disbelief. 
You scoff. "I’m an adult, Jaemin. Jeno’s not my keeper, and neither are you–"
Jaemin’s jaw tightens, and something flickers in his eyes—something dark. But just as quickly as it appears, it’s gone. "That’s not the point, Y/N," he growls, his voice lowering. "The point is you’re here, at a street race, by yourself. You think that’s smart? You think that’s safe?" He takes a step closer.  "What if something happened to you?" 
"I’m fine, Jaemin. I can take care of myself, okay?" Your voice cracks, frustration spilling out, but the sound doesn’t make Jaemin soften like it usually would.
He steps even closer, towering over you, his presence dominating, and you can feel his breath on your face, hot and quick. “This—this shit—" he gestures around to the crowd, the cars, the racers that surround you both, "this is not safe for you. You shouldn’t be here."
Your hands curl into fists at your sides, jaw set as you refuse to back down. "Why? You and Jeno come here every other weekend?” What’s the big deal?" 
"The big deal, Y/N, is that you're a pretty girl, surrounded by a bunch of horny assholes who'd love nothing more than to corrupt a sweet little thing like you."
Your breath catches in your throat, and your mouth goes dry as his words hit you like a punch. You blink, trying to process, but the anger in his eyes is enough to make your pulse quicken. Jaemin must realize what he’s said because there's a brief moment of hesitation. He clears his throat, trying to regain control.
"And you never told anyone," he tries to add, his voice a little less steady now, "And you're letting random guys buy you drinks—"
"I already told you. It was just a Diet Pepsi, Jaemin. You’re blowing this way out of proportion!" You cut him off. 
You don’t even know what you’re arguing about anymore— and you’re pretty sure he doesn’t either—it’s like he’s mad for the sake of being mad, the two of you going around in circles.
And frankly, you're tired of it. This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go. You’ve always had a thing for Jaemin, and now was supposed to be your chance—your shot to make him see you as more than just Jeno’s little sister. You knew he’d be distracted with the race, but you thought if you showed up, maybe he’d finally notice you, really see you. But instead, he’s making it perfectly clear that you’ll never be anything more than that girl he feels the need to protect.
“Stop treating me like a child, Jaemin,” you sigh. “I’m not some fragile little girl who needs you to babysit her." 
You turn on your heel, ready to walk away from him, but before you can take more than a few steps, Jaemin’s hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.
"No. We’re not done talking."
He steps forward again, grip on your limbs tight but not painful, and before you can even process what’s happening, he’s pulling you toward the exit, the sound of your shoes hitting the pavement is far too loud in the heavy silence that’s settled. 
"Jaemin, wait!" You tug against him, stumbling slightly, trying to free your wrist from his grasp. "I’m not going anywhere with you. I told you, I don’t need you babysitting me—"
"I’m not asking." His voice is low and final. "You’re going home, and you’re going with me."
"Let go of me!" You hiss, still trying to yank free, but he just tightens his grip, pulling you with him as if you’re a ragdoll.
Jaemin finally stops, turning to face you, his eyes sharp with frustration. He growls at your protesting, stepping into your personal space. "I’m taking you home, Y/N. Don’t argue with me."
You stare up at him, chest heaving with anger and something else—something you don’t want to admit to yourself. "You’re insufferable," you mutter, but it’s weak. 
You know you’re defeated. There’s no point in fighting him anymore. His presence is suffocating, overwhelming, and every fibre of your body knows he’s not going to let this go until he’s got you back home. You have no choice but to comply really. And you groan whilst slipping into the passenger seat of his car, imagining the story he’s going to muster up for your brother. 
Jaemin gets into the driver’s seat, his body tense and irritated, and you almost feel bad that he can’t celebrate his win—almost. He places the can of Diet Pepsi in the cup holder, the soft clink of the can echoing through the car. Then, without breaking his focus, his gaze flicks to you, his voice low and commanding.
“Seatbelt.”
You huff, rolling your eyes as you slide it on. “Yes, daddy.” 
The moment the words leave your mouth, Jaemin’s jaw tightens, the muscle flexing under his skin. His eyes darken for a split second, a dangerous glint flashing, something that makes your pulse stutter for just a moment. His fingers curl around the steering wheel, gripping it a little tighter than necessary as he tries to compose himself.
He clears his throat, shifting slightly in his seat, nostrils flaring. “Don’t push your luck, Y/N.”
You sink into your seat with a sigh. The silence in the car hangs as he drives, thick with awkwardness and annoyance. Your throat still feels dry from the argument, and before you can even think about it, you reach for the can. The cold metal soothes your fingertips. But the second your lips brush against the rim, you can feel Jaemin’s eyes on you—hot, intense, and focused.
You can feel him watch your every move, and as you pull the drink away from your lips, his eyes narrow in on the red stain your lipstick left on the silver rim. His grip on the steering wheel tightens, jaw tightening with it, his gaze flickering between your lips and the can in your hand. Without warning, he snatches it from your fingers, one hand still on the wheel, eyes focused and full.
Then, Jaemin presses his own lips against the spot where yours just were, right over the mark you left. Sipping the drink slowly — savouring it.
“What the hell are you doing?” you ask, voice a little breathless, startled.
Jaemin’s eyes widen, and for a split second, his grip tightens on the can before he abruptly pulls it away from his mouth, tossing it into the cup holder without a second glance. His brows furrow as he tries to make sense of his own actions, as if he’s suddenly aware of how ridiculous he must look. His mind is reeling—over a simple lipstick mark on the rim of a can. Something so innocent, yet it’s driving him crazy.
He clears his throat, trying to regain an ounce of composure, but his voice cracks slightly. "I was, uh..." He hesitates, biting back a sharp breath, his eyes flickering to the road before snapping back to you. "Just making sure it wasn’t spiked…?"
It sounds weak, even to his own ears, and he knows you’re not buying it. The way your lips part tells him everything. You narrow your eyes at him, a little too sharp for comfort. 
“Spiked?” You glance at the cup holder, where the can now sits innocently. “How would you even know from the taste, Jaemin? Not to mention Jisung gave me this, that boy wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
Jaemin knows that. Still, he curses under his breath, running a hand through his hair as the frustration builds in his chest. His entire excuse is a mess, just like the thoughts spinning in his head.
"Look, let’s call it precautionary, okay?" His voice is clipped and there’s a tightness to it. "Don’t make it a big deal."
You lean back in the seat, a small bitter laugh escaping you. “Me making things a big deal? Oh, the irony.”
He doesn’t respond or bite back or try for the final word and it makes the silence thicker. Jaemin’s grip on the wheel is so tight his knuckles are white, and honestly, you don’t know how long you can keep doing this.
“You're impossible, you know that?" The words slip out before you can stop them, and your chest tightens as soon as they do. "I didn't come here for you to babysit me or make me feel like I need your protection. I came here because I—" You stop yourself. 
Jaemin's head snaps to you, "Because you what?" 
For a second, you can’t speak. The words are right there, but they feel too big, too much to let out. You’re caught between the urge to spill it all or keeping it hidden, scared to change the dynamic. But you’ve been pretending for too long, playing by the rules, and now, you want to stop hiding.
“I came here because I wanted you to see me,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “Not as Jeno’s little sister. Not as some kid. I wanted you to see me… as me.”
Jaemin doesn’t react, not at first – well, he does, but it’s subtle. His hands go completely white around the wheel, his jaw clenched so tight you can almost hear it. Without saying a word, he pops the indicator on and pulls over, the tyres screeching slightly as he brings the car to a sudden stop.
You freeze, and a small wave of panic bubbles up inside your chest. Did you say the wrong thing? Did you make it weird? He’s your brother’s best friend, and now you’ve crossed that weird line that’s bound to make everything awkward. Jeno’s gonna kill you.
You swallow hard, waiting for him to snap, to tell you how messed up this whole thing is.
But he kisses you. 
His hand on your cheek, without warning, pulling you into him, and consuming your lips with a force that steals the air from your lungs. It’s not gentle like you expected him to be. He’s typically always gentle with you — unless he’s mad, which right now, he is. This kiss is desperate. Hungry. And you like it because it’s the kind of kiss that makes your body forget how to breathe. The kind of kiss that tells you he doesn’t see you like a kid – like Jneo’s little sister.
“You drive me fucking insane, you know that?” Jaemin growls, nudging your noses together. His hands find your waist, to grip it. “You walk around in those jeans clinging to your ass, with your cheeks flushed, and that fucking lipstick the same shade as my car.”
You giggle softly against his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You noticed?”
“Of course I fucking noticed,” he groans.
Jaemin’s lips trail down your jawline, each kiss slow, and teasing, and needy. The desperation in his movements is evident like he’s trying to savour every inch of your skin. The feeling is foreign to you—each soft press of his lips sends a rush of heat through your body. The simple touches make you gasp, drawing a low, satisfied groan from him as he feels the reaction in your body.
His breath catches, lips brushing softly along the sensitive curve of your neck as he pulls you closer. His hands tighten around your waist, and the pleading in his voice intensifies, but there’s no mistaking the hunger in it. He’s holding back, trying to keep his composure.
“Tell me this is a bad idea, Y/N,” he whispers, his lips grazing your skin with kisses. “Tell me you don’t want this.”
Your breath is shallow and you can’t help the way your body reacts to him. The way your hands find their way into his hair, fingers threading through it as you desperately tug on it, unsure of what else to do. 
“Please, angel, you have to say no,” he murmurs into your neck, his voice low and desperate. 
“Don’t want to,” you whimper, shaking your head again. “Want you, Jaem. Always wanted you. Only you.”
"Fuck..." he groans, his lips trailing away from your skin to look at you.
