#for a while i was like maybe i just keep going on at the wrong time

[hoshifighting]

Hello,

So I was wondering, would you be able to write something about cock-warming with Seventeen? If not OT13, then maybe just Hoshi?

This is my first time making a request and I absolutely love your writing! I look forward to seeing your new posts every time I open the app!

Thank you 😊

cock warming with seventeen

seungcheol: he’s gritting his teeth, telling you to “sit still” ina scolding tone. man is holding on for dear life, hands on your hips, fully committed to the whole “stay still” command even though he’s just as worked up. he gives you this look that says “one wrong move and it’s over”—yet he’s lowkey loving how hard it is to keep himself together. eventually, you shift just a little and he’s like, “oh, you think you’re funny, huh?” ready to wreck you right then and there.

jeonghan: he’s the absolute worst tease about it. why would you choose HIM to do that? he got that little smirk, acting all unbothered, whispering about how needy you look just sitting there on him. he’ll brush his fingers over your hips, trailing them up your spine just to mess with you. every time you try to move, he’s like, “uh-uh, baby, stay still.” you know he’s having fun watching you squirm, and he’s definitely making it as drawn-out as possible.

joshua: gives you sweet little smiles while low-key dying inside. he’s got that hand on the small of your back, running his fingers there just to keep you close. he’ll whisper all these sweet nothings, telling you how “perfect” you are, and every time you clench or move a little, he shudders, just waiting for the second he can actually move.

junhui: oh, he’s got no patience. he’s sitting there, already hard as hell, and you’re making it worse with every tiny shift. he laughs it off, biting his lip, telling you you’re “gonna regret testing him.” jun’s the type to nudge your hips a little, just to get a reaction, muttering stuff like, “if you keep doing that, don’t blame me for what happens.” he’s a mess and doesn’t even last.

hoshi: he’s like, “why did we even think this was a good idea?” wiggling around, not even pretending to keep still. every little movement makes him lose it just a bit more, and he’s already breathing heavy, wet as fuck. you both know he’s absolutely hopeless at staying still, but the boy’s trying, just loving the fact that you’re driving him up the wall.

wonwoo: he’s calm on the outside, hands steady on your hips, acting like it’s all fine and dandy, but you can feel that bro is almost melting in that game chair. every time you move, he’s biting the inside of his cheek, giving you these intense, dark-eyed looks like, “don’t test me.” he’ll stay like that as long as he can, but little to go snapping.

woozi: this man is a brick wall, hands locked around your waist, practically daring you to move. he’s got a total death grip on his self-control but gives himself away every time he swallows hard or clenches his jaw. determined to make you stay still until he’s ready.

minghao: so de-stressed, it’s unreal. he’s got his hands tracing gentle circles on your back, just enjoying the closeness but totally into it. every time you shift, he just hums, getting more and more fired up. you can tell he’s feeling it, breathing deeper, pressing you closer, but he’ll still try to play it off. he’s in no rush but is totally giving in soon.

mingyu: man’s a mess, plain and simple. he’s holding onto your hips with his nails almsot, wide-eyed and flustered as hell. he tries to be the big and strong boyy he is, but every little move makes him gulp, giving you these desperate, needy looks. probably ends up blurting, about how much he needs to fuck you.

seokmin: so flustered, you’d think it’s his first time. he’s trying to stay calm, keeping his hands on your hips to keep you in place, but he can’t help it; every time you shift, he’s turning red, letting out little gasps, unable to keep himself from reacting. he’s all, “oh my god, please, just—stay still!”

seungkwan: so worked up, it’s ridiculous. he’s like, “this was the worst idea ever babe!” but his hands are glued to you, like he couldn’t move even if he wanted to. he’s torn between panic and total enjoyment, all red-faced and muttering how he’s “seriously trying here.” you can tell he’s struggling, giving you little pleading looks.

vernon: silent but done for. he’ll just sit there, eyes wide, hardly breathing as he holds onto you, doing his best to stay in control but you can see the struggle. every little movement you make has him gripping your hips harder, like he’s hanging on by a thread. probably mutters, “you’re evil,” under his breath, fully aware he’s about to cum like this.

chan: incredibly sweet, probably nervous but also very into it. he’ll laugh softly, maybe trying to make small talk just to keep both of you calm, but the longer you stay like that, the more it drives him crazy. he’ll whisper, asking if you’re okay, gently reminding you to stay still but clearly enjoying when you clench or ride him a bit, especially when you both start to give in a little. BUUUUUT—he waits for you to break first.

[bitchlessdino]

mind your business (m)

Pairing: Frenemy!fem!reader x minder reader!chan

Genre: supernatural comedy, smut

Word count: 12.4k

tags: mean!reader, mean!chan, mentions needing to puke or die (both overdramtic af), implied consent (mind reading about desire and wants without audible consent), names (good girl or dirty girl), claustrophilia, stocking ripping, fingering, cunniligus, rough sex, brief spanking, unprotected sex.

Summary: If Chan had to read anyone’s mind, it had to be yours—the one person who seemed to loathe him with every ounce of your being. But before Halloween day, when that wish is suddenly granted, he begins to realize he’s opened a can of worms far bigger than he ever imagined—one that can’t be sealed shut again.

author note: hello, this bitch late but at least she's here thank you for @diamonddaze01 and @haologram for betareading for me i love yall and eveyone else enjoy!

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @kyeomiis @wonwooz1-blog @horanghaezone @stagefrjghts @pantumin @aaniag @mochisdayone @gyuguys

“I don’t know what to be for Halloween.”

“Well, right now what you’re wearing is pretty scary.”

Lee Chan had never met anyone he couldn’t knock down a peg—not that he ever had to try. Everyone adored him, from classmates to coworkers, even Seungkwan, who followed his playful jabs with free lunches instead of a comeback. He was easygoing, always getting along with everyone. That is until you infiltrated his friend group. You weren’t like the others, and for the first time, Chan wasn’t sure if his effortless charm would be enough to dissolve your natural snark.

Chan shot you an unamused smile, his eyes narrowing as you answered his question. The two costumes he held drooped at his sides, a patient frustration written all over his features. “What are you even doing here if you won’t help me?”

You lifted your half-filled glass, the chill of the drink seeping through your fingers. “The free drinks, of course.”

“Of course,” he echoed dryly, his tone laced with sarcasm. “Well, maybe leave the opinions to those who actually care, like Soonyoung here?”

Soonyoung beamed up at Chan, his excitement bubbling over as he playfully tugged at his friend’s hand like an overly enthusiastic toddler. “Aww, always here for you, buddy!”

You couldn’t resist a jab. “Well, if you did something interesting for once in your life, maybe I wouldn’t have to entertain myself.”

Chan groaned, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Never mind. I’m just going to pick something else. Make yourself useful and try to stay quiet, okay?”

You scoffed, getting up from the sofa seat. “Whatever. I’m gonna find something to eat.”

Chan tried his best to stay positive around you, but it was difficult when every social encounter turned into a game of mental chess. But instead of being an actual opponent, you acted like the master, playing with his temperament as if he were merely a pawn. It was exhausting—trying to keep things cordial while knowing you were always pushing his buttons, testing tolerance, and working against him as if your sarcastic replies and eyerolls carried a vindictive purpose.

Chan collapsed onto his bed the moment you left the room, feeling completely defeated. Now, it was just him and Soonyoung left to figure out what he should wear for Halloween, mere days away from now.

“Why is she always like that?” he muttered, focused on the wrong thing,

Soonyoung shrugged, scooting beside you with his legs crossed on the bed. “I’m sure she means well; she just has…her own way of showing it.”

Chan sat up, looking at him in disbelief. “She’s hated me since the moment we met at the New Year’s party, and I still don’t get why.”

“That’s not true.” Soonyoung reassured, gently patting his friend on the head. “Maybe your personalities just clash a bit. She gets along with everyone else in the building.”

“Yeah, but why?” Chan sighed. “What did I even do?”

Soonyoung gave him a reassuring pat. “Chan, it’s not your fault. I’m sure she’ll come around eventually.”

The more people like Soonyoung, or Seokmin, or Jeonghan reassured him that you’d come around, the less Chan believed it. It seemed like there would be nothing that could change your mind about him. Yet he couldn’t just accept that you disliked him for no reason. There had to be something behind the mean exterior, the jabs directed at either his character or even looks. Like he’s some kind of pushover. He would spend entire days wracking his brain, trying to understand why, and nothing would make sense. 

What made it worse was how much it bothered him—maybe because you saw each other almost daily, living in the same neighborhood. You’d grown close to everyone else like you were a permanent fixture here, but when it came to him, it felt like you went out of your way to get under his skin. Your cold glances, your sharp remarks, all seemed to gnaw at him, twisting him up inside like a steel knife in an already gashing wound (okay, maybe he was being dramatic). He just couldn’t stand it.

If he could, he’d look right into your mind, figure out what you were thinking, make sense of your actions, and—just maybe—finally understand why you behave the way you do.

But he didn’t have time to dwell on it; there was a Halloween party to plan. Every year, the local gaming café downstairs—where he’d ironically ended up working at—hosted a Halloween bash with exclusive promotions. And every year, it was followed by a more exclusive all-out rager at his apartment, which he shared with a bunch of his friends above the cafe. It was something nearly everyone on the block looked forward to each year, and this time, Chan was in charge of the activities. The activities coordinator, Seungcheol had proclaimed.

That’s why Chan has been asking for all kinds of opinions lately, even yours. Being the natural people-pleaser he is, he felt as if he’d been running around everywhere to get everyone’s stamp of approval. He would go up and down, left and right, and even hold surveys at the cash register for strangers' opinions. He had a habit of making things perfect, and he wasn’t going to let your cynicism ruin it for him.

“Come on, help me figure out what to wear, bro. My night depends on it.”

Soonyoung had been helpful—thank goodness for that—and now that was one less problem to worry about, Chan felt a bit of relief. If he could just get through his shift at the cafe without losing his mind and manage to sneak in some few minutes of party planning, he would have a good day.

“You figure out what costume makes you look less of a loser, yet? Trick question, it really doesn’t matter what you pick. You’ll still look like a loser.”

Chan tilted his head, unfazed by your rude comments as he poured his tenth cup of ramen for the night—three of them for the same customer. “Why do you care? Don’t you have some puppies to kick?”

Your smile remained unfaltering, conniving as ever. “I cleared my schedule to help Seokmin and Soonyoung rank up. Wonwoo is playing with them this round. Just here to grab some Kickstart.”

“Ah, so another puppy is safe for a day from the wicked Witch of the West. Congratulations on your fleeting moment of decency.” He turned, striding over to the customers waiting for their ramen, while you annoyingly trailed closely behind. You grabbed your favorite blackberry Kickstart from the fridge, the bright can a stark contrast to the dim lighting of the café, and tossed a couple of crumpled bills in the direction of the cash register as if you’d done it before.

“You’re helping plan the Halloween party, right? Seungcheol mentioned it when I asked what I should bring,” you said, your tone almost too casual, as if you were friends.

Chan scoffed, carefully setting the steaming bowls of ramen down in front of the waiting customers before heading back to his station. “You, being courteous? That’s new. What do you want?”

With a sly smile, you leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “I just wanted to let you know that if you really want to make the party fun, you can ask me. My ideas will probably be better than whatever you come up with.” The confidence in your voice made it clear you expected him to take you seriously, but how could he when every little word you managed to muster was belittling?

Chan grit his teeth, frustration simmering just beneath the surface. He unscrewed the cap of a water bottle from the fridge and downed it in one swift gulp, the cool liquid barely offering any relief from his irritation. As he crushed the empty bottle in his hands, he aimed for the trash can but missed, the bottle clattering to the floor with a dull thud. Sounding exasperated, he bent down to pick it up, tossing it into the can with a bit more force than necessary.

Straightening up, he shot you a sharp glare. “I can handle it myself, thanks,” he muttered, his voice tight with annoyance.

“Really? Because I’m offering my help here,” you replied, your tone dripping with an offensive amount of condescending sincerity. “I’m being generous with my time and giving you the chance to create something…well, palatable from this party.” You exaggeratedly pretended to choose your words carefully, a teasing smile playing on your lips, poking at his alleged incompetence.

“You want to help?” Chan challenged, his tone cutting. “How about just enjoying the party instead of making it all about yourself? Some of us actually have work to do.”

He fixed you with a glare that held the slightest hint of malice before finally turning away and returning to his tasks.

“Defensive much?” you shot back, a glimpse of interest on your face as you raised an eyebrow.

“No,” he replied, his voice firm. “Just self-respecting.”

“Fine,” you said, turning back to your friends as you walked away. “Just don’t come begging for my help when your party goes to shit.”

Chan found himself screaming into his pillows that night, the fabric muffling his frustrated cries as he banged his head against them in sheer exasperation.

“What the heck is her deal?” he murmured to himself, his voice muffled and thick with irritation. He buried his face deeper into the pillows, desperate to escape the relentless thoughts fogging in his mind. The familiar scent of cotton and fabric softener offered very little comfort as he replayed the interaction over and over, making him as puzzled as ever.

He hadn’t experienced bullying like this since high school, a time when everyone was preoccupied with either being popular or getting into the best colleges. He was neither; instead, he was a secret third option: just trying to survive.

“Always making fun of me. Always belittling me. Always making me feel like crap.” He pulled the covers over his eyes, seeking refuge from his loud thoughts. “Why can’t she just tell me what I did to make her hate me? I’m not a mind reader.”

Unable to sleep, Chan gazed up at the night sky through his bedroom window, seeing it enveloped in the vast pitch-blackness pressing down like a weight. He took a steadying breath, hoping to clear his mind. Not a single star graced him with its presence—only the lone moon, barely there but still noticeable—how relatable—hanging in the sky like a quiet witness to his restless thoughts.

“I’m going insane here, so if there’s a god out there, could he—or she—make my life easier for the next few days? Just a little?” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not asking for superpowers like telepathy or anything. Just…let me pull off a party that everyone actually enjoys. Even her. Maybe then she won’t be so…her all the time.”

It was wishful thinking, but worth a shot, and if Chan was known for anything, it was taking chances—no matter how slim the odds.

Chan was somehow able to sleep that night finally, hair straying all over his face, until he sat up at the realization of a lack of a blaring alarm, “Oh, shit.”

His phone battery had died, and his charger defective and rendered useless. He scrambled to Seungcheol’s room next door, avoiding the obstacles of his shirts strewn across the floor, and plugged the bead phone to his housemate’s charger, impatiently tapping until the phone lit up to greet him.

9:48. Just about 18 minutes before his morning shift starts and almost no time to get ready. “Shit, shit.”

‘What’s that noise?’

Chan glanced over at Seungcheol, who was sprawled out across his bed, a half-conscious casualty of the previous night’s escapades. It seemed he’d had company, judging by the tangled mess of clothes scattered on the floor, and apparently, they'd had more than just a “decent” time.

“Sorry, Cheol. Gotta borrow your charger. I’ll bring it back later.”

Seungcheol’s response was a muffled groan, his arm barely twitching in acknowledgment. Within the incoherent noise, Chan could just make out the unspoken message: ‘Just go away.’

“Got it, see you at work, buddy,” Chan muttered, plugging in his phone with a quick tap to check the time before heading for the door.

Another groan drifted from the bed, thick with irritation. ‘So loud.’

Chan got himself ready in a hurry, forgoing a shower and compensating with an extra-long brush of his teeth and a thick layer of deodorant. Fresh breath and a quick spritz of cologne would have to do for today. The cafe would be filled with people who wouldn’t care anyway.

He rushed downstairs to clock in, throwing on an apron over his lackluster clothes and prepping the makeshift kitchen in the back.

‘Ugh, my back is killing me.’

Chan turned at the faint sound of a familiar voice, spotting Minghao slouched in one of the worn chairs in the employees-only room, head leaned back, eyes half-closed in what looked like exhaustion.

“Hey, Hao. You okay?”

Minghao glanced up, his face breaking into a grin that seemed a bit forced, but reassuring nonetheless. “Morning, Chan. Yeah, I’m good. What’s up?”

“Just checking in—I thought I heard you say something about your back?”

Minghao’s grin faded into a puzzled expression, brow furrowing as if he were rewinding through his own memory. “Hmm? I didn’t say anything. But… Now that you mention it, my back has been sore lately. All the competitions piling up, you know? Guess martial arts are starting to weigh down on this old, elderly body of mine.” He chuckled at his own self-deprecating joke.

Chan gave a sympathetic nod. “Well, if you need a break, just take one, alright? I’m sure Seungcheol or Jeonghan wouldn’t mind.”

Minghao’s smile softened. “Thanks, little buddy. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Chan smiled back. “Anytime.”

As Chan turned to leave, he heard a voice, faint but unmistakable, despite the owner of the voice being in the same room: ‘Chan’s a good kid.’ 

He paused mid-step, his eyes widening as he processed the thought, lingering in the air like a distant echo. He looked back at Minghao, eyebrows knit in confusion. “Did…did you just say something?”

Minghao chuckled, giving him a casual wave as if everything were normal. “No? I’ll be out in a sec. How about you go warm up the coffee pot for me, hmm?”

“Got it…” Chan said, hesitating as he walked out, still glancing over his shoulder, his mind racing with questions. Had he really heard that voice? Or was exhaustion playing tricks on him? 

He flipped the cash register on, the familiar hum filling the quiet of the early morning. Chan meticulously counted the bills, making sure he had the right amount of change and neatly stacked cash, each dollar lined up perfectly. Once satisfied, he moved to the glass door, flicking the open sign to life with a soft click. The neon light flickered, casting a bright and loud, welcoming invitation to anyone passing by. Chan took a deep breath, feeling the calm before the inevitable rush.

‘I hope they have the good ramen and not that crappy store brand shit. You can totally tell the difference.’

The voice drifted into Chan’s mind, oddly clear and distinct as if someone were speaking right beside him—except no one was there. The words had a casual, almost lazy tone, echoing in his head like the distant buzz of a radio left on in another room. His gaze darted around the empty shop, his pulse quickening as he scanned the quiet space, lit only by the harsh glow of the neon open sign.

He shook his head, trying to dismiss it, but the words still lingered, as if they were waiting for him to acknowledge them. This voice, like Minghao’s earlier, felt close yet completely detached, belonging to someone…elsewhere.

The chimes on the door jingled, pulling Chan from his thoughts as he glanced up to see a familiar figure. Finally, he could match the voice he’d been hearing to a face.

“Hey, Chan. The usual, please,” Beomgyu greeted, his tone dry, with the same dark circles under his eyes from late-night gaming marathons.

‘Is it me, or does he look shittier than usual?’ The words echoed in Chan’s mind, clear as if spoken aloud, though Beomgyu’s lips never moved. Chan froze, the unexpected comment hitting him square in the chest—both offending and unnerving him.

“Excuse me?” Chan retorted, defensively narrowing his eyes.

Beomgyu blinked, looking slightly taken aback. “Uh… the usual? Kimchi ramen with cheese and a Cherry slush?”

‘Man, hasn’t he worked here for, like, a year? Doesn’t he have this down by now?’

“What? Of course, I do!” Chan shot back, his voice sharp with irritation.

Beomgyu raised an eyebrow, now clearly baffled. “Dude, what are you talking about? Just give me my stuff.”