And what a pretty sight you are. Eyes glazed with lust, pupils blown wide, dilated with something raw and needy. So innocent, so forgiving, so eager – so fucking his. It’s enough to make him painfully hard, though he was already straining. Hearing you say you've always wanted him – and only him – had already sent a rush of heat straight to his cock.
Jaemin can’t help himself. His hand reaches out to caress your cheek again, his thumb teasing the softness of your bottom lip. You gasp, and his pupils darken, fixating on the way your mouth parts, the red colour staining his thumb. It’s everything he’s ever dreamed of—a perfect fantasy. 
“You’re gonna get me in so much trouble, gorgeous.”
He’s still hesitating, and you can feel it — you fucking hate it. Something takes over you, and without thinking, you take his thumb into your mouth, deep, sucking hard. Jaemin practically growls, his lips parting as a hiss escapes him from the sight. 
A switch flips, and in one smooth, deliberate motion, he yanks his thumb from your mouth, kills the engine, and climbs into the backseat. His eyes are sharp as they focus on you, which tells you to follow suit. He doesn’t care that on paper this is a ‘bad idea’. His cock is telling him it’s the best one he’s ever had.
It’s clear the moment you climb into the backseat, the way his body shifts into something animalistic. You try to settle beside him, but Jaemin doesn’t let that happen. He grips the hem of your shirt, yanking you down and onto his lap. The heat from his body radiates through the thin fabric of your clothes, his chest pressing hard against yours as his hands slide possessively around your waist.
His hands roam down your back and you can feel the hard press of him against your ass. It makes your pulse spike and your sweet red lips fall open for him, making him smirk with pride. His lips trail down to your neck, teeth grazing your skin as he murmurs your name, low and rough.
It’s all-consuming. Hot and desperate. Panting and breathless. Bodies moving in sync. The car heats up from your bodies softly grinding against each other. His hands are everywhere. 
“Angel,” he growls, his voice low with restraint, “if you keep grinding on me like that, I won’t be able to stop.”
You bite your lip, keeping your rhythm steady, your hips pressing into his. “Good.”
Jaemin catches a hand around your jaw pulling you away from his lips. “I’m serious, Y/N. Are you sure you want this?”
You nod, your gaze heavy with need.
He shakes his head, “I need words, gorgeous.”
“I want this.”
Such a simple phrase shatters his restraint, unravelling him completely. With a growl, he tosses you onto the back seat, lips trailing hotly down your body until he’s between your legs. His fingertips graze the waistband of your jeans, and he leans in, voice a low whisper.
“Can I?”
You nod, but he shakes his head, his eyes dark with hunger. “Say it.”
“Yes...” You breathe, the word barely escaping your lips, but it’s all he needs.
The jeans slide down your hips and ass, past your thighs, until they’re bunched around your ankles. Jaemin’s eyes flicker down, landing on your panties—darkened with dampness.
"So wet from just a little grinding?" He raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. "So fucking cute."
A rush of heat floods your chest. You’ve never done this before. And suddenly, it’s all too much, too fast. His words, your own desperate need, the car, the argument... everything crashes together. Without thinking, you press your legs closed, embarrassed by your body's reaction.
Jaemin's brows furrow as he watches you closely. "You okay?"
Your cheeks burn with a blush, stuttering as you struggle to find your voice. "I-I-uh," you falter, hoping he’ll say it, ask you the question. But he doesn’t. His eyes are fixed on your mouth, waiting for you to say it.
"I’ve never done this before."
Jaemin’s eyes flicker with something dark before he hums lowly. “You still want this?”
You nod, not trusting your voice.
“Words, Y/N.”
“God—yes.”
A satisfied smirk curves on his lips. “Good,” he murmurs. “Your body’s a fucking work of art I’ve been dying to see, and I never want you to feel embarrassed about showing it to me—and only me, yeah?”
This time, you don’t nod. You meet his gaze, voice steady as you tell him, “Yes. Only you.”
He smiles, hands resting on your knees as he gently eases them apart, his gaze fixed on you, completely mesmerized. If someone had told him this was how he’d be celebrating his win tonight, he’d have laughed in disbelief.
But now, his knuckles brush over the front of your underwear, a feather-light touch that sends a spark through you. Your hips react on their own, bucking slightly as his fingertips tease your sensitive nerves through the thin damp fabric.
“You’re so fucking wet.”
He drags his fingers to your waistband, sneaking underneath to run a soft finger up your slit, drawing a gasp from your lips. He takes that as permission to slip the pair down your legs, meeting the same fate as your jeans somewhere in his car. 
Jaemin keeps his eyes dead set on you as his fingers work to find your clit. The moment he does, he starts working slow, taunting patterns against it, each movement deliberate and unhurried. The sensation is leg-numbing, sending waves of pleasure through you—so much better than when you do it yourself. 
“Tell me how it feels,” he demands, “I wanna know how I’m making you feel. Tell me.”
Your mind is spinning, words slipping through your grasp, and all you can manage is a choked, incoherent moan. It’s not enough for him. Dissatisfied, he sinks his middle finger into your pussy at your silence. You jolt at the intrusion, the feeling intense and foreign, but his eyes stay locked on you, waiting.
“Tell me,” he groans, relishing in the feeling of how tight you grip around his finger.
“F-feels good,” you manage to stammer.
“Yeah?” he taunts, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips as he slowly picks up the pace. “Want more?”
“Yes–” you nod eagerly. He wastes no time, slipping his ring finger inside to join the first, matching the rhythm, savouring the warmth encapsulating around him, and you unravel beneath him.
You watch him through half-lidded eyes, breaths shallow and quick, completely undone from the tortuous pace of his fingers. Jaemin’s expression softens as he takes you in, a quiet, satisfied coo slipping from his lips.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, “So sweet… so vulnerable just for me.”
A low chuckle escapes him as he feels your walls threatening to tense, wanting to flutter around his fingers, and it sends another wave of pride through him. He shifts his eyes down, and without hesitation, takes your clit into his mouth, swirling his tongue in slow, devastating circles.
If he’s going to make you cum for the first time, it’ll be on his fingers and his mouth—he’ll make sure of it.
“S-so good, Jaem—” you gasp, voice trembling as his mouth and fingers work in perfect sync, pushing you closer to the edge.
He hums against you, the vibration sending another jolt of pleasure through your body. “Yeah?” he murmurs, lips still pressed to your skin. “Gonna let go for me, huh? Let me feel it.”
His words, his touch—it’s all too much, and you can feel every nerve on fire as he coaxes you over the edge until you’re cumming from the steady rhythm of his fingers and the relentless, teasing laps of his tongue. You're a shuddering mess beneath him from the orgasm he’s given you. 
He fucking loves it, looking in complete awe.
As you start to come down, muffled whines still slip from your lips, riding out the aftershocks of your release.
“What is it?” he prods, his voice smooth but persistent, but all you can manage is a frustrated sigh, annoyed with his stupid teasing tone. “Angel..I don’t know what you want if you don’t tell me.”
"All I want is—" You gasp when he lightly brushes your sensitive clit again,"—your cock."
A smug smirk tugs at his lips. His hand slides to rest possessively on your hip as he moves to hover above you, his gaze locking with yours.
“Are you sure?”
You nod, your lashes fluttering with need, and he takes that as permission to rid himself of his pants, his hand wrapping firmly around the base of his cock. He positions himself carefully, just at the edge of your pussy. 
It’s not how you’d pictured your first time—definitely not the romantic, cute scenario you’d always fantasized about. But one thing was certain: Jaemin was here, and that’s all that really mattered. Though, you hadn’t expected him to be this… big.
He picks up on the hesitation in your eyes, sensing the tension coiling tight in your chest.
With deliberate slowness, he slides his length teasingly between your drenched folds, making your breath catch as your nerves tense.
“I’ll take it slow,” he pulls down to murmur against your lips. 
You nod, your lip caught between your teeth, biting down hard enough to taste the metallic tang as he presses his tip against your cunt. His other hand grips your hip, his fingers digging in as he applies pressure, holding you in place. He stays perched above you, eyes fixed on your face. 
"Keep looking at me," he says, watching the way your face squirms. "Please."
His begging has you fighting to keep your eyes from fluttering shut, staying locked on him as you watch the way his pink lips part, the way they twitch, holding back a moan when he inches forward just enough to feel his tip slip past the threshold.
He pushes forward in a slow, savouring motion, and when he finally sinks into you completely, you stretch around him. Your brows furrow, caught between the sting of pain and the rush of pleasure. His teeth catch his lower lip, holding it there as a low, skin-tingling moan rumbles deep in his chest, his body staying still, giving you a moment to adjust.
“Please move,” you beg, barely able to get the words out, desperation lacing your voice.
He struggles to keep his breathing steady as he watches your face, studying it for any sign of discomfort. Once he’s sure you’re fine, he begins to draw his hips back slowly, his movements deliberate and deep, wrecking you as he rolls his hips forward, filling you again.
Your eyes want to flutter shut, the bliss almost too much to keep conscious but you want to please him. Jaemin pulls you closer, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss, and you moan into it, the sound pulling a breathless, stomach-knotting whine from him.
He increases his pace, and you cry out, your head falling back as your hips begin to meet his. One of Jaemin’s hands tightens around the side of your waist, grounding you as he drives deeper, faster, harder — greedy. 
You move feverishly, hips bucking wildly as you try to take him deeper, craving the way his cock stretches you, hitting every nerve with overwhelming pleasure.
"You're so fucking beautiful," he gasps. "Keep looking at me. I wanna see how pretty you look when I’m making you feel good."