Chan swallowed, feeling a strange tension creeping over him. He forced himself to look down, suddenly unsure whether he was hearing Beomgyu–or actually going insane.

“Right. Sorry. It'll be out in a second,” Chan mumbled, suddenly sheepish as he accepted the cash, his usual confidence thrown off-kilter.

Beomgyu gave him a lingering, puzzled look before shrugging it off and drifting over to his usual seat in the corner. As he walked away, Chan felt an odd prickling sensation in the back of his mind—the familiar voice filtering through, more unsettling this time.

‘Has he gone psycho or something?’

Chan’s heart skipped, his eyes widening slightly as he processed the words that had somehow entered his mind, clear as day, despite Beomgyu’s silent, closed lips. His fingers clenched the counter as he steadied himself, wondering if he was finally cracking under the stress or if something far stranger was at play.

‘Another day, another W!’

Another voice then grew louder, closer, and was growing more anxious, sweat beading down his forehead out of bewilderment. What in the fuck was happening?

Seokmin emerged from the doors, seeing Chan with a bright smile as he leaned up against the counter. “Hi Chan, a couple of sprites and two orders of rose spicy rice cakes please.”

‘I’ma burn through iron into silver today. I just know it!’

Chan’s hands hovered over the register, a sense of déjà vu creeping over him as he felt the words echo in his mind. His fingers shook slightly as he pressed the buttons. “Y-you trying to rank up in Overwatch again today?” he asked, his voice a little unsteady.

Seokmin laughed, nodding enthusiastically. “Yeah! Wonwoo and Jeonghan are coming by to play on their day off.”

‘Ooh, I should check if they have that series in stock again. I missed it last time.’

“What series were you looking for again?” Chan asked, trying to keep his tone casual as he glanced up from the register.

Seokmin blinked, a little startled, clearly wondering how Chan had guessed. “Oh yeah, I was gonna ask about it. What was it called again?” ‘Kindergarden wars–’

“Kindergarten Wars, right? The Kindergarten Cop of Manga? That one?” Chan asked, his voice coming out a bit too smooth for his own comfort.

Seokmin’s eyes widened in surprise, a laugh escaping him. “Whoa, I just barely remembered the title! You’re on a roll, buddy. But yeah, that’s the one! Do you have it in stock?”

“Yeah, we should have a few copies in. I’ll grab one for you when your order’s ready,” Chan replied, managing a grin, though stark comparison to the panic festering in his body.

"Aw, you’re the best, Chan. Thanks!” Seokmin flashed a wide grin as he swiped his card, practically bouncing toward his usual corner. He arranged a couple of chairs, setting up a cozy little space for his friends, buzzing around like a busy bee as he prepped the area, clearly itching to dive into his day.

Meanwhile, Chan’s nerves were going through it. He kept glancing at the entrance, anxiety creeping up his spine as he wondered if the next person through the door would, once again, broadcast their every thought straight into his head. Just thinking about it made him want to puke, the effects of the bizarre events not dissipating in the slightest.

The rest of Chan’s day became a relentless cascade of intrusive thoughts, each one amplifying the disquiet simmering inside him. Every new customer brought a fresh wave of private musings, some harmless, others startlingly personal, or worse yet, straight creepy. The sheer volume of it all began to blur together into an overwhelming hum.

‘Fuck not again.’

‘Hell yeah, a new skin!’

‘He’s so annoying I wish he would just die already.’

‘I swear, they said ‘one more game’ like an hour ago.’

‘They’re all trash. Worthless. I’m surrounded by idiots who can’t play for shit.’

‘They won’t last. She’ll cheat on him, or he’ll leave her. It’s inevitable.’

The familiar buzz of the cafe felt unusually oppressive, almost suffocating, as Chan struggled to tune out the voices around him. He found himself straining to differentiate between what was actually spoken and what slipped uninvited into his mind, the line between reality and thought as thin as it was maddening.

"Hey, Hao, I’m gonna take five."

Chan didn’t wait for a reply. He bolted out of the business and up the narrow staircase to his residence, his pulse hammering in his ears. The familiar murmur of echoing voices trailed him, each step feeling heavier than the last, the whispers chasing him even as he tried to leave them behind. It wasn't until he closed the door with a soft but resolute click that they faded, now hushed but still there. Haunting him.

“What the hell is happening to me?” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the echo of voices still faintly buzzing in his mind. His hands tightened in his hair, fingers digging in as if grounding himself might silence the flood.

He shut his eyes, breathing in uneven breaths as he clamped his hands over his ears and somehow soothing the thoughts determined to run rampant. But every time he let his guard down, snippets of thought would slip through—fragmented phrases, stray judgments, random anxieties—taking up headspace like ghosts he couldn’t shake. 

‘Why does he get everything? It should be me.’

‘The world would be better off without most of them, if not all.’

‘Where the hell is my ramen?’

‘I hope I didn’t get stood up. I sent her Uber money.’

Nothing about this made sense. It was impossible—just yesterday, his life had been normal, and now he was hearing voices that sounded exactly like his friends’ private thoughts, whether he wanted to or not. This wasn’t some supernatural CW drama, no Halloween special with a secret message all along for the protagonist. This was real life, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d swear he was somehow…reading minds.

The thought sparked a fresh jolt of panic, twisting his insides into knots. It was a fear he hadn’t known lurked within him, clawing its way to the surface and leaving his stomach churning. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to force it away, to dismiss it as some ridiculous, passing delusion. But the voices only grew louder, like an insistent, rising tide that wouldn’t let him brush this off as a mere joke or a temporary glitch in the simulation. No, they clung to him, refusing to fade—unyielding, pressing against his mind as if daring him to question his own sanity.

Then there was a knock. Soft at first, followed by the hesitant creak of the door easing open. Chan barely registered it, too consumed by the relentless flood of thoughts racing through his head, repeating to himself, “You’re not real, you’re not real…”

“Chan?”

His eyes flew open, finally taking in the figure silhouetted in the doorway—you. Your expression was a blend of concern and hesitation as you stepped cautiously into his room. A pang of surprise coursed through him, igniting a spark of defensiveness that flared to life within him, seeing you making the weight on his head worse. He forced himself to hold your gaze, feeling exposed under the weight of your possible scrutiny. “W-what do you want?” he stammered, the words escaping him in apprehension.

You raised an eyebrow, though your usual edge seemed softened. “Minghao asked me to come get you. He’s worried. Looks like he was right—finally lost your mind, or something?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he hissed, barely keeping his voice steady.

You raised an eyebrow. “Chan—”

“Save it.” He cut you off, his tone sharp, eyes narrowing as he took a half-step back, almost as if he expected you to throw something back his way. Just as you always have. “I’m not gonna take whatever crap you’re planning, so if that’s your game, just forget it.”

You blinked, caught off guard, a flash of irritation tightening your expression. “Wow,” you muttered, crossing your arms with a look that was half offense, half amusement. “Who the hell pissed in your cereal?”

“I’m not feeling well, alright? And you don’t make it any easier. If you think I’m going to keep letting you walk all over me, forget it. Go pick on someone else.”

“Wow, look at you finally picking up your backbone from the floor,” you taunted, slowly closing the distance between you. Your voice dripped with mockery as you studied him, taking in the tense lines of his posture and the way his jaw clenched in irritation. “If this is about the party, the offer still stands. I know what I said, but—”

“But nothing. I didn’t need your help then, and I don’t need it now. Just piss off.” His voice cut through the air, sharp and defensive, as if he was trying to shield himself from your probing.

“Ooh, look at you using big words,” you snickered tilting your head as you leaned in slightly, your eyes narrowing in challenge. “Is all the stress of pleasing everyone finally catching up to you? Or are you just realizing you’re not capable of doing something that requires responsibility?”

Chan stepped closer, piercing through you with a sharp glare as your smile broadened, infused with a stubborn determination that only irritated him further. No matter what he said, you remained resolute, and he could sense his resolve beginning to crack under the weight of your taunts, struggling to maintain his composure.

“Or,” he began, feeling the voice in his head finally recede as a surge of courage washed over him. “I have so much of my own shit going on. Ever thought about that? Now, why don't you turn around and mind your goddamn business before  I should teach you how to shut up while I’m at it.” The dominance in his tone surprised even him, and for the first time, he felt like he was finally in control of himself and his newfound ability.

You hesitated, caught off guard by the intensity in his eyes, the way it deepened the timbre of his voice, radiating uncontainable energy you’d never seen from Chan before. The confidence that once danced in your gaze faltered, giving way to a glint of surprise as you struggled to hold onto your composure. Your lips parted slightly, words caught in your throat as you processed his unexpected boldness—and the effect it was having on you.

‘Holy shit.’

Your voice echoed in his mind, sending a thrill through him as his lips stretched from ear to ear menacingly. Finally—finally—he was the one with the upper hand.

“What? Nothing to say now?” he challenged, relishing the moment.

‘Holy shit, he’s so hot when he’s mad.’

Confusion softened his features for a brief moment, and he couldn’t help but let out a, “What?”

“I…I didn’t say anything.”

‘Oh god, am I sweating? Can he smell me? Holy shit, he’s so close to me right now.’

Chan wasn’t sure what he was hearing right now. Especially whatever this was. His mind was already spinning from the obnoxiously loud and relentless voices echoing in his head from earlier—this was something else. The anxiety of your voice in his head, laced with something vulnerable he’s never seen in you before, threw him off-kilter. He felt heat creep into his cheeks as he processed the stray thoughts that weren’t his own, thoughts that broke through the background noise with an unexpected force.

He drew in a breath, barely steady, as he took in every flicker of your expression—the way your lips quivered as if on the edge of saying something, then closed again, and how your gaze dropped just briefly, as if to gather strength, before lifting to meet his, defiant but with a hint of uncertainty in your gaze. That simmering frustration from earlier dissolved, replaced by a charged curiosity that spread through him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, letting his words roll out slowly, teasingly, testing the waters of this sudden change in power.

You glanced up, eyes widening slightly as if caught off guard, your shoulders tensing as though bracing against an invisible force. He could practically feel the hurried, jumbled thoughts in your head racing, flickering across your face—hesitation, curiosity, that rare glint of resolve that never seemed to completely fade. It was almost…endearing.

The moment felt charged, like standing on the brink of something electrifying and forbidden. Chan found himself leaning into it, savoring the way his voice dropped, roughened, responding instinctively to this unguarded version of you.

“What?” he murmured, his smile laced with challenge. “Cat got your tongue?”

You drew in a slow breath, fingers clutching the doorframe behind you as if anchoring yourself, your gaze flickering from his face to his hands and then back again, as though the very air around you had thinned. 

"Just…” Your voice faltered, lingering in the air, yet you held his gaze, a reluctant tension in your eyes, as if resisting an urge falling deep down a pit you’ve already managed to avoid for so long.

“Just what?” he pressed, amusement saturating his tone, relishing in your timid silence.

You hesitated, pressing your lips together before looking away. “Just… get back to work,” you muttered, fingers clenching the door frame for a moment before finally releasing it as you turned to go.

‘That…was crazy.’

Chan watched you leave, barely holding back a grin as a strange, exhilarating sense of control lingered. For the first time, he felt like he had turned the tables. This bizarre predicament suddenly had its perks.

As the thought settled, another realization dawned: maybe these powers—or whatever they were—could be harnessed. And you, of all people, might just be the key. Finally, it seemed you had some use after all.

The rest of the day passed with surprising ease, a sense of control settling over Chan as he slowly came to terms with this new ability. Whatever this was, if it meant you kept your distance and stayed in check, now it was about time you tasted a bit of your own medicine.

Meanwhile, you kept to the far side of the room, throwing him occasional glances that were equal parts wary and curious, as if still processing the shift that had unfolded between you. The quiet in your demeanor was foreign—almost like a subtle retreat—but Chan could still hear every single thought racing through your mind, echoing around him, feeding his ego.

‘Fuck, why is he looking at me like that?’

The echo of your uncertainties only made Chan’s grin widen. Each new thought layered itself over the rest, but somehow, yours always came through with striking clarity, as if your mind was the loudest voice in the room. He wasn’t sure if he was honing in on it by instinct or if his newfound ability had a mind of its own, drawn to you by sheer force of will—or intrigue.

‘It’s like he’s seeing right through me…oh my god, can you see my underwear or something? I’m gonna kill myself.’

You visibly clenched your thighs, turning away from Chan to avoid his gaze but he was the only thing on his mind. You couldn’t even enjoy the game you were playing anymore. 

‘God, he looks really good…makes me wanna take him in the back and tie my hair up–shit, how long is gonna stare at me?’

As each thought drifted by, Chan skillfully sifted through the chaos, honing in on the captivating essence of your unguarded musings. A swell of pride blossomed within him as he recognized that this ability to read minds might not be a curse after all; it was a remarkable gift, one potent enough to give him control over someone as difficult as you

"Leaving so soon, dearest customer?” Chan drawled, leaning against the wall by the exit, his eyes tracking every movement as you gathered your things, your grip tightening around the strap of your backpack.

‘Was he…waiting for me?’

He scoffed, removing his name tag as he did at the end of every shift, a knowing glint in his eyes as he held your gaze, refusing to look away. “You just seem…distant. Thought I’d check in.”

‘He was thinking about me?’ The thought sparked something in you, and you cleared your throat, trying to regain your composure. “Maybe you should focus on yourself for once, and I don’t mean…” Your gaze flickered downward before snapping back up, warmth spreading up your neck.

‘Not that I’d be entirely against it,’ you thought with a quiet chuckle.

With a step forward, his confidence seemed to fill the space between you, his eyes sweeping over you with a boldness that made you catch your breath. He regarded you with a half-lidded gaze, as though he could see through you, a look that sent a prickle of goosebumps over your skin. “Only you would make my concern for you about my genitals,” he murmured, his voice dipping lower. “Think about them often, do you?”

You nearly stumbled, his words unraveling your composure as he turned your teasing back on you with a mastery that left you momentarily speechless. “You…”

“Was I on the money? It’s showing on your face.”

You shook your head lightly, brushing past him without a word, pretending the encounter hadn’t rattled you. But as you moved, he followed, a faint smirk lingering as he kept pace just behind you, relishing in the control he held. Chan tuned into the steady stream of thoughts he could almost feel buzzing around your mind—every second of fluster, every trace of hesitation.

With each step, he could sense your resolve slipping, see the barely concealed tension in your hurried stride as you exited the café, almost like you were running but with no clear destination in mind. And he kept watching, unhurried, savoring every moment as he let his presence linger just enough to keep himself quietly literally in the back of your mind, conflicted with the current predicament.

“Where are you going? You never did answer my question,” he called after you, his tone deceptively casual.

You scoffed, refusing to let your stride falter. “You’re being weird today.”

‘Need to stop myself from jumping him with the way he’s looking at me,’ your thoughts betrayed you, louder than you’d like.

He raised an eyebrow, matching your pace with ease. “Speak for yourself. It’s like you can’t help but avoid me. Almost like you’re hiding something.”

With a quick glance over your shoulder, you forced yourself to meet his eyes, though the effort was as shaky as it was bold. “Wow, nosy much? If I didn’t know better, Chan, I’d think you’re obsessed with me or something.” ‘If that’s the case, God smite me right now.’

“Sounds like you’re projecting.” Chan closed the gap between you, stepping so close only a half-arm’s length separated you. His eyes swept over you, catching the subtle quiver you tried to hide. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think your obsession is the reason you can barely look me in the eyes right now. Or maybe you’re undressing me with them. Is that it?”

‘Please, for Christ’s sake, I am two seconds away from tearing the clothes off your back and making you shut up with my mouth,’ the thought flashed hot and unfiltered, betraying you in every glance.

Chan’s grin widened, reveling in the crackling tension radiating from you. "Careful with where your eyes are going," he murmured, voice low and teasing. “You don’t know what I might have to do about it if you don’t.”

With that, he turned on his heel and strode off, leaving you rooted in place, your final unguarded thoughts echoing in his head as he went back home.

‘Maybe that's all I want to do now.’

In the days leading up to Halloween, you’d been keeping your distance, and Chan’s telepathic abilities showed no signs of fading. Every day, you kept to the same routine—avoiding his gaze, interacting with your shared friends, and hiding those unspeakably dirty thoughts behind a prissy, composed facade. At first, Chan found it amusing, this secret insight into your mind, but as the days wore on, he became more curious, more intrigued. How much of what you showed the world actually aligned with those hidden, guilty desires?

His gaze drifted to the costume hanging in his closet like an eyesore—a dinosaur suit that, though comical, would probably have him sweating profusely all night. Then there was Soonyoung’s “thirst trap” suggestion, an outfit that showed way more skin, something Chan had immediately rejected and returned but still left in the back of his mind. However, an idea began to take shape, a clever compromise that might just keep your attention exactly where he wanted it. For experimental reasons, of course.

You didn’t come into work that day, likely dodging him on purpose, which only left Chan to navigate the usual mundane thoughts of the café’s patrons—mostly comments about costumes or Halloween plans. Without your thoughts slipping into his mind, the day seemed flat, dull even.

“Hey, Chan.” ‘Hello body-ody-ody.’

Chan caught Jeonghan’s stare as he stood there in a rabbit costume, the moment stretching out just a beat too long. Chan’s confidence wavered just a bit, a warm flush creeping up his neck as he glanced down, lightly fiddling with the arms of his dinosaur onesie, which were tied loosely around his waist. He was half-bare beneath the café lights, with only a simple chain dangling around his neck, and suddenly the whole look felt a little bolder than he’d intended.

He let out a nervous chuckle, his voice softening as he managed, “Uh…am I doing too much?” He could feel his cheeks warm as he looked up again, almost as if he expected Jeonghan to burst out laughing any second. But instead, Jeonghan’s expression softened, a crooked smile forming, clearly more amused than anything.

“...Huh? Oh, sorry, I was looking at your body.”

Chan’s cheeks flushed as he instinctively crossed his arms over his chest. “Bro,” he muttered, clearly flustered.

“Chan, you’re fine. It’s Halloween, dressing like a slut is normal in this time of year.” Jeonghan clapped him on the shoulder.

“Jeonghan…”Chan murmured, half-scolding but feeling even more self-conscious under Jeonghan’s praise.

“In fact, I’m happy you’re finally putting yourself out here. I would think the eye candy I hired would sell himself off a little more,” Jeonghan chuckled to himself, thinking, ‘And man, did I nail that hire.’

Chan blinked, stunned. “You’re joking.”

‘I’m not,’ Jeonghan thought proudly, then said aloud, “I’m not.” Jeonghan’s devilish smile widened as he subtly nodded toward the crowd filling the café. Among the usual patrons were a few fresh faces, particularly a growing group of college-aged girls who seemed unable to keep their eyes off Chan.

Chan’s thoughts drifted back to that morning. He’d been in the stockroom, reorganizing supplies while Minghao ran the front, completely unaware of the number of glances that had slipped through the cracked door, trailing over him as he worked. Now, seeing the lingering stares, he realized his costume had sparked more than just Halloween spirit—it had created quite a stir, evening out it’s usually male dominated atmosphere.

Now he was starting to wonder if he’d been filtering out the roaming thoughts a little too well, considering what he’d missed:

‘What is that costume even…? Actually, I don’t even care. He’s so yummy…’

‘I’m literally drooling. Oh my god, he just looked at me—I’m shaking.’

‘Did guys this hot always work here? Guess I’ll have to come by more often now.’

‘I kind of want to get his number…maybe then he’d let me ride his—’

Chan's eyes widened as the wave of unabashed admiration washed over him. He hadn’t expected this much attention, and a shy grin crept onto his face. “I-I get it now. Um… wow.”

He threw a timid glance toward their corner, and the response was immediate: the girls erupted in muffled squeals, giggling and whispering as if sharing secrets too wild to be spoken aloud. Their eyes gleamed with a mix of awe and infatuation, lingering on him even as they leaned into each other, cheeks flushed, exchanging looks that made Chan feel both flattered and exposed.

“See? You’re a staple here, and you’re doing great,” Jeonghan said with a grin. “Rack up those tips, and when you clock out, fill me in on any last-minute details about the party tonight. Just in case I missed anything.”

“Sure, Jeonghan.”

Now that Chan had come to terms with the fact that his costume was effective for a similar demographic, a swell of confidence bubbled within him that you would react the same. All he needed now was a chance to show it off to the right person. But as he glanced around the café, scanning for you amidst the crowd, a tinge of disappointment set in. Despite the lively atmosphere filled with laughter and chatter of the spooky festivities, you were nowhere to be found, and he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that maybe he was the reason.

As the hour drew nearer, Chan felt a growing sense of frustration. Maybe he had been misreading your thoughts all along, or perhaps his powers were glitching today. The very idea of having such abilities was absurd, yet here he was, confused as to why he couldn’t detect your voice. He needed to make sense of it all. How could you swing from hating him one moment to lusting after him the next, only to ghost him entirely? Each possibility twisted in his mind, leaving him feeling more lost than ever. The anticipation that had once excited him now felt heavy with uncertainty, gnawing at his confidence just as he was getting used to it.

Seungcheol’s voice rang out with a mix of authority and enthusiasm, echoing through the bustling café. His energy was infectious, as he gestured animatedly, urging everyone to transition from the work grind to the festive spirit. With his usual flair, he rallied the team, his eyes sparkling with excitement for whatever chaos awaited them upstairs. The air buzzed with anticipation as he clapped his hands together, urging the staff to shake off the day’s fatigue and dive into the night’s festivities.

Meanwhile, Chan busied himself with the final preparations for the party, glancing at the door every few moments, hoping to see you walk through it finally. He didn’t have much of a plan but he had the spirit of one, bouncing off in the corners of his mind like the vibrant colors of the haunted jungle punch sloshing around in his red Solo cup. The punch was fruity and something strong, but it did little to calm his growing anticipation. 

Despite the cheerful atmosphere around him, he fought to maintain a carefree demeanor, all while tuning out the cacophony of voices in his head. Racy thoughts and flirtations from other partygoers echoed through his mind, but none of it held the same thrill as the prospect of hearing your voice. Each thought was a distraction, a reminder of the palpable heat that he felt on his skin when he heard your thoughts for the first time and how it made his heart clench for a reason other than annoyance.

He could almost visualize the energy you brought with you, the way your laughter lit up the room, and how your teasing remarks made his pulse pick up pace. Chan found himself nursing the drink, hoping the sugar and alcohol would somehow bridge the gap between him and you not being here like he hoped you’d be. The raucous fun around him only intensified his longing, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight wouldn’t be complete without you by his side.

‘Oh, fuck.’

It hit him like the chime of a clock striking the hour, electrifying and undeniable. Your voice echoed in his mind, pulling his attention as if drawn by an invisible force. He turned to see you entering through the doors, your presence instantly commanding the room.

Your gaze locked onto his, and for a moment, time seemed to freeze. You were enveloped in a dress of the deepest black, hugging your form from chest to waist before flaring out dramatically and hitting just above your knees. Sheer green tights adorned your legs, glimmering under the soft lights, and a pointed hat crowned your head. You were a vision of the Wicked Witch of the West and Chan could see that never had he thought that vision could be so alluring.

In that moment, everything around him dissolved—the laughter, the music, the chatter of partygoers—as his entire focus narrowed in on you. You were breathtaking, igniting something primal within him that he thought he could shut off. But—

‘I could eat you up, Lee Chan.’

A smile tugged at his lips as he followed after you, sharing the same sentiment as your unspoken hunger. “Took you long enough.”

‘Mmh, so he was waiting for me. Again.’

“Didn’t realize you were waiting for me.” Your chuckle was laced with arrogance. ‘Where the hell is his shirt? And why couldn’t he have given me the pleasure of taking it off?’

“You’ve been avoiding me, which is unusual for you,” Chan remarked sarcastically, watching intently as you poured yourself a drink, bending his arm in a way that not-so-effortlessly flexed his upper arms. “And you didn’t come by the café at all today.” He leaned in slightly, narrowing his gaze. “I thought it might have something to do with me.”

“You?” Your incredulity echoed in your mind. ‘Lee Chan? You were worried about me?’

You stepped closer, invading his space with a confidence that sent a thrill through him. Your gaze traced a deliberate path from his eyes, down the strong line of his jaw, pausing to appreciate the way the light danced across his bare skin. It dipped lower, gliding over the defined contours of his chest, each muscle accentuated by the flickering glow of the party lights. You lingered at his waistband, taking in the way the fabric clung to him seductively.

As your eyes returned to his, there was a spark of mischief in them that didn’t need mind reading to understand, leaving the recipient breathless. The air between you seemed to thrum with unspoken words but clear dialogue, thick with a tension that wrapped around you both. He could feel the heat radiating off your body, drawing him closer to you. The world around you faded into a blur, leaving only the two of you suspended in this charged moment, as if the very atmosphere crackled with anticipation.

“Yeah. Me.” Chan confirmed, his grin widening.

“Well, look who took the time to finally make it.” You both felt a weight on your shoulders as someone drove in between you both, becoming the deli meat in this strange sandwich. 

Soonyoung hugged his cheeks between your faces and grinned, oblivious as always to his surroundings. “Hey, guys.”

‘Good, I stopped the fight before they decked it out in front of everyone.’ 

“Hey, Soonyoung,” you said, wrapping an arm around his waist and forcing a smile. “I see you’re recycling your costume from last year.”

“Uh, it’s not a reuse! This is clearly a brand-new bodysuit, complete with paws!” He lifted his tiger mitts dramatically, waving them in front of your face as if trying to convince you of their novelty. “Very new and totally fierce!”

“Oh, of course, you look good.” You chuckled, genuinely appreciating his energy.

Soonyoung then turned his attention to Chan, eyes wide with excitement. “Whoa, Chan! Look at you, buddy! I told you showing off a little skin would do you good, and wow, look at all this!”

He let out an exaggerated whistle, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Our sexy little dinosaur! You’re making all the other costumes look bad!”

“Okay, okay, thanks, Soon.” Chan let out a hearty laugh, a flush of embarrassment creeping across his cheeks as he playfully patted his friend’s shoulder. He quickly shrugged him off, attempting to create a buffer to ward off Soonyoung’s inevitable groping.

“Oh, so that’s what you’re supposed to be,” You teased, “Couldn’t tell from the lack of clothes.”

Chan snorted, his amusement bubbling to the surface. “I’m clearly showcasing my costume from the waist down—tail included,” he said, gesturing dramatically. “But just remember, even if my costume is down there…” He raised his fingers and motioned to his eyes, an impish glint in his gaze “…my eyes are definitely up here.”

‘What if I want to look at what’s underneath the costume?’

‘What’s going on here...?”

Chan can’t help but grin at the challenge in your eyes while blatantly ignoring the confusion in Soonyoung’s.

“Showing off the merchandise but not letting people browse? You’re not exactly running a lucrative business here, Lee Chan.” 

“Who says I’m running a business?” Chan shot back with a playful smirk dancing on his lips. “I’m simply looking for..exclusive clientele.” His eyes sparkled with mischief, an invitation wrapped in flirtation.

‘I might have to sample a bit of that to see if it’s to my taste, which I’m sure it will be,’ you thought, wishing you could say it out loud. Instead, a soft giggle escaped your lips, though Chan caught the thought loud and clear. A playful grin spread across his face, the corner of his mouth twitching upward as he leaned in just a little closer, seeing the playfulness dance in your eyes.

“You guys are speaking weird,” Soonyoung chimed in, his words slightly slurred as the effects of the alcohol began to show. He swayed a little, a goofy grin plastered across his face.

Chan patted his striped friend on the back with a friendly nudge. “Why don’t you check if Jihoon needs help with the music, buddy? You’d be a real asset.” 

“Oh, I would be so good at that!” Soonyoung declared, practically bouncing on his heels before darting off with uncontainable enthusiasm.

Chan turned back to you, arching an eyebrow with a playful glint in his eye, eager to stretch out the moment. “So, did you bring anything special to offer?”

“Just some wine that Minghao practically wrestled away from me when I walked through the front door,” you replied, rolling your eyes with a feigned exasperation. “Have you sorted out those party games you were so excited about?”

“Should be starting in a couple of minutes,” he assured, his gaze flicking around the party setup, but the warmth of his attention remained fixed on you. “In the meantime, feel free to indulge in the snacks or candy. They’re just as sweet as you.”

‘Oh?’

“How thoughtful of you,” you compliment, pleasantly surprised.

“Forgot to mention the warheads, but still considerably sweet.”

The night unfolded like a game of push and pull, with Chan pulling you in more than he ever had before. The playful tension crackled between you, and he could tell that the idea of playing hard to get was on your mind tonight. Even with all the distractions around you, your thoughts were surprisingly coherent—you wanted Chan, and he knew it. Yet you refused to give him the satisfaction of admitting it. That was when he realized that the party games he had planned would serve as the perfect tool to tilt the odds in his favor.

“Alright, everyone, gather around! On behalf of our activities coordinator, Chan, I’ll be hosting the game he selected for us tonight. Why don’t you tell us what it is, Chan?” Seungcheol announced, his tone playful as he gestured for Chan to take the spotlight.

Chan stepped forward, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he cleared his throat. “Tonight, we’ll be playing manhunt—a twist on hide and seek with major stakes. The last person standing will win a grand prize, and the seeker who finds the most players will earn a reward just as significant. There will be three seekers.” He paused for effect, relishing the eager anticipation in the room. “The rules are simple: (1) no running, (2) you must reveal yourself once your name is called, and (3) most importantly, have fun. The prizes will be unveiled after the game ends.”

Vernon raised his hand eagerly. “Is the prize money?”

“Vernon, what did I just say?” Chan replied, suppressing a grin as he earned a solemn nod in response.

“Is there a time limit?” Mingyu chimed in, curiosity sparkling in his eyes.

“Forty minutes.”

Wonwoo started to raise his hand. “What about—”

“Enough questions!” Seungcheol interrupted, chuckling as he saw the anticipation on everyone’s faces. “Chan, pick your seekers.”

Chan rubbed his hands together, a cocky smile spreading across his face as he surveyed the crowd, already knowing who he wanted. “I choose Joshua, Seokmin, and myself. While Seungcheol counts to twenty, the rest of you will scatter and hide.” His grin widened, mischief dancing in his eyes. “And remember, don’t get caught. Losers will face punishment, too,” he added, eliciting a collective groan from the group.

Seungcheol stood in the middle of the room, gesturing for the helpers to shut off all the lights, leaving the entire floor of the building pitch black and ready for the taking. “Starting now. Twenty… nineteen… eighteen…”

The harmonious sound of footsteps retreated from the room, the darkness perfectly concealing any shadows that might betray anyone’s position. Chan needed no light to do what he had to do but turned on his phone camera the moment the counting ended. He met the eyes of his fellow seekers, barely visible in the glow of their phone lights, anticipation clear on their faces. “We’ll cover our own ground until we run out of places to search, then it’s a free-for-all,” Joshua suggested.

“Got it. I’ll head out first,” Chan insisted, earning a collective nod and finding his own path.

He navigated through the stream of thoughts, weaving between them like a radio dial tuning into a specific frequency, determined to hone a singular voice. 

‘Ugh, why did I have to choose this one to hide in? This is such a bad idea.’

Chan smiled recognizing the familiar pitch, beelining straight for the sound, passing the other voices that may interrupt his route.

In a singular room, his in particular, you were the only one loud enough to break through.

‘Oh, shit, someone’s here. Please go away, please go away.’

No matter how carefully you tried to muffle your presence, it radiated from the closet, an open invitation to Chan’s mind-reading senses. He crept closer, footsteps soft as whispers, his hand hovering over the knob. With a slow, deliberate movement, he eased it open, revealing your figure barely concealed behind the racks of his half-filled closet. Your eyes darted to his, and a quiet “Fuck…” slipped out as he stepped inside, claiming the cramped space beside you.

The closet was shadowed in near-darkness, the room's lights off, but a sliver of moonlight streamed through the window, illuminating through the slits of the closet in faint, wispy beams. As your eyes adjusted, you could just make out the silhouette of Chan, his figure close, a playfully smug smile catching the dim light as he settled in front of you.

‘What is he–’

Chan lifted a finger to his lips, signaling for silence before you could utter a protest. His eyes held yours with an intensity that had your pulse racing, each beat a rapid tattoo under the thin skin of your neck. Footsteps echoed faintly from the hallway outside, the other seekers passing by Chan’s room without a second thought, oblivious to the two of you hidden mere inches apart.

‘He’s so close. He smells so good,’ you thought, the hint of his cologne making your breath hitch. Chan couldn’t help the tiny grin tugging at his lips—props to him for choosing the good cologne today.

‘He’s practically pressed against me. Is this what dying and going to heaven feels like?’

Chan stifled a laugh, stepping even closer, until the heat radiating from his skin was undeniable. In a whisper, he teased, “Try not to get caught.”

“But you—” you started, barely finding your voice to remind him that he was in fact one of the people you’re not supposed to get caught from, only to have it die on your lips as his hand pressed lightly on the wall beside you, leaving little room to breathe, let alone escape.

“Shh,” he murmured, eyes glinting as he held you captive against the panel, a hair’s breadth away. 

“Chan…” you murmured, half-breathless, gazing up at him with a mixture of confusion and exhilaration as the closeness left you dizzy, the space between you charged and impossibly small.

His eyes drifted down, seeing your lips pursed slightly in direction, calling to his attention, begging to be claimed.

‘He’s staring again.’ your thighs clenched against each other, hiding the pool of your heat as you could feel it seep through your panties. ‘He looks at me like this any longer I might just fuck him right here.’

Chan shifted closer, his nose grazing yours, so close he could catch the faint sweetness lingering on your breath. "You have to be quiet…real quiet," he whispered, his voice barely more than a murmur.

“W-why?” you stammered, the question coming out in a whisper as his hands found your hips, drawing you against him with a gentle but possessive pull.

He paused, his eyes flicking between yours, a soft smile teasing at the corner of his lips. “Because,” he breathed, his voice sending a delicious warmth down your spine, before he leaned in, closing the miniscule gap and bridging you together in the sweetest of symphonies.

‘Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god–’

His hand clasped against your cheek, hips digging against yours and pinning you to the wall as his tongue traced in the inside of your mouth, exploring you until he could familiarize himself. He felt bound to you, having taste what’s been distant thought now a full blown movie, a movie that he'd rewatch until the day he dies. 

Your hand caressed the back of his neck, tenderly kneading his skin and pushing yourself closer to his body. The hands that ached to touch him found their peace, gliding on his skin and feeling the outline of his body, through every contour and crevice, so hot it’s sweltering, simply melting underneath him.

‘This is so awesome…don’t ever make this stop…’

He held you by your thigh, brought it to his exposed side, and lifted you from the ground, crushing his weight against you to keep you in place. His eagerness poked against your stomach, taunting you with its size, and parting your mind for thoughts of its sensation plunging inside you, wrecking havoc.

‘Oh god, I’m gonna cum thinking about want I’d do when I fuck him.’

Chan softly chuckled, pulling away and looking at the glisten in your eyes, feeling your skin flushed against him, hearing how your mind screamed for him in ache. “Are you—“

“Yes,” you gingerly nodded, not giving him a second to finish his sentence, “Whatever it is. Yes. Or no. Or whatever.”

‘Good god, get a grip. Desperate much?’

Chan’s hand crept under the fabric of your skirt, sliding down beneath the layer of green pantyhose and underwear, your vicious slickness immediately coating his fingers. “I like you a little desperate,” he confessed in staggered whispers before slotting his lips between yours again. 

Your throbbing cunt thrummed beneath his digits, pulsing around him as he pushed on inside, already coating his knuckles. You seized around him, clenching your stomach, as a clear moan escaped you.

‘What was that?’ Chan sensed Seokmin’s thoughts a mere meters away, franticness in his eyes and the voice of his fellow seeker followed after. “Hello?”

“Hey Seok, Just me!” Chan covered for you, fingers thrusting as they curled up inside you. “I hit my foot on something, so I’m taking a minute breather in my room. No one's here!”

“Mmh, okay, Buddy. Be more careful!”

As soon as the coast was clear, his attention averted back to you. “I said be quiet, didn’t I?”

His hand clamped over your mouth and blocking sounds from leaving as he entered another finger, feeling your muffles hummed satisfyingly against his palm. His smile stretched to the corner of his face. “I told you I’d make you shut up wouldn’t I?”

You rocked into the merciless paces of Chan’s fingers, feeling them massage you in and out, as his palm ground itself against your clit. You head knocked back against the wall behind you, joined by Chan at your hip, letting his fingerss fuck you the way you wish his cock finally would. ‘Oh Lee Chan, Lee Chan, Lee Chan…’

You steadied your arms around his shoulders, eyes fluttering in and out of focus, while your hips snapped back him. It was second nature at this point, responding to him with nothing but open arms.

‘His fingers…my god, his fucking fingers…’

“Faster? Deeper?” Chan offered, sweat dampening tendrils hitting at his eyes. 

You nodded, giving no coherent answer as he took away your ability to breathe. ‘Yes, both, please.’

He’d give it to you, watching as tears swelled up in eyes from ecstasy, ramming his digits until he didn’t care who could hear the delicious squelching, the manhunt game so far back in subconscious, it was practically nonexistent. 

‘Needed him so bad, need him to fuck me so stupid I could feel him in my throat…Lee Chan…’

Even without mind reading, the look in your eyes told him everything. Your gaze was intense, charged with an incredible sense of longing, as if it held secrets that could start wars or shatter worlds. There was something almost dangerous in it, introducing him to a hunger he couldn’t ignore. How had he never noticed this before? It practically screamed at him to cross these invisible lines. And for a heartbeat, the world felt as if it teetered on the edge, making him realize his touch unleashed something neither of you could hold back from.

When you contracted around his fingers, there was no better word than heaven, the thick release in his enveloping grasp, collecting at the cup of his hands.

Chan showed a hint of mercy, letting your feet settle back on the ground. You pried your tired eyes open, letting the faint moonlight help you take in the dreamy sight before you as you slowly recovered from the waves of your climax. Chan, clearly intrigued by the quiet of your mind, ran his tongue along the underside of his palm, jolting you back to life as you watched, breath hitching at the sight.