You can only respond with a breathless gasp that catches in your throat as he buries himself deeper, rolling against you whilst your nails dig into the fabric on his shoulders.
His hand slips from your hip for a moment, reaching for your fingers to guide them down where your bodies are connected. His fingers curl around yours, bringing your hand to your throbbing clit. You take the hint, fingers moving instinctively to find the sensitive bundle, desperate to ease the tightness building in your abdomen.
"Not gonna last long, angel," he breathes, his voice ragged. "But I need you to feel good."
"Fuck," you whimper. Your hips begin to writhe, chasing the pleasure as every part of your body burns with need.
“So fucking warm and wet and tight,” he groans, forehead slick with sweat. 
Your bodies feel like they’re burning, the car steaming up with heat, the windows fogging so thickly that you leave a handprint on the glass as you steady yourself against Jaemin’s building deliberate thrusts. 
He’s fucking into you with an erotic urgency, as if he’s trying to spill out every fantasy he’s ever had about you since Jeno introduced you. It’s like he’s remembering, all at once, that he’s broken all the rules—off-limits, bro code—and he doesn’t care anymore. Doesn’t regret it one bit. Because the feel of you on his cock is totally worth it.
Your stomach starts to tremble as warmth floods your lower half, your muscles contracting and fluttering around him. The feeling overwhelms you, and it only encourages him to slow his rhythm, to drag out your orgasm as long as possible. 
Jaemin finally caves, moving his face to nuzzle against you. Your hands find his hair, tugging him up so you can kiss along his neck, your lipstick staining his flesh, marking him with that signature red colour.
You keep your hips rolling with his, even after the earth-shattering orgasm he’s just given you. Every cry, whimper, and moan spills from the back of your throat at the force of him, your voice chanting his name in a string of desperate mumbles. Your body convulses and shakes as you clamp around his length, and he grunts at the feeling, whispering praises to coax you through it.
He snaps his hips upward, grinding his body against you to savour the feeling. His muscles begin to shudder, jolting as he gasps for air, his own orgasm hitting him hard.
Hearing and feeling him lost in so much bliss only stretches the aftershocks of your release, both of you a mess of limbs and shameless sounds. Then, you feel him still completely, his release erupting in warm spurts, filling you and making you feel full of him. He’s everywhere—his scent, his kisses, his cum.
You’re left utterly spent, like a limp puddle, but Jaemin stays closely intertwined with you. You both inhale ragged breaths, neither of you daring to break apart. You’re reduced to fluttering glances weak panting and slick skin.
Jaemin’s eyes shift toward the side window, his fingers gently combing through your hair before he presses a soft kiss to your forehead.
And when he finally tries to move, there's a sudden clink, and the faint sound of liquid splashing. You both glance down at the Diet Pepsi can now toppled over and spilling its contents all over the car seat. A muffled chuckle escapes Jaemin's lips as he shakes his head.
“That stupid fucking drink,” he mutters with a grin. 
“You should be grateful,” you hum, “Without it, we probably would never have fucked.”
Jaemin shakes his head and laughs, but the humour quickly fades as his expression turns serious. He leans in close again, his lips brushing yours. 
“Not true,” he murmurs. “I’ve wanted you ever since I met you. I would’ve made a move eventually.”
“Oh yeah?” You tilt your head, teasing him. “What’s been stopping you?”
“Jeno,” Jaemin says quietly, and it’s like it hits you both at once.
Your stomach twists in knots, the mention of your brother, Jaemin’s best friend, suddenly making everything feel... wrong. 
“What are we gonna tell Jeno?”
4K notes · View notes
neocrias · 5 months ago
Text
diet pepsi - kim mingyu
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synopsis: When a ride home becomes something much more... interesting.
Your interactions with Mingyu have been getting weird during the last group meeting. There’s a certain tension in every kindness he does for you—it could be you overanalyzing friendly acts, or maybe Kim Mingyu wants you as much as you want him.
pairing: mingyu x reader wc: 3,6k
warnings: unprotected sex; kinda public car sex; dry humping; figering (f receiving); cock riding; mingyu is a teasing little shit; very slightly size kink; mentions of alcohol; inappropriate language. MDNI.
You don't know when you started feeling this way about Mingyu, but lately he's been... different. He's hot, but you already knew that. Everybody did.
Mingyu is tall, tanned, has a charming smile and beautiful sparkling eyes that goes along with the sweet and patient personality he always has when he's with you and the boys. But something is different.
You don't know what happened, but Mingyu's every attitude seemed different tonight and what would normally be “your friend's caring and concerned way” was making you crave his attention in a way you've never felt before.
You felt your face heat up when he took the beer bottle from your hand and, before you could even try, Mingyu opened it and filled your glass, extending his arm towards you. When you hesitantly held the glass and your fingers touched briefly, Mingyu winked at you playfully and a shiver ran through your whole body.
This went on all night.
Mingyu carefully roasted the piece of meat you like best until it was just right for you. He also reached out to slap Vernon's hands away before he could snatch it from the grill, his muscles bulging under the sleeves of his black shirt right next to your face.
And, of course, you wanted to kiss him the moment he put his denim jacket over your lap to protect you from the cold without complaining – even though he told you to wear warm clothes tonight because of the weather.
— Gyu, you don't have to...
He cut you off before you could be the proud little thing who never gives in even though you know you're wrong.
— Don't be stubborn again. I told you it was gonna be cold and you still came in this tiny dress, at least keep the jacket. — He whispered, a perfectly balanced mix of seriousness and care. For emphasis, he tugged at the thin sleeves of your white dress, which didn't fit to keep out the cold.
Blame it on the drink;
Blame it on the several months you've gone without seeing anyone;
Blame Jeonghan for implanting indecent ideas in your head with his provocative comments about the way Mingyu always stood around you and looked at you;
Blame the smell of him surrounding you and inhibiting your senses in the enclosed space of the black range rover, or the way he drove with only one hand...
Blame anything, but you wanted him.
You felt your head spin the moment Mingyu said he would take you home, not letting anyone think of any other possibility during the carpool. And that was like a confirmation of everything a certain angel-faced devil had told you earlier.
You put on his dark denim jacket, sinking into the smell of his perfume that lingered on your clothes and biting your lips anxiously, an involuntary reaction to the scenarios you'd imagined and, to prevent your mind from continuing to go to places forbidden by “friend status”, you grabbed a can of Diet Pepsi before heading towards the car. 
Of course, you also had to deal with the feeling of disappointment silently when you found Dokyeom and Minghao waiting in the back seat. “Jeonghan, you're paying me for this!”, you thought after fastening your seatbelt. 
Mingyu smiled at you as he started the car, making his way to Dokyeom's house first - which was closer to the restaurant you were in. Eventually, you opened the can of Pepsi to distract yourself from the conflicting feelings you'd been having all night.
You didn't know it, but Mingyu noticed your strange behavior and, wanting to test whether his theory was right, he ignored the route to your house, deciding to leave Minghao first and then - by pure chance of fate - take the long way home.
He didn't stop there. Mingyu knew you were looking at him and purposely let go of one of your hands from the steering wheel, ran his fingers through his black hair to make it look messy as it fell over his eyes and, finally, grabbed the gearshift - as close to your thigh as possible, after all, Mingyu wanted to see how you reacted to him.
Of course, every glance was noticed, as was the intense way you stared at his hand holding the steering wheel. Mingyu could have sworn he saw you squeeze your thighs together a time or two when he made a skillful turn.
You started to shake your leg out of anxiety and seeing the perfect opportunity, Mingyu held your thighs in a firm grip to keep them still. The truth was that it didn't bother him at all, but he wouldn't miss the opportunity to put his hands on your thighs after so long watching them with desire.
He smirked arrogantly as he heard you sigh and struggle to keep still, muscles twitching uncontrollably under the palm of his hands. His eyes remained on the road, but they had a lustful glint behind the brown tenderness that Mingyu usually directed at you.
In your haze of thoughts, you didn't notice that the road to your house was taking longer than usual or that you had passed the same street three times. You also ignored the playful and arrogant expression that Mingyu wore, in fact, you didn't even look at his face as you were focused on the extraordinary way the veins stood out on the golden skin of his forearm and his thick thighs that were deliciously marked by his jeans.
The thin gold chain reflected the dim light of the streetlamps, shining through the collar of the black shirt that also highlighted the biceps carefully built up with regular routines in the gym, but just enough for the imagination. Kim Mingyu was dressed so casually and still managed to be sinfully handsome. Him wearing a black shirt so tight against his arms and chest should be considered a crime against public safety and you, feeling your neck heat up, pulled your hair up and leaned back in your seat to look at his face from a better angle.
 And the look in your eyes...
Mingyu felt his patience fading. He pushed his tongue against his cheek to control himself, squeezing the gearshift until his fingers turned white. And then your eyes went to his face, your rosy lips were slightly open, your shoulders barely moving because of the shallow breathing and the typical doe eyes that blinked heavily at him, scanning every birthmark he had on his chiseled face.
He was tired of overthinking what kind of game you were playing now.
Slowly, Mingyu pulled the car over as soon as you turned into a discreet, quiet - partly dark - street and, as if a mist was coming out of the front of your eyes, you came back to reality as you felt the car stop and looked out of the window. It wasn't your house and you were even more confused when you heard the car's engine stop.
You turned to Mingyu who was taking the key out of the ignition.
— What are you doing? — you asked, but Mingyu didn't answer. — Why did you stop here?
He continued without answering, Mingyu didn't even look at you. Still facing forward, he just unbuckled your thigh to open his own seat belt and moved the seat back very slowly. Your eyes widened in surprise, confusion and... anticipation.