‘Oh my…’

Chan grinned, his tongue dragging against every curve, every wrinkle, following even the drip running down his forearm, his eyes not breaking a beat from you as he ate your cum off his fingers. He pressed against you, sweaty and flushed, ensuring every bit of you laid flat on his tongue, swallowing every sweet drop of that golden nectar, softly moaning about its flavor. “Better than my favorite candy.”

‘Oh, this man needs to get me pregnant.’

“A couple more to go! Watch out!” Joshua shouted from down the hall.

There was a brief moment of trepidation Chan felt, cursing his friend mentally for getting their tasks done so quickly, stunned that you and him were able to keep hidden for so long. Chan knew he had to make a move, and quickly. 

Shoving up the skirt of your dress, he tore the delicate seams of your green stockings, and a gasp escaped your lips before you had the chance to hush yourself. As soon as you were exposed, Chan sank to his knees, wasting no time. He gripped the ruched hem of your dress, gathering the fabric in his hands in rushed anticipation, pushing aside your panties with his teeth and burying his face inside your warm pussy.

‘This little whore, oh my..’

His tongue pushed flat against you, taking you in at long stripes as his eyes bordered on impatience and deliberate, savoring at how you squirmed against him when his pink muscle curled and licked circles at your entrance. You pushed your weight on him, cried at the thought of him eating you alive when any moment you could get caught.

‘He’s going to kill me, he’s going to kill me. Fuck, those pretty eyes looking back at me. He looks so good eating me out. God, fuck.’

He took your free hand, guiding it to the back of his head, gesturing you to hold on, and like magic, the lower half of his face vanished between your wet folds. 

“Oh gah–” You’re the one to shut yourself off this time with the sharp bite of your lip, focused on the passionate exploration of Chan’s tongue–fucking you with intent, and you fought off the urge to scream. He held you up by your thighs, the darkness in his eyes zoning in on you, drunk in thought of witnessing another orgasm, and amplified your senses with the presence of his fingers. You gripped his hair for dear life–further encouraging him to go deeper–worshiping how the soft strands felt against the pads of your fingers as Chan worshipped every inch inside of you.

“Don’t stop,” you managed to whisper, combing through his hair. “Hmm, that’s so nice…god, you’re so hot eating me out like that…”

Chan was starting to confuse your words for thoughts, or maybe was it your thought for words, whatever it was, he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to hear them, your delightful praises directed towards him, or see that beautiful face contort with pleasure.

Your hips began to do that familiar jerk, your pelvis hitting his nose as you sensed something explosive near. Your sounds of ache muffled under your hands, and you twisted your hips, gasp breaking out of you helplessly, and Chan got that familiar fresh flavor of you on his tongue as it dripped out of you. 

He helped himself up to pin you back on the wall, the taste of yourself in his mouth, startling addictive, and you reciprocated, getting everything that he’s worked for.

As he pulled away, staring back at you with an unspoken intensity in his eyes. “Let’s get you going.”

Chan led you out of the closet, cum still dripping down your legs,  joining the rest of the group to announce your victory: a month-long coupon for free snacks at the gaming café. The triumphant smile on your face as you timidly crossed your legs, only hinting at the far more thrilling victory you’d just shared in Chan’s closet.

The other seekers playfully elbowed him, teasing him for being a terrible seeker. "I’m shocked you found anyone with how long you took!" they laughed. But the mischievous glint in his eyes was hidden under a veil of innocuous feigned confusion. “Guess, I really suck at this,” he shrugged, “Glad you guys had fun.”

And everyone did have fun—so much so that nearly the whole crowd insisted on another round. A round that you and Chan would find just as—if not even more—entertaining than the first.

As soon as Chan locked the door for the PC Cafe, he reclaimed your lips, feeling for your heat underneath your dress and its familiar throb. “Finally, some privacy.”

As fellow hiders this round, you slipped away to a more secluded spot, somewhere private enough to pick up right where you’d left off. Here, with no one else to interrupt, the two of you could finally delve into that spark that you both have only begun starting to understand, the excitement between you simmering just beneath the surface, waiting to be explored in the quiet privacy you’d carved out.

‘Lee Chan, the man you are.’

He slipped you out of your dress and let it hit the ground, leading you to behind the counter and pressing you against it. You looped your arms around him, tugging his dinosaur onesie off with your foot and kicking it to the ground along with your dress, caressing his cock protected under a layer of his briefs. “Chan, please I want you.”

‘More than you’d ever know.’

“I know,” He chuckled, tearing off the final obstacle of your underwear. And stuffing it in the abandoned skin of his Halloween costume. “And I’ll show just the kind of treatment you get when you ask nicely.”

He flipped you around, tearing your pantyhose higher on your ass, and bent you over in front of him. He slowly, and deliberately, fished out his cock, letting it slap against the curve of your ass, hearing the pleads inside your head.

‘God, he so knows what he’s doing. What a tease.’

His lips connected to the back of your neck, with a free hand squeezed around the flesh of your breast. “Say it.”

“Chan…” you whined. ‘Don’t make me beg.’

“I want to hear how much you want me inside of you. I need some transparency from you.”

“Of course, I want it, Chan.” You back yourself against him, leading the head of his cock towards your puffy slit. “Please.”

“Use your words, dirty girl,” He harshly whispered, invoking a feeling not only rare but foreign inside of you as you clenched around nothing.

“I-I want you inside me, Chan.”

“Doing what?”

You whined, “Fucking me.” ‘Using me.’

He scoffed, brimming with pride, readjusting your position as he saw fit, and slowly pushed himself inside you. When you adjust to his size, you had only begun to realize the impact it’s have on you, how it’s be hard to forget such a sensation, until he’s dragging his cock in and out of you. You clawed on wooden counter, bracing yourself, and echoing a low, long groan as he covered every inch of him in your slick walls. 

The first thrust was methodical, calculated, determined to show you the whole range of what he’d give you and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t intimidated, but as he found his pace, you began to find your balance. “Oh, fuck…”

You were glued to him, his hips pounding himself against you as his hands collected your breasts in his hands, lips kissing up your neck and behind your ear. “Gonna make you fucking wish your only regret was not fucking me sooner.”

How he easily found your spot was mystery – one that you didn’t think too long and hard on – until he just kept doing it, pulling you back against him as he released his inhibitions. Your sweat pilled against each other, unsure where yours started and where his ends, your bodies intertwined into one sickening display of what almost a year of unspoken lust looked like.

‘Oh, I could get used to this. If he fucked me like this everyday, I wouldn’t complain for a single second.’

And Chan was almost counting on that.

He turned you around again, missing your face and admiring how your disheveled hair only framed its intoxicating aura as he lifted you against the counter and pushed his cock inside you as he towered over you.

The single chain around his neck brushed against your face repeatedly, and calling to your attention loud enough for only Chan to hear.

‘Omg his chain…this is like one of those Twitter memes where fanatics dream of their faves’ chain hanging above their face during sex…and it’s actually happening to me with Chan.’

Suddenly, he had an idea. “Bite on it.”

You blinked at him, registering his words as he suddenly stopped his thrusts. “…What?”

“Bite on my chain while I fuck the living shit out of you.” 

You took your time processing the thought, before slowly leaning in, the chain barely meeting your lips before you took it between your teeth and pulled him down with you.

Chan’s once kind smile warped into something more sinister, more primal, and he granted you what he had promised.

His cock slammed against you, reverberating your walls, and you clung on the counter under you, while your vision flickered to the back of your skull. Gritting against the chain on your enamel, your head could not form words clear in any sense, just the echo of yours skin clashing and Chan reveled in that. “Good fucking girl.”

He hand struck your side, squishing you against the counter, feeding you his raw power course through you until he’s fill you up, over and over again. You feed his ego in a way he never expected from someone and wasn’t sure he’d be willing to let it go with whatever happened next, so he was gonna savor the moment he had.

As his arousal coursed through him, squeezed every ounce of energy out of you, ensuring he’d hear his name on your brain and out your lips. He held your tired body, stroking your sides, panting against your skin, and felt the final release ebb out of him like a stream, coating you in perfect white before settling down a stool nearby, sitting you on his lap as you rested against the security of his strong, broad frame.

Wherever this left the two of you, Chan just knew he needed to have you. And considering the emptiness in his head, he needed you for more than he realized.

[ebonyheartnet]

Jazzy still called him a baby, but Danny knew she was wrong. He was big enough to reach the microwave, and he could do his homework on his own. He could! He could totally do it! It was just boring is all. He could even read his own bedtime stories, okay? He was prakti— practa—

He was nearly an adult! Seven meant he was halfway there!

Danny didn’t really need to be babied anymore. It’s just… Jazzy said routine was good for them, and doing the voices just for her felt silly. He was being a good brother, okay? Okay.

“Stop squirming while I’m trying to read!” Jazzy snapped.

“Stop reading while I’m trying to squirm,” Danny taunted.

“Why you!”

Danny tried to get away, but Jazzy’s arms were too long. He couldn’t stop the giggles bubbling up if he’d tried.

“Do you yield?” Jazzy said in a fake deep voice.

“Never!” Danny laughed.

“Then you shall fall to the tickle monster!”

They rolled around on Danny’s bed, trying to get at an armpit or anything they could reach. He made a break for it, but the edge of the bed was too close.

“Danny!”

“I’m okay!” he said, nearly knocking his head into Jazzy as he popped up.

Danny didn’t fight Jazzy as she pulled him up. He knew it’d be faster if he just let her fuss for a second.

“How are you okay?” Jazzy asked. “You bruise so easily, and last time you were crying.”

“Maybe I grew up,” Danny said with a grin.

“That’d just mean there’s more of you to bruise, dork.”

“Fine,” Danny huffed, “I’ll tell you, but only if you keep it a secret.”

Jasmine frowned.

“Danny, do we need to have the talk again?” she asked carefully. “Secrets are dangerous for kids to have.”

“Not all of them!” Danny snapped.

“Yeah, but you’re seven.” Jazzy softened. “You’re really smart, okay? Sometimes that makes it harder to make good choices about risky things.”

“How does that even make sense?” Danny asked.

“Smart means you’re really good at making sense of things, right?” Jazzy waited for him to nod. “That means that sometimes you can justify—that means come up with a good reason for something—you can justify things too easily.”

“So I’m so smart that I can make something bad sound good?” Danny asked, scratching his head.

Jazzy nodded, looking smug.

“I still think that’s dumb, but okay.”

“I mean yeah, it kinda is.” She shrugged. “Brains are just long, electric spaghetti monsters. They’re trying super hard, but like, they don’t get a manual for their meat Gundam.”

“Gross!” Danny giggled.

Jazzy grinned as she leaned against the headboard and pulled Danny into her lap. He tried to wiggle out for a second, but they both knew it was just for show.

“So,” Jasmine said carefully, “are you gonna tell me the secret?”

“Can I show you?” Danny asked excitedly. “You’ve gotta cover your eyes though, it’s super bright!”

“Eyes covered.”

Danny grinned as he cried out his catchphrase and bathed the room in light.

“Going ghost!”

After she calmed down, Danny was happy to hear that Jazzy wanted to be part of his superhero team. She even agreed that secret identities were important, and that everybody who knew should play along—even their parents. No talking about it, except to her, Sam and Tucker to keep the secret, “because grownups might not break character.” She even wanted to work on training his powers to be sneakier!

Maybe they should try transforming without the light? Jazzy told him it hurt her eyes through her hands, and she was still kind of crying.

Maddie and Jack just had a wild realization that might’ve just changed their view on ghosts completely.

They’ve teamed up with the ghost kid, Phantom, a few times now. He’s nice for a ghost, sure, but they still aren’t so sure about if it’s genuine or not. One thing they’ve noticed is that when they’re not fighting, Phantom has these odd little… habits.

One of these habits that had them scratching their heads the most is when they touch him and then run, Phantom will chase after them both, touch them back or touch the other, and then put distance between him and the two ghost hunters with an excited, hopeful expression. He usually doesn’t fly and instead runs, which is odd considering how much faster he is in the air. This only happens when they’re not fighting, when things are as peaceful as they can be with a ghost kid around.

Tonight, it happened again. Maddie tapped Phantom on the shoulder and ran into the van to check on one of their inventions after hearing something inside. Phantom turned his attention to Jack and tapped him on the arm before running away from him. Jack decided to chase after him to see what would happen and Phantom seemed extremely happy and started laughing.

When Maddie looked outside and saw Phantom letting Jack chase him on foot while laughing and telling him to go after Maddie instead, it clicked.

Phantom wasn’t doing some weird ghost ritual.

He was playing Tag.

[solelifauna]

When you say the love interest might be worse, does that mean "being mean to reader" wise or "being possessive over the reader" wise?

ERMMM...both I'd say. The love interest for the Werewolf AU is Jon Kent. He's about the same age as the reader and older than Damian by one year (From the time-skip space mission that he went on that aged him). But bro, this boy is fucking nuts.

Yes, Kryptonians aren't werewolves in this universe, but Lois Lane is. And a strong one at that, coming from a military family and all that jazz. So Jon Lane Kent is literally one of the strongest beings on earth, being half-kryptonian and half-werewolf.

Now i know what youre thinking.

But wouldn't Jon also be outcasted from werewolf society/wouldn't the bats not like him cause he's a half-blood?

WRONG!!! Yes, Jon is a half-blooded werewolf, but the other half is Kryptonian, one of the strongest species in the universe. If anything, his breeding makes him a very respected figure and the Bats definitely find him worthy. He and Damian are still the best of friends.

Now Jon's relationship with (Y/n). Yikes. Funnily enough, it was (Y/n) who started crushing on Jon first. She'd see him around the manor often, and she'd watch as he interacted with the Waynes or messed around with Damian. From what she could see, he seemed nicer than her family, so maybe she could be friends with him right? Plus, he's super cute!

And of course, this doesn't end well. I mean, this is a dark au. First off, Superman doesn't quite see humans as equals. Werewolves, they have his respect, and all the other races too. Yes, Clark Kent's adoptive parents were humans, and yes he loved them, but they were weak. Fragile even. And he made sure to instill that teaching in Jon as well.

Did Jon love his grandparents? Absolutely, but that meant that Ma and Pa stayed confined to Smallville and their house. They were too weak, they needed to be protected.

Lois also helped push Werewolf culture onto him as well. Weaker werewolves and humans were subservient to the stronger, and if necessary, could be killed and eaten. Jon didn't quite get the eating part, finding it quite gross actually, until he had his first taste of flesh. And, yikes, the boy was hooked.

In his mind, humans were either things to be taken care of (like pets) or food.

What's even more scary is that he's sweet around his family and friends, but those he deems as lesser? Well, let's just hope you don't catch him in a bad mood or piss him off. Which is why when weak, pitiful, abandoned (Y/n) Wayne comes up to him, he's insulted.

Why on earth did you even think you were worthy of talking to him?

Yes, he's seen you watching them, lurking around the manor, keeping your distance. It was quite annoying actually, he could practically hear your heart leaping out of its chest every time you saw him. He knew your intentions, trying to make friends with him.

He just looked down at you, eyes pooling with something nobody could explain, whilst you smiled at him and made small talk. Or tried to make small talk.

"Damian, should I snap her neck? Or is your family still insistent on the old laws?" Jon says.

You freeze, eyes widening in fear. Ah...you've made a severe lapse in judgment.

So much for a new friend.

"You know what? How 'bout I just go?" You quip nervously before trying to run off.

It's too bad Damian grabs you by the back of your shirt, basically choking you in the process. You let out a strangled noise as your body loses balance and lurches backward. When Damian lets go, your having a mad coughing fit, trying to get as much air as you could into your lungs.

Damian only makes an annoyed sound while Jon watches, a sick type of glee in his eyes. "When the time comes friend, you may feast with us. Now (Y/n), apologize to Jon."

You do not even have to think twice about that. "I'm sorry-I'm sorry! I shouldn't have approached you, I'm sorry." And at this point, you're crying. (reader is 14 when this happens)

And god doesn't that make Jon smile. He wouldn't deny, that you were pretty (I mean, you do have half of Bruce Wayne's DNA). But as much as he'd consider coveting you, you weren't worth that honor, no, he'd much rather taste your sweet, sweet flesh. (He could practically smell it wafting off you).

But alas, he'd have to wait.

But of course, in normal yandere fashion, he goes from wanting to eat you to wanting to eat you. The obsession starts to change around (Y/n)'s 16th birthday party that the Waynes throw. It's customary that all children do some public ball or whatever, so this was yours. Jon and his family are there obviously, and you're there as well, looking as miserable and tired as usual (and still somehow being the most beautiful thing in the building). However, he sees you light up in a way he's never seen you do before when your (what he's guessing) friends show up. They're human. They're weak, like you.

Seeing you interact with them, hearing you talk normally(super-hearing, duh) without fear, watching the way you laughed...He realizes he wants. And he wants bad.

Looks like you've got a new problem now.

Anyways, this is all I got!! I don't want to spoil the story more than I already have, but yeah, say hello to "absolutely bonkers Jon Kent". Hope you enjoyed!!!

[daisymbin]

promise me ice cream! - jeon wonwoo

warnings: slightly insecure wonwoo?

pairings: jeon wonwoo x reader

genre: drunk confessions, friends to ???

wc: 1.3k

a/n: I'm not quite sure what I did to deserve 223 of yall following me but thank you 🥺

drunken confessions series

check out my masterlist!

your best friend, wonwoo is sprawled on the bed, looking more like a puddle of drunk affection than his usual composed self. he's clinging onto you, he wedges your leg in between his own; hugging it like it was a bolster as his head rests on your lap as if it were a pillow, his arms wrapped around your leg, not wanting to let go as if it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. his gaze is hazy, eyes blinking slowly as he stares up at you, his lips curving into a drunken smile, “you're so pretty.” he says as you chuckle while you run your hands through his hair; messaging his head a little to relieve the potential headache.

“why'd you drink so much tonight?” you asked, “its not like you, you're not usually like this.” wonwoo lets out a deep sigh at your question, “you were talking to jun all night and…i dont know, i just didn't like it. i got jealous. it's like…you’ll never pick me.” he says with a pout, eyes closing shut. “jealous? of jun?” you frown, trying to make sense of his words. if only he knew, “don't be silly, you know i talk to jun all the time but you'll always be my best friend. there's nothing to be jealous about.” you reassured. “& i’ll always pick you.”

“you're breaking my heart.” wonwoo mumbles so soft, you almost would have missed it if it weren't for a drunk wonwoo clinging onto you for dear life, heightening all your senses & leaving your heart beating so fast. “what do you mean, wonwoo?” 

"you’re my favorite person," he says, his voice soft and slow, like he’s trying to convince himself of something. "i don’t know if i’ll ever be your favorite, but... you're my favorite." his hand gently strokes the inside of your thigh, sending shiver down your spine. his fingers light against your skin as if he’s trying to memorize the feeling of being this close.

you smile as you feel butterflies erupt in your stomach. you’re a little amused yet also, a little taken aback by the way he’s acting; he's never been like this. you gently run your fingers through his hair, trying to coax him to sleep even though you're sure he’s already half asleep. & maybe you're also just taking advantage of the situation and being a little selfish; having him like this.

"i’m just me," he continues, voice drowsy and laced with alcohol. "i’m just wonwoo, you know? just regular, plain ol' wonwoo. but you're... you're perfect. sparkly. i don’t even know why you ever looked my way years ago, let alone be friends with me.”

you laugh softly, but it’s mixed with a hint of sadness, wondering how he could ever think that about himself. "you’re not just wonwoo, you know that, right? you’re more than that."

wonwoo shakes his head, but his grip on your leg tightens. "no, no, no. i’m just me. i’m just wonwoo, and you’re... you’re so pretty and you're so kind. you're such a good person...so much better than I'll ever be. that's why you would never like someone like me."

his words sting more than they should, but you can tell he's too drunk to mean them fully, right? that's what you hoped for at least. you want to tell him how wrong he is, how much you care for him, but instead, you sit in the quiet, letting him speak his mind as he clings onto you, his drunken ramblings the only thing filling the space between you two.

after a moment, he sits up a little, his gaze suddenly lighting up with a burst of energy. "ice cream," he says, as if it’s the most important thing in the world right now. "we should go on an ice cream date. right now. let’s go."

you glance at him, blinking in surprise at the sudden contrast. it’s already past 4AM and he’s drunk, this is not the time for an ice cream run date. "wonwoo," you say softly, trying to get him to focus. "it’s really late. we’re not going for ice cream right now, okay?"

he looks up at you with wide, sad, hopeful eyes, and you can’t help but find it endearing, even if it’s a little ridiculous. "why not?" he asks, his pout deepening, and his grip on your leg tightening again as he drags himself impossibly closer to you. "i want to go on an ice cream date with you, please?” 

you laugh, though it's full of affection and fondness. "wonwoo, you’re drunk & it’s really late. we’re not going anywhere. you can’t go out for ice cream right now, I don't think you can even walk straight, did you forget how I had to haul you back here?"

he pouts even harder, his lower lip trembling slightly & he almost look as if he’s about to start crying any time as he sits back and crosses his arms, looking like a grumpy child. "but i want ice cream. now. i’m hungry."

you can’t help but smile at his stubbornness. "we’ll go tomorrow, okay?" you promise. "i’ll take you out on an ice cream date tomorrow. I'll even let you pick all the flavours you want, even if its 5 of them."

wonwoo tilts his head to the side, staring at you with a suspicious frown. "tomorrow? don’t lie…i’m only asking you now because… this is a dream, you wouldnt reject me in my dream, would you?" he asks, his voice filled with doubt. "because i know you won’t really take me for ice cream tomorrow when I wake up. you don’t like me like that. you’re just humoring me."

"wonwoo, i promise, tomorrow, we’ll get ice cream," you reassure him, your voice gentle and warm as you stroke his hair again, trying to comfort him.

but wonwoo still looks disappointed and doubtful, his shoulders slump. "tomorrow will never come. this is all a dream. you’ll wake up, and i’ll be... i’ll be just me. plain wonwoo. i won’t be good enough for you. you will never pick me.”

your heart aches at the way he’s talking. he doesn’t believe that you like him, doesn’t believe in this moment, in the promise of tomorrow. "wonwoo, i’m not going anywhere," you say, taking his hand in yours. "i'll be right here when you open your eyes when the sun rises & i'll tell you all the reasons why you're more than enough. i really do like you, I love you, and tomorrow, we’ll get ice cream. i promise."

he looks down at your hand, still not fully convinced. "promise?" he asks, his voice small and fragile.

"promise," you say firmly, hands finding his as you lock your pinky around his.

wonwoo hesitates for a moment, then sighs, his expression softening. "okay...okay," he murmurs, closing his eyes as he rests his head back on your lap, your hands instinctively go back to playing with his hair, he's completely content now. "ice cream date tomorrow. i’ll wait for tomorrow...even if it doesn't happen it's okay..at least im laying on your lap now…at least you’re playing with my hair now…at least now i know what it's like to hear you say you like me too.”

you smile, brushing a strand of hair out of his face, watching him drift off to sleep in your lap. even though he’s drunk and unsure, you know he believes you somewhere deep down. & tomorrow, you’ll take him for ice cream, just like you promised. and maybe, just maybe, tomorrow, he’ll realize how much you really do care about him, & how much you really do love him.

[stellamancer]

flips and shit (katsuki bakugou + reader)

notes: more stuff inspired by things that happen in my kitchen. name me me attempting to flip scallion pancakes. it's been a while since i had one of these actually. part of the kitchen adventures series. mostly unedited.

wc: 1k

contains: gn!reader, pro-hero bkg (not actually mentioned) neighbor au.

You have never asked Bakugou to teach you anything before. 

Mostly because there’s never really been anything you’ve actually wanted to learn. Despite his griping, you think you're honestly a pretty decent cook. Sure, you may prefer taking convenient shortcuts over doing things the proper way, but it's not like it's the worst thing in the world. Still, Bakugou’s taken it upon himself to teach you in order to prevent you from committing what he considers to be kitchen atrocities. Admittedly, your knife skills have improved and you don’t hear your fire alarm going off as often (which you suspect is more due to Bakugou changing the whole thing himself in a fit when it dared to screech as he was broiling some fish during one lesson), but there are some things, like your instant miso soup, that Katsuki Bakugou can pry out of your cold dead hands. 

“Hah?” Bakugou whips his head around to face you, his expression twisted into his own special brand of confusion, eyes narrowed in an aggressive form of bewilderment. 

“Can you teach me how to flip things in a frying pan?” you repeat slowly.

His mouth twists, “Why? Usin’ a spatula not good enough for you?”

“It's not that,” you say. Bakugou shoots you an expectant look and you clear your throat as you elaborate. “It just looks cool is all.”

 “Y’got bigger things to worry about than lookin’ cool in the kitchen. Why’re y’worrying about that kinda crap anyway? Got someone to impress?” 

Grumbling, you say “Not really, but since you mention it, it would be nice if I were able to impress my smartass neighbor even just once.”

Bakugou snorts. “Maybe y’d impress me if you finally threw away those damn instant soup packets! I taught you how to make it yourself! Why do you still have them?”

You roll your eyes. What about cold dead hands does he not understand? You try to get the subject back on track. “Are you teaching me or not?”

He stares at you for a minute before shuffling past you into the kitchen proper. “Fine. Even an idiot like you should be able to do this much.” 

Feeling smug, despite his insult, you follow after him, watching as he pulls out your frying pan from a cabinet. He’s come over enough that he’s familiar with the layout of your kitchen, no longer needing to ask you where you keep this or that. It’s nice in a way, though you’re not entirely sure why. That said, you can’t help but be confused when he grabs one of your kitchen sponges and tosses it in the pan. Is he—

“Bakugou, I’ve got some frozen scall—”

“We’re using this first!” he barks at you. “No point in risking you flipping perfectly good food onto the kitchen floor!” 

You wince. It wouldn’t be that bad. You’ve tried flipping things before and the worst that’s happened is that the pancake flipped over on itself. 

Bakugou moves over to the stovetop, his arms gripping the frying pan’s handle. You stare at his arm— he’s in a black t-shirt today. The sleeves are loose, but you can see the defined shape of his arm muscles, from the near scandalous peek of his biceps down to the taut lines of his forearms. Maybe you’re staring a little too much, though, because you don’t quite catch what he says as he flicks his wrist. 

“What was that?” you ask. You could try to wing it and guess what his instructions were based on observation alone, but if you get it absolutely wrong he’ll scold you.

Though, since it’s Bakugou, he’s going to scold you either way. “Are you even listening?”

Now you are. “Yeah?” 

He eyes you suspiciously, but doesn’t mention if he noticed you oogling his arms. “So all you gotta do is just flick your wrist, but y’gotta do it like you’re shoveling dirt or some shit.” He does the motion a few times to show you, and you think you get it. It’s kind of like a flick and scoop. Watching him do it makes it seem easy, but you’ve learned that Bakugou makes a lot of things look effortless. 

He flips the sponge a few times before handing you the frying pan. The handle is still warm. Gruffly, he says, “Now you try.”

“Okay.” You try to mimic his motion, and the sponge goes up… but just falls back onto the pan without flipping over. 

“Weak,” Bakugou scoffs and you scowl at him, but he ignores you as he continues. “Try again, idiot, but put more force into it.” 

“Okay…” You do as he says and the sponge flies higher… before flopping onto the floor. Too much force.

“Not everything’s gonna weigh the same,” Bakugou says. “Y’gonna have to judge how much force to use for yourself.”

Right. You reach down and grab the sponge to put it back in the pan. It’s pretty light. You flick your wrist a couple times, not so much to flip but to get a feel of how much force you’ll need to flip it. When you think you’ve got an idea, you move your wrist and swoop your arm a little, sending the sponge up. It flips over and while it does catch the edge of the pan it still manages to land in it.

Grinning widely, you turn to Bakugou. “Look! I did it!” 

“Barely,” he says and while his mouth is curved down in a frown, there’s a sparkle in his eyes that makes it look like he’s trying to fight off a smile.. “Do it again! Make sure the flip is perfect this time!”

“Okay!” You try again and after a couple times you manage to flip the sponge perfectly. When you look at Bakugou for approval, he gives you the ghost of a smirk back, this time looking almost legitimately pleased.

But it only lasts for a moment before he switches out the sponge for a slightly heavier package of instant ramen. 

“Time for the next level, nerd,” he says, his eyes glinting dangerously. “We’re not stopping til every flip is perfect!” 

[tom-foolery-incorporated]

Free Use Human

Lost Light Crew x reader, AFAB gender neutral reader, racially ambiguous, cumdump, stuck in a hole

“Brainstorm?” You called into the empty room hoping the scientist would hear you. You placed your palms flat against the wall behind you as you gave a push to try to dislodge yourself. Your legs dangled uselessly on the other side of the wall with your rear propped up right in the air.

You looked down at the floor maybe 6 feet below you where the teleportation device Brainstorm had made for you dropped. You pushed once again this time kicking your legs to get some kind of momentum but to no avail.

“Brainstorm!” You called louder hoping the scientist would rescue you before anyone found you like this.

“Woah!”

You heard a familiar voice behind you.

“Swerve!” You kicked your feet trying to wiggle out of the wall. “Thank God you’re here! Can you find Brainstorm and tell him where I am? Something went wrong with the teleportation device and-“ You yelped feeling a servo run across your rear. “Swerve!”

“You’re really stuck in there, huh?” He sounded way too pleased. “Like you can’t do anything?” You huffed shaking your head before realizing Swerve couldn’t see you on the other side of the wall. “No, I’m stuck. Can you please get-HEY!” You jerked feeling Swerve fondle your clothed ass. Swerve only laughed a little before giving a taut swipe to your rear.

“Oh man, I know who’d love this!” Swerve laughed rubbing his servo down your thigh. You whined wiggling your hips. “Brainstorm would because he’d want to know-OH!” Once again you were cut off when Swerve dragged his thick digit over your clothed folds.

“You look good like this,” Swerve laughed. He continued rubbing your clothed pussy making you whine and clench your thighs. “I just messaged Rodimus over the comlink,” Swerve said now groping your ass with both of his servos. “Think I can bust one out before he gets here?” He sounded so giddy having you defenseless like this. You only perked your rear up and wiggled your hips for him.

Swerve grabbed onto the waistband of your pants pulling the fabric down over your shoes and discarding the fabric to the floor. The wafting cold air of the ship brought goosebumps to your skin. You squeaked feeling Swerve bring another sharp smack to your ass. “You’re already so wet!” Swerve said excitedly. “Here I was gonna try eating you out to get you prepped but maybe-“ “Swerve, please!” You begged spreading your legs wider. Swerve chuckled before kneeling down in front of your glistening folds and shoving his face into your pussy. He devoured your slick cunt like a man starved. His dermas moving around your clit as his glossa dipped between them to slurp up whatever juices you produced.

“Fuck!” You whined clenching your fist against the wall. You squeezed your eyes shut focusing on the feeling of having Swerve’s face plate buried between your thighs. “Fucking delicious,” Swerve mumbled against your folds. The vibrations of his vocalizer going straight to your clit. “Swerve,” you moaned out trying to push your hips back into his face plate. His large servos wrapped around your hips keeping you still while he continued feasting on your sopping heat.

Swerve pulled away but not before giving your clit a loud obnoxious kiss. “Oh man look at your valve,”Swerve said prodding at your hole with one of his digits. “You’re clenching around nothing here!” Swerve jammed his finger into your pulsing hole feeling around the wet cavern of your vagina.

“Swerve, please!” You called your voice muffled by the wall. Swerve added another digit pushing his metal fingers in and out of your hole. “Think you’re ready for me?” Swerve was practically panting in excitement. How long has he been lusting after the ship’s little human and now he finally has a chance to feel their sweet organic valve around his throbbing spike.

You spread your legs in response trying to make as much room for the minibot as you could. You could hear him shuffling to his feet on the other side of the wall before there was a hiss in the air as Swerve released his modesty panel. His spike sprung to life slapping down atop your ass. The hot metal was a welcome change against your cold skin.

“Primus I can’t believe this is real,” Swerve muttered to himself. He held your hips with his servos, their size basically engulfing you, as he tilted his pelvis back to line his spike up with your hole. Swerve muttered praises as he rubbed his dripping spike against your cunt before pushing in.

“Holy shit!” You heard Rodimus’ voice coming down the hallway. “They really are stuck!”

Swerve gave you a sharp thrust before responding to his captain. “Yeah! They’re super tight too,” he panted trying to find a rhythm with his thrusts. “No way!” Your whole body stiffened when you heard Whirl. “Free use human?”

“Are we all getting a turn with them?” Tailgate’s enthusiasm made you clench around Swerve. The minibot groaned as he set a rough pace slapping his hips into your rear. Your moans bounced with your body as the bartender took what he wanted from your cunt. “Overload in them!” You heard Nautica cheer. You whined squeezing your eyes shut at the feeling of being watched in such a vulnerable position. Swerve’s hips stuttered as he released a flood of transfluid deep into your cunt.

“Okay,” you heard Rodimus start. “As the captain I get dibs after Swerve. From there we can form a line.”

You heard Whirl complain a little but was hushed by Cyclonus. “Actually I think I should get next because my device put them in this position!” Brainstorm called out.

“Is their intake up for grabs?” You heard Rewind ask.

“I don’t see why not,” Rodimus answered. “Why? You and Chromedome going to spear them?” Rodimus laughed at his own comment as your whole body heated up at the idea.

You felt Swerve slowly slide his spike out of you. His transfluid leaked down your pussy and onto your thigh. “Look at that,” you heard Drift say marveling at how Swerve’s overload slunk out of your hole.

“Okay my turn now!” You heard Rodimus call coupled with the sounds of him pushing other bots out of the way.

Ultra Magnus rarely walked this way around the ship but he felt the need to check why he had seen so many bots take this corridor. He hoped that his suspicions of something devious being at play was only a hunch. His thundering footsteps came down the hallway turning around a corner until he came to a full and abrupt stop.

Your rear end stood out of the wall with your legs dangling uselessly. both of your holes leaking transfluid with a puddle of the pink glowing substance laid underneath you. He could hardly believe his optics. Not only did this display break multiple public indecency laws but also violated almost every health code Ultra Magnus could recollect.

You moved your leg a little, bending your knee to keep the limb from falling asleep, and the movement caused a thick glob of transfluid to push out of your pussy and drip into the puddle beneath you. Ultra Magnus covered his mouth as his face flushed blue with energon.

“Human?” His deep voice called.

You giggled in return stretching out your legs causing more transfluid to seep from your pussy and ass. “Ultra Magnus!” You called cheerfully from the other side of the wall. You sounded delirious as if you had been fucked stupid. “Did you want a turn?” You spread your legs pressing the tips of your shoes against the wall so Ultra Magnus could see your sloppy holes.

In all honesty, he did want a turn.

[ghostface-knight]

Soda tapped his foot against the creaky wooden floor. He glanced at the clock for what felt like the thousandth time. 3:30 in the morning. He had thought surely Ponyboy would come home as soon as he cooled off.

He wasn't expecting Pony to immediately forgive Darry. Hell, Soda himself hadn't entirely forgiven his older brother, who sat, head clutched in his hands, on the couch.

Still, he understood how Darry could have done what he did. When Pony didn't come home, Soda and Darry had thought the worst possible. However, it seemed that Soda's worry had translated into relief at seeing him brother okay, while Darry's had instantly become anger.

The silence of the house was unbearable. It was like the crack of Darry's hand against Pony's face had deafened the brothers to the world.

Finally, Soda shot up from his seat. Darry didn't turn to look at him.

"I'm looking for him." He said simply as he gathered his shoes and his jacket. He realized with a pang in his chest that Pony had run out without a jacket on. He must be so cold.

Darry remained silent.

"What, you're not even going to help me look?" Soda asked.

Darry finally looked up from his hands, and Soda saw tears brimming his eyes. "Do you really think he wants to see me?" Darry said gruffly.

Soda stilled. "No, I... I guess not." He turned on his heel, then walked out the door and shut it behind him.

He shook thoughts of Darry from his mind. Right now, he had to focus on finding Pony and bringing him home.

The first place he thought to check was the lot, where Pony and Johnny had apparently fallen asleep just a few hours prior. He walked across the gravel, softly calling Ponyboy's name. He received no response.

He wandered throughout Tulsa for hours, searching for his brother. The whole east side was eerily quiet.

As the black sky shifted into the pink and orange sunrise, Soda made his way back to his house.

When he pushed the door open and walked in, he heard Darry rushing from the kitchen.

"Pony! Pony, I'm real sorry, I never-" Darry trailed off when he entered the room, and saw Soda standing all alone. "Soda? Did you find Pony?"

Soda shook his head, exhausted. "I'm calling the guys. Maybe he stayed with one of them." Darry nodded, guilt ridden.

Soda called Two-Bit, Steve, and Dally, one by one, and none of them had seen Ponyboy since the drive in. In fact, none of them had seen Johnny either. Soda felt sick with the fear that rattled around in his stomach. The gang agreed to meet them at their house, and help them look.

Once they had gathered, they split up to cover more ground. It was decided that Steve and Soda would keep looking around the East Side, and Dally, Darry and Two-Bit would take Buck's car over to the West side, in case Pony had done something real stupid in his rage and fear.

Soda shuddered as he and Steve made their way around town. They started walking through the park they had played at as kids, when Steve spoke up.

"Little shit got himself into trouble again." He muttered. "He knows Darry don't mean it. He knows you two were worrying your heads off."

Soda felt the need to defend his little brother. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "No, Pony wasn't wrong. Darry shouldn't have blown up at him. He should have known-"

"Soda." Steve's tone was deathly serious behind him. Soda turned, and saw that Steve had stopped a few steps earlier. He stared past Soda with a look of utter disbelief, his eyes glazing over.

Soda whipped around to see what he was looking at.

First, he just saw the pool of red. Then, he noticed the forms surrounding it.

He wanted to run. But his body felt like it was moving in slow motion. He stumbled towards the first of the bodies -- the one in the pool of blood -- and dread sank in his gut. It was Johnny, lying there, with his eyes open wide and blood plastered across his shirt, spreading from a deep gash in the center of his chest. There was a pocket knife laying still in the pool of blood, and Soda realized with the jolt that it was Johnny's own knife.