You focused your attention on the sliding seat, returning to stare at Mingyu's thick thighs, and clamped your lower lip between your teeth. By the time you raised your eyes to Mingyu's face again, he was already looking at you with a naughty, arrogant grin and his head tilted slightly to one side.
— Having fun? — He asked arrogantly and you blinked rapidly, feeling confused and overwhelmed.
“Maybe I shouldn't have drunk so much,” you thought.
Mingyu leaned over you, knocking you backwards. Your back slammed against the car door and you held your breath, not wanting to make any movement or comment that would break the tension that bubbled deliciously under your skin. Your eyes were locked on Mingyu's, and you couldn't take your eyes off them for a second.
The sound of your belt opening made you blink repeatedly once more and let out an anxious sigh - which, in turn, made Mingyu even more confident.
He rested his left hand on the tinted car window and brought his right hand up to your neck, wrapping his hand around your throat and subtly pulling you forward. You let out a pained grunt and close your eyes as you felt his nose brush against yours, both breaths mingling.
His thumb moved slowly against your skin and your lips touched quickly as he moved his head. You were going crazy and he was doing it on purpose, after all, watching you need him was more fun than Mingyu could have imagined.
— Gyu… — You called softly. A heavy, needy whisper that complemented the hushed atmosphere that enveloped the two of you. He was so close that you could smell the beer and mint gum he was chewing earlier. You shifted uncomfortably against the leather seat, wanting to get rid of the feeling of unease that ran through your whole body.
— Hm? — was all Mingyu replied.
You brought your trembling hands up to his shoulders, sliding them slowly under the collar of his shirt, feeling the warm skin against your icy palms and the defined muscles under your fingertips. You slid down to the nape of his neck, making a point of dragging your nails lightly along the way in a phantom touch that Mingyu reciprocated by squeezing your neck a little tighter. 
With a sigh you pressed your nails against his neck, marking his honey skin with red scratches and pulled the gold chain into a closed fist. Mingyu finally crashed his lips against yours in a strong, needy kiss.
An involuntary moan of satisfaction escaped your throat as you felt his tongue making its way into your mouth, the soft muscle crashing deliciously against yours, and Mingyu released your neck to wrap his arm around your waist, pulling you against him so that you rode his lap.
It wasn't the most comfortable position even though the car was large, but 'comfort' wasn't a concern for him at the moment and even less so for you.
Still with trembling, hurried hands, you slipped them under his black shirt, dragging your nails across the length of Mingyu's abdomen, leaving more red marks across his immaculate skin. Your fingers stopped against the waistband of his jeans, unsure of what to do now.
Despite (trying) to be a confident person most of the time, you weren't the most experienced person when it came to boys. Minghao and Seungcheol tried hard to keep them away from you - after all, no guy was good enough for their best friend.
Mingyu, who had both arms around your waist now, pressing you against him, moved his hands down to your bare thighs, his fingertips trailing along the length that the slit didn't make a point of covering and - for the thousandth time tonight - your skin shivered at his touch.
Suddenly he grabbed both sides of your hips, pulling you forward and pressing you down against him, and you broke away from him with a gasp of surprise. You were both breathing heavily, your eyes closed and your foreheads pressed together. Mingyu brought his hand up to the collar of your jacket, gently pushing it back, his fingertips leaving a ghostly touch on the skin of your shoulder, exposed by the square neckline.
He removed the jacket from your body slowly, he was in no hurry at all and, now that there was nothing else in the way, Mingyu began to trail kisses and bites down the length of your jaw, neck and collarbones, marking your skin as you did with him and you answer by pressing your hips against his.
With an impulse of confidence you moved your waist, a slight and insecure movement at first, but one that made Mingyu sigh against the sensitive skin of your neck and increase the tightness against your skin - leaving marks that would turn red later. Mingyu's reactions were what you needed to keep going and you swivel your hips harder, making him throw his head back against the car seat.
Clumsily, you pulled up his shirt, trying to undress him, and Mingyu smiled even more arrogantly when he saw you fumble. He moved his hands away and pulled up his shirt and your eyes went down to his defined abdomen, measuring it completely.
His eyes darkened when he saw you biting your lips with glassy eyes. You brought your hands up to his shoulders, Mingyu was huge and very well built - unconsciously you thanked him for his dedication to the gym. He slid his hands under your dress, now squeezing the skin of your hips and waist with nothing to stop him.
You wrapped your index finger around the gold chain and pulled him forward, kissing him again, again, again and again and as many times as you wanted, you couldn't stop yourself.
You were so focused on the kiss, on moving your waist in just the right way to get all his reactions and whimpers, on the warm, soft skin against the palm of your hands, on the smell of him that intoxicated you, that you didn't miss his hands on your waist, and you weren't even surprised when the seat came down all at once, making you fall on top of him.
— What are you planning, Kim Mingyu? — you managed to ask between kisses and heavy sighs.
— You'll find out — he murmured against your lips. — And you'll love every second of it.
You felt your legs tremble and you rolled against him even harder, making him whimper softly and bite your lips hard. Mingyu stopped your hips, pushing you down a little just enough to unzip his pants and take out his cock that stood proudly up to his hips.
His red tip was shining from pre-cum, the veins that stood out on the skin, making you clench around nothing.
Mingyu moved his hand down your dress again, his fingertips slowly dragging over the thin fabric of your panties, teasing you.
— Gyu... — you whimpered.
— Tell me — he muttered against your mouth. — You need to tell me, pretty.
He enjoyed being a little teasing shit, finding fun in the way you react and your body trembles to his touches. Mingyu slides your panties to the side, his finger finally making contact to your clit.
— Please — you tried again, refusing to say it out loud. 
— Nuh uh, baby, you need to say it.
— Gyu, please… — you started, but failed again.
— Poor little girl, can’t even use her words… — he teased you.
— Kim Mingyu, I swear to God if you… — your words were cut off by a groan when he slid his middle finger into your wet cunt.
Mingyu smirked when saw you struggling with your words again, just because of him. It's a complete ego booster for sure.
— If I..? — he suggested, provoking you again. — Come on, baby, what are you gonna do? 
He slid a second finger, bending them to hit that specific spot that makes you tremble and gasp in his ears because of the stretch. You leaned forward, resting your hands on his chest and hiding your face in the crook of his neck.
You feel a knot forming in your low stomach and bite his shoulder to relieve some of the feeling, moving your hips by your own, chasing it.
Your whimpers became louder and more frequent and Mingyu took this as an incentive to go faster, always aiming for that spot that made you react the way he liked the most.
Sequenced moans of his name left your lips and you dug your nails harder into his shoulders. Involuntarily squirming to escape the overwhelming sensation that you were experiencing. And at the same time that you wanted Mingyu to continue, it was becoming too much.
You hold Mingyu’s wrist, trying to stop him, but it only makes him go harder on you. His free hand, grabbing your hips to make you quiet.
— Shh — he whispered into your ear. — It's ok, pretty, let it go.
Mingyu was slowly edging you to your high. His fingertips brushing against your soft walls plus his sweet voice praising you makes your toes curl. His actions turn all too much to handle and you feel losing yourself.
— That's it, baby, cum for me.
And you came, his name leaving your mouth as a chant, while your body grows even hotter. Mingyu continued moving his fingers, slower this time to help you come down from your high. He left several kisses on your shoulders, and caressed your back until your breathing regulated again.
You push his arms down, breathing heavily with your foreheads close to each other.
Mingyu began to caress your thighs to calm you down, kissing your lips tenderly, moving down to your chest and collarbones. In a burst of courage, you sat on him, still not sliding in, just an attempt to tease him the same way he did to you before.
He moans your name in response, a smug smirk adoring his lips and his hooded eyes staring directly at you in pure desire. — Stop the teasing, baby. — He said.
You grabbed his cock aligning him to your cunt. You went down slowly, holding your breath as you felt him open you inch by inch. His hands grabbed your hips harder, pushing you down to help you keep moving. 
— Fuck… — He groaned when he reached the bottom. Despite the urgency Mingyu felt to move, he remained still so you could adjust to his size.
You whimpered in discomfort, not being used to his size, but somehow the initial stretch was kinda pleasant. The caress Mingyu gave your back and the little kisses he left on your shoulders were enough to calm you down a little and, still a bit insecure, you raised your hips, waited a little trying to prepare yourself emotionally, and lowered yourself again slowly.
Mingyu squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip hard. He wanted to take things at his own pace, so you would be comfortable, so you would enjoy it too, but you looked so beautiful and angelic in that short white dress and your frowning face that his inner self roared with the need to destroy you.
He wanted to take control, pin you against the leather seat and watch fat tears roll down your face, destroying your makeup with black mascara stains. You sped up little by little, gaining confidence as you moved, but it still wasn't enough and your thighs burned from the effort. You tried to keep going, wanting to get more grunts and moans out of Mingyu, but something was missing and so you stopped, hiding your face in his neck out of embarrassment.
— What happened? — he asked you, stroking your hair to comfort you.
— Tired… — you muttered. After a few seconds of silence you heard him laugh.
— Spoiled princess wants me to do all the work? — He asked you again, his voice dripping in a condescending tone.
— Please — you beg.
He blinked in astonishment, taken aback by you. His eyes darkened and he thrust his tongue against his cheek. — Move to the backseat!
You do as he says, moving to the back of the large car. Mingyu skillfully takes the seat again, pushing it closer to the steering wheel and gets out, walking around the car to the back seat. You lean your back against the door opposite the one Mingyu came in through, biting your lip in excitement.
He grabs your ankle, pulling you down. You slide into the seat, now lying on your back as Mingyu towers over you with all his splendor and size and you feel so small next to him — he has that effect on people.
You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down so you can kiss him again and circling his waist with your legs. Mingyu can only think about how you're going to be the death of him, but that moment doesn't last long as he's thrusting into you again. You moan louder, feeling him deeper than before.
The exchange of intense looks, foreheads colliding and the sloppy kisses constantly interrupted by sighs and moans add something more, intensifying all the feelings. His scent is surrounding you, making you dizzy and confused and Mingyu thrusts harder when he feels you scratch his back.
— More —you asked and Mingyu happily complied with your whining.
He holds your thigh, placing it above his shoulders, resting one of his arms on the window glass for support, going even deeper. You feel your high coming for the second time that night and involuntarily tighten around him, making him grunt and go harder.
You scratched his back, cumming again.
This time Mingyu followed you, spilling his cum inside you. The feeling was overwhelming, something you had never felt before and didn't imagine experiencing so soon, even less not being in a relationship with this person, but when it came to Mingyu everything felt so right.
— What are we now? — maybe you were reading the situation wrong and this was nothing more than a casual hookup, a one night thing, but you couldn’t help to feel your heart drop at this possibility.
— I’ll take you on a date — he answered simply.
— I think you reversed some steps — you joke, eliciting a breathy laugh from him.
Mingyu slid out slowly, but you still shivered in sensitivity. To reward him, he left several little kisses on your face.
— Maybe, but I’ll do it right this time. — He said. — Let’s get cleaned up and take you home.
You mumble in agreement, too tired to even respond and, unwillingly, you drag yourself back to the front seat. Mingyu leans towards you, fastening your seatbelt before leaving one last slow and deep kiss on your lips, one that you gladly return.
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dante-mightdie · 26 days ago
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Girl if you don’t give us some more low self esteem reader x price i think i’m gonna die 😫😫 genuinely one of my favs!!
john who finally convinces our lovely low self esteem reader to let him take her out and when the time comes, he’s outside your door all suited and booted. expensive bouquet in his hand as he shifts on his feet, anxiously waiting for you to open the door
it’s been ten minutes since he rung the doorbell. ten minutes since you text him saying you’d be down in a second. he understands that sometimes a lady needs time getting ready but now you aren’t even responding to his messages checking on you
he can’t see you pacing from your bathroom back to your bedroom, pulling and twisting at your outfit until it ‘fits right’. cursing under your breath each time you apply more lip gloss or mascara, only to end up smudging your makeup and ruining it
he can’t see the tears welling in your eyes each time you catch your reflection and you just can’t do it. nothing is working because of you. and john is going to see that. john is going to see you. and you just can’t have that so you leave him down there, waiting for you as you sniffle and pull at your hair in frustration
so he calls you, stepping back to see if your upstairs light was still on as the ringing drones on in his ear. and when you do finally pick up, the first thing he’s greeted with is sniffles
“h-hi john…” you say, a nervous laugh following. before he can ask if you’re okay, you speak again. “m’really sorry to do this but… uhm…”
“love?” he cuts you off, a gentle tone in his voice so you know he’s not upset. a few seconds silence follows before you sniffle again
“yeah?” he can hear the sadness in your voice, the uncertainty. his eyes flick up once more to look at the light coming from your upstairs window
“come open the door, yeah? let me see ya, doll… been waiting all week to see that pretty smile just one more time.” the heat pooling in your stomach at his sweet words causes more tears to leak down your cheeks
you don’t know why he’s any different to the other guys you’ve shut down. you don’t know why you agree to see him and shuffle downstairs to open the door
but that kind smile he throws your way when you finally open the door is enough to make your lip wobble a little more so he distracts you with the bouquet of your favourite flowers
“how did you know-?” you’re ready to question him, and he can see the little glint in your eye. runaway thoughts of maybe this guy is a stalker who’s been watching you. not some prince charming like you’d be reluctantly convincing yourself.
“I asked ya friends at the bar when I was getting your drinks. wanted to know what I should get you for our first date.” there’s a proud beam in his smile, like he knows he’s won you over a little there
“You hadn’t even asked me out yet…” you giggle slightly, sniffling before looking down at the stunning arrangement of flowers
“don’t matter, darling. I knew I was going to the second I saw you…” he states it like it’s obvious, like you should know he was going to pursue you. his hand reaches up to wipe your teary cheeks before offering you his arm to take
“hang on let me change.” you go to turn but he stops you, shaking his head and taking the initiative to wrap your arm in his
“none of that. you look beautiful…” you hate the way his words turn you to mush inside. you hate yourself for falling for it, for leaving yourself vulnerable to his sweet words and charming smile
but you don’t hate him, and the attention he gives you so you figure one date with the handsome man who bought you a drink couldn’t hurt
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chxrryhansen · 1 year ago
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okay but rafe shamelessly peeking up your skirt is something so personal to me
omg omg wait s1 golf frat boy rafe x cutesy kinda bimbo reader??? COUNT ME IN. p.s- i have no idea how to play golf so i wrote my best interpretation😭
₊♡₊˚ 🎀・₊✧
you sat in rafes private golf caddy watching as he lined up his next shot, his backwards cap keeping his hair out of his eyes and his muscular legs spread wide as he takes the shot.
rafe had asked (told) you to come watch him play, he thought it would be a cute date idea for you both to get out of the house since it was way too hot to stay cooped up inside all day… when in reality he just wanted to show off his skills and impress his girl.
“rafeeeeey.” you whined in a high pitch tone.
he turns to look back at you with a sour expression, wiping the sweat from his brows with one arm, using the other to lean against his golf club. “quit distracting me. what dya’ want?” he pants in the summer heat.
“i’m boreddddd” you moan again, standing from your seat in the cabby and bouncing over to him.
his free hand reaches out to grip your face, smushing your cheeks together tight “what’ve i told you about the whining? daddy’s tryna’ play a game here, sweetcheeks.”
you look up at him with big puppy dog eyes “can you teach me? please rafey…i’m so bored just sittin’ here, daddy please.”
he lets out an irritated groan, knowing you were too ditzy to understand how golf works and way too uncoordinated to actually putt a ball. he looks back at you giving you a once over, a smirk appearing on his face.
“you know what? sure pretty girl, c’mere.”
you yelp with excitement, moving to stand infront of him, your short pink skirt barely reaching your thighs as you bounce over and your tits jiggling, practically spilling out of your tight shirt.
rafe stands behind you as he passes you the golf club, quickly showing you the correct way to hold it before he moves onto your position. kicking your feet apart and pressing down on your back with his thick fingers, forcing you to arch your back as he bites his lip, his cock already growing hard.
“that’s it baby, stay just like that. now, lift your arm up like this, and strike.” you beam at him while he instructs you before focusing on the ball.
you raise your arm holding the club tight before you strike it. not even noticing rafe bending down slightly, his legs still spread wide around your figure and his fingers lifting your short skirt, peeking at your cute, pink panties underneath, he lets out a low “fuckkk.” at the sight, not loud enough for you to notice seeming as you were concentrating.
“rafey! look! i hit it. look how far it went!” you gasp, raising one arm to block the sun as you search for the ball with your eyes.
“yeah babe, daddy’s super proud of you.” he mutters, not paying attention to a word you said, instead focusing on the slightly damp patch on your panties.
he brings his thumb to your pussy, rubbing over the soaked material. your panties beginning to stick to your cunt as he thumbs your sensitive slit.
you whimper in surprise, your head spinning to look at him in shock. “daddy! wh-what are you doing?!” you hush, eyes wide, looking around quickly to see if anybody had noticed what he was doing, which they hadn’t… yet.
rafe hushes you before pulling your skirt back down and giving your ass a harsh smack. lifting up from his bent knees and looking down at you with a large smirk.
“nice panties, baby. where’d you get em?” he asks rhetorically, a sly smile appearing on his face.
knowing for a fine fact he bought them, as he does everything else, your clothes, food, shoes. you name it, he bought it. because that’s what wealthy daddy’s like him do. and rafe is without question, wholeheartedly, your daddy.
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limethefirst · 1 month ago
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Hello! I recently rewatched Sonic 3 and was Wondering if you could do a Shadow x (fem) child of Stone’s who basically takes one look at Shadow and goes he’s my friend now.
(Age- 5-10) I picked this age because I have VIVID memories of trying to befriend Anything even things i really shouldn’t
You’re my friend now!
pairings: Shadow the Hedgehog x child!reader (platonic)
warnings: none!
summary: you meet Shadow and decide he is going to be your friend, whether he wants to or not
a/n: OMGGG THIS IS SO CUTE! I imagine Shadow being so careful around reader because they’re a child and he’s just so confused why this little kid is just following him around😭
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When you first saw Shadow, you thought he was some big plushie that came to life. It was magical really. Being a child and one so young, these things intrigued you. In fact you quite literally could not stay away.
Your father, Stone didn’t exactly tell you not to stay away either, he just gave you a heads up that Shadow was very powerful and to be careful around him. Which you would be, but first you needed to make him your new friend.
You stood behind your father, your eyes narrowed onto the hedgehog, with a gaze so serious even Shadow was confused. He took a few glances at you before looking back at the Robotniks so called ‘bonding’.
While he was distracted you took this as a chance to finally walk up to him. Stone watched you, never letting you leave his sight as a protective father would.
Shadow sensed something going on and as he turned around he was met with your face. You brightly smiled at him giving him a small wave to which he only replied to with a small nod.
Obviously Shadow could tell you were a child, no older then 10 at that, and he knew how innocent and fragile they were so he kept his responses short. Not in a rude way, he didn’t want to hurt your feelings. He was actually quite nervous, he was considered dangerous and didn’t want that danger to harm you since you hadn’t wronged him in anyway.