That was when Soda set his eyes on the second figure.

He was slumped over the brim of the fountain, unmoving, with his face submerged in the water.

Soda stood very slowly, as if moving too quick could startle the situation into getting worse. He stepped around Johnny's body, unflinching when Steve started yelling at him.

He reached the second body, and grabbed him under his arms to hoist the figure out from under the water.

He was so heavy.

Still, Soda was strong. He lifted the body out of the water, and set it down on the pavement.

Soda sat down beside the body as it dawned on him that this boy was his brother.

"P- pony?" Soda stuttered. He grabbed Ponyboy's shoulder and shook him. "Pony, Ponyboy, wake up." He shook him harder. "Pony, what are you doing?"

"Soda..." he heard Steve call desperately to him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Steve clutching Johnny's corpse. Soda didn't care though.

"Pony, get up! It's not funny, Pone, you can't-- you need to-- just wake up!" Soda's words were becoming increasingly strained, but he was scared to shake him to hard. He didn't want to hurt him.

"Jesus, Soda!" Steve shouted from right beside him. When had Steve gotten there? "Soda! Soda look at me!" Soda forced himself to make eye contact with his best friend.

"We're going to give him CPR, okay? I'll do the chest compressions, and you'll breathe into his mouth." Soda didn't quite know what was going on, but Steve sounded so sure of himself that Soda found himself blindly following his orders. Soda easily ignored the drying blood on Steve's hands. Johnny's blood.

Steve delivered round after round of compressions, between which Soda performed the rescue breaths. It went on for what felt like forever. Suddenly, Steve stopped. He fell back on his heels beside Soda. Soda gawked at him.

"What- what are you doing? Come on, we need to give him CPR, to save him, remember? Come on!"

Steve finally met his eyes. "He's gone, man. We can't save him."

Just then, it finally clicked in Soda's head.

Gone.

He turned his head back to his brother, in horror, as the sounds of shouting began to echo behind him.

Darry, he thought numbly and he grasped Pony's shoulders and pulled his baby brother's head and chest into his lap.

That was Darry, Dally, and Two-Bit. He knew their voices. Still, he didn't turn around. He just wrapped his arms around Pony's cold body.

Even though he never turned away from his brother, he could still hear every beat of the scene play out.

He heard Darry calling his name between strides, then he heard his big brother crumble to the ground as he tripped over something.

Something that, then, caused Dally to begin screaming and cursing and praying to God.

Funny, thought Sodapop. I've never heard Dally pray.

He heard Darry pick himself up from off the ground, and slowly approach from behind.

"Soda?" He called hesitantly. Soda didn't turn.

"Soda, is that-" he heard Darry choke. "Did you find Ponyboy?"

Soda nodded, even though he knew Darry couldn't see.

He stared down at Pony, clutching him even tighter as Darry made his way into his peripheral vision. Suddenly, Darry was on his knees beside Soda, trying to pry their littlest brother from his grip.

"Pony! Soda, let me see him!" Darry cried, but Soda just held on tighter.

Soda's eyes were open, but they saw no more than those of his brother he held in his arms. Still, he heard.

He heard Darry sobbing and begging to see Ponyboy.

He heard Dally cursing God.

He heard Steve and Two-Bit trying not to cry as they tried to no avail to pry their grieving friends away from the dead bodies of the boys who had been like their brothers.

He heard the voices of neighborhood kids and workers start to crowd around them to inspect the scene.

Soda looked up and saw the last remaining wisps of pink and orange fizzling out of the sky.

Pony always loved sunrises.

How bout Pony dies at the fountain WITH Johnny? Add a little twist, make it fun. The gang is looking for them and stumbles across them in the park or something. (Maybe literally depending on how dark it is and how much angst you want)

[grapejuicestyless]

Stupid F-ing Tattoo

JJ Maybank x Fem!reader

Summery: Y/n and JJ both had a few things in common. One, love didn’t exist. And two, they both wanted her dead.

She wasn’t dead, but sometimes, he wished she was.

It was honestly fucked up, there was no silver lining. She hadn’t wronged him, or cheated, or lied. She was as guilty as a fish, and he was the shark. But he still wished she was dead.

Sometimes, JJ wondered if she wished the same thing. If some nights, if she ever were to by chance hear his laughter in a passing moment, maybe with his head hung out the back window of the Twinkie like she used to do, or in a lazy jog away from the cops, he wondered if she wished he would also, drop off the face of the earth to give her some peace.

Then he would remember that even though it didn’t feel like it, he had won. Because she had no peace, and he was certain she never would. While he was up all night wishing her to be gone, she was up all night praying for the same thing.

She often told him that the only things keeping her going were him and her dog, but mostly her dog. An old white dog, a stray she’d taken in when she was merely seven. He was as crusty as they get, and while he and his friends often joked about how gross the old thing was, she happily scratched behind his ears and reminded him of how good he was always.

But the dog was getting old, and JJ had long been extracted from her life. Sometimes he wondered if his prayers meant something, and then he would get on his knees and take them all back in a guilty sob. Because JJ didn’t want her to die, he just hated the fact that he had fallen in love with someone who couldn’t fathom love more than he ever doubted it.

JJ felt like an asshole. What kind of person prays for another persons death? Especially someone like her?

He figured he liked her so much because they were so alike. Like the seasons, they were the coolest winters and the sweltering summer all at once. They were so close, yet so far. Like January and December. Born with the same love and loyalty, but destined to fall apart, prophets forced to be divided.

His finger hovered over her contact every night, but every time he thought of how she would answer, and his tongue would go dry. She would probably only say hello, and he would say it back, and the line would go quiet for a few minutes, just breathing in each others inhales, aligning his breath to hers, and then she would ask him why he was calling. He would say he didn’t know, but he hoped she was well, and she would wish the same for him because she always did, and she always meant it more because she never wished that he was dead. Then, she would ask if it was okay to let him go, and he would ramble about something and how it was all dumb to begin with. She would listen and then the line would go dead. Dead like how he sometimes wanted her.

He couldn’t bear the idea of letting her go again, even if he didn’t realize he had the first time.

They had just gotten matching tattoos. “P4L” poked into their ankles until the skin swelled red and even air burned. They were fucked, and it was a dumb idea.

JJ said it was the stupidest fucking tattoo he’d ever gotten. She had laughed, playfully pushing his arm away and setting the needle down.

“You don’t have any other tattoos.” She reminded him softly, eyes shining in the moonlight. The twinkles reminded him of the north star, and he felt that he too found home in the same way.

“Not yet.” He promised her, his fingers slotting between hers. “I’m gonna get your name tattooed right across my palm so I can hold you eternity.” JJ smiled, proud at his use of larger words. He’d felt like a poet then, smiling from ear to ear at himself, a dork by textbook definition.

“Well, then I’m going to get your name tattooed on my lips, so I have every reason to talk about you.” She promised him, and JJ remembered the look in her eyes, he knew it from the way John B looked at Sarah and the way Pope’s dad looked at his mom. He knew it was love.

He should never have confessed it.

He knew better than anyone that her mothers neglect had beaten her heart black and blue, and her cousins hatred towards her and her friends who had bullied her, he knew that much like him, love was a construct of some sort of fantasy, a promise of forever that could never be fulfilled, because eventually, someone has to leave.

She laughed, and then she cried. She promised JJ that she also loved him, loved him like a dog loved its owner, unwavering and loyal. But there was no way in hell she could ever love him the ways he wanted, and that hurt JJ because he had spent weeks working up the courage to even come to terms with his very real feelings.

“I can’t love you, JJ. I do, but I can’t because I can’t even promise myself that forever. I’ll break my own heart and I’ll blame you.” She had explained with tears streaming down her face. He regretted the way he yelled at her.

They never spoke again. His best friend, and the love of his life, her voice became a concept in his mind, and he swore that he had forgotten the sweetness of her smell. He hated that because that meant he was just like everyone else. Just another person who would miss her when she went.

So, he started wishing death on her. More for himself, until it became a prayer for her. She never laughed anymore, never smiled. When he saw her from afar, he’d noticed that she’d gone back to her friends she hated because suffering is better than loneliness when all you can think about is the quickest way to go.

He saw a girl floating in the ocean the a few days into the summer, her hair resembled Y/n’s and her eyes did too. It was only when he saw the way she seemed to fold herself into the water he knew it was her because only she would have the drive to try and let the ocean swallow her whole.

JJ ran as fast as he could out, wading through the crashing waves until he could wrap his arms around her. She was wet, cold, and limp. A hollow version of the woman she once was. It reminded JJ that she was just a girl, the same age as him, and he once again, felt guilty for ever wishing death on her.

When he laid her in the sand, he knew two things.

One, on her skin, she had another small tattoo scribbled down to memorize her love forever. His name, just two little letters, the same one, poked into her shoulder in the same font as their matching tattoo.

“Stupid fucking tattoo.” He cried, gritting his teeth together, his hands searching her body for any warmth he could cling to, a sign that maybe he hadn’t seen her too late.

The second thing he knew, through his salty tears and guilty heart, was something he prayed he would never have to witness, but something he had always wished for.

His prayers had been answered.

[reidmania]

sharpest tool | s.reid

(chapter ten, spoiling me)

‘If I ask you for space you write seven-page letters. I used to think that meant I couldn't do better, you blow up at me then you pay for my dinner. I used to think that meant I wound up the winner. But front after front I was taught to forgive, you bought me to rot on the shelves of your fridge and you keep me around 'til you're hungry enough but my face has gone grey, There is mold in my gut’

summary; reader isn’t sure how to feel or how to react when she finds out the truth behind spencer’s sudden absence.

warnings; mentions of death, insecurity, female reader, avoidant reader, angst, first part in italics is a flash back, talks about hotch losing haley, no real details about that case, arguing, no closure.

taglist; @gghostwriter @lavonee @guiltyyassin @spencersinonlygf @criminalmindssworld @iknwreid @fortheloveofgubler @yokaimoon @sapphirecobalt-1 @eddiesdrummergf @livvyliv15 @lover-of-books-and-tea @sebastiansstanswhore @bloodredrubyrose @sp3ncelle @nemobee777 @jencole214 @hazzarules @ameerakane20 @lucere @cultish-corner @psyches-reid

“Tell me something true.”

Your head turned at the sound of Spencer’s voice, a small smile across your features. Your house was warm, cosy and decorated in a way that only could be described as you. You knew Spencer was just glad to me here, it had taken a while for you to let him in the presence of your home. You always deemed someones home the most personal thing about them.

You had been recently questioning where home was.

Sure, your house provided you with comfort after a long day, you craved the warmth of your bed when your feet ached, you could hide in the walls that weren’t alive, they let you bury yourself in emotion to difficult to articulate. You liked that. Your house, there was never any pressure to be anything other than you.

So what were you to do when Spencer made you feel the same way?

You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth as you thought over his question. Pushing your back up against the cushions of the sofa, heels of your feet digging in beneath you as you turned your body to face him, the documentary playing on the tv now long forgotten as your gaze met his.

He was wrapped tightly in a cotton sweater, you were sure in a few days the same sweater would be lost in your wardrobe. He never minded when you borrowed his clothes, deeming they were softer, more comfortable than your own. It was becoming more difficult to ignore the feeling in your chest that bloomed everytime he was around.

“True?” You repeated, furrowing your eyebrows. It was an out of the blue statement, he nodded in response, as he nudged himself closer to you on the couch. You tilted your head a little, “What do you mean, i’ve never told you anything untrue.” You said.

He rolled his eyes, you didn’t have to question why. You both knew deep down what he meant by his question. He was asking you to let him in. You thought letting him into your house was doing just that. Maybe he cared more about knowing your mind.

“You don’t talk. Like- about yourself, about your childhood, or your work, or how high school was- So, tell me something true.” He explained, even though he knew you already understood what he meant. If you needed the verbal clarification, he would give it.

You smiled. He wasn’t wrong and you weren’t embarrassed nor ashamed about your privacy. He would argue you couldn’t call it privacy if you were avoiding talking about it, then it crossed over to secrets. You didn’t mind having secrets either. But you liked Spencer, more than you were willing to admit and the fact he was providing you with the same sort of safe feeling your house did, well it made it easier to be open. To talk about the difficult things.

“What do you want to know?” You asked.

“Why you won’t go out with me.”

You let out a breathy laugh and rolled your eyes. He didn’t seem phased by your reaction to his want, nor surprised. You should’ve expected that to be what he wanted to know, apparently the response you gave the first 23 times he asked wasn’t good enough, maybe because he knew it wasn’t true just as much as you did. “i already told you, I just don’t want a relationship.”

“But why?”

You shrugged, was there an answer to his question, of course. But there was a line you drew in confessing and dumping your past on people, and that conversation would fall over the line, the very thick, very defined line. Unfortunately Spencer’s presence in your life began to blur many lines, ones that seemed once so clear, now smudged. You had yet to decide whether that was a good or a bad thing. It wasn’t just the trauma dumping line blurring, it was every one. It was all of them.

Everything you thought you knew began to shift, your perspectives changed on things when he shared his opinion, your mind was opener, you were more comfortable. You were happier. Maybe not because of him, or because he provided you with more happiness than your life originally had. You were content with your life before meeting Spencer, but there was something nice about having a friend.

“Theres always.. I..” you faltered, shifting uncomfortably, your legs untucking from under you to instead pull to your chest as your arms tangled around your shins, chin resting on your knees. “I’ve always, kind of felt like i was just existing, never really living. I noticed that a while ago, so i decided that if i was going to have to exist, id at least do it peacefully.”

“Relationships aren’t peaceful for you?” He tilted his head, it wasn’t an accusation the way he said it, it was genuine curiosity.

“They haven’t been.” You answered with a shrug. Wishing not to recall your last relationship.

Spencer shuffled closer. His arm’s folding over his chest as he pushed his back further into the couch cushions. He was staring at you, eyes flicking over your features. You were smart enough to realise he was profiling you, trying to see if you were uncomfortable, trying to read you.

“You’re profiling me.” You hummed. He didn’t hesitate in nodding.

“You’re hard to read.” He said, turning his body slightly to better face you. If you knew anything about profiling, or psychology you’d assume he was more uncomfortable than you were talking about this, or maybe he was simply just nervous. “I’ve never really had much trouble in reading people. I can’t read you.”

You tilted your head, you half took it as a compliment. Dedicating so much of your time to making sure nobody really knew you, dedicating so much of your time to wondering if you even knew who you were, to hear that time pay off, well it made you feel a little better about the hole you had dug yourself into all those years ago, the one that seemed a little bit too deep to get out of.

“Does that bother you?” You asked simply. Wondering if much like many others, he would give up trying to figure you out, you’d be slightly disappointed if he did, but not entirely. You simply didn’t want to be figured out. You didn’t want to be read, or profiled, you wanted to stay as you were, even if the look in Spencer’s eyes was convinced of otherwise.

He shrugged, “Not really.” The goofy smile on his face appeared moments after, “I like puzzles.”

You didn’t know whether to be amused or unsettled by his dedication.

“Your turn, tell me something true.” You changed the topic, hoping that maybe the curious look in his gaze would disappear if he had a moment to forget why he was so set on learning every thing about you.

He grinned widely as he rested his head against the couch cushion, looking at you. “I really like you.” He said simply. You hated the way your cheeks rose of colour, you hated that his words made your skin feel a little tight around your bones. You hated that you couldn’t tell whether the feeling swirling in your stomach was a bad gut feeling, or butterflies.

You shook your head anyways, “You have told me that a million times. Pick a different true.”

“But thats the truest I have.” He sounded offended. Not by your lack of response, he knew what you’d say, yet he never failed to remind you that he did in-fact, really like you.

“Spence, pick a different one.”

He huffed, faux frustration over his features as he leant his head back to think for a moment, his eyes travelling the lengths of the ceiling in your home, memorising it. You watched the side of his face, eyes travelling over the curve of his nose and jawline, before he turned his head to look at you, a almost sweet smile on his face.

You didn’t like the way it made you feel.

“One of my biggest fears is losing someone because of my work, someone getting involved or being at harm because of me, thats why i don’t date- really.” He said, the smile on his face remained as he looked at you, but the words that left his lips made your heart frown. You shuffled a little closer, not even realising you were doing it.

“But you have asked me out a thousand times.” You countered, not because you didn’t believe the fear of his, but out of curiosity.

“Yeah well.. I guess we both have fears in relationships, right? I guess i just think its not worth worrying about those things until they might actually happen. Like- you’re worried you’ll get hurt again, I’m worried my job will hurt you, but they aren’t problems right now. You know?”

You smiled, rolling your eyes and shaking your head before leaning into his side. Choosing not to reply.

You slumped against the wooden headboard of his bed, you tried to keep your focus on the small worn out indents over the wood, the detailing, you tried to figure out what wood it was, not that you had enough knowledge on wood to make that decision, you tried your best anyways. You could assume it was red oak, expect it was too dark, maybe it was painted with a wood stain, or maybe it was a different type of wood. Walnut, it could be walnut, that was a darker sort of wood, you were pretty sure, but the marbling texture told you otherwise. Maybe rustic brown maple.

Maybe you were just going insane.

The silence in the room was deafening and the more time went on the more you were convinced that you were purely wasting your time. After Spencer had convinced you to stay for his explanation, you found yourself back on his bed, he sat on the edge of it, watching you as you studied the headboard, the one you had seen a hundred times, or more, yet never gave much thought to. You were waiting for him to say something, anything other than the same apology you had heard repeatedly.

“Do you remember when I left for the case?” Was the first thing he said. It came out timid, careful, his words caused you to stiffen slightly, your shoulders growing tense with the weight of the memory. Of course you remember, it was physically impossible for you to forget.

You didn’t look away from the headboard, now almost dedicated to figuring out what wood it was made out of. You let out a hum, letting him know you were listening, letting him know you did in fact remember the day he left for the case. You remembered driving around for twenty minutes extra while he was taking you home because he was dedicated to finding you basic frosted sugar cookies.

He shifted, you felt the bed dip further as he added more of his weight to it. The closer he got the heavier the air seemed, your body tense with not only all of the memories, the conversation, but also the fact that you were still half foggy from your previous orgasm, you were uncomfortable, despite the fact Spencer made you clean yourself up before having this conversation, because he cared about your health and hygiene even if you wouldn’t let him take care of you after.

He cleared his throat, maybe he was feeling the tension just as much as you were. “I spent every spare second I had texting or calling you for the first few days.” He clarified, expect you knew this, he did this on every case he went on. You didn’t question that he once cared, you believed that, but you questioned what changed.

“Then you stopped.” You mumbled, not breaking your gaze on the headboard, head tilted up so your eyes to travel the detailing of it.

Spencer nodded, “Then I stopped.” He confirmed quietly.

You werent completely sure where to go from there, what to say, what not to say. You didn’t want to plead for an answer why, again. The process seemed repetitive, exhausting. This time you didn’t have to ask.

“A little while ago, Hotch, you know Hotch. He lost his wife.” Spencer spoke, you watched as his fingers dwindled absentmindedly. Your gaze no longer focused on the wood texture or type, now taken by what he was saying, how it related. The same confusing feeling in your stomach that you still hadn’t learnt how to differentiate between a bad gut feeling and a bundle of butterflies.