You blinked up at him, your eyes wide with joy and excitement seeing how he acknowledged your presence (which was literally the bare minimum but you are a child so what can most people expect). Without hesitation you blurted out, “You’re my friend now!” Shadows eyes slightly widened a bit before going back to his usual neutral expression.
“What?” He asked, trying not to sound rude and offend you; even though he didn’t understand what exactly was happening.
You only giggled and grabbed his hand, dragging him away, “We’re having soft tacos later!”
That was how Shadow was dragged into being your new friend and how he was currently sitting on the floor watching you stuff your face with tacos while making matching bracelets that said ‘bff’ on them. Shadow couldn’t lie, it was actually endearing to see how you were so bright and willing to immediately befriend him.
He sat there quietly, watching your focus go into the bracelet currently in your hands. Yours was a mix of your two favorite colors while his was black and red for obvious reasons.
He watched as you slipped yours onto your wrist, then you grabbed his arm and raised it up as you put his bracelet on as well. A small smile made its way to your face, proud of your hard work.
Shadow examined the bracelet a bit before he gave you a small pat on the head. He wasn’t big on words, he preferred to show he cared through gestures and actions instead, so you knew you’d done well.
Shadow wore the bracelet with pride, happy to show off his new friend.
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clockwayswrites · 2 months ago
Text
Distracting Birb! Part 28
*throws this and runs* Masterpost
“So what did you find out?” Tim asked as he spun around. He was at the computer, of course, and looked most of the way to villainy backlit by the large screens.
(Dick loved his little brother, but villainy really wouldn’t be the most surprising outcome for Tim.)
“What makes you think we found anything?” Jason answered, just to be impertinent.
Tim rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t have called us all down to the Cave if you didn’t have anything.”
Jason scoffed. “You underestimate how willing I am to waste your time.”
“Boys,” Cass said calmly, ending the growing argument with just that word.
“Duke still out on patrol?” Dick asked as a distraction.
Tim glanced over his shoulder and back at the screen. “On his way back. He’ll be here in fifteenish.”
Best not to wait in case Danny woke, Dick decided. They’d be sure to fill him in. “Okay. Well, Danny was not lying, he has a lot of plants.”
“Dick managed to turn on the watering system. We’re all very proud of him,” Jason said flatly.
The siblings all golf clapped, which Dick took a dramatic bow to. “Thank you, thank you. Otherwise a pretty normal apartment. Comfortable, a little nerdy, and not fussy.”
Jason nodded. “There’s a hero—not sure if someone real or fictional—that we saw a few times. Someone called Phantom.”
Obliging, Dick sent the photo of the mug from the bathroom up onto one of the screens. Tim spun back to the computer and started searching.
“There were also a lot of medication in his cabinet; vitamins and several prescriptions also. Some of them had weird labels.”
“Damn, Dick, you couldn’t have gotten a clearer photo?” Tim asked as he squinted at the new set of images.
“As much as I hate to defend Dick,” Jason said as he added photos of his own to the screen, ‘that is a clear photo. Danny was writing in the same language along with English in a bedside notebook of his.”
“Are you in need of glasses, Drake?” Damian asked as he looked from the photos to Tim with a judgmental brow raised.
Tim flicked him off, which Dick considered telling Tim off for (Damian had enough bad habits), but was actually curious about this. “No. The text looks glitched out.’
“No,” Damian said slowly and with a scowl, “it is clear. Odd, but clear.”
“Cass?” Dick asked.
She moved a step closer to the television, head tilted. There was a long, quiet moment before she lifted her hand a gave a so-so motion.
Tim looked from her, to Damian, to the screens. “…Dick?”
“So that’s the thing, it looks wrong to me too. If I look at it too long it’s like it gives me a headache. Jason can read it though.”
Jason snorted. “That’s taking it a bit far. I feel like I should be able to read it. I can get a word here or there maybe.”
“Like it whispers,” Damian said, the quiet words oddly poetic for the youngest of them.
“…yeah, like it whispers,” Jason agreed, just as softly.
“Right, okay. Freaky language that only some of us can even see, much less read, and those who can have spent a lot of time in or around the league,” Tim said. “How concerned do we need to be able this? To we need to be concerned about this? I feel like we need to be concerned about this.”
None of them had an easy answer for Tim.
All of them were grateful for the roar of Duke’s bike interrupting the conversation as he pulled into the cave.
“What are you all looking some grim about?” Duke asked. He yanked his helmet off and took a deep breath, like he hadn’t been able to breath in hours.
It was a feeling they all got. Even a good patrol was draining and Duke had been actively on follow up over what had gone down today with the Mad Hatter. Dick tossed a towel Duke’s way and went to grab a drink for the other from the food safe fridge.
“Stuff from Danny’s place. Take a look at the screen,” Jason said.
“Danny? I thought that we liked the guy,” Duke said, accepting the drink with a grateful thank you. He drained half of it his the way to the screens. “Shit, that’s a lot of meds.”
“Take a closer look,” Jason said, though not unkindly.
Duke stepped closer to the screen.
And went alarmingly still.
Dick resisted the instinctual urge to reach out and grab him. “Duke?”
Duke gave an answering hum and turned his head, just slightly, towards Dick. His eyes never left the screen. Dick wasn’t sure if Duke had really heard him. It was Jason who ended up acting, ended up listening to that instinct. He stepped between Duke and the screen, blocking their newest brother’s view. Duke sucked in a sharp, startled breath.
“What?”
“Hey, come on, have a seat,” Jason said and guided Duke backwards into one of the chairs at the table.
Tim swiftly cleared the photos from the screen.
Duke shook his head. “Sorry, man, I don’t know what… that, huh. What did those look like to you all?”
“Magenta tinted pill bottles with different levels of medication in them,” Tim replied calmly. “Dick and I can’t read what’s printed on them. Damian, Jason, and maybe Cass can a little which means it might be League writing of some sort.”
Dick leaned against the table. “What did you see, Duke?”
“Magenta tinted pill bottles with something in them. Like whatever it was my powers were weird about it. I’d have to see them in person to know anything about why, I guess, but they were… I don’t know. But whatever that stuff was I don’t think it’s League because I don’t think it’s human. I don’t think it’s earthly.”
“Well, fuck,” Dick said with a sigh.
He wasn’t sure if that was better or worse.
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luveline · 6 months ago
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YES to luna lovegood/dreamy!reader!!!!!!!!! Can we possibly get one with Spencer? <3
“It’s not as bad as you think.” 
Hotch appreciates the softness of your voice, as someone who also speaks in a very measured tone, but the sound of it has his brow furrowing. You’re a brilliant analyst, and a worse distraction whenever you’re in the main office. 
“It sounds terrible?” 
Hotch peers through the window to get a good look at the scene. You’re sitting in Spencer’s desk chair with your hands stretched out in front of you. Your outfit is very pink, considering the occasion, but it’s a non-abrasive light pink that flatters your skin. You have a clip in your hair, a small silver star with pink jewels embedded along the lines. 
Emily sips at a cup of coffee, leaning against the desk, her face to the side. Hotch can see her perturbed smile. 
“It’s fine! I’ve just been sleeping on the sofa.” 
“Well. That’s a call to pest control.” 
Spencer returns to his desk with a frown and two mugs. “Pest control?” he asks, the mug he places in front of you steaming. 
“There’s a raccoon living in her bedroom.” 
Spencer burns himself on his coffee, swearing as he puts it down hurriedly beside yours. “There’s a what?” Spencer asks. 
“He’s friendly. He came in through my vent.” 
“So friendly he’s stolen your bedroom?” 
You lean back in Spencer’s chair like it’s a La-Z-Boy, blowing at the hot surface of your drink with a similar lazy smile. “Imagine being that little and having such a big bed? When you usually sleep in the garbage?” You give a breathy laugh. “He must be having the time of his life.” 
“How are you getting ready in the mornings?” Spencer asks worriedly. 
“We’re cohabiting.” 
Spencer licks his lips. He likes you, and you seem aware of that fact, and that’s nerve-wracking for everyone involved. 
“Um, maybe we can make him a house? Like, outside? Raccoons are far happier in their natural habitat, and they’re also, you know, highly diseased and contagious compared to humans. I really don’t think you should let him inside.” 
“Spencer,” you say, giving him a dozy grin, “I didn’t let him in. He knows how to get in all by himself.” 
“I’ll call a repairman, too,” Emily says with a groan. 
She walks away, probably to find JJ and get her in on the repairs. Spencer looks at you for a long time, just drinking your tea, and Hotch mentally goads him into making a semblance of a move. Even if it’s just to fix your drooping hair clip. 
“You’re looking at me strangely again,” you say. 
Winces all around. “Am I?” Spencer asks. 
“Yes. Is this about Thursday?” 
“No.” Spencer swallows. “Yes. You didn’t answer my texts, after. I just want to know what you’re thinking.”
“What I’m thinking?” 
“Yeah. I thought about it a lot, so maybe you did too. Or maybe you didn’t, and it didn’t mean anything.” 
“Of course it meant something, Spencer.” You put down your mug, dusting your knees off before you stand. Spencer is not much taller than you where you’re standing in front of him, but you look up at him anyways. Your face tips ever so slightly to one side. “Would you want to do it again?” you ask softly. 
Spencer looks around the office. He neglects to check Hotch’s window, perhaps because the blinds are more often drawn than not, and so he doesn’t realise Hotch is watching as he draws you in for a kiss. 
You preen and lean back, hands fighting to cup his cheeks, a gauzy, practically gleaming aura around you as you smile into his mouth. Your fingertips tease his hair, and Spencer’s hand settles in place against the small of your back. You kiss back for only a few seconds before you’re laughing.