“Oh.”

Bad response. You knew that. But you didn’t have a lot to say. You didn’t know how someone was supposed to react to something like that, you didn’t know how Spencer expected you to react.

Spencer shuffled so he was better facing you, “I- uh. I won’t go into detail, but it was because of our work.” He muttered, his voice strained and heavy with indication you failed to recognise, or better yet understand.

You were quiet for a while, he let you be. Your eyes never meeting his because this conversation seemed heavier than you expected it to. When you spoke your voice was heavy with emotion, unintentionally so, “Spencer.” A breathy reminder that you were here for a reason.

He knew, he shuffled. You realised how much he was moving around, now nervous he was. Almost as nervous as you. “The case- When I stopped- When i ghosted you, there was an empty threat made against the team by an unsub.” He didn’t want to admit it, you could tell by the strain in his voice and the way his eyes no longer begged yours to meet them.

“Oh.”

“I guess i realised how much danger I was putting you into.” He huffed out. Leaning back against the headboard. The headboard that moments ago you had been studying like it was the most interesting thing in the world, now you couldn’t imagine focusing on anything other than the weight of his confession.

The sweetest reason maybe, for your safety. He removed himself from your life for the sake of your life. Maybe it was an act of love, maybe it proved how much he cared for you. You weren’t sure how to understand what he was telling you, you had a million questions lodged in your throat. All that seemed impossible to get out.

Maybe it was the sweetest intention, but he was immature with the way he went about it. He left like you didn’t matter, like you weren’t worth an explanation.

“You didn’t think to just tell me that?” Was what you said in response, it came out harsh, full of offence. You were offended.

“You would’ve tried to convince me otherwise.”

“Thats a lousy excuse and you know it.” It came out rough, you were sitting up at facing him and every part of you screamed to get the hell out of there and never see him again, yet something kept you sitting. Maybe the hurt you felt, maybe the anger. You weren’t sure, and you didn’t think you cared.

He sighed, “I didn’t want to lose you.”

“Yeah- Right. And how’d that work out for you?” You spat back.

He shuffled uncomfortably before meeting your eyes. “You are alive.”

“I was at no immediate risk.”

“But you could be! Thats what you aren’t understanding— That wasn’t the first time its crossed my mind. If something happened to you, it would be on me. If you got hurt, it was on me. If you got killed, it would be on me. Not only that — but I’d lose you, your friends would lose you, your family would lose you. I value your life more than I value how i feel about you. Im sorry thats not what you want to hear but its true.”

You shut up after that for a moment. How could you argue when his mind seemed so made up. Did you even want to convince him otherwise? It wasn’t like you hadn’t considered the possibility of being in danger before, but the fear always seemed so insignificant compared to the way he made you feel. How were you supposed to argue against him.

“You deserve better.” He said, moving off his bed.

How could you argue with what you knew was true?

You huffed, “Why would you not just talk to me about this Spencer? Why would you make this decision for me? Why are you telling me what risks i am and am not willing to take?” You weren’t sure you wanted an answer. You weren’t sure of anything anymore.

He looked at you, and you swore there was a flicker of something in his eyes, something so gentle and familiar. “A relationship with me is not worth your life.” He stated.

You wanted to yell at tell him that wasn’t his decision to make, that he couldn’t decide this for you. That he was being a coward. A few months ago you would’ve. A few months ago you would’ve done anything for him, you would’ve sat there and reassured him, changed his mind.

Now you weren’t sure.

You moved off his bed like he had moments prior, the room was heavy with an uncomfortable amount of silence. Tension. Unspoken words on both ends. There was still a million things left to say, yet you no longer wanted to stick around to hear them.

“Yeah, Im beginning to see that.”

[merrybloomwrites]

Good Girl

Summary: You love how sweet and kind and soft your boyfriend his. But every now and then, you love to bring out his rough side, which always leaves you more than satisfied.

Word Count: 1.7K

Content Warning: cockwarming, p-in-v sex, daddy kink, spanking (just 1 tho)

AN: I was going to do a Louis smut and a Niall comfort fic and then said, nah, I gotta switch that. So enjoy this pure Niall smut!

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Waking up in your plush king bed, you stretch before rolling over to cuddle up to your boyfriend. 

So you’re most upset when you find that Niall is not there. 

Last night had been perfect. He’d gotten home early, the two of you cooked a delicious meal together before falling into bed for a night of slow and gentle lovemaking.

So it’s no surprise that you wake up wanting more. Maybe a little something less slow and gentle. Like being pounded into the bed. That sounds like a wonderful time. You’d love some passionate and rough sex right about now. 

The only thing missing? Your boyfriend.

Huffing out a breath you throw the sheets aside and stand up. You’re just in one of Niall’s large t-shirts and a pair of his boxers, but you don’t change before going downstairs. Maybe appearing like this will help you get what you want.

But Niall isn’t in the kitchen, or the living room, or anywhere on the first or second floors. Which leaves the basement. More specifically, the studio/office that’s down there. 

And that, well that could throw a wrench in your plans. Because if Niall is in work mode, you don’t have much of a chance breaking him out of it. But you don’t let that deter you.

Heading back to the kitchen you start to make a plan. You grab some breakfast then go to the bathroom to freshen up before finally heading down to the basement. 

Peaking your head into the office, you’re not surprised to see Niall at the desk. He seems to be answering emails, which works in your favor. If he’d been working on new music you’d probably be out of luck. He just gets too focused, and truthfully, the guitar would be quite in the way.

But sitting at the desk writing replies? That you can work with. 

“Good morning,” you say as you enter, letting Niall know you’re there.

Immediately he turns, a large smile on his face as he says, “Morning, baby. Sleep okay?”

“I did. Could’ve woken up better, though.” You pout, giving Niall your best puppy eyes to really catch his attention.

“Aw, what’s wrong?” he asks, now sporting a pout of his own.

“I woke up and you weren't there.”

His joking pout now turns into a gentle smile as he reaches out to you. “C’mere,” he says and pulls you to sit in his lap sideways. His arms wrap around your waist and you rest your head on his shoulder, your face tucked into his neck.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I ignored these emails last night to get home to you but I can’t put them off any longer. I promise to come cuddle you as soon as I’m done,” he explains. 

When you don’t reply right away Niall grows worried, unsure what’s going on in your mind. After some silence you finally say, “What if I didn’t want to cuddle?”

“Oh? Then what did you have in mind?”

Without hesitating you press a kiss to his neck and roll your hips down.

“Oh!” He says, now picking up on what you want. “Naughty girl, coming in here to distract me.”

“What are you gonna do about it? Punish me?” You lean back as you say this, your eyes meeting his, your eyebrows raised, challenging him. 

“Yea, maybe I will. Bad girls deserve a punishment. But what should I do with you?” He pretends to think about it, already knowing what he wants. But he likes making you squirm, just a bit. 

“You’ve caused me a bit of a problem,” he finally says. You look at him confused but then his hands go to your waist and he presses you down. You gasp as you feel his hard length press against your bum. “This will be quite distracting. I’d like you to keep me warm while I finish my work. How does that sound?”

A wave of desire rolls through you at that. He knows how much you love cockwarming, but it’s rare that the two of you do it. Normally once he’s inside of you, neither of you can hold back. But this is the perfect opportunity. 

“That sounds like exactly what I need to learn my lesson,” you manage to reply. 

“Good. Get me out and take off those pants,” he says. You stand up and remove the boxers you’re wearing and then your hands go to his waistband. You look at him for a second, waiting for a nod before lowering his sweats and underwear just enough for his cock to spring out. Just the sight of his dick, the perfect length and girth, has you dripping.

“Go on. Keep me warm,” he commands, and you move to straddle his lap. His hands stay on the armrests as you line yourself up and slowly sink down. His expression remains stoic, not giving away if he’s enjoying this at all. It drives you crazy, this uninterested act. It’s so unlike Niall, the man who normally praises you at all times. But it’s so perfect for this moment. 

The shuddering breath he lets out once you’re completely seated on him is the only give away that he’s affected at all. He slides his chair forward and reaches around you to get back to his work. The only sound in the room is the tapping of keys.

You do your best to stay still, but the longer he works, the harder it is. You fidget, then clench around him, causing him to groan. He then lands a smack to your asscheek and says, “Be good and don’t move.”

Not wanting another reprimand you put all your focus on listening to him. But it’s so hard! He just feels so wonderful, filling you up so perfectly. 

After what feels like forever, he stops typing and pushes the chair back from the desk. 

“Look at me,” he says, and you move from where you’ve been hiding against his neck in order to meet his eyes once more. “Think you’ve learned your lesson?”

“Yes, daddy,” you reply. Niall takes a deep breath, that name affecting him deeply. It’s not one you use much, but he knows what it means. It means you want him to take charge, to take what he wants. You just want to give yourself to him. 

“Hold on tight,” he says and you wrap your arms and legs around him. He places his hands under your bare bottom and, in an impressive show of strength, stands up with you still attached to him. He walks a few steps to the couch and lays you both down. 

“Ready for a reward?” he asks, his blue eyes shining with excitement.

“I’m ready,” you reply. He quickly leans down, attaching his lips to yours in a bruising kiss. When he pulls back his eyes are soft, and he says, “If it’s too much just tell me, okay?”

“Okay,” you say. After this moment of softness, you watch his switch back to the rough persona he’s using right now. And it has another wave of arousal run through you. Niall's eyes close in pleasure, and you know he’s just felt a gush of wetness escape around his cock. That’s all he needs to start moving, setting a brutal pace from the first thrust.

He pounds in and out of you, hitting just the right spot and sending shocks through your body. Your mouth goes slack, your mind unable to form any words as pleasure continues to grow. 

You’re both getting close, and Niall moves a hand to rub circles on your clit. He knows when you’re just about to come, and he leans down to say, “Be a good girl and come for me. Come for daddy.”

That’s all it takes to send you over the edge. You shout and arch your back, your toes curling as intense pleasure overtakes you. 

“What a good girl, that’s it, ride it out, baby,” Niall says as she continues his thrusts inside you. It’s just when you start to come down that Niall picks up his pace even more, chasing his own high. The rough thrusts send you into a second orgasm before you’ve even recovered from the first, and this time, Niall is coming with you. 

He bits down gently on your shoulder as he releases inside of you, his hips finally slowing. The two of you lay there a moment, breathing in each other's air as you try to catch your breath.

“I’m gonna pull out now, okay?” Niall asks, back to his sweet personality. 

“Okay,” you reply quietly. You hiss as he pulls out, extra sensitive after everything that just happened.

“I know, baby, it hurts a bit, doesn’t it? I’m sorry lovie,” he says, and somehow just those words help ease the pain.

You finally come back to reality and look at the state of the two of you. Niall is still basically dressed and he tucks his now soft cock back into his sweats. He helps you pull down the shirt you’re wearing so that you’re covered as well, knowing how shy you get after. 

“You alright?” he asks.

You give him a dazed smile and say, “So good. That was exactly what I needed. Did you like it?”

“Like it? Honey, I loved it. Absolutely amazing, you are.” You giggle and he leans in for a sweet kiss. 

“C’mon. Let’s get cleaned up and then we can watch a movie together. It’s time for those cuddles I mentioned.” 

Niall helps you stand and walk upstairs. He dotes on you, carefully helping you clean up in the shower and then keeps his promise of cuddles. You’re back in his arms, now resting together on a different couch while one of your favorite movies plays. 

“I love you,” you say, needing him to know what you’re thinking right now.

“I love you too,” he replies.He holds you tighter and presses a kiss to the top of your head, and you melt into the embrace. You truly love him, love every side of him, especially the sides that are reserved only for you. His girlfriend, his love, his good girl.

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AN: Thank you for reading! I have a request for virgin reader & fratboy Niall so I am working on that but if you have any Niall requests feel free to reach out!

[figurantedefilme]

marry me — sam winchester.

pairing: sam winchester x gn!reader

summary: you woke up and decided that you should marry sam as soon as you could.

cw: just fluff, very cliché, no use of s/n, established relationship, brief mention of canon-typical violence, thoughts about marriage, hugs, kisses, use of nicknames by sam and reader (honey, darling, baby, my love), small appearance by dean, poorly edited.

a/n: okay, this was VERY short, i'm still learning how to write this kind of stuff, i'm not very creative, but i needed to write this to take a weight off my shoulders, i loved so much this shit with sammy ;(( sorry if there are any grammar mistakes, english isn't my first language!! enjoy ;)

(ps: im reposting this because i moved blogs!!)

— send me an request!! <3

It was a day like any other after a long hunt. You woke up, Sam was sleeping peacefully next to you in the shared room. You looked at the time on the clock; it was 7am.

Sam was half hugging you, one of his big arms under your back, another hand on your waist, one of his legs folded between yours, the sunlight coming through the gaps in the curtain, illuminating his face in such an incredible way, and you could see a small smile on his face, he really was at peace. You loved it when he slept so well like that, no nightmares, no worries transmitted on his face, just the peace of a good night's sleep.

You thought a lot about it, about how much you wanted to wake up every day with Sam by your side, like, have a life with him, maybe even retire from hunting, get married, a house further away from the city, or even live in the bunker, it didn't matter, you just wanted to be with him until the end of your lives, be his forever, and have him for yourself too.

Sam started to wake up, a big smile on his face when he saw you there beside him. "Good morning, honey." he said in that sleepy voice. "Marry me." You said simply, admiring your boyfriend's beauty, having barely woken up.

"What did you say, darling?" He turned to the side, propping himself up on his elbow to look into your eyes. "I said marry me, my love." You smiled what was probably the biggest smile of your entire life, then leaned in and kissed Sam on the nose.

"Wait," he sat down on the bed, and you followed his action, sitting in front of him. "What's wrong?" You saw how the expression on his face changed, something like surprise, with a hint of confusion. "Are you serious, baby?" He said, taking your hands and looking deep into your soul, he really wanted to know that.

"I've never said anything so serious in my life, Samuel," you replied, clasping your hands around his.

"Oh, of course I want to marry you, in fact, just wait here." He let go of her hands and turned to get out of bed, and went towards the dresser in the room, opened one of the drawers, and from the bottom, took out a red velvet box. "I've been planning this for a while, I wanted to wait until we had a day off and I could take you out to dinner and do it in a more romantic way."

He knelt in front of the bed, opened the little box, and reached out to take yours, you sat on the edge of the bed, almost crying and held his hand. "Do you want to marry me too?" He smiled big, and you simply started to cry. "Oh my god, yes yes, please, yes."

"I should be the one asking you please, you are the most important person in my life, and I would do anything to protect you from all this shit we keep fighting, just to have you for myself forever, my love." He took off the ring and put it on your finger, kissing your hand. He stood up and hugged you, wiping your tears.

"Oh, I love you so much." You said, and began to shower his face with kisses.

"What's that noise here? Who's crying?" Dean appeared at the door, wearing his robe with a cup of coffee in one hand.

"I did it, Dean." Sam said looking at his brother, he held his wrist and pointed his hand so Dean could see the ring.

"Uh, finally, Sammy, I'm so happy for you." He said with a smile that quickly faded. "But can you stop making so much noise? It's only 7am, thanks." Then he turned and closed the door.

"Typical Dean," you said, laughing.

[captnbunnie]

Oh man, I had been waiting to read this post!! Problem was that everytime I remembered I could not find where I saved it haha (spoiler: it was on my own chat lol)

Anyways, oooh this is very interesting!! It makes Odysseus such a human and complex character, it's incredible the levels of mastery that Homer had with his sotries!

Honestly everytime I read one of your analysis I cannot stop myself from comparing the Odyssey to Epic, and it just makes me realise more and more how much the musical missed and what we could have had! The idea of listening to a musical in which Odysseus is helpless in the face of fate, where he does his best in saving his men, having an objective that is not just about him (seeing Penelope and Telemachus again) but is about all the men that are with him (trying to save the most men he can and take them home with him), just gets me yearing for one!

I still keep thinking about that post you made about Circe, how it would have been so much better if we'd have seen Odysseus not being able to reject Circe's proposal, and him just calling to Penelope and the gods,,, and then later how it would have sounded if instead of "embracing" violence, he had just felt depressed and humiliated after Charybys and Calypso, with only his desire to see his family and kingdom again to push him forward, maybe also as a tribute to remember the sacrifice of his men and their efforts during the war and the travel,,,

I really don't like much how he became a violent beast in the last saga, I think it's very out of character for him (as if everything that happened earlier wasn't lol), but as you said in many other of your posts, I think it would have had a better inpact if the end point of the travel was to show a desperate man trying to come home but left to face the force of nature alone. I think it really does a better job at translating how, even if he has all the resolution in the world, even if he has a very strong wish, even if he tries his best, it does not mean that he'll be able to get what he wants. It doesn't mean anything in the face of reality and nature and fate, much stronger forces then a mere man. I truly enjoy those kind of stories much more because they portray something real, something that could happen to all of us. Instead Epic decided to go to the more "edgy" route, which maybe I would have appreciated more when I was younger haha.

Also while reading this I was listening to "Monster" (one of the songs of the Underworld saga) and it made me just yearn harder for a different adaptation of the Odyssey in Epic haha because I think that that song, if taken out of context (so ignoring everything else that happens in Epic) maybe could have been a song that represented Odysseus in a more "just" way?

Before continuing, I gotta say that I've read only some excerpts and some analysis of the Odyssey, so what I'm about to say might be very wrong haha (but that's why I'm sharing my toughts with you, cause I'm curious to know what you think about this)

Anyways, I think it would be actually a nice song related to him, I really like how he shows empathy towards his "enemies", after all, if I didn't read those scenes wrong, he does the same in the Odyssey. When he enters Polyphemus' cave, even if he knows he might be in danger, he still decides to follow xenia and give Polyphemus a chance to show hospitality (even if it doesn't work out), he is also shown to give Calypso sympathy, when he is about to get home, and see things from her point of view (even after all she did to him). So I think it's a good moment of self reflection for him, it shows that he is not in search for enemies but he just wants to go home.

Even the way he talks about Poseidon, saying "Or does he keep us in check so we must respect him / And now no one dares to piss him off?" I think it does reflect in a way what the Odyssey, or just any myth, tries to warn men about, respecting gods and nature because they are bigger forces that cannot be contrasted (which is very ironic if interpreted like this, because the last saga shows us the exact opposite lol)

And the last verse too "Does a soldier use a wooden horse to kill sleeping trojans cause he is vile? / Or does he throw away his remorse and save more lives with guile" I think it could go along with what you say in this analysis, that he makes decisions that others cannot to save as many people and lives as he can (even if he doesn't get many results,,,) and it also highlights how some people say that he played "dirty" with the wooden horse, but here it makes you realise why he did so, and that his plan is as honorable as attacking directly is.

The only thing that I think is kinda out of place in this interpretation of the song is that here he says that he still has to become "ruthless" to save his men, thus becoming a "monster", which I feel undermines what I said until now, that is that what he did, what others tought was "playing dirty", is actually that, an unjust plan.

Anyways, all this just to say that your analysis have been plaguing my mind and I keep thinking about a different version of Epic, and this song absolutely dealt a blow on me because, it has potential!!!! And yet, it's not used. It makes me yearn so hard for a true adaptation of the Odyssey.