Spencer moves away quickly, taking your wrists into his hands to pull them away from his face. 
“You give up too fast,” you say. 
“I don’t think this is the place for it.” 
“Well, we can’t do it at my place. What if the raccoon sees?” 
“Good point. How about Marina’s, would that be better? We can get dinner at the same time.” 
Hotch feels oddly proud of Spencer’s suave suggestion, but he also has a migraine brewing between his brows. He really doesn’t need the extra paperwork. 
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evilminji · 9 months ago
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Okay but? We of the DPxDC? Are COMPLETELY Sleeping on DPXBNHA?
And not even for the Main Plot Shenanigans!
Just?? It has ALL of DC's super powers? But MORE OF THEM. And like 80% of the population has um! Danny can?? Finally achieve his DREAM of being???
JUST SOME DUDE™!
Yeah, he's in Japan. That's a bit of a learning curve. And YEAH, there was a cataclysmic war like a few centuries back that sorta... fucked everybody up. No one wants to talk about it. There may be mass graves and Never Forget memorials. But?
On the SURFACE!
This place seems utopian!
No ghost hunters! Advanced technology! Robust social services*!
Wait... what was that asterisk? What do you mean "corrupt shadowy government organizations"? What do you MEAN "Immortal Supervillians"? NO SPACE PROGRAM!?!? AaaaaAAAAAAAAAAH?!?!? I'M IN HELL!!! This is ACTUALLY THE BAD PLACE, THIS IS HELL, OH GOD NOOOOOOO-!!!!!!
Cause see?
There are SO MANY REASONS he'd end up there?
Think about it! Wish that he lived somewhere his weird biology wouldn't exclude him from becoming an astronaut? In Quirks having Bnha Japan EVERYBODY has weird biology! Y'ain't special! You could TOTALLY be an astronaut!..... if we HAD those! We do not. Shut down that program during the Quirk Wars and never really started it again. (And somewhere, Desiree LAUGHS)
Or MAYBE? Things are getting a little hot on the ground? Bit TOO spicy. The Family Fenton and Friends have fallen back, behind the barely holding shields. Not even the Mansons considerable political maneuvering could stop the inevitably of human fear and blind unthinking hatred. Money can't buy everything, in the end. There is only ONE(1) way out.
Through the Zone.
Plan: Strangers In A Strange World is a go.
They're all Limnal enough to fake it. Sam with her plants. Tucker with his technology and persuasion. Jazz with her limited empathy. Their parents with their... well, weirdness. And with a touch of ghostly assisted meddling? Well, they've always BEEN there! Haven't they?
And that's not to MENTION the random 4 year olds with no control! JUST coming into their powers! With all those big emotions in tiny bodies? Startling events and tantrums? Villian attacks? What could THEY possibly hope to do to control or guide that fresh new power? It does what it does and the rest of us are just along for the ride!
If Danny happens to be minding his business and gets accidentally kidnapped by a VERY distraught 4 year old? Well, that's hardly the KIDS fault, now is it? They're FOUR! That is basically a toddler! Tiny child! They are upset, confused, and didn't mean to do ANYTHING. He's a hero. And Heros don't blame little kids from accidents, no matter HOW stressed it makes them.
No, the curse like a sailor INSIDE their head. Like an ADULT.
Just? Imagine~☆
The slow transition from *starry eyed shoujo sparkles* "This is SO COOL~!" to "huh, that's... kinda weird. And Sus. Weird Sus. Maybe nothing... oh! A distraction!" To "okay, this KEEPS happening, that was shady. You all saw that right? You realize that's not NORMAL, right? That that's fucked up? Not cool?" To "oh god, oh God, OH GOD! I'm in HELL! This is actually HELL! I'm trapped in HELL!!! WHAT THE FUC-"
Like? This kid LOVES space. LOVES the stars. And this is one of the few Superhero Cannon that SPECIFICALLY MENTIONS that IN CANNON? Thanks to Quirks? As in Superpowers? That VERY THING got fuckin SCRAPPED. Gutted. Consigned to be a relic of the past so they could all focus on punching each other Real Good.
He would weep BLOOD. Chew the WALLS. The LEVEL of unhinged this child would unleash? Not as Danny Phantom... but as DANNY J. FENTON? Beautiful. Vaguely psychotic. Definitely doing the Fenton Name proud. God, the NOISE HE WOULD MAKE would be inhuman and yet somehow? Come entirely from his human half.
They👏 Would👏 Hear👏 BOSS👏 MUSIC����
I don't even know if he'd CARE about the main characters. They'd be tangential at best. The man would be in a one man war with I-Island over their lack of space program and hoarding of scientific progress. Probably living out of an abandoned building or forgotten subway station. Just? The MOST bedraggled, feral genius to ever haunt Japan.
As opposed to the REFINED feral genius. Who is Nedzu.
I bet Danny stands outside his school at one AM waving his scientific papers at a camera and YELLS. Like a deranged lunatic. Mismatched slippers and a "haven't slept in a week" crazed glint in his eyes.
He's Nedzu's new best friend. They GET each other.
And, yes, Nedzu COULD let him in... but it's faster to just let him yell and read the papers through the camera. Who CARES if they both seem insane! Let's shout about advanced physics and engineering at 1 am! Over the speakers!!! Oh? You need to physically SHOW me the notes? Well I COULD unlock the gates... OR just wait for you to finish scrambling up the walls like a feral Racoon, to then throw yourself OVER them.
Either, Or.
I'm just SAYING! We are SLEEPING on this! There is so, SO much fun to be had! Danny breaks rules and minds! His outrage over injustice and the complete lack of SPACE! His protection instincts going BUCK FUCKIN WILD. The INDESCRIBABLE hate boner he would have for Mr. "Lemme just rip parts of your soul out so I can collect your powers like pokemon cards" AfO.
There? Is SO MUCH, guys. SO MUCH!
@hdgnj @the-witchhunter @babbling-babull @hypewinter @nerdpoe @lolottes @dcxdpdabbles @mutable-manifestation
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heavysighing-dreamyeyes · 7 months ago
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Jealousy
Three times Jason gets jealous during dates and one time you do (Pre-established relationship) ~1.6k words
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You're perfect. Funny. Smart. Gorgeous. Jason's life has never been better since he's asked you to be his partner. (Okay, hush, you asked him, but he was getting there, he swears, he had this twelve step plan and everything. Tim was going to jump off a ledge while throwing rose petals. Rose petals!)
He can't find a single problem with how your relationship is going. Well, expect, how everyone else seems to want your attention you too.
The little Café you wanted to try is nice, really. The guy behind the counter that's been staring at you since you both got here? Not so nice. It's annoying, how the guys gaze seems to linger on your legs, your smile, the way you brush your hair back. It's a struggle to focus on your words– but not a struggle to watch the way your lips move when you talk.
The worker takes a step out from behind the counter.
Oh hell no.
Jason's on his feet and pulling out the chair next to you in an instant, between one word your pretty voice is saying and the next, he's sitting by your side with an arm draped around your shoulder.
He loses his train of thought when you smile, pleased, and raise an eyebrow.
"What's this for, Jason?"
"Wanted to hear you better." He says, or he thinks he says that. He's too busy watching the creep slink back behind the counter, satisfaction growing in his chest.
You laugh. (He thinks angels might descend from the sky when you do.) And go back to telling your story. It's much easier to listen this time. That's what he tells himself, at least until your thigh presses against his.
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Gotham Zoo is actually really nice for, you know, Gotham. Bruce poured money into it before, but ever since Damian found out about it, he's practically ensured the place will run ethically and comfortably for the next 100 years. Which Jason thought was cool, but it's even cooler that he gets to watch his partner coo over the new petting zoo.
"Aw, Jason, look at the lambs! They're so soft. I wanna take one home." You sound giddy, eyes bright and smile wide. He can't quite pull his focus away from you to see which creature you're referring to.
"They're pretty cute." He responds instead. Not cuter than you, though.
"Could you imagine one for the apartment? They'd sleep in bed with us. It would be like cuddling a cloud." You say idly, fingers stoking the top of the animals head.
That makes him pause. How'd he cuddle you if there's some barn animal in the middle of the bed? There's no way he could get close enough to you if some pet you found cute was cuddled between you. He clears his throat. "Well, ah, I don't know how the landlord feels about lambs but you can always cuddle me? I'm– I could be soft?" Wow, okay. Not what he wanted to say. He cringes a little.
But you stand up, smiling brighter and gaze focused on him. That settles the feeling in the pit of his stomach. You curl your fingers with his and take his hand, pulling it to your face to kiss his knuckles. "You're my favorite thing to cuddle, you know."
Oh. "Huh. I mean, good." He stumbles out. No, his ears are definitely not feeling warm. And no, his heart isn't beating faster as he follows you towards the next enclosure. "I could wear wool, though? If you wanted?"
That makes you laugh. Eyes trailing to him with such fondness he nearly sinks to his knees. Until he sees the playfulness etched in your face. "I saw you petting those rabbits early. I could wear bunny ears? If you wanted?"
He chokes on air. You might be trying to kill him. His whole face feels as heated as his ears. "Wow. I– if you wanted?"
You giggle, pulling away to observe the next lucky animal that you see.
"Hey. Wait–" He says your name, voice a little pitched. "Did you want–?" You only wink at him. That shuts him. And if he spends the rest of the date a little distracted, well, you seem proud that you managed to make him so flustered.
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Your coworker has been talking to you for thirteen minutes and fourty-seven seconds. Jason knows this because he's been watching the clock since he got here. It happens more often than not, him walking you home from work. He shows up fifteen minutes early because he knows you'll slip out given the chance. Something about not taking up too much of his time. Don't you know you're the only one he wants to spend his time with?
Jason crosses his arms, eyes narrowing at your coworker. Three inches. That's the amount of space your coworker has moved closer to you since he's gotten here. Not respectable at all. Doesn't he know you're with Jason? Maybe he should have stopped into that jewelry store he was eyeing earlier. And called Tim to put in an order for rose petals.
Your coworker shifts another inch towards you. And that's it. Your shift has thirty-five seconds left and that's exactly the amount of time it takes for him to be by your side. His arm slips around your waist comfortably, like it belongs there, because it does. He kisses your cheek and lets his gaze settle on your coworker. And if his face is a little more threatening than usual, he definitely isn't trying to intimidate your coworker. (Yes, he is.)
"Ready to go home, sweetheart?" He drawls, body relaxed like he isn't torn between showing your coworker exactly who you're dating and pushing down the jumble of emotion in his throat. "I was thinking take out for dinner?"
You relax into his side. Oh. You relaxed into his side and you're smiling at him. It evens out the pounding in his heart he didn't even realize was happening. The tension threatening to take over his shoulders disappears like it never existed.
"Yeah, Jason, I'm ready. I missed you. Just let me clock out." You pull away– 'no' he starts to think– and then you take his hand, pulling him along with you.
"I missed you too." He answers, and you don't quite see the smug grin he sends over his shoulder to your coworker.
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Jason's perfect. Funny. Smart. Gorgeous. Willing to try new things. A total package. That's something you know about your boyfriend. So when he agreed to go dancing with you at Gothams newest club, you were excited. A whole night spent enjoying time with your boyfriend. And you both get to dress up a little. You feel hot, and he definitely looks hot. You didn't think that'd be an issue. But, it is. Because you can see your boyfriend getting held up by two of the prettiest girls you've ever seen.
He's holding two drinks, one for himself and one he went to get for you. It soothes the tightness in your throat that he does not look thrilled to be talking to them. The softness he has when he's with you gone, replaced with poorly masked annoyance.
Any comfort you were feeling from the look on his face disappears when one of the girls puts her hand on his arm, giggling like he's said the funniest thing in the world. Absolutely not. You're walking over to them before Jason even has time to shrug her hand from his arm.
"Hey, honey." You say, voice sweet and sugary as you take one of the drinks from his hand, hooking your arm through his and tucking yourself against him. "Everything okay?"
It makes your heart flutter everytime, the way his entire face seems to change when he looks at you. "Hey, baby. Yeah. Everything's okay. Didn't mean to take so long. Were you worried?" He asks, leaning down to press a kiss to your hair.
The girls seem to deflate at how his complete attention is on you, how he instinctively shifts until you're pressed flushed against his side, two pieces of a whole. You have to force back the pride that threatens to glint in your eyes. "Not worried. I just was getting bored without you."
Neither of you really look over at the girls when they murmur something about catching up with their friends, but Jason manages a polite nod. Once they're gone, his grin widens, eyes teasing. "You were jealous. You called me honey."
You gasp in mock offense, yes, honey isn't the first term of endearment you jump to, but it's a perfectly valid word for him. "Jealous? Jealous that my tall, dark, sweet, and handsome boyfriend was getting hit on?"
He laughs, you think you might have swooned in a different time. "C'mon, pretty. Give me this. I saw you watching."
You can't help but smile at him and wonder, vaugley, if he knows you'd give him anything he asked of you. "Yeah, yeah. I was a little jealous. But, don't think I don't notice when you get jealous. Now, come dance with me. I like this song."
Now it's his turn to gasp, faux denial on his face. "I have never, not once in my life, been jealous."
You roll your eyes, playful and light as you pull him along to the dance floor. "Alright, lover boy. Because you're definitely not the reason my coworker wouldn't talk to me for a week."
He looks pleased at that. "He didn't?"
You raise yourself on your toes, kissing his cheek and leaving a smudge of lipstick. Neither of you move to wipe it off. "Mm. No. He didn't."
"Nice." He mumbles, unhooking your arms so he can hold your waist as you reach the dance floor. "I do get jealous too, though, sometimes."
Laughing, you find the beat of the music together and your world centers on him, just how his centers on you. "I know."
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fairsweetlonging · 2 months ago
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pixie!shen yuan au where he transmigrates into a cute little forest pixie, with pretty gossamer wings that sparkle like stars, a voice that tinkles like tiny silver bells, and long dark hair that he braids while wearing flowers as sunhats!!
he lives in a hollow tree on cang qiong, enjoying the rivers and groves and rocky cliff faces. his little house is filled with all kinds of trinkets, a lot of which he's stolen found from the sect, like buttons and beads and scraps of silk, needles as swords and fancy tea leaves from pots left out by kitchen windows. he quite likes his little life, the only downside is that he can't really read books this way, because even though he sneaks into the libraries at night and his wings are a source of light, most books are way too heavy and he's worried his (faint but present) spiritual energy will be detected.
he watches the disciples train on different peaks, soaking in all the new lore and details that airplane put way too little time and energy into. he's there before the plot, so binghe hasn't arrived yet and he can take his sweet time making a plan to ensure binghe won't destroy the mountain.
one day, though, the rare time he ventures out into qing jing peak, he gets distracted by an open window to the bamboo house. he knows it's stupid, but this might be the only chance he has to take a look inside the villain's lair, it's something he needs to know if he wants to help binghe in the future, and so he goes inside and takes a look around—
and promply gets trapped inside a mason jar.
oops.
shen qingqiu's face looks at him from the other side of the glass, still menacingly beautiful even with the slight distortion. worst-case scenarios flash through his head; crushed into pixie jam, experimentation, harvested for parts, stalled out like a fancy ornament on the shelf... but it's none of that.
"sneaking around my peak, entering my home, naughty little thing," shen qingqiu huffs, "were you not taught manners?"
he leaves the jar on the desk for a bit, chiding shen yuan but then—opens the jar? and lets him out? he tells shen yuan not to sneak into his house anymore and then just... continues with his paperwork. shen qingqiu's cruelty is limited to humans, it seems, and not animals or tiny fairies.
so of course shen yuan comes back.
he doesn't want to push it and risk shen qingqiu crushing him like a fly, but he enjoys hanging around the house and watching the qing jing disciples train and play music. ning yingying is already there, so it can't be much longer before binghe arrives. shen qingqiu is surprisingly kind to her compared to the other disciples, who he regularly drives to tears. the man notices him and tries to shoo him off, but ofc it doesn't work. after some time shen qingqiu keeps casually looking around to find him and shen yuan is proud to be getting on the man's nerves.
at some point liu qingge comes by, stomping hard enough to make the leaves shen yuan uses as a hammock shake. since it's the bai zhan war god shen yuan is excited to see him (liu qingge is often on missions, and shen yuan avoids bai zhan out of a healthy precaution of aggressive teens with swords), so he comes closer. the two peak lords hold the stupidest argument known to man that shen yuan only half listens to, fascinated by the sword liu qingge carries. but then liu qingge suddenly jerks his arm and shen yuan spooks, shooting up.
liu qingge sees something flying at his face and reacts like anyone would—he swats at it. hard.
when shen yuan hits the ground he can feel his wings get crushed under him; for a few seconds he's terrified liu qingge will stomp on him and scrambles to get away, only to get grabbed and scooped up into the air. he wildly kicks his legs and hits his tiny little fists on the hands that hold him, little voice jingling like crazy, but then shen qingqiu raises his voice and snarls at liu qingge.
"you idiot! watch where you wave those big paws of yours, brute! look what you did, you could have killed him!!"
then shen qingqiu turns around and goes into his bamboo house, kicking the door shut. he takes shen yuan to his bedroom, putting him on a soft handkerchief as he looks over his little wings and mutters vicious things to himself about "slaughter-happy idiots". shen yuan is too stunned to respond and just sits there as the scum villain fusses over him. his wings aren't really hurt, just a little squished, it's fine! shen qingqiu then lectures him for being reckless and coming so close to a brute like liu qingge.
after that they sort of become... friendly? shen yuan sets out to be the most mischievous little pixie he can be, but somehow it only works in his favor; he steals little things from shen qingqiu's home (not that he can carry much more than a button or brush), flutters in circles around the man's head, dips his little boots in ink and then walks on paperwork, etc. but shen qingqiu doesn't seem bothered by any of it. if anything, he leaves trinkets for shen yuan to take, offers his hand as a perch to sit on, and makes a tiny brush for shen yuan to use instead.
shen qingqiu gains a little friend and life gets a little calmer on qing jing peak. when binghe comes, shen yuan manages to distract shen qingqiu enough that the tea dumping never happens, and binghe is shooed off after the ceremony. binghe still isn't treated right and still has to sleep in the woodshed, but shen yuan secretly helps him and acts like a little night light in the dark, so binghe gets quite attached.
meanwhile liu qingge is regretful of having slammed a pixie out of midair and must prove his honor, thus begins the habit of dropping off gifts at shen qingqiu's doorstep (also because his sister freaked out a little, apparently hurting fairies is bad luck and he might have cursed himself for eternity? anyway).
this display causes yue qingyuan to show up too with the biggest wettest puppy eyes because he heard xiao jiu has a new friend who now lives in his house? shen qingqiu kicks them all out.
this has already gone on so long so the last thing i want to add is shen yuan eventually manages to cultivate a human form, and with a little effort he can even keep his wings! and of course this makes it worse, because that sweet little pixie is now a beautiful man who wife beams everyone in a three mile radius and doesn't even notice it.
shen qingqiu and luo binghe unexpectedly bond over beating suitors away.
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