I feel like if one were to adapt the Odyssey with songs, it would be a much better fit a musical series , like hazbin hotel haha (yeah, I want the songs that badly, I love musicals XD)

(Sorry if I started talking about Epic under such a good analysis of the Odyssey, I know that it seems kinda out of topic (and it probably is), but I don't think a comment would have been fit to write all this stuff haha)

Why didn't Odysseus's crew stage a mutiny against him in the Odyssey? (An analysis based on Homer's Odyssey)

It has been a while since the last time I did some Odyssey Analysis and here is an interesting question that goes on in this. A very valid question actually.

During the arduous trip in the Odyssey, the Cephallinians suffered greater loss than anything they suffered at the 10 year war at Troy. They lost almost all ships and all men were dying. They were reduced to a ship of a crew with less than 40 people and they didn't seem to get much hope. So of course one could ask; what was holding them back and didn't fight back against Odysseus apart from the indirect mutiny they did when he turned his eyes away from him to pray? Why their only mutiny was to disobey his orders and slay the cattle of Helios Hyperion? Surely more than 30 men could do plenty of damage to one man right? Why didn't they? And why is it important for the story?

So while thinking about it I came down with some possible explanations as to why that happened;

Odysseus was beloved to the gods

Regardless of their terrible situations, Odysseus probably still had the fame of someone beloved to the gods. He used to be directly communicating with Athena and was under her protection. Despite the fact that he was cursed by a god, there could be some sort of a thought running to their minds; what if we harm him and the gods strike us for it? What if there will be consequences for directly wishing harm to one who was blessed to be appreciated by gods? It could possibly be a risk that they didn't want to take. And it makes sense given how much Odysseus interracted even with minor gods during the trip (for example Aeolus or Circe). Quite frankly they might as well have wished that at some point Odysseus would appeal to yet another god for help.

Odysseus was beloved to his subjects

If you look at my other analysis here You can remember how beloved leader Odysseus was even to subjects such as slaves who in theory would have no real reason to be loyal to him. Odysseus seemed always to be a just and beloved leader and his men on the ship were not an exception. Regardless of whether they had lost faith hin him in his capability to bring him home or if they doubted his judgement, they couldn't get past the emotional connection; Odysseus had protected them during the war to the point of suffering the least possible losses, during the trip he was going to extreme measures to protect them (even the cruel misadventure in which Odysseus cut the rope from his ship to save the last ship from the Laestrygonians might as well have spoken volumes to the men that were saved). It would be hard for them to completely ignore that even in the face of mistrust. Somehow it would also be them thinking that they "owe him" till that part.

Odysseus was hiding stuff from them that could be important

Ironically the very source of their mistrust was protecting Odysseus. Odysseus didn't share with them the nature of the sack of Aeolus even if he seemed pretty clear that they couldn't touch it (and that led to their first tragedies). Later he hid the information that they would have to go through the Sirens till the very last moment where he warned them about it. Later he hid completely the information that they would go through Skylla and Charybdis. His men could think "How many more things did this man know on their way home and hid it from them?" if they captured or killed him in a mutiny how were they sure there weren't more dangers ahead that Odysseus was hiding from them and could either be informed the last moment or not at all? What guarantee did they have that Odysseus didn't know even MORE about their course? They had none. So ironically the very reason they began to mistrust him in the first place became the reason Odysseus was safe from their rage.

No one wanted to take responsibility at time of crisis!

Last and definitely not least comes for me the most important reason of all at least story-wise that shows how excellent writer Homer is into writing human nature. His men didn't stage a mutiny because no matter how displeased they were with his decisions, literally NO ONE wants to have the same responsibility to take decisions in time of crisis! Honestly, how many times do common folk feel themselves find a scapegoat usually to the face of their leaders when things go south? (and for good reason that is given that they are the ones with the responsibility to take decisions). When something goes wrong we blame the leader, the government or someone that has come forth and not only takes the decisions but also is responsible for the blame as well.

During their arduous trip Odysseus took some of the most painful decisions they could imagine in order to save what he could; he advised them to leave the Cicones and they didn't which led to their first tragedy; he tried to correct his mistake by appeasing the god Aeolus, he took the decision to sacrifice his ships in order to save the one he could knowing full well that they would never be able to fight against the Laestrygonians. He knew the 11 ships were lost cause so he acted fast cutting the ropes of his own ship and sailing away, making sure to save what he could even if that meant to the terrible loss. He traveled to the underworld even though he was alive, he chose Skylla over Charybdis knowing that the sacrifice would be too great but still not as great as to lose them all.

Regardless of their emotions at that moment; they put themselves in his shoes and realize that none of them would take the burden of leadership and take those decisions for them. Odysseus with his nerves of steel managed to save them so far even if they had so many losses and undoubtedly they realized that in his shoes they would never be able to act so efficiently and so fast. And knowing their own reactions against him; blaming him for the losses, they realize that none of them would have the guts to take not only the painful decisions but also the blame and hate that follows them. Odysseus was lifting on his shoulder as much hate and anger as very few others; not only his previous experiences at war and his actions but now his decisions of the trip. I have no doubt that even in their anger the men admired how he could carry it all.

Conlcusions:

Homer is a master of words and plot. I have no doubt that if he thought it served the plot he would have mentioned his men staging a full on mutiny against Odysseus or in one way I am almost certain he thought of the possibility being quite doable given as I said above that Odysseys was one man and the others were over 30. However knowing how great he is in protraying human emotions to his writing I think his choice of plot was deliberate.

Not only was Odysseus someone that could erupt not only controversy but also superstition given his close relationship with gods before, his leadership was always admirable regardless of the results (knowing his prudent nature and how plenty of his orders that were disobeyed ended up in a tragedy and let's face it Odysseus was also a brilliant fighter. I doubt anyone would easily take the first step to fight him one on one either!) and above all he was one of the best when it came on taking some really difficult decisions, carrying on his back not only the personal guilt he felt while taking them but also the anger of others and their retalliation. And in an amazingly human writing Homer speaks on times of crisis. When people do not wish to take responsibility at times of Crisis because they know full well that their decisions rarely ever would be painless!

Therefore they couldn't retalliate against him; they didn't want the responsibility of leadership or the blame for the losses. They didn't want to stand against authority directly either. So they took the indirect mutiny decision; when authority is not present they disobey or they break their will when the force of authority.

Could we perhaps one more time appeal to the usual theory of "unreliable storyteller" and speak on how Odysseus doesn't want to mention a mutiny in his story to Phaeakes because he doesn't want to appear as weak leader in their eyes?

We could but in my opinion this doesn't seem likely. Odysseus is already humiliated; shipwrecked and a beggar in their house. He mentioned how it was ellegedly his fault that the whole domino of reactions began when he mentions how he was yelling to Polyphemus being blasphemus that not even Poseidon could put him back together if he had killed him (which let's face it is too much given that gods had no probelm resurrecting some dead before). He had already mentioned his men not listening to him and disobedience was already a heavy thing. He didn't hide most of the unpleasant experiences during the trip so why miss the opportunity of shifting the blame to his men, saying that they stage a mutiny against him thus himself being unable to react instead of stating that he fell asleep during the prayer? To show that his men fear him so they do not dare to face him? Perhaps but it seems unlikely given the whole story in which Odysseus doesn't hide his bad sides from them.

What do you guys think? Let me know to your comments and reblogs below! ^_^

[anarchy-and-piglins]

I probably won't write anything for it, but I need to share this with the world and I felt you would appreciate it: Em Duo/Boreal Trio "Knight and Day (2010)" Au, (but platonic)

Techno is flying home for an event of Skeppy's, they were orphans in the same group home and Skeppy would kill him if he wasn't there for the event (in canon it's a wedding, but a graduation or something would do) when he gets bumped into by a blond man in the airport. Man kindly helps him up, brushes him off, tells him "it's my fault, mate," and disappears. Techno goes through security, seeing glimpses of the blond man as he goes. When he gets through the security, the man bumps into him again. They chat a bit and Techno finds it weirdly easy to talk to this guy. It's like they've known each other for years. Turns out they're headed to the same gate, but when Techno gets there he's told he's not on the flight. The blond man says something cryptic about things happening for a reason and is checked onto the plane. Techno goes to wait for the next flight and is surprised twenty minutes later to be told there was a mistake and there is room on the plane for him.

He gets on the (empty, like really really empty there's maybe five guys total and the crew on the) plane, seated kitty corner from the blond man from before, who looks a bit perturbed that he's there, but still friendly. They take off and Techno and the guy, Phil, have a nice chat as they fly towards Snowchester. About halfway through, Techno spills something on himself because of turbulence. He excuses himself from the conversation to go clean up and Phil says he'll walk around the cabin for a bit and follows him back to the bathroom. When Techno comes out of the bathroom, Phil is nervously holding two drinks and after handing one to Techno explains that the pilot and the co-pilot and the crew and all of the passengers have uh... well, uh... well they're dead. And uh, they're gonna be landing. Soon. Like really soon. See, the co-pilot shot the pilot after Phil shot the co-pilot, but everything's okay, Phil's a wonderful pilot himself, he'll get them down, and everything is completely under control.

Phil's actually a secret agent trying to stop a top secret project "Zephyr" created by a kid called Ranboo from falling into the wrong hands. He'd used Techno as a mule to get the "Zephyr" through security, and was supposed to be walking into a trap on that plane, which is why he'd tried to warn Techno to stay off it. But who's gonna turn down an earlier flight and a free upgrade, huh? So the agency who's trying to get the "Zephyr" put Techno back on the plane to see what would happen. So now Phil is responsible for keeping civilian Techno alive while Techno panics his way through multiple occasions of extreme danger where Phil has to get them out of there by the skin of their teeth, often by drugging or knocking Techno out for the greater good.

Thoughts?

-- @goat-boo-truther

I had never in my life heard of this movie but this sounds like a very amusing plot. And I'm definitely a fan of 'just a guy Techno' in any circumstance, so that'd be very funny here. If you do ever decide to write it, I would read this for sure hehe

[ahyperactivehero]

I asked over on twitter if anyone wanted any drabbles this election night and here is the first one i finished!

atfsims1 on twitter asked for: If you wanted to do a cozy game night fic with Charles, Edwin, Crystal, and Niko (maybe they even rope Jenny into it) I would not be upset at all 👀💜

Drabble 1 Game Night

“Jenny isn’t coming, Niko,” Crystal said.The game boxes in her arms shifted, threatening to spill all over the ground for the second time this walk.

Niko, either oblivious to this fact or enjoying Crystal’s suffering, sighed and marched ahead of her so she could turn and walk backwards while speaking to her. “She’s coming. I know she is because I asked and she only rolled her eyes twice,” she said, her tone more sure than Crystal felt like she should be.

“Oh, so practically an oath then,” she said, shrugging her bag up higher on her shoulder. “Jeez, why do they need all of these? Don’t they have enough games in the office?”

She’d only been walking for a couple of blocks now, but it felt much further with all of these games stacked in her arms. Candy Land, Trouble, Aggravation, BattleShips, and at least one version of Cluedo were piled high– far higher than they had any right to be. At least Niko had their drinks safe in her arms, even if she did keep taking “samples” from both of them.

“Charles said we’re going to be playing ‘Extravaganza’,” Niko said, waving her hands in a way that Crystal felt deserved sparkles and explosions.

“And what exactly is ‘Extravaganza’?” Crystal asked.

Niko tilted her head, sneaking a sip from what Crystal was sure was her drink. “He didn’t say. Just that we needed to bring over as many board games as possible,” she said.

“Who even still plays board games?” Crystal muttered. “Do you know how much I spent on these?”

Niko tapped her chin with her straw. “Edwin likes them, and Charles gets frustrated with the new video games,” she said, frowning. As if Crystal hadn’t personally witnessed Charles losing at Mario Party in such an extreme fashion that had forced the Agency to close for two days because he and Edwin had refused to speak to Crystal when she’d won with the bonus stars. “But I’m sorry you had to spend so much. I could have helped!”

She shook her head. The last thing she wanted was for Niko to feel bad. “Used my parents' money. They might as well be good for something, right?”

Niko gave her a sympathetic smile before running ahead to get the door. At least the boys were there to meet them to help them carry the boards up.

“Is this all you brought?” Edwin asked, which earned him a glare from Crystal and an elbow from Charles.

“What he means is that we’re used to playing with more boards,” Charles said. A small frown came to his face as he tilted his head, thinking about his words. “Unfortunately, a lot of ours burned up a couple of years ago. Like, a lot of them.” 

“They burned up?” Niko asked, taking her usual spot on the couch. 

“Spell gone wrong,” Charles said. “Edwin nearly set the whole office on fire.”

“Charles is exaggerating,” Edwin said. “It was only half of the office.”

Crystal smiled and rolled her eyes. “Right. So what did we need all of these for?”

Edwin clapped his hands together. He looked as if he had gathered them for a lecture rather than a game night. “Extravaganza, of course,” he said.

Crystal plopped down next to Niko, snagging her drink from her before she could take another sip. “Yeah, I got that. But what is it?”

Charles spread out a blanket on the floor and tossed a few pillows off to one side. With a smile, he patted them and gestured for the girls to take their places. Then, he dragged out at least three more board games, their boxes so old and broken it made it hard to read the name. They must have been old, probably somewhere between Edwin and Charles’s time.

Meticulously, he started to arrange the boards, clearly some sort of pattern than only he and Edwin seemed to know. Edwin, meanwhile, walked around and dimmed the lights and grabbed blankets for them to cover up with.

By the time he was done it looked like some sort of weird, Frankenstein-game-board train had exploded all over their office. Crystal wasn’t even sure where the games were supposed to start or end. 

“Ta-da!” Charles said, smiling as he spread his hands out over the mess. 

Niko and Crystal couldn’t help but exchange confused glances.

“Edwin and I made it up decades ago,” he said. “S’hard to play a lot of these games with just two people, innit? So we made Extravaganza!” He reached into his bag and dug out tiny, metal game pieces and held them out for their inspection.

There was a magnifying glass and cricket bat– clearly Edwin and Charles’s– in one hand, while the other contained a crystal ball and a magic eight ball. 

“You made us our own game pieces?” Niko asked, her excitement practically exploding out.

“Course! How else are you meant to play?” he asked. He settled down next to Edwin at what must have been deemed the “starting” board.

Crystal eyed everything. “So how do you play?” she asked and tried in vain to keep her judgment out of her tone.

“First, we start with Cluedo,” Edwin said, “then, once you think you have solved it, you can move to CandyLand, and so on and so forth until you have been through all the boards.”

None of that had made it any clearer to Crystal, but she had a feeling that pointing that out wouldn’t save her from playing.

“How long does a game like this usually take?” Niko asked, running her fingers over the magic eight ball. 

Edwin looked towards the ceiling, calculating. “Usually about… ten hours?” 

“Ten hours!” Crystal said, almost dropping her game piece. Quickly, she turned towards Niko, who had a similar look on her face. “I think we’re gonna need to order food,” she muttered towards her.

“I’ll tell Jenny to bring something.” Niko pulled out her phone to type out a message.

“Niko, I told you, she’s not coming,” Crystal said. 

“She’ll have no choice if we’ve been kidnapped by ghosts who don’t need to sleep or eat,” Niko said with a smile. “There, all done. Now, how do we play?”

Edwin immediately launched into a full explanation of the rules he and Charles had established over the years. There were far too many, especially for new players who still needed to learn the rules of the base games as well.

“It’ll be easier once we start,” Charles said. “Oh! But just remember, if you claim someone is cheating, you have to go back a board.”

“What if they are cheating?” Crystal asked.

“Better prove it,” he said and handed her a pair of dice.

And that is where Jenny found them an hour later, yelling over whether or not accusing Crystal of “looking into Charles’s mind” to see the cards in his hands actually counted as cheating if no one had actually said the word cheating.

“I think I’m just gonna go,” Jenny said, dropping a couple of pizza boxes on the table by the door.

Niko sprang up from her spot and wrapped her arms around her. “No, please stay! You can even start on the same board as me!”

“Niko, that’s cheating,” Edwin said.

“Ha!” Crystal jabbed a finger in Edwin’s direction. “Now you have to go backwards.”

“That was outside the game,” Edwin said, “It hardly counts.” 

“What? No, that's not fair,” she said, turning to look at Charles who shrugged.

“It’s fine if you’re talking outside the game.”

“You always agree with Edwin. And isn’t my ‘looking in your head’ also outside the game, technically?” she asked.

“So you did look inside his head!” Edwin said. “Move your piece back!”

Charles shook his head as they continued to shout, their voices mingling until it was nothing but a mix of confusion. He detangled himself from the pile of blankets and limbs to make his way across the room. “Here ya go, Jenny,” he said and dropped a game piece shaped like a cleaver in her hand. “You can go next.”

Both Edwin and Crystal turned their heads towards him. “That’s cheating!”

Charles and Niko could only smile in response.

[lunaforyou]

HI

Maybe you seen me in @transingthoseformers asks and wondered "Wow, what the fuck is wrong with this guy?"

Many years of catholic trauma

ANYWAYS, YES, I'M MAKING AN AU

So like, to understand this AU you need to understand three things

1) My genuine belief that tf1 Optimus will be tied or connected somehow in the creation of new sparklings

2) The fact that merging with the Matrix is considered "Interfacing" (IDW Optimus put it this way, not me)

3) My interpretation that the Matrix and the bearer are constantly spark merging.

I lied it's 4) My obsession with the Virgin Mary, she should have been at the cluuuub

So, the AU starts by Optimus somehow in the surface, his entire frame has been aching for a while but he is still needed to fight the Decepticons and the Quintessons.

Maybe a fight goes wrong, but it sends him panicking because his HUD just fucking told him "Emergence protocols initiated" and it's a little earlier because of the fight but that's not an impediment, the little one wants out and he wants out now

So you might want to guess, where does our dear Prime go to give birth?

.

.

.

.

That's right! The cave of the Primes! You get nothing for guessing correctly <3

Plot twist; Optimus didn't have a forge, another thing Sentinel took from the miners. The Matrix gave it back when restoring his frame, after all, it needed it for restoring the rest of the Primes. So yeah he freaks out a lot a lot

And yes! He is going through this TWELVE more times

The first one is Prima naturally, the little one gives Megatron a run for his money in "things that nearly killed Optimus multiple times" and almost gets stuck in the birth canal once or twice (Optimus doesn't want to think what would have happened to them both if his coding hadn't kicked in at the right moment) and Optimus can't see the little one without getting his carrier coding out of hand and deciding right then and there that he needed to find a sire for their sake. Also Optimus absolutely loves the little bastard like he hung the moons and the stars

And all the time, he felt the presence of other mechs in the cave with him. Someone definitely helped him stay upright, and he could squeeze his hand around a much much larger one when the contractions hit.

Right so he goes back to base, and everyone pretty much noticed how white and gold the sparkling is. Everyone assumes that somehow D-16 is the sire, keeping on brand with the platinated colors, and, well, Optimus doesn't correct them. Besides, it was just one sparkling, what harm could it do if a few rumors ran around here and there?

Ohhhh boy, not a week later, he discovers that maybe it won't be just one sparkling.

Also, I'm naming this au Primes Reborn, and you can't stop me